Pittsburg dispatch. [volume] (Pittsburg [Pa.]) 1880-1923, 1892-12-18

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state, seeing Toms comical face before her,
she breaks out suddenly into little rip
pling burst of laughter
Short-lived laughterI The very sound of
her own mIrth so terriies her, while that
grave face over there staring at her with open
astonishment in his gaze, and something
else that she fails to read, reduces her to
silence again.
Condemnation That is what is darken-
ing his eyes, and making his face so cold
and stern. That is what she has failed to
read. That he should think her vain, tool
ish; that he should wonder who she was
and where she came from-all that seems to
her unfortunately quite unavoidable now,
and all through her own folly; but that
there should spring into his mind other,
worse thoughts than these, does not for
second suggest itself to her. She looks
nervously towards him. His continued
silence, and the cold, questioning. immov-
able gaze he has fixed on her, all help to
unnerve her. At last, unable to bear his
speechless scrutiny any longer she takes
step towards him.
II know-I understand" says she, ap-
pealingly. "You-you are surprised"
Surprise hardly expresses it, though, I
confess, hardly know why 1 am so sur
prised. Something of this I imagined
thought possible before now
''You thought" questions she, anxiously.
'That you had seen great deal of the
big world, the world of town. The country
does not seem to suit you"
ooh, don't say that" SAYS she. She has
thrown the cloak round her again, but it she
| hoped by that to dim the glories of her
toilet, to dull the beauties of her face and
figure, she erred. The soft, dark, costly fur
clinging round the bare white throat, the
| glimpses of the beautiful gown in front, the
one slender, naked arm holding the wrap to
her, the small queenly head rising above,
with the diamonds flashing in it-all create
picture perhaps more exquisite than the
one she has sought to hide. 81 love the
country" she says softly, gently. 'It is
the one place in the world that does suit
me, think" She sighs sadly.
Those diamonds you are wearing are evil
dently of great value, )" says he, icily, TAX
| ing no notice OF her tender outbursts of ad-
miration for the green fields and delicate
solitudes around her when choosing to
come hereto masquerade in black gown
as housekeeper-I wonder it did not occur
to you TO place them first in some safe
place.
''Is there safer place than this?'' asks
she meekly, not resenting in any way his
tone, which truly is both cruel and unkind.
A terrible word comes to him as a solution
of this mystery. He fights with it, battles
with it valisntly, but it overcomes him.
Guilt! Guilt is the hideous word. She has
flown from her home. She has sought to
bury herself alive down here, TO escape the
consequences of her iniquity And (and
this seems to him the worst trait OF all) she
has been SO little contrite that she has
brought away with her the gems the gar
ments that once made life sweet to her;
she -
Her soft voice breaks in upon his miser-
able fears and doubts, that now, alas! seem
certainties.
rs there safer place than this?"
She repeats her gentle question, and goes
on
'There cannot be, think. And where
I am safe surely my diamonds are safe tool'
1t is q pretty speech, and the lips that |
utter it, how far above mere prettiness they
rise! Were ever lips so lovely! Did ever
lips look more pure? And the little half |
frightened, half-earnest smile!
With groaa that is unheard, but troubles
his very SOUL Drayton gives i'll.
"why can't you confde in me, he de-
mands, roughly indeed but she feels that
all the anger has gone out of him, and hope
once more rises in her breast. ''Why?" |
asks asks he @ again. 1t is Impossible, whatever
evidence there be, to doubt that earnest |
truthful face ''Believe me, wish only to
restore you to that part in life you were |
wont to play"
"You mean that you want to get rid of
me-" SAYS she in low tone, tears rising |
and sparkling in her eyes.
''You are unjust"
"Unjuat!'
"If you do not want to get rid of me, why /
do you speak like this?"
She is still holding out her hand, but Che |
never afterward quite forgives himself tor
that) he lays his own against it, and pushes
it aside.
She shrinks from him as though he had
struck her, and that shrinking kills him.
'Can't you see. Can't you see," cries he,
passionately, "that when say am will
ing to help you to return toto your people,
that I am sacrificing to you all my hope
and Joy. ALL Everythingl What will
be left me when you go? When tell you
that will help to send you awav IRON this,
you must know how honestly mean to
serve you.
'If you mean that" says she in low
tone, "Don't send me back to my own
peopleP'
"But-"
'Let there be no butts" she lifts her
hand. "It you send me from this-this
sanctuary-''
'I send you'll You mistake me-"
"Well. 1 don't want to go," says she.
She glances suddenly up at him. And just
as suddenly she smiles Such charming
smile Radiant as a burst of sunshine on
winters day. And yet there is touch OF
slur in it. Don't send me away" she
says.
'sRhodar' he has learned her name by
heart. To himself she is Rhoda always
It is he who now goes to her, and it is he
who is now repulsed
'There is one thing I remember" says
he. Zone thing that remember above all
the words that you have said to me-and all
of them recollect. Once you told me you
were q widow"
''Did tell you that7 Oh nor
'Yes. think So At all events you
permitted me to believe il"
"When?"
'I forget. But
''You should not forget"
"Well, don't either. It was in the
garden, and lam sure you told me then
that you were a widow"
"Ahp' cries she, with q touch of gaiety
that is only badly assumed. but yet imp oses
on him, ''But 1 have told you SO many
things"
''You meant that, however," His tone
'I so seldom mean anythingr' persists
she with an uneasy little laugh, and a
sudden dreadful knowledge that for the
first time in her life she is compelled to de-
spise herself.
"Answer meI' says he, with passionate
entreaty.
81 have answered too much already"
with a swift frown.
Pardon me. You have answered moth