The Manning times. [volume] (Manning, Clarendon County, S.C.) 1884-current, 1890-04-09
oNo-reallv? Well, he was. Why. my

'No-really? Well, he was. Why, my
dear Florence, you must have seen how
he singled YOU out to be attentive to
YOU. Just to show me how offended he
was"
He did not seem offended at any
one, and thought he was in particu-
lar good spirits" replies Florence
calmly.
Dora turns delicate pink.
Dear Adrian is such an excellent
actor" she says sweetly. "and so proud;
he will disguise his feelings, however
keen they may be, from the knowledge
of any one. no matter what the effort
may cost him. Well, dearest, and so
you positively advise me to keep this
appointment with him"
Il advise nothing. l merely say that
I see nothing objectionable IN your
| walking up and down the lime-walk
with your host"
sHow clearly you put it! Well,
adieu, darling, for the present. and
thank you a thousand times for all the
|: time YOU have wasted on me. assure
you I am not worth it"-kissing her
hand brightly.
For once she speaks the truth; she is
not indeed worth one moment of the
time Florence has been compelled to
expend upon her; yet, when she has
tripped out of the room. seemingly as
free from guile as light-hearted child,
Miss Delmaine's thoughts still follow
her inclination.
She has gone to meet him; no doubt
| to interchange tender words and VOWS
with him; to forgive, to be forgiven,
about some sweet bit of lovers folly,
the dearer for its very foolishness. She
listens for her footsteps as she returns
along the corridor, dressed no doubt IN
| her prettiest gown, decked out to make
herself fair in his eyes.
| An overwhelming desire to see how
she has robed herself on this particular
| occasion induces Florence to go to the
door and look after her as she descendS
| the stairs She just catches a glimpse
| of Dora as she turns the corner, and
sees, to her surprise, that she is by no
means daintily attired, but has thrown
| plain dark waterproof over her dress,
as though to hide it. Slightly surprised
at this, Florence ponders over it, and
| finally comes to the bitter conclusion
shat Dora is so sure Of his devotion
that she knows it is not necessary for
her to bedeck herself in fnery to please
| ul4l. LII Illo CN VI SOSA SS oAAS AZ AS'S
ly in any toilet.
Soon, soon she will be with him:
How will they greet each other? Wlll
he look into Dora's eyes as he used to
look into hers not so very long ago:
Arthur Dynecourt read her arlght
when he foreSaw that she would be un-
able to repress the desire to follow Do
ra, and see for herself the meeting be-
tween her and Sir Adrian.
Hastily putting on a large Rnbens
hat, and twisting soft piece OF black
lace round her neck. she runs down.
stairs. and, taking different direction
from that she knows Dora most likely
| pursued. she arrives by a side path at
the lime-walk almost as soon as her
cousin.
Afraid to venture too near, she OBJ
| tains view of the walk from q high
position framed in by rhododendrons.
Yes, now she can see Dora, and now
! she can see too, the man who comes
eagerly to meet her. His face is slight
ly turned away from her, but the tall
figure clad in the loose light overcoat is
not to be mistaken. He advances
| quickly, and meets Dora with both
| hands outStretched. She appears to
draw back little, and then he seizes
her hands, and, STOPPING, covers them
with kisses.
A film seems to creep over Florence's
| eyes. With stifled groan, she turns
and flies homeward. Again in the pri-
vacy Of her own room, and having
turned the key securely in the lock to
keep out all intruders, she filings herself
upon her bed and cries as IL her heart
| would break.
Not until her return to her room does
Dora remember that Sis did not get
back the false letter from her cousin.
In the heat of the conversation she had
forgotten it, but now, fear possessing
her lest Florence should show it to any
one, Sne runs upstairs ana KNOCKS at
Miss Delmaine's door.
Come in" calls Florence slowly.
It is three hours since she went for
her unhappy walk to the lime-grove,
| and now she is composed again, and is
waiting Tor the gong to sound before
descending to the draWlng-room,
! where she almost breads the thought
| that she will be face to face with Sir
Adrian. She is dressed for dinner, has
, indeed taken most particular pains with
her toilet, if only to hide the ravages
| that these past three hours of bitter
weeping have traced upon her beautiful
face. She looks sad still, but calm and
digniied.
Dora is dressed too, but is looking
| furried and flushed:
Il beg your pardon" she says; abut
my letter-the letter I showed you to-
| day-have you it?"
NO" replies Florence simply; Il
thought l gave it back to you; bat, if
| not, it must be here on the table,
lifting book or two from the gypsy
table near which she had been Sitting
when Dora came to her room early in
the day.
Dora looks for it everywhere, in a
somewhat nervous, frightened manner,
Florence helping her the while; but
nothing comes of their search. and
they are fain to 60 downstairs without
it, as the gong sounding loudly tells
them they are already late.
Never mind" says Dora, afraid of
having betrayed too much concern.
wanted it, becauSe-well, because
nearly mad-'he wrote it."
SudI1 Icll u1S ucslu w 1OOh AVA ~,
and, if she finds it, you shall have it
this evening"" responds Florence, with
a slight contraction of her brows that
passes unnoticed.
To Florence's modification, Arthur
Dynecourt takes her in to dinner. On
their way across the hall from the
drawing-room to the dining-room, he
presses the hand that rests so reluct-
antly upon his arm, and says, with an
affectation Of the sincereSt concern
you are not well; you are looking
pale and troubled, and-pardon me il
I am wrong, but think you have been
crying"
Il must beg sir" she retorts, with ex-
cessive hauteur, removing her hand
from his arm, as though his pressure
had burned her-"I must beg, you will
not trouble yourself to study my coun-
i 49, &4E1