Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1890-04-05
say more.


Grandisonian gravity.
Il hope you are not angry with me-" said,
namely.
angry What right have to be angry" re-
turned he. Il ventured. perhaps over boldly,
to ask question. You have answered it
frankly and that is the end. Whatever hope led
me to you this morning is hope that has van
lshed. Nothing less than the knowledge that
you are unhappy in yOur engagement to Mr..
Arden would justify me in telling YOU what
might tell if honor would allow. Oh Daisy.
Daisy" he cried, claspng my hands and
changing In one instant from Sir Charles
Grandson to the most animated and impas-
stoned of men. why do you tempt me to say
what we're better unsaid-if-f Won have
really made up your mind? Don't trife with
me: don't fool me. Oh. think / understand
You. know what women are. even the best of
them. lou are going to marry Cyril Arden,
but yon wonld like. just for sport. TO know how
hard hit am. Very hard hit. Daisy The
arrow has gone home to its mark. and it is a
poisoned dart that will leave its venom in the
wound tor many and many year. Is it not
pleasure, my sweet one. to know that in MAX
ing one man happy you will make another man
miserable?'
No, it is not a pleasure. and I am utterly
wretched.' l said and as the tears were rolling
down my cheeks he could not help believing
me.
He took me in his arms and held me to his
kissed me. CyriPs promised wife--and | let
him. ont OF sheer misery. | was too completely
broken down with woe to make a good fight
for honor
Dear love. break this foolish engagement;
scatter your precipitate VOWS to the winds. It
will be better for everybody--for Arden whom
you don't care about. for me- who adore You,
and even for your sweet, sweet self. whose
heart beats throb for throb with mine -lik e
the rival engines which will be racing to Scot
land through the summer night, one OF them
carrying me away from you"
had recovered my senses by this time and
wrenched myself from his arms.
How cruel of you to take such advantage Of
my helplessness," l said, trying to smooth
down the fluffy curls upon my poor ill-used
forehead. Sir Charles wouldn't have done
such thing"
Sir Charles,' he echoed, doubtless thinking
me mad.
Il am very sorry that was SO foolish as to
follow you," said. There was really no rea-
son for my doing such an absurd thing. Only
/ wished to part friends"
That means you are obdurate to both your
victims. You will marry Arden--not caring q
straw for hiin-and you will break my heart,
caring perhaps just little more than straw
for me-"
''YOu are very impertinent for making such
n suggestion" I said. with all the hauteur
could summon to my voice and countenance
and it is very difficult for girl Of my dispo-
The fairy VINO ought to have supplied me
with feminine dignity and proper self-respect
must certainly have taken offense atmy christen-
ing. for feel myself lamentably deficient in
| those qualities, and really think the want Of,
them Is worse than spindle through ones
hand Worse than q spindle. Worse than an
after-dinner nap of n century. What If / were
to sleep for n hundred years and Gilbert Flores
tan were to wake me, lin that new world which
is the old."
Alb, why have we no fairies new? Why has
LIE no sweet surprises? Why has everything
in my life gone wrong?
lie dld not notice my reproach.
is tnere no hope, Daisy" he asked, pro-
nouncing my name as if he had never been &C.
customed to address me by any other.
II have told you that l mean to be true to
my promise" said II am ashamed Of my
SELF Tor having given you the idea that could
possibly waver. Goodbye, once more, and o
pleasant jouinev to Argyleshire."
did not offer to shake hands with him again.
1t would have seemed absurd after his awful
conduct three minutes before. turned and
ran back to the arbor as fast as ever could
go, and opened the dryest and most pessi-
misec OF the books upon my table, and read
and read and read for an hour and a half till
mother came to look for me, and to tell me
that the luncheon gong had sounded ever 30
long ago.
I shut my book with bang and went meekly
back to the house with the dear mother, and I
had not the least little bit Of notion what had
been reading, except ike Hamlet's book that
it was words, words. words" hated myself
a. had never hated myself before, though
have been ever kssnly alive 70 my ewa bate