The Abbeville press and banner. [volume] (Abbeville, S.C.) 1869-1924, 1892-03-16

hey! oh, yes-madly! won't let ner on.
Of his sight, but he had to tonight, as
he's off down to his place in Berkshire on
business; tried to make her ladyship come
too, but she wouldn't because OF this
dance-good Lord-fancy q dance st this
time Of year!-but Kerstoke's wife was
ALWAYS SLIGHTLY crackedl"
Does Lady Balscombe reciprocate her
husbands adoration?"
Not exactly! hey!" he replied. chuck
ling. -Calliston is first favorite there.
"Eh!-the deuce-I thought he was in
love with old Balscombe's ward, Miss
Penfold."
so he is-but he makes love to the
wife, Just to keep his hand in. wouldn t
be surprised if it ended in the divorce
court"
We'll, you are generally right in your
surmises," retorted Ellersby; but what
would Miss Penfold say to that?"
"Heyl oh, she'd be glad, replied Mar
ton; bless you, she cares more for Myles
Desmond's little finger than she does for
the whole body of CalIiston."
-Oh, know Myles," said Ellersby,
promptly; a rafting good fellow, was
with him at Cambridge. but We somehow
never hit it off-trying to make fortune
by his pen, I hear"
Yes! and hasn't made penny yet. SO
he acts as secretary to his cousin, Lord
Calliston. He's next heir to the title, you
know, hey?"
Much chance he'll have Of it, replied
Ellersby, contemptuously. 1Calliston's s
sure to marry and have heirs, unless he
kills himself in the meantime with drink
but to revert to our former conversation
tho Balscombe menage seems slightly
mixed"
Hey! rather. It stands this way" ex-
plsined Marion, eagerly; 'Balscombe's g
Jealous of his wife on account Of Callis-
ton, Lady B. is Jealous Of Calliston on
account Of Miss Penfold, and that young
lady does not care two straws for the
whole lot of them in comparison to Myles
Desmond.
Sounds like the second act of o
French play" murmured Ellersby, yawn-
ing. well, when I see Lady Balscombe
I'll give you an opinion of her looks;
meantime, you must be dry after all that
talking, so come and have q drink"
Where are you stopping?" asked Mar
II,
Guelph Hotel, Jermyn street." said
Ellersby, only for few days till I get
my rooms fixed up; I've brought such q
lot of things home that my chambers look
like an old curiosity shop. What are you
havingp"
Champagne, replied Marion. oh, I
q small glass full of brandy, that looks
bad at this hourl Hey, you haven't
No, haven't" interrupted Ellersby,
impatiently; I'm only taking this to-
night because don't feel up to the
mark.
Marton said NO more, but. after parting
with his companion went back to the
ballroom, and, meeting friend, confded
to him that Ellersby was going to the
dogs through drink.
Brandy neat, dear boy, hey!" said the
old reprobate. BAD habits these young
fellows pick up abroad, hey! Looks used
up, by Jove. Gal in it, dear boy, heyl-
Oh, shocking!"
So The Town Crier evidently did not
intend to give the returned wanderer 3
good character.
Ellersby was now tired of the ball, 30
bade goodnight to his hostess, who was q
queer, thin little woman, wearing wig,
q Iow-cut dress, and many jewels, giving
one the general impression that she was
mostly bones and diamonds.
After taking leave Of this bizarre fgnre
Ellersby put on his coat and went outside
into the street, where he stood for few
minutes, undecided whether to takea cab
to his hotel or to walk. The fog was very
thick, and the gas lamps shone through
it like dull yellow stars, while the chill
breezes of the night seemed to penetrate
the body of the young man, accustomed
as he had been of late TO tropical climates.
In spite Of the apparent discomforts
offered by walk at such time, Ellersby
determined to risk it, thinking it would
give him q certain amount of amusement,
akin somewhat to the unraveling Of a
puzzle, to find his way through the fog to
Jermyn street. Smiling at the oddity Of
the idea Of finding pleasure in cool walk
On foggy night, he lighted cigar, and,
buttoning up his coat, took his way down
Park lane toward Piccadilly.
There is strange feeling in tho COM
plete isolation one experiences in fog-land
the thick yellow mist hiding everything
under its jealous veil until the pedestrian
finds himself adrift, as 1t were, on a lonely
sea, and though on every side he is envi-
roned by millions Of human beings, yet
the fog creates for the moment a solitude
as in those enchanting cities Of the Ara
bian Nights.
Ellersby managed to find his way to
Piccadilly, and was soon swinging along
the pavement at good round pace. Every
now and then ragged figures with sinister
faces would come suddenly out of the fog
on the watch for unwary wanderers, but
the nomadic life of Ellersby having won
derfully sharpened his faculties, he was
always on his guard against the evil ad-
vances OF these night birds. Occasionally
he could hear cab drive slowly past, the
driver cautiously steering his horse down
the familiar street, which, as if by magic,
had suddenly assumed an unreal appear
ance, Transforming Piccadilly into q
vague immensity resembling the steppes
of Russia.
With his ears alert for every sound, and
his eyes peering anxiously into the veil of
gray mist, Ellersby hurried along, man
aged TO Cross the street, and by some
miracle of de1terity, which he placed at
once to the credit of instinct, turned
down St. James street, and it was here
his first mishap occurred, for just as he
rounded the corner he came against a
young man Fastening in the opposite di-
rection at rapid pace.
II beg YOUR pardon" said the stranger