The Press., 1893-02-16

unmistakable satisfaction on the plat form of the little station at Indian Beach.
 Hello, old man!'
 "How are you, Craig?'
 ssFirst rate. John will take your traps. 1 suppose you'd rather waik-to stretcn your legs?"
 By all means" The traveller handed his we'll worn va lise, his overcoat, checks, umbrella and cane to the servant, and the two young men started onward at a swinging pace. It was late August day-warm and still. Just as they left the station steps village cart containing couple of ladies came whirling along the sandy road The horse wore gold plated har- ness, and the ladies' toilets gave an inn pression of elegance which was shared by} even the slim, straight whip dec- orated with narrow streamer of pale blue ribbon. The occupants of the cart bowed graciously to Craig in spite of their apparent haste to reach the station. The young man lifted his straw hat, and his friend of course performed the same ceremony.
 "Who are they?' he asked as one of the two alighted and entered the tele- graph office.
 Lucille Eliot and her friend" was the answer.
 Mighty good looking girls" was the careless remark of Forsyth as he and his host struck across the sandy high way toward the beach, against which the summer sea broke in slow, caressing nipples.
 "Yes," was the thoughtful rejoinder; 'sthey seem between them to unite most of the attractions of womankind. One or the other might suit even you, For syth-unless, /" with quick glance, "you have left your heart in Germany with some of those placid frauleins."
 "No," said Forsyth in an indifferent way. live seen very little of ladies society these past three years" He lifted his hat as he spoke and faced | the cool salt air and the shining sea with tired travellers weary satisfac- | tion.
 l "You never were oversentimental about girls, laughed Craig, ''even in our sophomore days. I doubt if you've evnr been genuinely in love- @ l '.No, and never shall be-but once l and the time hasn't come yet,'' was the rejoinder.-
 l The two young men were near the same height and weight, but had no other point of resemblance. Victor For 1 syth was dark, intellectual, refined look ing. He had gray eyes, never intended though they were handsome eyes-for indiscriminate service in lovemaking. | He wore his full dark beard in German 1 fashion, and the white hand with which he chanced to stroke it as he gazed off over the shining sea was a hand for ges- ture, for persuasion or commando hand which had soul in it's nervous lines. l Craig was handsomer in a more com | monplace way. His older sisters had | dubbed him a girl runner" at fifteen. | He was the ''masher" par excellence of his college class. Attwenty-ive he was still so fascinating with his elegant fig ure, his large blue eyes and exquisite golden mustache that his pert little Cousin Clare had declared only that morning that any girl who married Alan might expect to share him with womankind in general, adding that for her part she believed in monopoly in the marriage contract. All of which meant that Clare in her way was also in love with her cousin.
 Craig and Forsyth walked slowly along the beach. They had been great chums, and they did not dream that the three years of separation which had fol lowed their graduation from college had brought any changes which could affect their friendship. Nothing indeed could do that unless it was love affair. Ii was perhaps the consciousness of this which caused Craig's abrupt question concerning the state of Forsyth's affec tions.
 sThis is sort of lotos land, Alan, was the newcomers remark presently Blank ocean. and mere sky'-that is what I've been longing for. l am wearied put with people and things. How shall enjoy this emptiness-withy you!" A auizzical smile crossed Craig's face
 'Well, certainly we are not crowded here at the beach. But suspect you'll have to admit good deal besides 'blank ocean and mere sky into your life dur ing the next month or so-duck shoot ing, for instance
 'Have you houseful of company Forsyth inquired. with sort of dis. may.
 "Well, my married sisters friends keep coming and going, and my Cousin Clare-you remember her?-she is the Miss Craig now, and more terrible child at eighteen than she was at fifteen. But the worst of it is, Victor" added Alan, with sudden seriousness, ''you and l are the only men in the family, and we can't expect much time off duty"
 "Then society has even invaded the lonely strip of coasty' was the mournfu comment. "Bless me, man, how else came tn, railroad and telegraph, and the villas and the lawns and-Lucille Eliot ani her friend!' ''Yes, 1 might have known" :. ''But it is good society. Comfort your self with that. Miss Eliot is beautiful , rich, rather serions ill style. And he friend, Hope Arnadale"-z Does language fail to describe her? asked Forsyth with quiet irony as Craig paused abruptly in his description.
 "Yes, it- does-that is, any languag can command. She is very fascinat ing"
 "Ah, so? Alan Craig's hour has strucl then?'
 ''You and won't joke on the subject Victor. I-I-don't think I've a ghos .. of chance with Miss Armadale. Ever, man at the beach is more or less in low with her.
 "And she?''
 s.Wait until you see her. She is t, dine with us this evening"" "A formal dinnerW sighed Forsyth. ''Got up in your honor, my philos opher. But here is Craig cottage, turning toward the spacious Queen Ann villa that stood in dull red outline