The Dalles daily chronicle. [volume] (The Dalles, Or.) 1890-1948, 1891-06-08
ELEANOR IN LOVE

She held in her hand the letter. Should
ske send it? That moment was one of
those wistfully critical epochs of exis-
teace upon which may swing, as upon a
hinge, the door of destiny.
Eleanor Armstrong stood in doubt.
Why? It was little thing, just friend
letter to Jack Renshaw out in Texas.
What matter? Why should she hesitate?
Heanors could not tell. Still she lin
xeEed. dimly prescient of that swinging
asor of destiny
She had written his name across the
savelope; should she complete the ad-
dress and let it gof Hers was a quick.
positive nature, given to the obedience
Of impulse. was vexing to be SO puz-
led over so slight thing.
An accident, If such, it was, decided
the question. A caller was announced.
She descended to the drawing room, and
fhe letter went to the box, gathered ND
with the rest of her mail by the hand of
10 maid.
1T was destiny" said Eleanor to her
self IN an afterthought..
After all nothing could come of it.
She was under no obligation to Jack
Renshaw, nor to any other man, in fact.
Then she wondered idly if she ever
should care for any of them---one more
than another-for Eleanor Armstrong,
while no beauty, had grace and sparkle,
and subtle personal magnetism which
drew about her plenty of admirers
She favored them all by turns. Last
Summer it was Lew Hunter. She went
boating with him up in lovely Chocorua.
where they summered. played tennis and
climbed country roads and hills
He was so strong and good natured,
and made such good alpen-stock,' she
eoolly explained to her aunt, Miss Jane
Mears, who was her careful chaperon
This year. last past, it was Jack Rem
shaw, at the same place, Chocorua-
dear old dreamy town." Eleanor said,
II could never tire of it." Jack did not
dance, cared nothing for tennis, and had
no experience with oars: but he read
poetry beautifully. and could tell her
charming old idyls as they walked by
the river
He interested her in a way that others
did not: and yet he had such dreadfully
intense earnestness about him that he
positively frightened her sometimes, she
sAid.
Now the summer was gone, Jack was
IN Texas, and Eleanor was in her CITY
home with only Aunt Jane and memory
Yes, there was always Fred Kensel. He
hved in handsome house up in the
square, with stylish mother and sisters
He was the oldest friend of all, and was
always at hand, sometimes more than
Eleanor wished. For in the last year
their frank, unrestrained good fellow
nhip had in some way taken on a color
too strong for ordinary friendship, and
Eleanor often found herself uncomforta-
BILE and i'll at ease when Fred was near.
She would declare the air was close she
must have the window open-ard where
was Aunt Jane? Or if they were on the
street she complained of his pace; why
did he lag so?i Couldn't he walk up like
any other man? Poor Fred unwittihgly
felt the smart of many thorns that
winter
But about Jack Renshaw; Eleanor
cared nothing for him-she knew she
didn't. He was pleasant summer
friend. nothing more. He. had light
hair: she wouldn't marry asblonde;. any
wAy. Then he was too serious, too
'.preachy." She wasn't going to- marry
. guideboard. Besides he was all of ten
yeaEs older than sshe- might as.vells be
zrAndfather No, Jack RshShAw,
for 2nything but = friend, was out ofthe
q1estidnI Lew Hpnter was more to her
mind, and secretly to herself, she owned
that Mr.. jerome Arthur. the tenor at st.
PAuPs. was nearer to3her tast4 than
sithar. But Mr. Jerome Arthur vas as
yet only vague possibility. Sh6 hssd
q