Wheeling Sunday register. [volume] (Wheeling, W. Va.) 1882-1934, 1891-11-01

remember more recent times OF stormy
passion and jealous fury, and find food
for graduation in the reflection that this
present epoch might be far worse than
| IL was.
Sand who are going?"
"Only ingalls,, Horton and myself, 80
far as heard from. Horton spoke OF ask
ing that young Bardill who was at the
park last summer-I presume you met
him."
POSSIBLY; but don't recall him"
"a cadaverous youth who hung about
the Rogerses a good DEAL" absently ab-
sorbed in his fly book.
"No," dryly. at was cadaverous
clergyman who hung about that quarter
in my day; and his name wis not Bar
dill"
"Bardill had probably gone before you
got there. That's pretty fly, Mia,
admiringly holding it out for her IN
Spection.
Lovely" with we'll stimulated enthu-
siasm, seeing nothing to distinguish IL
from any other of those bits OF feathers
that covered the page on his knee.
"Do you know" hesitating almost
shyly, ~ thought perhaps you mlgnt
like to go. They tell me 1t is lovely
place to camp, and Dewey said that ne
and his wife would go il there were
other ladies. You have not been looking
we'll lately; the trip might do you good. 4"
Sand is this young Bardill still nang-
ing about the Rogerses?"
''I'm sure l don't know. Why?" star
| ing, surprised at the irrelevant ques-
ton.
"Only 1 was wondering II they would
be invited" She could have bitten her
tongue for the impulsive candor. his
| face flushed agrily.
Nobody has suggested it" folding up
| the flies and coldlY rising TO go. II
| infer from your manner that you don't
much care to be invited though. "Weil, =
more pleasantly, sit might be nara
/ jaunt for you, and you were never over
| fond of camping. Perhaps you are wise
to keep yourself cool al home.
After a moment of hesitation she FOL
lowed after him 10 the hall door. "Why,
Don, you hardly gave me time to speak
| for myself" she gently expostuIated.
'If YOU don't mind-if it would not make
too much trouble for you," In small,
meak voice, Il think / would like to go
very much" There was a soft entreaty
| in her eyes that brought him full step
nearer her.
! "Trouble, child Why, II l had not
wanted you l would not have asked you,
would l? l shall only be too glad to
have you, as you ought to know" He
made slight movement as II he mig hit
/ be going TO bend and kiss her, rs he
used TO do when she followed him to the
door like this, but she drew back quick
| Iv, turning her head to hide her burning
blush. lie must not imagine that she
had followed him for that.
Her strength seemed utterly exhaust
ed as she slowly dragged herself up the
| stairs to the room she had made her
| studio. With feverish energy she had
been devoting herself to painting, for
which she had moro taste than talent;
but her logged industry had accom-
pliShed considerable amount OF work
that was far from bad, and in no other
pursuit could she so nearly find escape
from her burden Of wearisome thought.
The room was bare of furniture, save
for few chairs, an easel and a table
covered with an artists litter. Sketch
es In oil and water cOlors were pinned
upon the walls; an unfinished picture
was upon the easel; her palette, untid-
ily set as she had left it the day before,
lay on the table, and beside it, in slen-
der glass vase, the rosebud she had
painted had burst into perfect bloom.
She dropped heavily upon chair, star
ing DULY around at her work upon the
walls. A rush OF recollection was upon
her. 1t seemed as if she could see
where misery had made its
mark with every stroke Of the
brush. 1t seemed that in these
sketches she could see, written in q
hieroglyphic only her eyes might read,
the history OF those dreary, dragging
months when with this work she had
tried TO fight awaS thoughts OF the un-
happiness that rSver relaxed its grip
upon her. She found herself dreamily
wondering why, when death would
so quickly come at call, she had still
lived on, piling the burdensome days
one on top OF another. For what had
/ she been waiting? Was it In the weak
hope that Donald would come back to
her wnen his tickle fancy veered again?
Perish the thought!
She began doggedly working, sketch
ing in the great pink rose below yeSter-
days painting Of its half blown youth,
but her brush moved laggingly.
Wearled she was to the utmost limit OF
endurance of her colorless home lite, of
the narrow routine OF the little town, its
dull designations of church SocialS and
card parties, its treadmill round OF call
ing and gossip peddling. Why was II
not better to die at once? Or, II she
would'live, why should she not make her
life somewhat worth the living? She
was fairly rich. Gray's money
she had not yet touched, and
between Donald and herself 1t had
never been mentioned; but she had not
forgotten that it was hers, to do with as
she would. 1t was a magician's wand
in her hand, to open the treasury of all
earth's pleasures. She would like To
study art, and here the opportunity was
hers if she would but take it, She had
always longed for travel; why now was
she halting? OF sudden her resolu-
ton was taken. She would write to
her uncle John ct once to make the
necessary arrangements and she would
go anywhere, it did not much mat
ter. And she would go alone; no Van
Zandt chaperon should be thrust upon
her upon plea of propriety, to drive her
mad with sociability. She would not
be coerced into admiration for the fair,
est scene Of earth; nobody should drive
her into any pretense Of enjoyment.
With a bitter laugh she leaned back
in her chair, with half shut eyes study
| nNoi4Ir