The Forest Republican. [volume] (Tionesta, Pa.) 1869-1952, 1893-11-15

Dttn mere W1Un
Aunt Julia, who, extravagant woman,
owned two summer cottages elsewhere,
but who so greatly preferred this big,
jolly, lovely hotel on Cliff Isle that
she had come hither for two entire
seasons, bringing her favorite niece
with her. And this summer her IA
vorite niece had met Stanley Mayhem,
been loved by him, loved him and
promised to be his wife.
Nettie sat in the corner of n great,
soft sofa in the long parlor, thinking
her happy thoughts. Only three
months but how we'll they knew each
other nowi
Stanley came down from the city
every night, and every Sunday for all
day, and how her contented mind
teemed with sweet tmemories-of moon
light strolls on the sandy shore; of
quiet hours on rustic bench on the
hill; of grabbing and fishing in his
little skiff; of long talks, only bright
and friendly at first, then something
more; of the moment when he had
spoke, and she had yielded her full
trust to him; of the blessed two weeks
since then.
She had written to her mother and
she had told her Aunt Julia; and she
wondered if she ought not to tell
Eleanor Wells. Why hadn't she?
Eleanor and she were chums, and
Eleanor was an old friend of Stanley's
family in the city, and was the one
girl beside herself to whom Stanley paid
any attention. Was she, perhaps, Just
the least mite jealous of that old friend
ship, and of Stanley's frank admira-
tion of Eleanor? Was it because of
that lurking little doubtfulness that
she had not confided her happiness to
Eleanor?
Nettie was ashamed of the feeling.
OF course he admired q handsome,
clever, charming girl. He himself
had introduced them, and wanted
them to be friends, as they were. 1t
was herself whom he loved. Was not
that enough for her? Did it not seem
to fill her world with radience?
She would go and find Eleanor this
minute and tell her. She would tell
how she almost wondered that he had
not chosen her instead; and they
would laugh together probably cry a
little-and have a good talk.
She must hurry. 1t was after seven
o'clock now, and he would be down on
the eight o'clock boat tonight, he had
told her, because he had little extra
work at the office. She would just
have time, when she had seen Eleanor,
to get into her prettiest gown for him.
She rose, smiling and flushing, and
went tripping down the long room,
humming a gay air.
A huge, gilt-framed mirror was at
the end of it. She stopped suddenly,
in the act of passing it.
He had come There he was, Just
entering the farther door of the parlor.
Eleanor Wells was with him.
Nettie stood waiting, her eyes fast
ened on the mirror which reflected
them.
The moment she stood there seemed
20 her nm eternity. Her smile faded,
a quiver passed over her, and her face
took on a marble coldness for she had
seen Stanley Mayhem stoop over Flea
AAbA W NAAn 9NAA 4ltA AuAnN AlNA BlNAlN
graceful head, and seen their lips
meet.
Herself they had not seen. Poor
Nettie She turned away. Her
trembling hands were clasped so tight
ly that it hurt her her breath came in
little, miserable gasps.
She hardly knew what she was do
ing, when she passed out across the
broad piazza, and, bareheaded, went
gropingly out into the thiekening
dusk
To be alone-tog get away from every
body and eyerything-that was her be
wildered longing.
"He must have come by the seven
o'clock boat, she said to herself, me-
chanicalIy, again and again.