Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1894-07-07

thing In the world worth having. For very
shame Of her past misdeeds she would
St0Op now to no wOu;ans coQuetry to win
a new avowal If he still held her dear she
was very humble in her mind If not al
ways in her method; but Stuart, finding
In this new seriousness unexpected charms,
worked harder, and avoided her more than
before, till at last the doubt in her mind
became In time a certainty too painful to
dwell on. A restlessness took possession Of
her, and when her aunt proposed this trip
she was to take with her two boys, Edith
)oyfully acceded to 1t as a relief from her
present misery.
AS she stood leaning against the rail, the
TWO boys Joined her. and rallied on her
evident dolefulness. They were her favor
ties OF all her many cousins. Arthur, the
elder, had once been in love with her for
month, and then, though she still COM
PEELED his admiration, he had transferred
his affections to long line of successors,
which still at the age of twenty-eight he
was constant at least in adding to. George
just out Of college. for whom the trip had
been planned, was her slave and in return
she had an honest fondness for the big blue
eyed boy, whom she had always petted,
and whose devotion amused her; for he
took no pains to conceal that his happiest
moments were those passed in the society
of his worldly-wise cousin, who had seen
several seasons, and not in that of the
little girls who had danced through college
with him. She could talk to him, and what
was better, understand what he said to her.
He stood sympathetically beside her now
and walked with her when she felt a bit
chilly, bundled her up in her steamer chair
when she was tired. routed her out again.
and insisted upon her watching them drop
the pilot. When the burly fellow slipped
from the ship into his own boat, the same
sudden anguish that Sturart had felt in
stepping off the gangplank came to her:
she felt this was the breaking of the last
tie of home. and that there was now no
word to be said and no going back. After
this George tucked her up again in her
chair and left her gratefully alone to join
Arthur in looking up the many friends
they had on board. She was glad to be
left there awhile to think undisturbed. Her
aunt was safe in her berth. Mrs. Eccleston
had retired to this refuge as soon as they
might become gradually used to the increas-
ing motion of the ship before it was too
late to avoid unpleasant consequences. She
had a theory, which she had proved salts
factorily to herself years before. that by
remaining perfectly quiet in a recumbent
attitude for two days the circulation by de-
grees became thoroughly accustomed to
the unusual stirring II was subjected to by
the ocean, and she triumphantly explained
that in consequence of pursuing this method
she had never been i'll, although George
declared she would not have been i'll, any
how.
The twilight came down on the sea- and
Miss Eccleston was still lost in pensive re-
Elections. People passed her now and then,
walking for amusement, their appetites.
or their livers; but as most of the pas
sengers found 1t too cold and damp to sit
quietly, she was quite alone.
AS she went over the past in her mind,
the pain in her heart became greater. She
could see Stuart as he had stood beside
her only a few hours ago-tall, spare,
thoroughbred, with thin straight features,
and the lines about his mouth and eyes
that she used to criticse as too sensitive
for a man. She brought this image per-
SiStently before plarneSg
from the very effort but she could always
see his eyes, that were gray and gentle AMI
which at times had shown the hurt she had
done him though he spoke no word.
If he still loved her, why had he not said
so once before she had gone? He could not
care. And yet what had he meant when
he had asked her II her thanks were all she
could say? She went over every word that
had passed between them that afternoon,
but could draw slight comfort from them.
II he was too proud TO speak again, he
really could care but little, after all. She
tried to taunt herself into state of in
difference. Was she going to be as wretch
ed this throughout the whole of this trip
for pleasure? She still wore at her breast
the violets he had sent her. She unpInned
them, and held them to her face. He must
still care little, but would he care all the
while she would be gone: would she find
him unchanged when she returned,or would
the old passionate love grow less and less
sweet as would the violets she was holding?
She would rather have 1t broken at once.
She rose on sudden impulse, threw the
rug that was about her into the chair. and
went over to the edge of the deck. "You
shall not wither." she whispered to the
flowers; Il want to remember you fresh and
beautiful as you are now" She kissed them
passionately, hidden by the dusk, and flung
them into the sea.
Then she put her hands resolutely in her
coat pockets to turn away, when something
sharp struck her hand. She drew Ii out;
1t was the envelope and card that had come
with the flowers, and which she had thrust
into her pocket not to leave II in the box.
She pulled the card out and read the name
critically-Mr. Archibald Stuart She idly
wondered how many of the cards she would
have had IL she had kept them all; then
mechanically she turned il over, and start
ed a little to find there was something writ
ten on the back that she had not seen be-
fore. In the hurry of departure she had
only drawn the card half out to see the
name and had never thought to turn it
over. 1t was too dark for her to read the
closely written words where she was, and
she went over and stood where she could
get the light from the music room. II
thought i should have the courage to let
you go without speaking again. but give
me one word Of hope II you can before you
say goodbye" Relief. Joy, and an unutter-
able grief swept through her; the words
that she had longed and prayed for had
come. but she was going further and further
from him every moment. She could not cry
out to him how her heart had ached for
those words, that her going was only to
she believed she had lost. She slipped away
from the light, and now looked despairingly
into the sea, where she had thrown the
flowers he had sent her. She wanted to
clasp them again, and put her face down
into them; they would have seemed a liv-
ing part Of his love. She stretched out her
arms to the dArkened sea, while a half-sob
escaped her, and then dropped them weakly
While the strength ran into her hands, which
she clinched to keep from wringing them
She could write to him and tell him of the
pitiful mischance that had kept her from
knowing, and again the new Joy swep;
through her, to be crushed by the thought
OF the days and days before she could, and
that he had gone away believing that she
had no love to give him, and was believing
1t now, and would believe for all those DAYS
to come
Stuart had gone to his office on leaving
the steamer and tried to work, but finding
1t impossible. had gone up town home to
his rooms, a studio in the Sherwood. sent
away his man for the night, and keepin.,
DIS dog for companion, had given him
SELF a holiday for grief The end of his
cream had come, and after today he would
put 1t away forever. For hours he sat
abandoning himself to the bitter thoughts
that at last he allowed to overwhelm him.
His dog, an Irish setter, lay almost motion
less at his feet. When the daylight faded
out OF the studio, and the big north window
grew black with a stormy twilight his
aster rose and lighted a lamp, while the
dog followed at his heels, and stood close
to him when he stopped, rubbing his nose