The Bossier banner., 1893-05-25
ing" After this they would meet as

y
ment have young Lindles think that
she missed his faithfnlness. 1t was
very easy to accept Mrs. Hearst's view
of the matter, and drift into intimate
companionship with her nephew, AL
Hearst, a young man whom Ethel had
always shrank from, but who was now
a gift from fate. She saw now how
easily she was entangled, how the ap-
pearances were against her, and how
she lent herself to her own misery. For
it was misery for few days. She could
bear her own bitterness and regret, but
to see Arthur grow careless in dress, to
hear him talk and laugh loudly, to be
told of his frantic attentions to some of
the leaders of the fast set, all these
made her heart ache. And the season
came to it's end with glitter of fire.
works, and the crowds parted, each
family to its own home. The Harcourts
came to California the following winter
and the little play was never finished.
All this, and more, went to make up
the story. She touched it here and
there with her artist fingers, and the
pathetic little tale was written in words
which went to the heart. At the end
she stopped, pen in hand, and listened
to the chatter of the gay-breasted
black bird which was perched on pep,
per tree near.
This was life; not those feverish, far.
off days, but this quiet growth and unr
folding of her true nature. A widening
OF the sympathies, a deeper insight, an
hum bier estimate of her powers and a
greater possibility of enjoyment.
1t was morning in a hotel Office in
San Diego. The stout clerk was bend.
ing laboriously over the register, put
ting in fancy heading at the top of a
new page. The black porter and his
aids were hurrying about, gathering up
valises, wraps, kodaks and umbrellas,
and trying to get off those unfortunates
who were to leave on the early train.
The few business men who boarded in
the house came out from the breakfast
room with a mild air of Importance, as
BELTS the well when surrounded by the
sick. One by one the invalids, in all
stages of lung and throat trouble, made
their way across the great sun veranda.
Most of them were attended by a mem.
Der of the family, but a solitary man
occasionally stall1ed or sauntered on his
way toward breakfast. Two men, who
happened to be sitting near each other,
laid down their papers at the same mo-
ment, and the elder remarked:
''Its fine dav."
eyes, very nice weather." assenteo
the other.
"Been here long?"
| ''Nearly two months"
Don't get tired of it?"
"Yes, little, sometimes"
Board as good as this most of the
timer"
II think so.'
/ "S'pose you're here for your health?'
"Yes, my lungs are weak. Excuse
me, see the mail is in," and the tall
bearded man walked slowly toward the
desk.
Here's your mail, Mr.. Lindley," sale
the clerk, handing him several letters
a paper and a magazine. He retreatet
to quiet corner in the office, glanced
quickly through his letters, read th'
paper and took up the magazine. H.
. became absorbed, he looked around fo
moment to assure himself that he wa
not dreaming, and he read on again
Was he losing his senses? Surely, h.
knew that seaside resort, those tin,
cottages and-what would come next
His own words, his foolish. pig-heade'
obstinacy! And how she, that prou'
little creature, understood it all. Coul'
she ever forgive him? Was it too mucl
to expect, too much to hope for? H
laid it down with long sigh and CAV
himself up to the memories of thos
sweet and better days. What scheme
that AL Hearst was! He was ashame
to confess how easily he became pre-
to the willy fellow-that is, he wa
ashamed a dozen years ago, but no
now. Where could Ethel Harcourt be
Were they not in the state, the Who'll
family? Would she forgive him if h
found her? He would write to Fothel
gill and get the address of the autho
of I'm Summer Days" What a vast
of time in the years since they met!
, "And to think that while was wri
{ ing it you were only twenty mile
away" said Miss Harcourt, her quie
: face lighted by happy smile. 81 wa
7 compelled to take a chapter from m
own life just at that moment, and
would have been almost impossibl
either to have checked the impulse
3 write or to have altered my incidents i
r any way"
"Miss Harcourt-Ethel-I can neve
, undo the past, those words, those III
1 worthy suspicious, but if may wi
| make amends for them in the future
f May try?"
: Ethel Harcourt found it difficult t
$ raise her eyes to meet the earnest gaz
e of her old friend. She felt the mountin
: color flush her usually pale cheeks, BIT
a as simply as child she laid her hanc
2 in his. After a long conversation, mo,
e interesting to themselves than to an.
, one else, Ethel said:
t 'You will promise me never to l,
4 coldness or doubt part US again. Con
e to me when my words or my actor
;, cannot be explained, tell me franlzl,,
J. instead of bearing it in silence"
!. 'My darling" said Lindley, 81 giN