The morning news. [volume] (Savannah, Ga.) 1887-1900, 1893-02-05

be upon it.
''No, didn't" she said, quietly, her gaze
bent on the opposite hedgerow.
on never thought that / should have
/ the courage-perhaps you will call it impu-
dence-to come here after youF
/ NO" was her Immediate answer, spoken
as quietly as before
But why didn't you meet mel You
hardly know yet what 1 would do-and
would not do, for your sake, Salome.n
perhaps you are right
"But you haven't Id me yet why you
did not come 20 the place arranged to meet.
l suppose we may as veil walk down the
lane little as stand herel And l want to
hear what excuse you have TO offer. l was
waiting beside the wood for over half an
/ hour"
She followed the gentle pressure Of the
hand he had placed on on her arm, and
they walked slowly along the fast-darkening
high road.
well, did not meet you because
well, on account Of several things" she
murmured.
"Give me one valid reason-but manu-
facture no excuses. Tell me the truth,
Salon" he cried, earnestly, his gaze again
seeking the charming, vaguely defined
silhouette her profile made
We'll, II am to tell you the truth" she
said, her voice hardening as if she had come
to some resolution, 81 did not meet you be-
|
'Nousensel 1 don't believe you'll won't
believe that
you may.'
"In face of this!n
He suddenly paused in the white, dust
| covered, uapaved footwaIk and with a dex-
ferrous FLIP of his hand threw aside the
shawl she wore. That act revealed some-
thing Of Importance. Salome was attired in
| her newest frock.
Would you have dressed yourself in
your best unless you had intended to meet
me-out perhaps you were going else
| where"
Il wasn't dressed myself to meet you,
and changed my mind-that was ALL" was
her quiet rejoinder.
"WhyW
Because my eyes were suddenly opened
to my own foolishness have met you too
often already, and don't intend to meet
| you-see you any morew
The words came quickly, hotly, from her
lips and faint gasp marked their close.
| HIS eyes flashed on her, and ne remarked a
| tritie sneeringly and with an undertone OF
| bitterness in his voice:
| 80 you can't trust me, thenr
ut isn't that have trusted you"
Perhaps was mistaken in thinking you
| cared for me, Salome!"
That is not it, either"
"What is it, thenF'
| II had come to the conclusion that it was
| quite wrong to meet you at all, and made
| up my mind to do so no more.n
That seems strange now. You never
thought of such a thing at first. You saw
me and we're neither afraid of me nor sus-
piclous There is something else under this.
| Has some one been saying something to you
about me!'
| mo. [ do not know any person who
knows about our meetings save ourselves
Then what is wrong"
at is all wrong" she burst out, losing her
composure at last. II may be a foolish
! girl, but | am not a wicked one. 1t was
silly Of me to ever consent to meeting you
| it was worse than Stiffness to continue to
! do 50, and now it would be positively
wicked on my part to 60 on! You must
see that even more clearly than l CAM
But do not. Isuppose you thiuk that
| am only amusing myself at your expense
Is that what troubles youp
| perhaps it is. / know that you never
ask me to meet you only in quiet, unfre-
| QUented places; and have noticed that you
| shuu even the villagers around here. What
| do / know about yous Nothing! You
have given me name, but it may be a
wrong one; and how ain to know whether
| you live in Liverpool or not?
IF you think l am q liar--or something
much worse than that had better say no
more but leave you"
THAT would be best If you are ashamed
of being seen with me, if you do not choose
to keep company with me openly like an
| honest man, 1t is time we parted and we
| must part. Good night, Mr.. Cunlitfe.n
She drew up suddenly in the lane aud
held out her hand. She had spoken very
firmly, as If her mind was fully made up,
| but it had cost her much pain 60 deliver her
soul so plainly Her eyes were burning like
stars, and spot Of crimson famed in each
cheek could be have seen them.
He took her hand clssped it firmly, but
did not release it.
you are right" be said, land am glad
/ you have spoken. Heaven knows that YOU
are worthy of any mans love. but | had TO
evil intention. / am sorry / could not seek
you openly. But l will tell you all before
very long"
There is something to tell me then?"
There isl
! Tell me nowm
Il caunot-yet. Wait. Have you no
patience! Cannot you trust me! Ii you
loved me little-if you loved me half so
much as love you, you would be content
| TO let me speak when the fitting time came.n
at is because I love you that am afraid.
| You must speak nowm
" won't now!" he said dogGedly.
Good night then. am going"
She Jerked her hand from his warm cling
ing fingers and turned hurriedly homeward,
biting her lips to keep back the tears. She
hoalu MN say OOOu-nlSuV, OalOIne, ana
she listened eagerly for other words; but
those words spoken he was silent
Once she paused when a score of PAGES
from him. She could see him standing on
the edge OF the road, and was half inclined
to fly back and beg of him to restore her
faith III him by dispensing her vague doubts
| A word aud she would have rushed to him.
be was silent-was lighting a cigar. Then
in a sudden access of resolution she sped
homeward, the hot tears flowing down her
| soft cheeks.
ITO BE CONTINUED