The World. [volume] (Martinsburg, W. Va.) 1891-1896, 1893-01-13

Mrs. Sullivan, to recommend You u the new
men next fall"
The washer-womans face glowed with
pleasure.
las for your bill, Mrs. Sullivan"
Otis went on earelessly picking ont a
memorandum from the pile of unwclc0me
paper vn the desk. II viii send you q
cheque in payment on my return to Nag
YORK. That viii do, OF course. will lit not.
Thank you. Now, If you will excuse ne, /.
will return to my packing. It's an a,'n-s
pleasure for me TO go through my eTocts,
Mrs. Sullivan, my undertaking is all SO
well laundried There, there; no thanks
are needed. Goodbye till the fall. Don't
Senior, you know, l shall have great deal
for you TO do"
Mrs. Sullivan, somewhat dazed. arose.
looked wistfully at Arnold, muttered some-
thing that might have been either pro-
test or an expression Of gratitude and slow
ly left the room.
That's a shame. Hal" remarked Arnold
sternly when they were again alone.
Nonsense, old man. I'll do as | said. I'll
send her the money as soon as | set
home"
"Perhaps-if you don't forget it," re-
turned the athlete doubtfully.
well, well, shan't forget it, so that's
all right But, by Jove, l must get out Of
this. I really couldn't stand the nervous
strain OF another Richard Brinsley Sheri-
dan act. Come down town with me, old
man. I'll blow you off to farewell dinner
at Browns"
Arnold hesitated moment. He did not
care to accept the hospitality of a man so
deep in debt. However, the long vacation
was at hand and he could not see his chum
again for three months. 1t would not do to
offend him at such time.
All right, Hal. I'll be with you in a
moment. | fear that down town my
present costume would not be considered
good form"
It was nearly nine o'clock when Otis left
his chum at the restaurant and set out for
Rhoda Barrs house. With the reckless
ness of a sanguine temperament upon
which burden of debt rested as lightly as
oil upon water, he had ordered a luxurious
dinncr-and had had the score charged TO
his long-standing account.
AS he hurried onward the beauty Of the
night thrilled him with delight. A fdll
moon shone down upon land luxuriating
in the garniture of summer. A gentle
breeze famed his cheeks and brought to
shrubs.
"Oh, Harry, have you come at LAST"
cried Rhoda. as he entered the parlor
Throwing her arms, bare TO the elbow,
around his neck, she whispered: Il was so
tired waiting for your
What had happened to the night? Of a
sudden the moonlight seemed less brilliant,
the perfume of the flowers was gone his
spirit, moment back attuned To the har-
monies around him, revolted against
what? He hardly knew. Perhaps his con-
science might have told him.
Hand in hand they sat by the open win
dow, silent for a time. At length she MUIR
INJURED:
Tell me what troubles you, cheri?"
DO you not guess?" he asked moro
coldly than he knew. Il can not see you
again for months"
A smile played across her pale face but
in her eyes was the CLEAN of tears as she
looked up to him.
"Nhy not? l shall be here all summer.
New York is not so very far away. You
can come to me now and then"
He did not answer A gentle, girlish face
was before him and his heart told him that
he loved not the woman at his side. Why
should he not tell her so? 1t would be u
cfuei dow, Duu III lne end WOulu II not be
best? A blush OF shame suflUsed his
cheeks. He had been deceiving her for
months; he had been selfish. 1rn"nly,
cruel. But would it not be even worse TO
leave her now in the belief that she sti,l
possessed his heart.
The intuitions Of woman-especally Of
a woman in love-are quick and searching.
Rhoda had withdrawn her hand and sow
stood erect before him, cold aud self-cJn-
tanned, though the trembling of nor lips
betokened the agitation Of her soul.
you do not answer" she said in low,
vibrant voice You have grown weary Of
me; you love ne not"
He sprang up i'll dismay. How was it
that she had read his thoughts. He stood
dumb before her; his face ghastly pae
Speak" she implored. oh, Harry, do
not break my heart" There was the echo
Of a sob in her voice.