Custer weekly chronicle. [volume] (Custer City, S.D.) 1890-1931, 1893-04-08

hurriedly raising her head. "Oh, Vida
Vida, Is il you?'
lit Is me-" replied Vida. What has set
you to weeping? Basil may come to-day"
mo; he is false to me, and cruel, soobed
Ruth. Then in moment she was defend.
ing him: mo, he is not cruel. He has been
blinded and lured away from me.
do not forget that he is man." said
Vida: 'and il is the nature OF men 10 be
false"
Not Basii-he was true
MAY read that letter."
Ruth gave il 10 her, and she scanned her
own writing with grim smile. AS she
handed it back she laughed bitterly.
Ruth, Is that the man To weep fory' she
asked.
Il loved hlm-I love him STILL" pleaded
Ruth.
Even now that he Is false 10 youy
"Yes; I can ne yer forget or cease to love
him."
What little fool you are!' said Vida.
And for moment the mask had fallen, and
Ruth saw the blacker side of her nature.
She stared at her In dlsmay.
you must not be angry with him, Vida"
she said; "he has not wronged you."
HE has wronged us all" Vida answered.
'sYou must learn to despise him, as do"
But she lied. She had never loved him
more than she did at that moment, and her
dread secret made her burden very heavy TO
bear.
Ruth" Vida continued, ''you must go 10
your mother at once and tell her OF the III
suit that has been offered YOU"
Il will not do that" replied Ruth.
''Giye me the letter, then, and let me do
H."
"No. | will not part with IL; II Is the last
thing hay. from him. Ii Is like a. gift from
the dying; and yet he can never be dead TO
me-"
"How can you be so weak said Vida
harshly. Il say that you must forget OF
learn to despise him"
And tell yoa," replied Ruth with unex.
pected spirit, that can do neither. 1t Is
no affair of yours, Vida. Let me alone.'
mo affair of mine.' thought Vida. and
she stiiied eroan that rose to her lips. But,
Ruth.n she said aloud, my uncle must know
the truth; II cannot be kept from him."
Let him guess II" returned Ruth. u
have nothing to say. II was wrong OF ms
ever 10 show you the letter Basil has writ
ten. have been unjust
Vida was furious, but she dared say nc
more. Even the gentle Ruth had q spirit
that reused, was apt TO be dangerous.
The only thing that wisdom would allow
her 10 do was to keep silent and let events
sa.e their caurse. = --4--.. .a--.......s-...
"WelI. Birdie she said. assuming her old
manner, Il see you are wilfnl and will say
nothing"
You have no right to say anything" VIA:
the cold reply, and the breakfast-gong n
that moment sounding, she walked out OF
the room with marvellous composure.
"And looked npon her love rs weak, T"
thought Vida as she followed; 1T Is the bet
ter and stronger love OF the two, and II gives
me further right to hate her. Though sic
die of grief, what mltters-she knows no
shame, while -
II would not bear thinking Of and she
hastened 10 the breakfast-ro0in, where Mr..
and Mrs. Moore were waiting.
Ruth was not absolutely merry, but she
was amiable and talked a great deal. The
cloud OF the previous night seemed TO have
entirely disappeared.
But yida's spirit was wrapped In gloom,
and no effort that she made raised her from
the slough of despond into which she had
fallen.
After breakfast Mr.. Moore went out To
have his morning cigar In the park, and ere
he had enjoyed dozen whlffs, he saw q
horseman approaching.
AS he drew nearer he saw that II was Mr..
Hugh Brandre.h, Basil's father.
He gaiIoped up, relned his horse Ia with
. practised hand, and disregarding tfty-five
years and f,urteen-stone weight, dropped
lightly from the saddle.
''Good-morning, Mr.. Moore" he said. y
tod Basil l would ride over II could.
hope you have not allowed him to bore yos,.
Travelling has set his tongue going, and the
yarns he spins are Of ab0minable length"
"Do understand" said Mr.. Moore coldly,
that you suppose Basil 70 be herey