Custer weekly chronicle. [volume] (Custer City, S.D.) 1890-1931, 1893-08-19
OF MANY MOODS.
BY BONA.
CHAPTER Xxx.
"At first I did adore a t~winkling star,
but now | worship a celestial sun"
Tao nansI,a. NJ Vn.nno

CHATTER w.
eat frat 1 did adore a twinklin1 star.
But now l worship a celestial sun"
Two Gentleman of Verona
A month, more than a month has iced by.
II Is late in February, but the snow Is still
upon the ground; the air Is as yet chill ana
Icy. Unwilling To- leave us IS the winter.
He will make US shiver awhile yet. But to-
night we have n ball In view, a charity ball,
the tickets to which are enormously high.
No doubt Ii will be n stupid affair but never
theless our friend Eleanor is going.
She Is standing before her mirror now
clasping her bracelets. Exceedingly beauti-
full IS she to-siglt In her rich green velvet
with the first rare snOwdrops IN her hair and
the cleaning diamonds on her arms and
clasping her creamy throat. Blu there is no
DOME 70 show herself to this time. There
will not be ever again.
Her husband enters In time to wrap her
heavy fur cloak aoout her. lie does not say
q word In admiration OF her beauty. lie Is
too well used to II now.
They are rather late tonight, the place n
already full, though few are dancing. AS
they walk down the long hall a murmur OF
girl' "A beautiful couple. WEo are they?"
Eleanor Is quite unconscious OF ii. Used to
unb0unded admiration all her life she has
grown To- neither heed nor care for II. As
FOR Allen he Is eagerly scanning every group
for one face and presently he sees IL and
makes his way there. A little figure, clad
in azure blue, rises from where she II al
most concealed by her admirers and kisses
Eleanor in ardent school girl fashion.
MY dear Nelly, | am so glad to see you,
though now you have come J oOse no
one will look at me any longer"
Nonsense" says Eleanor, smiling at the
baby coquettish face. y danger, l assure
you"
IL suppose you will give me the first dance,
Eleanor" says her husband, holding out his
| hand fnr her cart tsIln ynn wish ma tn GOT
this filed for your
II am not going to dance tonight"
"What!'
II do not wish to; 1 hate it. senseless,
nonsense that IL is"
You did not used to think 1t nonsense"
returns Joe, sinking into a low chair beside
Miss Darrell. but OF course suit your.
self"
She stands irrcsolG,e q moment, then,
"Mr. Allen" (hOw cold her voice can be-,
mi. Allen, will you please take me over
there. | see a friend of mine should like
to speak to-"
Her husband rises impatiently, and giving
her his arm, pilots her In safety to where
among the chaperons a fat, comely lady
sits and there deposits his wife with a sigh
OF relief. A man, tall lie must be, for his
head towers above the rest, Is standing AZ
the door. Perhaps he is dazzled by the lights
and glare, for he shows no signs Of entering.
His eyes are liked with a ohzed, half-fright-
NlNu IDbH oH LltdilD anu lt uIAN0 AAo
breath hard as we do in great pain.
Aren't you going to dance, my dear,
says Mrs. Allen companion, touching the
girl who sits there grave and silent watch
Ing the gay throng OF dancers.
Not tonight, Mrs. Thornton. / do not
care for 1t at all"
but you are so young. | should think
you would enjoy II" says the other. Your
husband does not object does he?"
'Oh, no. But | have not danced since W.
were married. have quite gotten out CT
the habit.
And the step is very easy to forget
says Mrs. Thornton, tanning cOmplacentlv.
when | was "A girl | was quite crazy about
II, but ] hardly think | could manage Is
now"
Eleanor smiles as she regards the plump
figure, the short, laboring breath, but Sue
only says softly:
Il think young people are always fond of
It."
Goodness me. child. how sou talk. Young
people! Why you are barely out of your
teens"
II am nearly twenty-one and somehow |
feel o great deal older" She is looking
absently down on her tan, staring vaguely
at the queer shapes and designs upon it.
"Ah." says Mrs. Thornton In a half
triumphant voice, II knew YOU would not
be left among us old chaperons. Here comes
someone to claim you; such a handsome
mai, too. You surely viii not refuse 10
dance with him.
Eleanor lifts her eyes-lifts them 10 see
Dallas Carew before her, and with the sight
come all the old time memories rushing back
upon her, memories she had thought dea
forever. After all she neither pales nor b'e
trays herself by any start or blush. III
She rises and gives him her hand, but h :.
yoics sSands Ear away and there ia a no'Aa
80 S $$;$ 80 ~ ssG sais sss 4
He bows. but foes not speak. His eve,
are scanning her face with eager intestness
will you come out in the hall with me."'
he says, after a pause. lit Is So warm here"
She takes his arm, and together they pick
their way through the throng OF dancers.
One couple whirl past-a girl III softest blue,
with laughing face upturned TO the adnliring
grey-blue eyes bent over her.
They have gained the hall; it is cooler.
On the steps and all about are couples 1irt-
ing to the uttermost OF their capacity. Dial.
las leads her Ia where. In a window recess.
there is a sofa and they take their seats.
why are you not dancing?' says the
young man, still gazing inieniiy al iier, won
dering where all that pretty red color has
fled tO-colOr which of old he could call so
plentifully 10 her face.
Il am not dancing tonight"
but you will give me one waltz, will not
you; only one?!' he SAYS, bending over her
and speaking in the old pleading, caressing
voice, q voice she obeyed then. All, she Is
wiser now
No; ! DO not intend to dance at ALL"
but give me one he pleads. do not
you remember how well we dance together?
Have you forgotten Col. Young's? You
gave Inc all them
All. the color has come now. Ii sweeps in
Its old relentless fashion up TO the very roots
OF her bronze-gold hair.
"Husl!," she says, putting out her hand.
do not remind me OF that; one does not
k to be reminded OF ones ~follies."
1t was not folly 10 me-" ..Ft.
II have often wished to see you," she goes
on, lifting her eyes to his, 80 that | might
beg you to forget that night. | was wrong,
but was so young, so foolish. | did not
realize at all h l was doing. Heaven
knows ! am sorry for it now! And you,
please do not think OF 1t any more"
Would you have mt forget the happiest
night OF my llfe?' he says, roughly.
"1ou-you had no right to be happy" she
begins, but the words die away, for was not
she happy, too?
Had 1 not?' he says softly. ~ think I
had"
There is a long pause. The iiddles are
squeaking bravely: there is a square dance
going on, but very few are dancing. They
are for the most part grumbling that il Is not
a waltz.
The young man speaks again, rather con-
STRANGELY. You know my engagement
was broken OFF,
Yes"
- N,o nioN u
How should | kn0wT.' she says uneasily.
u suppose'-with "a forced laugh-"yOu,
OF her."
You are not speaking truly he says,
peering into her downcast face. "You used
To be truthful in the old days. You do know
why did not marry that doll baby over
yondei. 1 was well enough content with
my doll until met you, and even then l
tried to persuade myself | was still. l
cheated myself into the belief, and 1 be-
lieyed ii until | left YOU"
You must not talk this Way she says,
rising to her feet. Remember | am not
Eleanor iiatiiwel now, and | think perhaps
you had better take me back now"
Listen TO me-" he says, taking both her
hands in his. II wilt tell you. / have
prayed God that l might have n chance to
tell you, aud now you shall listen to me.
Wrong or not | will not have you think you
threw away your love, Tor you aid love me
then, though You may have forgotten il now.
Women forget so easily they say. and IL
owed you, too, though, blind fool that 1 was,
would not admit II even to myself. Gods!