Alpena weekly argus. [volume] (Alpena, Mich.) 1871-1893, 1891-09-30
thought faded to sorrowful regret woke

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TO fresh life and cried out for its own.
She tried to conceal it and she did,
but paid her penalty in restless days
and wakeful nights. To see him now,
the admirer, the possible lover, of her
younger sister was trial Of which
she was spared no pang that Bessie's
out-spoken vanity and triumph could
infict. The girl had never been SO
gay, so lovely, before-or so selfish.
She laughed more than once at Hes
theirs short hair, and, meanwhile, wore
the transferred locks with her own in
various facinating styles of couture
for the benefit of Mr.Gray fell, who
staid on with the Lawfords, week after
week, and made suspiciously frequent
morning.calls and evening-visits to the
Norrises.
On these occasions it was Bessie who
talked and played for him, who Joined
him at croquet and he seemed will
ing to be entertained. To Hesther he
said but little. Yet something IN his
manner told her that he had at least
not forgotten the past between them.
Sometimes, she met his eyes turned
on herself with a look that made her
thrill and tremble. Could it be poss-
IDLE, she thought, that, after all he
still loved her, as in the old days
But no, no it was plainly Bessie
that he sought-Bessie, who was ten
years younger and fresh and fair
who had first drawn him to the house.
Yes, of course it was Bessie !
Tom Lawford came sometimes with
his cousin, those summer evenings.
Poor Tom, so silent and miserably
jealous-a dismal figure on the croquet
ground or in the parlor, where Mr..
Grayfell seemed to take mischievous
pleasure in monopolizing Bessie un.
der the poor fellows eyes. Hesther
was very good to Tom during that
time, having, perhaps, a fellow-feeling
for him. They talked to each other
or played chess, all the while painful
ly conscious of the other two, and il
truth, were both suffering from thai
old, old, natural, torturing human
jealousy that no one is ever too young
or too old, too bad or too good to feel
One warm and sultry June evening
five weeks after the Lawford party
a golden summer evening, with a min.
gled odor of roses and new.mown hay
in the air-Hesther Norris sat alone
in the shaded parlor, bending oyer hel
sewing, and listening to the sound o.
merry voices from the croquet-ground
without, where Lawrence Grayfell and
Bessie were playing. Their voices
and the click, click of the mallets
grew presently intolerable to her over
strung nerves she threw her work
aside, and going to the piano began t.
play-anything to drown those Earring
sounds-first a snatch of one tune
then another, till she struck into tha
most eloquent, passionate, saddest O
all Beethoven's tunes, the Clara Waltz
With strong, deep, yet soft touch
she played ia touch worthy of its
capabilities-fnding it a fitting ex-
preston of her mood, such as music
often gives where words would fail
"My love oh, my love p' The notes
seemed to speak again and again be-
meath her slender fingers, in that ex-
quisite, tender, sobbing fall at the end
of each bar ; and, with passionate
earnestness, she played on "My love
oh, my love !" again, and yet again
till there was sudden break, a pause
as Lawrence Grayfell quietly entered
the room. He looked rather pale and
grave.
Don't stop, beg Of you, play
on" he said. Perhaps you can guess
why l have some very dear memories
connected with that, my favorite of all
tunes. Play it for me again." His
tone, his manner, stirred her heart
with strange thrill, yet offended her.
too. Had he come to trife with old
memories-with her? she thought
1t was too cruel. She rose from the
piano, flushing high.
II am tired. I can play no more
now" she said, coldly, adding -
where is Bessie p
"Oh, l left her just now in very
good company" he answered, with a
smile. "Tom Lawford has come, and
they are beginning new game. ]
came in here because ! have something
to say to you. Won't you listen, He's
Their ?"
She sat down, trembling in every
limb, but her lips could frame no re-
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