Phillipsburg herald. [volume] (Phillipsburg, Kan.) 1882-1905, 1894-06-28

CHAPTER III.
AIT WAS THINE OATH THAT FIRST DID FAIL, y
Nearly year had gone since Cy-
priar Davenant had turned his back
upon British soil. 1t was the end OF
May, high season in London, and UNI
usually brilliant weather, the West
End streets and squares thronged with
carriages, and everywhere throughout
that bright western world delightful
futter and buzz of life and gdyety, as
if the children of that pleasant region
had indeed in some manner secured an
exemption from the cares and sorrows
of meaner mortals and were bent on
making the most Of their privileged
existence.
A neatly appointed brougham waited
before the door of house in Half
Moon street, and had been waiting
there for some time. 1t was Mrs.
Walsinghams brougham, and the lady
herself was slowly pacing to and fro
her little drawing-room, pausing every
now and then to look out Of the win
dow, and in q very unpleasant state of
mind. She was elegantly dressed in
her favOrite toilet Of Indian muslin and
lace, and was looking very handsome,
in spite of the cloud upon her smooth
white brow, and certain ominous
glitter in her blue eyes.
81 suppose he Is not coming" she
muttered ut last, tossing her white lace
parasol upon the table with an angry
gesture. This will be the second lis
appointment in week. But | shall
not 90 to the concert without him.
What do l care for their tiresome
classical music, or to be stared at by a
crowd of great ladies who don't choo so
to know me-"
She rang the bell violently but
before it could be answered there came
laundering double knock at the door
below, and minute afterward Gilbert
Sinclair dashed into the room, bearing
in his hand a beautiful bouquet of the
rarest and most fragrant flowers.
Late again, Gilbert" cried Mrs
Walsingham, reproachfully, her face
Frightening nevertheless at his coming;
and she smiled at him with u pleased
welcoming smile as they shook hands.
Yes, | know it's late for that con-
founded concert. But | want you to let
me Off that inhiction, Clara. That sort
OF thing is such consummate bore to
a man who doesn't know the difference
between Bale and Beethoven, and you
know | have heap of engagements on
my hands.
"You have only come to cry off,
then?" said Mrs. Walsingham, with q
sudden contraction of her firmly nodded
lips.
my dear Clara, what fend you
look when you like. But | wouldn't
cultivate that kind of expression If |
were you, OF course, I'll go to the
concert with you, if you are bent upon
it, rather than run the risk of anything
in the way of scene. But you know
very we'll that don't care for music,
and you ought to know"
He stopped, hesitating with a fur
tive look in his red-brown eyes, and q
nervous action of one big hand about
his thick brown mustache.
81 ought to know what Mr.. Sim
clair?" asked Clara Walsingham, with
a sudden hardness of voice and man
ner.
THAT it is neither good for your repu-
tation nor mine that we should be
seen so often together at such places as
this Portman Square concert. 1t is
almost a private affair, you know, and
everybody present will know all about
us.
Indeed! and since when has Mr.. Gil
bert Sinclair become so careful of his
reputation-or of mine?"
Since you set your friends talking
about our being engaged to be married,
Mrs. Walsingham. You have rather
too many feminine acquaintance with
long tongues. don't like being con-
graduated, or chatTed-it comes to
pretty much the same thing-upon an
event which you know never can hap
pen"
Never is long word, Gilbert. NV
husband may die, and leave me free to
become your wife, if you should do me
the honor to repeat the proposal which
you made to me six years ago."
u don't like waiting for dead mems
shoes, Clara" answered Sinclair, in
rather sulky tone. II made you that
offer in all good faith, when | believed
you to be widow, and when | was
madly in love with you. But six years
is long time and"
Sand men are tickle," she said, talk
ing up his unfinished sentence. you
have grown tired Of me, Gilbert; is
that what you mean"
"Not exactly that Clara, but rather
tired of position that keeps me sim
gle man without single mans liberty.
You are quite as exacting as wife,
more Jealous than a mistress. and | am
g. tting to an age now at which man
begins to feel kind of yearning for
something more like home than
chambers in the Albany, some one more
like wife than lady who requires
one to be perpetually playing the cava-
liere servente."
She stood Tor a minute looking at
him, with sudden intensity in her
face. He kept his eyes en- the ground
during that sharp scrutiny, but he was
fully conscious of it nevertheless.
Colbert Sinclair" she cried, after a
long pause, you are in love with some
other woman; you are going to jilt
me-.
There was suppre :sed agony in her
tonew which both surprised and alarmed
the man to whom she spoke. OF late
he had doubted the sincerity of her
attachment to him, and had fostered