The Portland daily press. [volume] (Portland, Me.) 1862-1921, 1894-05-09
CROSS PURPOSES.
IT, was all Celia,s fault.

I It was all Celia's fault.
| If it hadn't been fer her, it would never |
have occurred to me to quarrel with Jack;
it would never have occurred to me that
any quarrel was necessary to prove the |
strength of his love. should have taken
it for granted and been happy still.
/ detest Celia.
/ We were SO happy till she came to stay
with Jacks people and told me l was spoil
ing him. OF course it was no business of
hers if / were-she admitted that-but she
was so fond of me that she felt she must
speak, being older and more experienced
than 1, and implore me to remember that
it wasn't only my lover was spelling, but
my future husband, and if I let him have
his own way in everything now l should
never be able to have mine by and by when
we were married.
So Jack and quarreled at the Hornes'
dance last night.
I hardly know what it was about in the
first instance, but it grew and grew until it
seemed to me there was nothing we weren't
quarreling about and Jack was soon ter
ribly in earnest. Though we had been en-
gagged for three weeks, rd no idea he had it
in him to be SO angry. And of course l
lost my head and got angry, too-really an
gry-and said horrid things, and-and-I
told him that our engagement was broken
off, and there must be an end of everything
between us, and-and-Jack took me at
nv word. l never thought of his doing
that
'sAs you please" he said, speaking quiet
ly all of sudden. We were in the conserv-
atory, and the dance music in the drawing
room must have drowned the sound of our
voices half a dozen yards away. You
wish our engagement to end, Maud? So be
it. Your letters shall be returned to you
tomorrow, and l will at once leave you free
to resume your Irritation with Frank
Horne"
'But-Jackn-
His face was set and white. He never
even looked at me. The music ceased. &C.
liza and several other dancers strolled into
the conservatory, and he left me.
Yes, he went away and danced with 9th
er girls, and he never spoke one word to me
or came near me again the whole evening.
Of course danced too. What else could
I do under the circumstances? I danced
with Frank Horne and firted with him.
Our engagement is broken olive have
said there is not to be an engagement any
more-and now
Oh, how miserable am!
1t is a dull November afternoon, and
mamma has gone out, so I sit alone in the
fire lit dining room and think over all that
had happened last night and wonder what
Jacks next move will be. Surely-surely,
he cannot mean
He hassnot returned my letters yet. Sure
ly that is hopeful sign.
am still wearing the ring he gave me.
/ suppose if he returns my letters shall
have to-
No, no. I can't part with it. He can't
be so cruel-so unreasonable.
His letters, too Must I give them up?
| turn them over in my hand-such little
| bundle of them as there is and SO very hard
| to read till one learns to know the writing
| or to love the writer, which is it?
| Hark! some one is crossing the hall.
| Surely Jane won't be SO foolish as to show
any one in here now.
In another moment "Mr. Drayton" is an
nounced, and Jack himself stands before
me-
'Jackp' 1 started to my feet. and all
| these treasured documents fall rustling to
the floor, but never think of them. Who
thinks of love letters in the presence of the
| writer? Jack is here, my Jack, and
But is he indeed my Jack?
The first glance at his face recalls me to
myself and reminds me that he is no longer
my Jack, or Jack at all to me. 1 told him
I wished our engagement to end, and he re-
membered it evidently, though 1 for one
brief moment have forgotten. Oh, Jack
Jackl
| He waits till the servant has left the
room, then takes small packet from the
breast pocket of his coat and turns to me.
This must be my apology for disturbing
| you," he says very formally. II thought
| had better bring it myself, in case of acct
dents"
'For me?" | speak vaguely and without
| offering to take it. want to gain time.
| "Yes-your letters. 1 have no right to
them now"
''How-how beautifully you have packed
themp'
| He turns away with an impatient gesture
and lays them on the table.
II need not detain you any longer, now
| my errand is DONE" he says quietly.
| "But-there is something else. Oh, you
forgetp' as he looks at me questioningly.
''You have returned my letters promptly
enough chow can I thank you for such
| promptness?), but you forget your own. AS
you say, have no right to them now"
You wish me to take them? Very well. F"
But do not wish him to take them any
thing but that. I want to postpone the
moment of parting. That is all.
"Willyou be good enough to fetch them?"
"They are here on the floor Will you be
good enough to help me pick them up?"
He does so without word. Together we
stoop and collect them. Together we lay
them on the table. Together for the last
timel
bring paper and string and proceed to
pack them up, while he watches me in 81
lence.
II fear this will not be such neat parcel
as yours" l say, speaking as steadily as
can and bending over the table to hide my
troubled face "You know Pm never good
at this sort of thing"
81 know" shortly.
II can't do itp' and great tear splashes
on the packet. 'I'm very sorry, butt
Don't bother about it, and he lays his