Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1890-03-29

y y " "
HAS MR. ARDEN HAD MY LETTERS?
"Has Mr. Arden had my letters?" he asked,
in his foreign English.
''Yes. sir. they have been given to him"
Three letters!"
'.Yes. SIR"
1.-Two yesterday and one this morning."
'.Yes. sir. They were all given to him.
"And there is no answer? Was that Mr.. Ar
den's message
Yes. sir. Ny master told me to tell you
there no answer"
And he declines to see me-"
'.les. sir"
'Very good"
He said very good with face like thunder
cloud He fingered a little. brushing his hat
with his coat cuff in an agitated manner aud
looking about him angrily. first at one door and
then at another, as if he hoped to see Uncle
Ambrose appear at one of them. At last he
turned on his heel abruptly and went out with
out another word. suppose he is one of that
great army of begging letter writer's who assail
both mother and Uncle Ambrose. 1 metimes
pity them, poor creatures, when / see the long,
long letters, many of them so we'll written, con-
signed to the waste paper basket, and perhaps
some of those piteous letters may have good
shabby-genteel poor that people who live in
such a house as this and drive out in fine car
rfage with splendid horses and have a cloud of
servants and all that modern civilization can
give of pleasure and prettiness-it must seem
rs if they ought never to say no to the appeal
of real want And yet if the rich people always
said yes the fine house and the horses must CO.
/ wonder If il is wicked to keep much for
ourselves and give 50 little IN proportion to
what we keep
The half of my goods have given to the
poor" said the Pharisee. Well. il is wrong to
be proud. no doubt. but upon my word that
Pharisee had some justification for thinking
well of himself.
don't think either mother or Uncle Ambrose
give half their substance IN charity, kind and
generous they both are.
Did that foreign person tell you his name?'
i asked the butler, as l went into the dining
room.
NO. ma'am"
And had he been here before today
Yes. ma'am- He called yesterday evening
TO inquire if there was any answer to his let
tiers. He sent two letters by a commission
sire-one in the morning and another i'll the
afternoon"
What an importunate wretch the man must
be. My blood runs cold at the thought that
he may mean to tell my step-father about hav-
ing seen me walking alone in Church street
late at night He might make mp any story,
a1d | should have no witness against him: for
do not know the name of my good middle
aged friend in the cab. If he dare to SANDER
me must tell Uncle Ambrose the whole truth
and brave it out. He will be shocked. no
doubt. at the idea of my prowling about
London secretly after dark; but he cannot
fuse to forgive me when l tell him of the in
sumountabie impulse which took ME to that
fatal house.
Cyril and went to birmingham this after
noon with mother. and saw a polo match and
then strolled about the lawn and looked at
the river together, while mother sat on the
terrace IN front OF the house talking TO her
friends. Ii seems to me sometimes as if all
the women In London must be her friends. she
is so beset wherever We go. The public life,
the constant movement and perpetually chang
ing faces do not suit me half 30 well River
Lawn and Its placid lnsipidity. My books. nv
piano. an occasional single at tennis with
Beatrice Reardon. my boat ny garden. Yes
love Bucklnghamshire, and believe hate
London
The day was lovely. Nottingham was lovely.
Cyril was full of the kindest attentions and
yet was not happy. Apart from my uncom-
Portable appreh -nsi Ons about the man called
Duverdier l felt If something had gone
wrong in my life. An afternoon that would
have been perfect bliss few weeks ago
before we went to Paris, for instance-seemed
dat, stale and Improbable. 1 looked at the
river hstlessly; not interested even in
the gowns some of which were eXtravagant
enough to awaken the dead
''Does this remind you of the Adriatic?'
the lawn that slopes to the river.
''NOtthe least little bit in the world. How can
You compare this dirty London river with that
delicious blue sea? You must be dreaming
Il am dreaming" he answered Il am
dreaming OF the hour when YOU and stood
side by side with our feet in the long grass
that grows close to the sea on Torcello
felt IN just the wrong mood for sentiment
Every word he said Jared upon my nerves.
That's very pretty speech. but know you
wish yourself among those horrid pigeon shoot
ers." said. fippantly. and, fond as / am of
pigeons. felt that would willingly sacrifice
few just to get rid of my companion.
He looked offended; and then my conscience
reproached me. and said something civil; and
then We walked up and down the lawn. and he
talked as | suppose lovers do talk all the world
over. Ii Is not worth putting down in this mid
night eonidante of mine. though sometimes
scrlbble whole conversations, just for the love
of scrlbbling.
Do all engaged girls get tired of their fiances.
wonder? Is there always this feeling of weari-
ness this sense Of the emptiness Of life? Are all
engagements monotonous as mine? Cyril
and have been engaged less than four months
and yet feel as If II were half life time.
feel as If IT were absurd in him to be senti-
mental or to say pretty things after such ages
OF courtship.
oh, l wish, wish. wish loved him bet
Ter; II 1t were only out of gratitude to Uncle
Ambrose, who Is so pleased at the idea of our
union, who has told me again and again how
happy 1t makes him to know that CyriIs happi-
ness Is secured.
Could disappoint him? Could be incon-
slant or eapriclous? Could write myself down
that worthless creature, jilt, after all the
fathers goodness to me and all the son,s affec-
ton? No, my fate is sealed IL the vows had
been vowed at the altar j could hardly be more
bound than l am. Bound in honor. What
bondage can be more irrevocable2