The Seattle post-intelligencer. [volume] (Seattle, Wash. Terr. [Wash.]) 1888-1914, 1891-07-05

the whole story. Ii would be rather
pleasant 10 do this; to watch his oppor-
tunity and have long, quiet. confidential
talk, and see what Miss Eleanor thought
of it all.
Her name was Eleanor. A pretty name
and suited its owner She could not have
been Betty" He would not have had
her Betty" for the world. Eleanor meant
just the wiiiowy figure, and the mourning
and the murmuring voice OF this new
young friend. Would she turn into a
young friend? On the whole Harbeck
thought she might.
Now, what would this simple, middle
aged bachelors face have looked like if he
could have peeped into the room left be-
hind and beheld the young friend" at
the moment while he, riding homeward
through the misty lanes, was indulging
in such nominations?
No sooner was the front door closed be-
hind Eleanor Drew's visitor than Eleanor
Drew underwent swift and extraordinary
transformation.
Three steps-not demure ones--took her
TO the drawing-room window, whence she
watched for the space of one entire minute
the soldierly figure set forth across the
square. But even in that brief interval a
mask was cast aside. The bashful ewes,
that could scarce lift themselves TO Har-
beck's now open to their widest extent,
were trimming with mischievous mirth:
the folded hands, that had penslvely toyed
with mourning handkerchief, were being
rubbed together in hoydenish giee: the
dropping lips were red with color and
parted in shrill laughter.
'0h, dear-oh, dear; I have gone and
done It'll Oh, who would have ever
dreamed / could have done it so we'll?
Everything to have turned out to nicely.
and he coming tomorrow and the hour
fixed and ALL Oh, dear-oh, dearl Ha-
ha-hal Ha-ha-ha! Have | not always
said that if a fly had chance fly could
spin web as well as spider? l am the
little, little fly, and Philip Harbeck is the
great, big, burly spider, and have woven
my web, and Philip is-oh, dear, oh, dear,
what if Philip should not be caught in it,
after all?"
Philip had bad night. l should not
like to have TO decide TO a nicely how
many wakeful hours were due to partaking
Of an indigestibe dish at dinner and how
many to certain amount of excitement
consequent on the adventure of the after
noon.
He could not get the afternoon out of his
head, nor, sooth to say, out of his dreams.
He took out Betty's photograph and held
1t before him at intervals. Was there not
look of Eleanor in the brow, the chin
the clustering curls? Was not Eleanor in
all probability more like this Betty of old
than the Betty of today would have been
had there been such one? He was
almost glad to think that he should never
see this other Betty.
And vet he was sorry. There had been
some things about Betty that time could
never have altered nor effaced. How well
he remembered Betty's joyous taught
Betty's hooking little waysl Betty's free
tongue-and anon Betty's tearsl
She was not very dependable
Betty, not perhaps the woman one
would choose at leisure for a wife
and yet! Yes, he was sorry Betty was
gone, sorry that he should now never
know into what kind of Betty she had
turned. Would Eleanor be able to tell
him? Hardly. Women were seldom good
hands at describing each other, and nieces
could not reasonably be expected to do
justice to aunts. He would like just to
have seen Betty. He did not fancy Betty
if Betty had not changed? With little
sigh the solitary man turned his head
upon the pillow and slipped the faded
photograph beneath it.
Five O'Clock saw Colonel Harbeck, with
military punctuality, stand upon the step
of the red brick house in Abbey square.
He had not to wait; he was shown at
once up the narrow staircase into the
formal front room, DINNER today than
cloudy, and also because Miss Eleanor
Drew had, in order to shut out the some
what dingy panes, drawn the muslin cur
tains within straight across them.
The dizziness was nothing to Harbeck.
Throughout the last twenty-four hours he
had been living in bygone memories,
which made him find enough interest in
the old house and inhabitants to throw
everything else into the background. He
was glad to be where he was again. He
had made up his mind to open up the old
ground: to put forth his feelers and see
what would be the result. He would talk
about Betty
The door opened and Betty entered:
soon as he could speak. "Who?-What2
Who, in heavens name, are your" in
hoarse whisper. Betty ?"-drawing near
her--"Betty?'' tremblingly taking the
hand held out. But II thought" al
most shrinking from the glowing features
between him and the light. II heard such
strange thing-here-on this very spot
only day ago-only yesterday. / heard
that you. He could not finish the SEN
tence.1
And then he looked again, and saw that
the woman who stood beside him had no
lips for utterance either.
A pause.
An cutlery.
"Bettyn'
"Philip"
Only one word from each; then heart to
heart, all wrath forgotten, all wrong for.
given, love victorious, crowned at last.
But. oh, my darling, said Philip, when
at length speech was possible. and SWIM
ming eyes everhowed no longer, tell me.
II you can, how this great happiness has
come to me at last2 l am so bewildered-
SO unutterably dazed and stupefed. 1
find you out by chance-that is to saw.
Ind out that Miss Drew lives here; see.
this is what guided me-" producing his
treasure-he had come to look upo6 the
pale photograph as his treasure-"and
then | find a young LADY,
MY niece Eleanor"
''Oh, she is your niece Eleanorw II
seemed to him as if the apparition of one
fair one on the scene might not unreasone
ably have led to the vanishing of the
other.
Eleanor is Johns child John. Won re-
member John ?" said Betty, flushed and
incoherent. But what did Eleanor tell
you? And why were you $3.50 fright
ened-yes, you were frightened; you were
paralyZed by the sight of me?''
You were frightened when you saw me.
too, Betty. Betty, my love-my own old
love-what brought you here? And did
you not know I was here? And how is II
you are so little changed? You are not
changed at all-not in the slightest. You
are just my Betty that ALWAYS was. and
oh, Betty. dear, dear Betty, why did we
ever part? We must never part again
We-oh, | am so happy" said poor Philin
fairly breaking down and forgettjng iii
that he had ever boosted and protested in
his vainglorlous bachelorhood. II am so
happy. l don't care how il came about or
ANYTHING else / don't care for aDv,b;