The Providence news. (Providence [R.I.]) 1891-1906, 1893-09-11
CHAPTER VII.

over the town ere Tom with the last Of
The jewellers left Glendenning's.
ugh! how cold it is. My blood is
thin at this unearthly hour" said Della
|tole, lighting a cigarette as they paused
|to separate at Madison square. i've
often thought if ever do assist my own
departure from this perpetual dressing
and undressing it will be in this gray
stiffness, when one seems to feel the pulse
Iof the world. Will you be on the stage
; Itonight?"
dine with me-" said Tom, with hazy
Eecollection of the managers advice.
His speech was thick and wavering.
iDelatole's head seemed spinning round
like top. The trees in the square were
certainly dancing minuet.
"Charmed. And now go home, Mar
ray, and go to bed. Not used to wine,
are you? You might forget my address,
% I'll put my card in your pocket-there.
Come down at and have smoke in my
\ den. Not such fine place as Glenden-
ning's, but cozy, you'll find"
..f When Tom reached Chelsea square, the
sparrows were chattering as if mad.
Their shrill clamor and his own unsteady
X0otfalls made the surrounding silence
uoem more dense. The college buildings,
1ike great gray watchers, frowned upon
him from behind blue haze, trembling
md mysterious.
He had walked down the street only
the preceding evening on his way to the
theater, and yet in a bewildered, hazy
fashion he felt that between that hour
and this there had come rent in his
moral fiber like narrow cleft in riven
rock.
A binding pain stung his tired eyes.
There was burning in his chest. The
thought Of reaching his room unseen and
letting slumber blot out the medley of
impressions besieging him was 80 seduc-
tive he quickened his steps.
How the sparrows kept chattering
among the denuded boughsl
Here he comes" they seemed to chirp
rapidly. Look! look! Here he comes.
Oh, seel oh, see! Here he comes. Here
he comes"
Was there an accusing note in their
ohrill chorus? Or did he from an unex
plained sense of guilt only fancy it?
He stole like thief through the de-
serted halls. When he had locked the
door OF his room, he threw himself half
disrobed upon the bed and sank into a
feverish, broken sleep. 1t was SLEEP of
dreams. He was again in Glendenning's
house, filing his senses with q surfeit of
the delicious coloring, the evasive fra
grance, wandering among the treasures
Qathered from mosques and throne
rooms, the rugs everywhere changefully
glowing like huge chameleon skins, the
armor looming with feudal significance
In shadow.
His memory fioated back to q blur of
wine and smoke; tho soft bite of the
champagne was again in his throat, its
delicate fire mounting to his brain and
shedding over it a confusion soft and
witchlike. Nor did he forget the jesting
slings at things he had hitherto viewed
rs sacred, nor the laughter that turned
virtue to ridicule. They were recalled
with the same genial palliation that had
marked his acceptance of them.
The rosy light, the crowd where wo-
men futtered like bright hued butter
6ics, the evidences Of reckless wealth ON
every hand, the complete absence Of all
restraint, had captured him, and in a
mental saturnalia he heard the toasts
and saw the money changing hands at
cards, the refrains of songs that shook
the windows and the dances that called
forth screaming cheers. As half wake
fnl he tossed upon his bed his memory
reveled in every detail of this new phase
Of life--a wildly joyous thing, holding
no thought Of the morrow, only the de-
light of the dear, the living moment.
A faint tapping sounded through the
/, nebule. AT first it seemed that Glen
denning was knocking on the table for
silence. No, IL was rain beating on the
n window. But az it sounded still clearer
and woke him to full consciousness he
opened his heavy eyes and listened. Some
one was gently knocking at his door.
"Tom." came softly to him, "here are
letters for you"
virKinia's voicel He started up. leaned
his head on his hands. but kept silence.
The gay delirium Of his dream departed,
and he felt sick at heart. He seemed
strange 10 himself. The room was
strange. Onlyy ia outside the door
c4lling to him was fearful
II she should see him. she would know
---she might even guess from his voice
that he was
He could not finish the thought.
tom, it's 2 o'clock. Are you ill
Don't you hear mes- And now the voice
had an accent Of fear.
III? Yes. that would be his excuse
And surely il was true. A dreadful
osussssurysa through him redh9t pinch.