The morning news. [volume] (Savannah, Ga.) 1887-1900, 1892-01-10

bruntons daughter. Was Archie Milrov
SO very handsome, mammal asked Miss
Edith presently. tapping on the window
pane with the tips Of her fingers. and look
into the garden
Il believe he was considered so-but
there. don't speak TO me of that wretched
aHalr, child I'm not strong enough to bear
Notifying "reminiscences. Ionly wish tbst
foolish girl had never seen him. Mrs
brunton smiled at her vinaigrette.
well, mamma, Pm going 20 make I'D TO
you for Beattle's foollshness aud Obstinacy.
Hou shall have one daughter a credit to
you. If Lord Peterscourt is like the pener-
allty OF his sex be shall not leave the fancy
falr heart whole tomorrow evening"
Sne was certainly a beautiful creature
Inc exquisite material and artistic shape of
her gown set off her graceful figure to the
utmost; the great hat, with its smoke-like
noatlng feathers, seemed to highten every
charm Of the fair face, with it's large brown
eyes. and its framing CT rich. curling
golden brown hair.
Aud now l must run and take off nv
finery, or it won't look fresh Tomorrow -
ANA she disappeared from the room.
AFTER what we have Just heard, 1t is
scarcely necessary to premise that Edith
brunton was selfish, vain and ill-natured.
one was, In truth, one OF those who, not
| content with possessing one of nature'e
O-SASS0~ hAASog Ahhob nccus 10 TO AERra-
vate the unhappy lot Of such of her sex as
did not possess them. Out in the full sun
SHINE herself, she was not satisfied unless
she had increased the discomfort Of those
VINO sat IN the gloomy, chilly shade. Her
| own sex in general dreaded her With her
great beauty of face and form, her clever
ness, her capacity for saying the cruelest
and most cutting things her overweening
ana aggressive vanity, she was one before
whom Skr
oolors; and. though hating her, they must
DO 1t silently, for hatred Of beauty is bad
| form, and always gets SGT down to jealousy
What contrast was Beatrice Brunton to
her sisterl Tall. stately, dark-halred Beat
rice, with her handsome pale face and deep
blue eyes. Even in the 1rst flush of her
| youth, admired and courted, she had been
30 kind and gentle-had never cared to tri-
| umph meanly over her palmer friends
mot 50 clever as Edith" had long been the
verdict on her, and she had accepted it
| quietly aud meekly. Nos that Beatrice
| Brnuton was wanting in spirit. Years ago
her father and mother had had two strong
proofs to the contrary. Those were the
days when Beatrice was surrounded by adj
mlrers. Gay times. those. Beatrice, a
| blooming beauty in her teens-Edith a lit
te child In England with her aunts-times
| In which fair Beattie never dreamed of
later days In which an upstart sister, grown
TO womanhood herself, should gibe and goad
| at her as an "old maid"
| And out of all her crowd of admirers Ar
chic Milroy, young lieutenant in the Lam
GERS, had won her heart. Archie, who,
though well-cOnnected, had nothing in the
world but his good looks, his manly, faith
! full heart, and his slender pay, had dared to
fall in love with Gen. Brunton's beautiful
daughter. He was sent to the right-about
by the generel-an ambitious, worldly man
| in such a fashion that he was not likely to
reuew the attack. Only two more of those
countless loving hearts that have been torn
apart by ms mmun.
But though they could drive poor
Beatrice's chosen lover away, they could
not force her to take one to their liking. In
spite Of their anger and their reproaches she
persisted in refusing the most advantageous
offers. When Gen. Bruuton's health failed,
and the family came to England, Beatrice
felt that her last hope of seeing Archie
again was gone The general had a six
months leave-but he took a much longer
one for. he died in England. And the fami-
ly's palmiest days died with him-a fact
much fretted over afterward by Miss Edith
as most unfair to herself Mrs. Brunton
had fairly good property Of her own, and
the general had some small private means /;
| they were still very comfortably off. Mrs.
Brunton. always a delicate woman, had
been quite an invalid for the past few years.
She required much nursing and assiduous
attention, and this all fell to Beatrice.
beatrice is fitted for that sort ofathing,"
| said Edith, or, if she did not say it in so
many words, thought it and acted it. "She
doesn't feel il as she would if she were ten
years younger. As she hasn't married, she
must expect to have all that sort of thing to
do. l have my career to make-it's not
likely Pm going to lose my complexion and
| spoil my nerves waiting on an Invahd-of
course mamma wouldn't wish it. No
| Beattie had her turn years ago in India
! IFS my turn now, poor one enough COM
| pared with hers-but such as it is l must
make the very most of.it
And 50 she vent out and about, accepted
| this invitation and that, stayed with friends
as often as they would have her, and left
! tall, stately, gentle Beatrice to do all tine
| home duties and to attend upon the mother.
whose thoughts were always with her darl-
ing Edith.
| Beatrice was good and accomplishing,
| and bore The burden of a life that must
have been unhappy, very bravely. But
| there were times when her heart failed a
little, and the night before the grand bazaar
and fancy fair was one of these. Edith had
been particularly trying to her all day,
particularly rude and insulting; and the
vain, bold speeches about the expected con-
quest of this much talked of Lord Peters
| court at to-morrow's baZar had been al
! most intolerable TO bear in silence.
"If she we're married and away-if only
| che were married and awayW thought Be
| atrice. as she sat at her window that night
| and looked out into the summer darkness.
| 81 am afraid it is wrong to feel so to SIS
| ter but seem sometimes as II could not
stand it much longer"
! She sat musing at the window for some
| time-then rose and went TO a small writing
case on a table, unlocked it, and from
private drawer drew slip OF paper which
| she gazed on long and sadly. How well she
remembered the finding Of a bouquet OF
that little slip of paper-the only memento
she possessed of her time Of her love and
happiness-and the f1uttering OF heart 1t
| caused her. There had been little GOODNESS
between the as-yet-uncoufessed lover-a
dance too many given to rival. or some
such trife, It's foundation-and when the
flowers came she searched among them Tor
a message. and her heart leaped as she dis
| covered the note. ,
"Will you bring these flowers 60 the ball
| Tonight? | shall know then that am for
GIVEN Surely that time is not gone She
| Is still at the ball-the crash and wall or the
brass music in her ears, the measured tread
of the walters, and the rustic and sweep OF
the dresses-and she is flying round WITH the
crowd. her 19-year- old heart throbbing with
life and 10Y. her hand on some ones
shoulder. and some ones dear voice whls-
nerinp. How can l thank you Tor brlng-
inc nv flowers and ending my misery by
forgiving me-" I-;od