Abilene weekly reflector. [volume] (Abilene, Kan.) 1888-1935, 1891-01-15
COrTEIeHr By AMERICAN Press ASSOCIATION,

time with the presence OF Mime. BemaX.
She wished to dismiss the whole subject
Of the opera from her mind, and to aid
herself in doing so she fixed her thoughts
upon her brother Ed, and recalled all
his ways and escapades and the happy
times they had spent together. She
pictured him and herself running races,
and climbing trees, and finding birds
nests, and tending their red and white
roses, and going on hunting expeditions
after woodchucks and squirrels, and she
brought back to her memory the talks
they used to have together, when they
would lay out before themselves the
course Of their future hves-what they
would do and what they would be. How
different from their anticipation it had
turned out! But he was her brother just
the same, and. she loved him none the
less than she had ever done; on the con-
trary she loved him more, for he had
given her an opportunity to show her
love by repairing an injury which he
had doDF,
It was pheasant to think that, when he
returned home, expecting TO meet only
distress and reproaches, he would find
instead prosperity as great, if not greater
than before extravaganza began, and all
ewing to his own sister! If he had done
wrong, his sister thought, the discovery
that she had worked to repair it would
b more certain than anything else to
make him henceforward do right. Then
she began to speculate rs to what sort Of
wrong he had done-whether it were
anything more than thoughtlessness and
extravaganza. A few weeks ago she
would have said that it could be nothing
more; but she had been forced to see
and hear certain things Of late which
made her hesitate. She had seen what
some young men, possessed of money
and freedom, were and did; why might
not her brother Ed be like them? She
put the thought away from her; she
would not believe evil of her own brother.
He was Randolph and a gentleman.
He might be selfish and reckless, but he
would never do anything wicked or dis
graceful 1t was more to be feared that
be would deem her to have disgraced
herself in stealing another woman's
name and reputation. 1t was all very
well to plead that she had been per-
suaded into it half ignorantly, half
against her will; the fact that she had
done It remained. Well-it was too late
70 turn back nowl
The long hours passed on, and as the
evening approached she found herself
thinking not of Ed, but Of another per-
son, who had come into her mind, not by
her own invitation, but involuntarily; or
possibly he had been in the background
al the while, and advanced as the other
Ieceded. She had had no conversation
with Bellingham since that day at the
theatre, but they had met several times
and exchanged a few words, and there
had been something in his manner that
had strengthened and treasured her, she
knew not why-something that seemed
70 show that intuition was acquiring
more weight with him than reason. And
yet he had not seemed happy nor at ease;
but his uneasiness was of kind that
soothed and inspirited her. 1t was like
the trouble of a cloudy dawn, out of
which the sun at last rises clear. He was
AOb bAOeaSACAOuo AO1 4L4ldllSlDlCr uht 50
many men; his qualities were large and
firmly based; he could not play monkey
tricks, and talk one thing while he thought
another. The process of his feelings was
honest and open; he was reserved and ret
ieent precisely because he could not be
insincere.
The prima donna longed with all her
soul to be as frank and undisguised as
he. She felt that could she be so all
would be well between them; but that
until then all would not be well. And
she said to herself, how perverse a mis-
hap 1t was that this disguise of hers
should have become necessary just when
they met; had she met him at any other
time of her life he would have known
her as she really was, and his intuition
and his reason would have been at one.
But then, again, her pride arose, and she
vowed that if he did not care enough
about knowing her to discern her real
self beneath the false disguise he should
never know her at all. But did what she
called her real self exist any longer? Had
not the disguise destroyed it? And, if so,
cOrld she expect him TO discover what
was no longer there? She pressed her
handsSver her eyes and breathed heavily.
The time of waiting was now over,
however. Mime. Bemax was knocking
at the door, and coming in with made |
moiselle's cloak and bonnet in her hand, |
and saying that the carriage was ready |
and that they must drive to the theatre |
at once in order that mademoiselle might |
have time to put on Marguerite's dress
before the curtain rose. The prima
donna stood up, and the realization of |
what lay before her came sweeping over
her mind like storm. She was slightly |
tremulous and felt cold and feeble. |
Nine. Bemax made her drink glass of |
vine, and conducted her down to the |
carriage. She seemed hardly to know |
where she was, she could speak only |
with an effort; benumbing preoccupa-
ton had got possession of her. At the |
carriage door a gentleman was waiting, |
clad In evening dress, with light over |
coat. Her heart beat for an instant. |
then became oppressed and tremulous /
again; it was only Jocelyn. He helped
her into the carriage, and got in after her
and Nine. Bemax. He began to say vari-
Gus things in caresSing, encouraging
voice; she exclaimed sharply, Don't
speak to me! Unjust think my thoughtsI"
The rattle of the wheels on the pave
ment agitated her; she could not keen
her bands or her lips still. Sometimes
she fancied they had been driving for
hours; sometimes that they had SCARCELY