The San Saba news. [volume] (San Saba, Tex.) 1873-1966, 1890-06-20

I at him inquiringly. l said: What's up
Esby" He just handed over the letter
with I'm a rascal, Harry, and then go
up and began pacing the floor. The let
ter was delicate scented thing, in a wo
mans hand writing. 1t ran thus:
my DEAR RALPH: You will be SURPRISED
to receive this letter so soon after my last
which mailed but two DAYS ago. But thai
last was like all the letters which l have
been writing TO you this winter. not a true,
frank letter, but a kind of make-believe
/ And to-day have determined to tell YOU all
I | have been thinking, that for once more
/ things may be open aud real between us.
For your letters, dear Ralph, have beer
1 make-belieyes too. Indeed is it not so that
! our happy frankness had disappeared even
! before you said FAREWELL | felt il, although
l would not believe it then. / cannot ex-
/ plain-I cannot understand it. Not in re-
I gard TO you, Ralph. With another person
1t might be different. OH Ralph, my dear
Ralph, you still love mey
1.-THE letter was blistered with tears
here, and there was no signature.
"You may imagine felt melancholy
enough when l read that letter.
''Esby came over and took it out of
my hand, saying: Il shall write to her to
come over, and I'll give it fair trial.
Perhaps it will return to me. thought
It might by absence. But I'm afraid it's
like the painting and everything else, l
can't put anything more into it. 1t must
be left unfinished. I'm afraid it's con-
stitutional.' And Esby-reserved Esby
actually buried his face in his hand
and wept
II felt sure that it was the first time
he had candidly declared that last even
to himself l left him weeping there,
although full of sympathy for him; in
fact, was crying myself. But 1 knew,
with his temperament, the reaction would
soon come from such an extra amount of
confidence, and that it was by all means
the most delicate thing to leave him
alone
THE month following this, Esby
worked in a particularly spasmodic way,
and he was in more than usually re-
ticent frame OF mind. We had no con-
fidential talks, he did not come to my
room without one of the other fellows,
a'Iti u-gi'tV-s -ssii s.isi--,-ssiIIa y,
his.
but one evening he came in with the
expression of detected determination,
which had been growing on his face for
six weeks, good deal deepened.
" Bright, he said, I'd like you to
meet some friends of mine-Miss Hart
ley and her father-just come over
II understood perfectly who Miss
Hartley was, and was somewhat agita-
ted By the invitation. After all, it was
only formal call that we made, but I
came away feeling that if Ralph could
to love Madge Hartley, there must
be something normally wrong about him.
All his other peculiarities became as moth
ing in comparison with this strange in
capacity, and my sympathy and pity for
him were dazed. felt almost ready to
call him rascal, as he had called him
self. That was when I thought of her
eyes when she looked at him.
But when 1 said goodnight after our
silent walk home through the streets of
Paris, the moonlight showed me such a
face, that cried within me, God help
himr
''For a whole week, Ralph and 1 saw
Mr.. Hartley and his daughter daily. We
show them Paris-Ralph devotedly at
tended the lady, and l piloted the old
gentleman. He and kept up pretty
even flow of spirits and conversation, but
Ralph and his lady were a melancholy
pair. As first she was able to assume an
in things, but as the days wore
On, her manner grew as absent as his, and |
she would look at one of the masterpieces
Of the Louvre with scarcely more inter
est than if it had been chrome in a |
second hand furniture-store in New York. |
"Her father was not an observant per-
son, but even he began to think there was
hat in the atmosphere beyond his ken,
and he confded to me that ne thought |
here must be something amiss between
young Esby and his daughter. They
lsed to be famous friends.
.'By Saturday morning 1 felt that l |
Gould not keep an Indifferent look upon
.hings much longer. Those two faces
haunted me tragically when they were not
,efore my eyes. | called for Esby at
iine o'clock. We were to take his friends
% Versailles, by boat A pleasant plan
enough for people in really holiday hu.
nor.
"a second time Esby sat deiectedly in
his chamber, with letter in his hand.
'tHe rose and said quickly: You'd
better go to the class, Bright, and hear
he criticism. Miss Hartley is not we'll,
md we shall not go to Versailles. It's a
hame to have kept you from work all
his week-but you're a good fellow,
Bright, stunning good fellowp and
Ssby shook my hand with great warmth.
: 'Shan't we call or send some flowers,
2alphP said L
"'Nop he replied; 'Ill write her
lote'
81 did go up to the atelier, but my
thoughts were not much upon what
3onnat was saying, although the other
elbows seemed more than usually in
crested. They twitted me bit about
laving been kept away by one of the
air sex. I'VE might have expected it
f an impressionable creature like you,
Bright, but what's taken hold of Esbyl
wasn't in joking nor confiding
Iumor, so muttered something about
lsby attending to his own affairs, and I
vent off for walk by the Seine. I'm
lot often irritable, but the fellows Jared
N me.
"Esby rested on my mind, and I
bought of Madge Hartley, shut. in her
oomin this strange city, sad, despairing
thoughts haunting her Toward even
ng, / wandered up to Ralph's room.
'inned upon the door was a paper, and
n it written: 60 in, Bright quickly
urned the handle and entered.
"The room was entirely vacant, but
pposite me stood a portrait of Esby-a
ortrait which had never seen, yet i'm
lediately recognized as done with the
,cst exaggerated peculianties of his