The Fort Worth gazette. (Fort Worth, Tex.) 1891-189?, 1891-04-30

7 Net now" said Unorns. But was
Young
BY common instinct, as they fell into
conversation. they began to walk moro
slowly, side by side,
Indeed" said Beatrice, With slight in
crease OF interest. Then you were brought
up here by the nuns
Not exactly. 1t was sort of refuge for
he when Twas almost child. I was left
here alone until | was thought old enough
TO take care OF myself
There was little bitterness in her tone,
Intentional, but mastery in its truth to
nature.
Left by your parents Beatrice asked
The question seemed almost inevitable.
II had none. l never knew a father nor
mother Unorna's voice grew sad with
each syllable.
They had entered the great corridor in
which their apartments We're situated. and
were approaching Beatrice's door, They
walked more and more slowly, in silence
during the last few moments. after Jnorna
had spoken. Uuorna sighed. The passing
breath, travelling on the air of the lonely
! place, seemed both to invite and offer sym
patty.
My father died last week" Beatrice
said in very low tone. that was quite
steady. Il am quite alone-here and in
! the world
She had her hand upon the latch and her
| deep black eyes rested upon Unorna's, as
though almost. but not quite, conveying an
invitation, hungry for human comfort, yet
too proud TO ask it.
i am very lonely, too said Unorna.
| MAY l sit with you for awhile."
| She had just time to make the bold stroke
| that was necessary. In another moment
| she knew that Beatrice would have disap-
peared within. Her heart beat violently
| until the answer came. She had been sue
cessful.
VIII you, indeed2" Beatrice exclaimed.
| i am poor company, but l shall be very
| glad if you viii come in. =
She opened the door and Unorna entered.
| The apartment was almost exactly like her
! own in size and shape and furniture. but it
! already had the air of being inhabited.
| There We're books upon the table. and 4
! square jewel case and al old silver frame
| containing large photograph Of stern,
| dark man i'll middle age-Beatrice's father
| as Unorna at once understood CIoaks and
| furs lay in some confusion upon the chairs.
| :. large box stood with the lid raised.
against the wall, displaying quantity OF
| lace, among which lay silks and ribbons Of
| soft colorS.
Il only came this morning. Beatrice
said. as though TO apologize for the dis
order.
Unorna sank down in corner of the
sofa, shading her eyes from the bright
lamp with her hand She could not help
looking at Beatrice, but she felt that she
must not let her scrutiny be too apparent
nor her conversation too eager. Beatrice
was proud and strong and could doubtless
be very cold and forbidding when she
chose.
And do You expect TO be here long,"
| Unorna asked, as Beatrice established her
self ut the other end of the sofa.
Il cannot tell was the answer. II may
be here but few days, or ! may have to
stay month"
Il lived here for years. said Unorna.
thoughtfullN. Il suppose it would be i'm
possible nOw-I should die of apathy and
| hamilton" She laughed in subdued way,
as though respecting Beatrice's mourning.
But l was young them she added, sud
denly withdrawing her hand from her eyes,
so that the full light of the lamp fell upon
her.
She chose TO show that she, too, was beau
tiful. and she knew that Beatrice had as yet
hardly seen her face as they passed through
the gloomy corridors. 1t was an instinct of
vanity, and Vet, for her purpose, il was the
right one. The effect was sudden and un-
expected, and Beatrice looked at her almost
tiXedly. in undisguised admiration.
Young them" she exclaimed. ''You are
young now"
LESS young than [ was them; Unorna
answered, with Il little sigh, followed in
stant!y by smile.
Il am five and twenty said Beatrice.
woman enough to try and force a confes-
sion from her new acquaintance.