Belmont chronicle. [volume] (St. Clairsville, Ohio) 1855-1973, 1889-12-26
WhereupOn he was stealing an arm
round her waist, preparatory to anOth-


She. drew away.
That's another matter, too, till-till
then"
please"
, Not till you tel me want what to
know"
, There was dead lock- In vain the
young man pleaded, expostulated, ar
J gued. There was no argument with the
girl, except that she refused TO be careSs-
ed until the secret was revealed. With
two rcd lips within dozen inches of his
own, it was only question of time
When he found he must yield or forego
the pleasure of what he wished. he told
her that cabman who took him to the
station had overcharged him, and that
when he protested, was impudent. 1t
ended in his knocking the man down.
Then he made up for lost time by tax
ing kiss, which lasted as long as he had
been arguing.
The next morning each one of the four
young people awoke to the pleasant re-
membrance of the meeting of the even
ing before, and the consciousness of hav-
ing entered into very agreeable arrange
ment. Early in the day Henry went into
the library to read, while Ben mounted
a horse and had a brisk canter over the
frozen fields. Just before luncheon
Henry saw the pretty face, which had so
charmed him the evening before, stand
ing in the open library door.
What a pretty room," said the girl.
Henry looked surprised. Indeed, he
was piqued. She was looking about her
as though she had never seen the room
before, and apparently strangely forget
full for one who had received his caress-
es there.
"Come in," he said.
He rose as she advanced toward him.
There they stood in the center of the
room. Both his arms were about her.
"Do you know" she remarked, "that
ever since you told me about that affair
of yours yesterday have liked She
stopped speaking, but laid her hand on
his arm lovingly and cast down her
eyes.
"Oh, that was nothing"
ats wonder you didn't kill him,
you're so strong"
Kill whom" asked Heury.
"Why, the cabman. of course"
81 didn't hurt any cabman."
"Then, why did you tell me so?" she
asked, surprised.
II didn't. L told you something about
going home with little girl and finding
destitute family"
81 beg your pardon, you did no such
thing"
"Do You accuse me of speaking an un-
TRUTH"
"What can you mean?" she exclaim-
ed, cOloring. "You surely cannot be Sc
rious." And she attempted laugh.
81 am sorry that the girl l am to mar
ry can't remember what l say to her
over night"
"Mr. Haversham, I'm not in the hab-
it of being treated like child"
"And I'm not in the habit of having
young ladies badger me to tell what does
not concern them, to be ridiculed after
wards, said the young man, flushing.
The conversation grew more spirited
as it progressed. Henry spoke harshly,
and the girls voice soon began to trem-
BILE ominously. There was lump in her
throat and evidence of coming tears in
her eyes. She was too proud to show
them, so at last she availed herself of the |
only means of concealing them, she swept |
out of the room.
"Mr. Haversham," she said, with |
trembling voice, as she went, 'if you
come to see the injustice, the rudeness
of your action, you can inform me-"
Ben Haversham having dismOunted at |
the door after his ride, while this inter-
view was taking place, went into the
house, and as he passed the conservatory |
espied the picture he had seen the night
before-a girls shifting at a rose. He
strobe directly in, and as she turned he
caught her in his arms.
sweetheart" he exclaimed
She only blushed and lowered her eyes.
'Did you rest well?" he asked.
81 dreamed of your noble sacrifice all
last night" she said looking up admir-
ingly at him.
''My sacrifice? You mean the other
fellows sacrifice"
What other fellow"
"The cabman."
"What cabman?"
uC OhO L 1OAA fOu bOO'iO lfeot Ii
"YOu said nothing to me about cab
man. You told me that you had gone
home with poor little girl and given
away all your money"
Ben opened his eyes so wide that one
could see the white all around the pupils.
"Really, my love, don't mind giving
away money if other people will do all
the work; but as to hunting out the needy, s
1 am not up to that"
"Mr. Haversham," she said, drawing
away from him haughtily, this is very ,
of you" /
"What do you mean?'
'In the evening you tell me story ;
which has so little foundation in fact
that you can't remember it over night" t
"Do you mean to accuse me of such a !
thing? Miss Thornkyke, I'm not in the |
habit of bOasting of my charities" /
"And, Mr.. Haversham, I'm not in the a
habit of having people whisper absurd G
stores in my ear and forget them the v
next morning"
"Very WE'LL" said Ben, reddening. "If
you persist in your absurdity, -"
II persist in no abSurdity,"
Do YOU lledh IIlaI you ulScreulI WhdI
[ told your"
Certainly; since you don't remember L
t yourself" n
"Miss Thorndyke, no woman can i'm S
peach my word" v
"Mr. Haversham, no man can impose a
absurd stories upon me-" and the girl \
walked out of the room with her hand 7
lerchief to her eyes, leaving the swain =
,onfounded. He followed her to the f
loor. There, on the threshold of the Ii e
,rary opposite, stood his brother with an C
on his face so like that on his g
'wn that for a moment he supposed he l
vas looking into mirror G
"What's the matter with you?" asked . .
Henry. n
81 don't know WHATS the matter I