Wheeling Sunday register. [volume] (Wheeling, W. Va.) 1882-1934, 1893-10-08
WHEELING REGISTER SUNDAY OCTOBER8 l89TWELyE PAGES

are your You might forget my address,
so I'll put my card in your pocket
there. Come down at four and have a
smoke in my den. Not such fine
place as Glendennings, but cosy you'll
find"
When Tom reached Chelsea square,
the sparrows were chattering as II mad.
Their shrill clamor aud his own I'M
steady footballs made the surrounding
silence seem more dense. The college
buildings, like great gray watchers,
frowned upon him from behind a blue
haze, trembling and mysterious.
He had walked down tho street only
the preceding evening on his way to the
theater, ann yet in bewildered, haZy
fashion he felt that between that hour
and this there had come rent In his
moral fiber like narrow cloft in ariven
rock.
A binding pain stung his tired eyes.
There was a burning in his chest. The
thought Of reaching his room unseen
and letting slumber blot out the med
lev OF impressions besieging him was
so seductive he quiekened his steps.
How the sparrows kept gathering
among the denuded boughs!
''Hers he comes, they seemed to chirp
RAPIDLY. Look! look! here he comes,
Oh, see! oh, Sc! Here he comes. Here
he comes"
Was there an accusing note in their
shrill chorus, or did he from an unex-
planned sense Of guilt only fancy it?
He stole like thief through the de-
serted halls. Whom be 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 Glenden-
ning's house, filling his senses with a
surteit OF the delicious coloring, the
evasive fragrance, wandering among the
treasures gathered from mosques and
throne-rooms, the rugs everywhere
changefully glowing like huge cham
eleon skins, the armOr looming with
feudal significance in shadow.
His memory floated back to the blur
OF wine and smoke; the soft bite OF the
champage again in his throat, its dell
cate ire mounting to his brain and
shedding over il confusion soft and
witchlike. Nor did he forget the jest
ing sings st things he had hitherto
viewed as sacred, nor the laughter that
turned virtue TO ridicule. They were
| recalled with the same genial pallia-
ton that had marked his acceptance OF
them.
The rosy light, the crowd where wo-
men futtered like bright hued butter
flies, 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
ful he tossed upon his bed his memory
revealed in every detail OF this new
phase Of life-a wildly joyous thing,
holding no thought of the morrow, only
the delight of the dear, the living
| moment.
A faint tapping sounded through the
| nebul2 At first 1t seemed that Glen
denning was knocking on the table
for silence. No, IL was rain beating
on the window. But as it sounded
still clearer and woke him to con-
seriousness be opened his heavy eyes
and listened. Some one was gently
knocking at his door.
Tom" came softly to him, "here
are letters for pou."
Virgina'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 to himself.
The room was strange. Only Virginia
outside the door calling to him was
fearfuIly real
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 , O'Clock. Are you HIP
Don't YOU hear me?" And now the
voice had an accent OF fear.
III? Yes, that would be his excuse
And surely it was true. A dreadful
nausea surged through him; redhot
pincherS seemed holding his head.
Feigning yawn, he coughed and said:
who's there?"
ooh, you are awake at last. Sir Lazy
bones, do you know it Is well on in the
afternoon"
He made no answer. Virginia must
not see him; she must not know. That
was all ne could think Of as he sat on
the edge of the Oed, his hands clasped
to his forehead.
"Your lunch is ready now. Will you
be out soon? Mr.. Plunket has sent
over a dozen or more letters from the
theatre" =.
I'm not well, Virginia. I couldn't
eat thing. Let the letters wait"
Silence followed for moment, and
he could fancy the undeserved pity in
her sweet eyes.