The Washington times., 1894-08-05

Poer. Seems rather pity that another man
should be caught In the same trap, eh?"
Pooh. this one is able to take care OF him
self. or should be; must he oldish. since he's a
widower with two sons. Lord help 'em if
such a stepmother is put over them"
The athlete has sat so quietly in his cor ner
that both men start when he abruptly rises,
trying TO force tho wlRdow lower, as If the
heat is increasing; probably they would be
still more startled could they know that he is
that very Lord willard to whom their COM
passion has been SO frankly extended. He
subsidies into his corner, tucks the ends of his
mustache into his mouth. staring flxedly at the
pages OF Punch, though he sees nothing OF
Du Maurer's latest. battling as he is against
an impulse to proclaim his identity to the
two men. and knock their heads together rs
traducers Of defenceless lady. Prudence
and n natural aversion to a scene win the day;
he folds his arms tightly. and before his
mental vision rises an oval face, with sedUc-
tive violet eyes, and lips that murmur low
and sweet. But you Will come back again,
won't you!"
He is again on the terrace at Rcsemount.
the giimmering radiance that lives all through
q summer night clasping the fragrant. dewy
garden, and the pretty house, with its open
windows and lighted rooms. whence steal
strains of plainiive music. Mrs. De ia Poer,
graceful and ianguid, eyes and lips pathetic,
leans against stone pilnster which holds
aloft a great vase brimrning over with musk
and obelia.
why SO sad Tonight" he asks with a
sudden ssnse OF stars blown out, as he looks
Mt her face, pale and mournful to degree he
has not seen before.
I'VE are never merry when we hear sweet
music " she returns evasively.
Yet how happy the sound of your voice
makes me-" he replies. and she gives smile
that ends in a sigh.
"Ah, Lord Willard, you pay compliments
as if you meant them Well am sorry you
are going away: shall miss you more than
l dare think / have so few friends
He glances at the house. at the CAV throns
in the lighted room, and she follows his
glance md answers it.
'As you see. have plenty-for all evening;
for iife ii is 4 different matter. There are
times " hen / am lonely to desolation with
out n creature to con- Tort me, to advise NE,
TO help me through my dark hour.
Lord Willard is young man. but his head
al times governs his heart; despite the influ-
ence of time and place, his undoubted infatu-
alton for Mrs. De la Poer, his appreciation of
her soft loveliness, he does not express his
desire OF being the guide and comforter she
needs. She looks past him TO the lines of
paler blue, low on the horizon. against which
rugged trunks and slender stems are defined,
and a faint sigh leaves her lips for the second
time.
Il shall never forget you,' she says; ere
member that, Lord Willard, for feel that we
shall never meet again
He starts and turns to her. looking at her
in troubled way. MY dear Mrs De la
Poer, Why should you think that?"
p Il can't give you any reason, but know
it. l have had such presentiments before,
and they have always been fulfilled" And
her hand is lifted suddenly 10 her beautiful
eyes, is it memory or thought of parting with
him that overcomes her?
.'This one may not be" he says, all at once
intensely nervous. The glimpse OF her perfect
mouth all quivering with emotion. the sight
of her fair bent head, appeal to his heart; he
is carried away by passion, and is Just on the
point of clasping his arms about her, claim
ing for present and for future the right to
share her sorrows If he cannot altogether
shield her from them-when the tenor, whose
songs beneath the waning stars have been
charming the ear of night, comes out with a
train OF admirers. and the tete-a-tete Is
broken up. Mrs De In Poer snatches time to
whisper plaintively. '.But you will come back
again. won't you2" before other guests claim
her attention.
Lord Willard presently takes his leave, de-
parting less with feelings of lover who has
been baffied CT deprived of his chance than
those OF man who has escaped something.
Strange how the glamour fades, how the
NAiNuSiy vi NoiSo lOOk lOscS potency III
absence, and how much more clear and dis
tinct is the memory OF the girl whose heart
kept time and tune with his from the first
dawn of love until its last throb on earth.
For it is true that he is widower. His
majority and his marriage were celebrated on
the same day, and five years of perfect happi-
ness were his. Then his young wife died, and
he has mourned her these seven years, with
out thought Of replacing her, until his meet
ing with Dorothea De la Poer, II then. He
has been introduced to her by the genial
rector, on whose heart her liberal, uncsten-
tatious charities have made a good impress
sion, and she seemed to him Of the type an
gelic. Still, why is 1t that when he thinks OF
his two SONS the thought Of them under her
care repels him?
Why Is it that when In his most infatuated
moments he pictures her in his old home,
vision will rise before him of the fair, pure
face once smiling there, Of the fresh young
voice 30 long silent? Why does 1t seem as II
from the quiet grave she extended her hand
to hold him back? Can the dead be jealous