The Cambria freeman. [volume] (Ebensburg, Pa.) 1867-1938, 1894-12-14
DASHED HOPES.


toms big drawing-room in Grosvenor
place rose-shaded lamps were casting
a tender glow, but near the three tall
windows and in the center OF the
room there was still sufficient day
light To illuminate the faces and frocks
OF the guests who We're assembled for
dinner.
Lady Arlington. clad in shimmering
white satin and wonderful pink pearls.
| fitted like a spirit from group To
| group; now greeting fresh arrival.
now pairing of her friends,
Lady Susan. Lord Marrable will
take You down. He's awfully dull. !
| know, but Bertie Fancourt Is your
! other side Sir Charles, you're des-
/ tined II the tender mercies Of Dolly
Lansdown. Take care OF yourself;
| she's dreadful little lirt. and boasts
/ of her victims. All, Olivia, I'm de
| lighted To see you. Col Egcrton. take
care of my friend. Mrs Abin-er. for a
! few moments till her cavalier turns
up. What nuisance your sex Il,
| colonel Here we are, twenty-three
| hungry souls, all waiting for one
tiresome man. Olivia, my dear. II in
| five minutes he does not turn up I'm
| afraid you'll have TO go downstairs
alone"
And with gay little laugh Lady
! Arlington turned away.
Mrs. Abinger smiled after her re
treating figure, and Col. Egerton,
| catching sight of her slightly-curled
mouth. thought she had the sweetest
! lips he had ever seen, and thinking,
| he looked the closer
He saw a slender woman. with a
| shapcly head set upon round. white
ha - L..
| plain black gown clasped a slight
waist and made fitting framework
| for her dimpled shoulders Her big
black fan seemed all too heavy for her
| tiny wrists and small pinll-tipped I'm
gers. In the fast-fadiug light he could
scarcely distinguish her features. but
! he noticed that her hair was soft and
fair, and that her eyes were large and
| just u little sad.
The gallant colonel was still won
| dering what kind of voice 50 charm
| ing 4 woman could have. when the
| door was flung wide and a tail man
| strode into the room. Lady Arlington
| heaved an audible sigh of relief.
waved rather than spoke an introduc-
! tion between Mrs. Abinger and the
| newcomer, and then. like multi
| colOred snake, her guests rustled down
|
There was a momentary dragging of
| sillIen trains under chairs and q gen
eral settling down before the last ar
! rival turned To sean the woman At his
side, whom in the swift transit from
the drawing-room to the dinin--room
| he had only vaguely concluded was
| slight. and pretty, and fair-haired.
! olivia. YOU Ills tone OF aston
| ishment was too loud for good breed
! ing. but the chat about the table was
| lively, and no one heard his voice save,
| indeed. Mrs AbinEer
Yes, it i |. ] knew You the mo-
ment you entered. though the room
was almost dark.
And yet we've not met for so many
| years" ne said; then, with the gal
liant after-thought Of a man of the
| world, he added: Not that You look
one day older than when
She finished the sentence for him:
eve parted
There was sigh in her voice and
touch of pure sentiment in her sad
eyes as she spoke, and recalled. as
women love to do, the agony of that
hour, fifteen years ago, which had
torn her from Angus Ferrers' arms.
| She had been so Young then-little
|
had been given to her boyish lover,
and the parental edict which had sent
Angus to India and herself to
wretched marriage had nearly broken
| her heart.
But the dream of the past was dis
| PEELED by him who had recalled it.
| And YOU married. he said.
Yes; l was obliged. Mr.. Abinger
was rich in those days, and he bought
| me.
In those days, Is he not so now?''
He died two years ago. a pauPer'
Mrs Abinger spoke quietly. She
had lived 50 long with the tragedy of
existence that ii had lost its most
poignant thrills. and had deCenerated
into a gray monotony OF misery.
No 50 Sir Angus Ferrers. \ look of
unutterable pity crept into his eyes, a
note of intense sympathy into his
voice.
And you are"
a widow, and a pauper, too"
She made a little gesture with her
small, white hands: gesture that in
vitcd inspection of her poor gown. of
her lack of jewels-and that told
more plainly than could a thousand
words of genteeI poverty and want
MY poor Olivia" he said, and as
she glanced at him she saw tears on
his eve lashes.
Lady Arlington grumbled next day
to her husband OF Mrs Abinger's dull
ness and Sir Angus Fcrrers' silence.
But that long dinner was. in truth
nothing but dream 10 the man and
woman who had parted with such
passionate tears fifteen years ago. and
had met once again 50 unexpectedly.
Yet, though both dreamed, their
visions were so different. He, rich.
titled, still in the prime of manhood,
was absorbed in the dead past. If he
had been firm, if he had married
Olivia, how much unhappiness he
might have saved her, how much
peace it would have brought to him
| self.
And Olivia dreamed only of a future
| with the man whose image had been
ever in her heart, of a time of love and
JOY. and freedom from Sordid money
troubles, and shabby frocls and semi
genteel lodgings. And so. except
when now and then they exchanged
some conventional phrase, there was
silence between the two who had SO
much to say.
After dinner it seemed perfectly nat
ural to Olivia Abinger that Sir Angus
Ferrers should seek her, and, in
deed. she had chosen a quiet corner
behind one of the tall. rose-shaded
lamps for their conversation.
1t was she who talked the most; tell
iper him, of har- tr,-s.,t trials and liSan-