The Abbeville press and banner. [volume] (Abbeville, S.C.) 1869-1924, 1892-10-12

ceedlnS ones, ne Valnly presented uAueeii
| at her door,
Mrs. Elliston was dining out or dress
ing.
| It was for Eugene whole century of
torture. One thought, which often dis
| quieted him, revisited him with double
poignancy. Cora did not love him. She
only wished to revenge herself for the
past. and after disarHcinG would laugh at
him. She had made him sign the con-
tract, and then escaped him. In the
midst of these tortures of his pride, his
passion, instead of weakening, increased.
The fifth day after their interview he
! did not 60 to her house. He hoped to
meet her in the evening at the residence
of a mutual friend, on Madison avenue,
where he usually saw her every Thursday.
This friend, Mrs. Louisa Morgan, was q
connection of his mothers family, and
| from his ear. lest boyhood had been very
kind to Eugene. She was widow and
no longer young, but being We 'lthy, she
| had no difficulty in rendering herself and
| her home attractive.
She had no taste or inclination for re-
ligion, but affected great liking for lit
erature and art, and every week received
many distinguished authors and artists,
who piqued themselves on being free
thinkers
%Gora Elliston had permitted herself to
be- introduced by her husband. because
she knew Eugene frequented the house.
On this particular evening the gather
! ing was small Eugene had only arrived
! a few moments, when he had the satis-
faction of seeing his uncle, who had re.
| turned from Washington, and Mrs. Ellis
ton enter.
She TRANQUILITY expressed to him her re-
| gret at not having been at home the pre-
ceding day, but it was impossible to hope
| for q more decided explanation in circle
80 small and under the vigilant eyes OF
| certain ladies present.
/ Eugene vainly interrogated her face.
It was as beautiful and cold as usual.
His anxiety increased; he would have
! given his life at that moment for her to
| say one word Of love.
Mrs. Morgan liked the play Of wit, as
she had but little herself.
They played at her house such little
games as were then fashionable. Those
little games are not always innocent. as
We shall see.
They had distributed pencils, pens. and
little packages of paper-some OF the
| players sitting around large tables, and
some in separate chairs-and scratched
mysteriously, in turn, questions and an
swers.
During this time Mr.. Elliston played
whist with an elde-ly lady for partner.
Cora did not usually take part in these
games which fatigued her.
Eugene was therefore astonished to see
her accept the pencil and paper offered
her.
This singularity awakened his attention
and put him on his guard.
He himself joined in the game, contrary
to his usual custom. and even took charge
of the basket to collect the small notes as
they were written.
An hour passed without any special in
cident.
The treasures of wit were dispensed.
The most delicate and unexpected ques-
tions--such as What is loVe:" DO you
think that friendship can exist between
the sexes?" is it sweeter to love or be
loyed?" succeeded each other with CORE.
spending replies.
All at once Cora gave slight scream,
and thew saw a drop Of blood trickle down
her forehead.
She commenced laughing, and showed
her little gold pencil 'e, which had apen
at one end, with which she had scratched
her forehead in her abstraction.
The attention of Eugene was redoubled
from this moment-the more 80 from
rapid and significant glance from Cora,
which seemed to warn him of an ap-
preaching event.
She was sitting little in shadow in
one corner, in order to mediate more at
ease on questions and answers.
An instant later Eugene was passing
around the room collecting notes.
She deposited one in the basket, slip
ping another into his hand with the cat
like dexterity of her sex.
In the midst of these Papers, which
each person amused himself with read
ing, Eugene found no difficulty in retain
ing without remark the clandestine note.
It was written in red ink, little pale,
but very legible, and contained these
words:
Il belong, soul, body, honor, riches, to
nv best beloved, Eugene Cleveland, from
this moment and forever.
written and signed with the pure
blood of my veins, this 18th November,
lSS~-. CORA ELLIsToN.
All the blood Of Eugene Cleveland
surped to his brain. cloud came over
his ewes, he rested his hand on the mar-
BILE table, then suddenly his face was COW
cred with moral paleness. These syup-
toms did not arise from remorse or fear;
his passion overshadowed all. He felt
boundless JOY. He saw the world at his