The Sunday morning news. [volume] (Jersey City [N.J.]) 1886-1891, 1890-03-09

tsS hte WI HlS uftild anu Ioucneu neF- he
could not see; but as II happened, It was
her arm, just below the elbow, that he
caught She had drawn off her long
gloves to play that last sett, and the
pretty, soft rounded arm was bare. His
fingers erept round it tenderIy, and a
swift hush rose to his cheek. ssNo, do not
take me at my word, he said, hurriedly
~ cannot resign this pleasure you would
give me =
Miss French patted the hand resting
on her arm IN the ARREST fashion. and thea
as airily displaced it from its desirable po
sition.
sPouf 2 she said, TO be too punctilious
is to lose the salt Of life feel | have
done my duty by auntie's guests for one
day. Come. give me my reward. / am
tired, and to sit In shady room and read
aloud q favorfte poem or TWO willre me.
70 read TO you especially, as you are ever
an appreeiative audience
This, coming from another woman,
might SAVIOR of encouragement but Miss
French was clever. and eontrived to in
sert into her tone touch Of absolute in
difference that utterly destroyed the
sweetness Of the words. He sighed in
voluntarily, and followed her indoors to a
coy little room, half library. BALI
houdoir, where he sank with u rather ex-
hausted air upon lounge
She looked at him sharply.
''fon don't grow stronger, = she said.
s'Ohl / hope not, be returned YEARLY.
What an absurd answerr' She spoke
angriiy, and threw the book she held upon
the table near her with rather unneces-
sary violence. Your affiictioE is of course
great. but you are not the only one;
Others have endured it, Surely your
strength is as good as theirs
AS good, so far. But to be blind is
not the worst thing that can befaI1 q
man.
1t was impossible that she should mis-
understand him.
From you,' she said. growing ex-
tremely pale, sssuch q aspeech as that is
crueler than it could ever be from an
other Considering all that has come and
gone between us, you might have spared
me that
Considering all you speak of, you
might have judged me more justly. Could
| think one unkind thought of your And
do you believe I have not measured the
gulf that now divides usS In my best
days ! was nothing to you, and now''---
Yes, yes. | was hasty ] wronged
you, said she, hurriedly.
ssYou are an angel to bear with the
whilns and fancies of n poor wretch like
me. Then he held out his hand to
where he might reasonably suppose she
was sitting. sGive me your hand ne
said. THAT sweet pledge | once stroye
to win from you, to have and to hold for
ever, You win surely not refuse TO lend
me now, in this my evilest hour
She pushed back her chair and rose abb
ruptly.
f.No, no. she said. 'sThink me cruel,
unfeeling If you will, but believe me it is
for the best .
sAs you win, . he said gently. s'And
now for this reading you have promised. y
Miss Ffrench, who was in spite of her.
self disturbed, regarded him intently for
awhile, then turned abruptly aside, and,
happy in the mournfnl knowledge thas he
could not see her, she pressed her hand
convuisively against her eyes. II by this
means she pressed back any nnweleome
tears, was known only to herself When
she spoke there was not the faintest trace
of emotion in her clear, fresh voice.
We'll, what shall it begi' she said
s'What have we heres'' She took up q
book at random from the table. Swim
burne, eh? He is the least little bit too
sentimental for me, / confess. but I'll try
something The first thing open at
She gave careless glance at the page
before her and began:
Let US go hence, my songs: she will not hear.
Let Us go hence together without fear;
Keep silence now, for singing time is over,
Ard over all old Things and all things dear
She loves not you nor as all We love her.
Yea, though we sang as angels in her ear,
She would not beef
Let us go hence, go hence: she win not see.
Sing all once more together; surely She.
She too. remembering days and words that were.
VIII turn little toward US signing; hut we,
We are hence. we are gone, as though we had not
been there,
Nay, and though all men seeing had pity on me-,
she would not see.
ssWhat folly it all ISL she cried, irrita-
bly,, hinging the book aside. why not
have something more wholesome than
that, if you must have poetry? Pshaw |
to think of any man calling himself a
man wasting so much breath over a Great
ure devoid of feelings''
He was silent.
why do you not speaky7 she cried,
angrily. Perhaps you think my censure
falls upon myself Am I such a creatures
Have / no feeling2''
You have more than most, / think.
That is why l love you He spoke quite
calmly, and as though it were a very
ordinary thought with him, "And as
for thut other of whom you have been
reading, who shall say that she felt for
no one? To that one man perhaps she
was dead; but to another-Joan' Ibis
tone grew low and eager-"telI me one
thing. Are you going to marry Durns-
fords A Whisper suspicion of it has
been conveyed to me-"
"A very unstable whisper"
You deny it, thens'i His breath came
quickly; he leaned toward her, very
world of hope in his sightless face. 1t
crushed her She rose and drew back a
step or two, laying her hand upon a chair
near her as if TO steady herself
''There is no need for denial, = she said,
sLord Durnsford has not done me the
honor to ask me-yetl''
She did great violence to her feelings
when she spoke that yet, y but she felt
it her duty to do it, To deceive him, even
in so legitimate matter, was more than
she could compass. Contrary to her ex
pectations and her fears, however, he took
it very calmly.
~ see-I quite understand" he said.
II have probed you as l should not have
done, and you have borne with me as /
believe no other woman could. And--do
net feel sorry for me, Joan. That | love
Won * my one 1lnfvinp 10Y Now GO on