Beverly banner. [volume] (Beverly, N.J.) 1877-1964, 1890-02-08
After Long Grief.

down the long rooms, flushed, trlum
plant, smiling, elegantly attired, anC
with my titled lover by my side.
He was my lover, openly enough
though we were not engaged that wa
my fault entirely.
"You will grant me an interview to
morrow ?" pleaded Sir Edward, softly.
| knew we'll what that meant, he
would be trihed with no longer.
bowed a cold assent. Then Mrs. Gray
came up to me and said 81 have 6
charming surprise for you, my dear
Who do you suppose is coming here
to-night-coming, too, expressly to see
you You remember your old school
fellow, Viola Wilton? She married
abroad recently, and has come home
for her wedding tour. They arrived
only yesterday. | could never have
persuaded her to be present tonight
but for her longing to see you"
Ny heart beat wildly. Viola coming
home, and so anxious to see me
What might it mean? Pretty Viola,
about whom Frank Bascome and |
had quarreled because of my jealous
fancy. | realized now how idle that
jealousy had been. What if Viola was
the bearer of some message from
Frank Some precious olive-branch of
peace and hope Oh, if it were but a
word, to tell me that, in spite of pride,
his heart has been as constant as my
own, how | would welcome it Hope
sprang high in my breast.
"Sir Edward may be disappointed
tomorrow, after ALL" I thought and
then | inquired as calmly as l could j:
"Who did Viola marry ""
can old acquaintance of your own,
dear, which makes it so much more
agreeable. Pretty Viola is Mrs. Bas-
combe now-as pretty as ever, and
much more stylish. 1t seems to me
that you and Frank Bascome We're
good friends two years ago. 1t will be
pleasanter for you all to meet"
And then some one else attracted
her attention, and she ran merrily
away.
don't know how long | may have
sat there, quite still, without realizing
anything but the anguish of the wound
she had so innocently given my heart.
The first thing that aroused me to a
sense of the present was Sir Edward s
voice.
He was bending over me with an
air of lover-like solicitude. 1t would
have angered me at another time, but
it was welcome now.
II fear you are not WE'LL" he said,
'yOu look so pale
[ arose and took his arm. | did it
pointedly, with a certain air Of appro-
priation that all might see.
81 am not WE'LL" said. eff you
will take me quietly to my carriage,
and then return and make excuses to
Mrs. Gray" l paused, then added,
meaningly, looking straight into his
eyes: 81 shall be sufficiently recovered
to receive you when you call to-mor-
row, l dare say
A look of triumphant pleasure
flashed into his face.
Dearest Christine!" he murmured.
He mad never presumed to call me
by my name before. | shuddered with
feeling Of repulsion for moment,
then controlled myself, and leaned
upon his arm. Many eyes followed us
Understandings as we made our way
through the crowd. At the carriage
door he kissed my hand. That was
seen also. [ did not care. What did
it matter? He was not TO be disap-
pointed tomorrow, after all.
As | bowed good night from the
window another carriage drove up to
the door, and | saw its occupants de-
scend. A gentleman came first dark
and tall, with face that seemed fami-
liar to me. Then sprang out, into his
very arms, a little dainty figure, clad
in bridal white-Viola pretty Viola
Prettier, indeed, than ever, and spark.
ling with happiness and joy. Another
figure followed her-Frank Bascome
the man | loved
Oh, heavens the sight of him, after
those two long years. How it drove
all other thought, all other memory
from my mind, save only that of how
| loved him. l leaned forward, drink
ing in eagerly every detail of his dres;
and form and face, noting in one sec
ond, all the changes of two years. A
noble form, brightly happy face; nc
trace OF long, unsatisfed heart-yearnine
| there
| had forgotten that he was Viola
husband. All memory of Sir Ed
wards hopes had vanished from my
mind. One little incident recalled i
all. AS | gazed he took Viola, laugh
ingly and with gentle force, from he
dark companions arms and conducted
her in merry triumph into the hous'
himself, the other following gayly.
l think the cry of anguish that brok'
from my lips at that sight would hav'
had its way, though all the world hac
stood by to hear. Lost to me-lost
The man | loved-adored-who ono
had loved me well, for whose return
had waited, hoped, and prayed through
weary years-lost lost J given t.
another woman, and caressing her be
fore my eyes! Oh, heaven! what wa
| pride or the worlds opinion worth t.
me i'll that bitter hour?"
| sank down in the bottom of tn