The herald., 1894-11-08

alono here you ana | and Mrs. Toss,
| my companion, and I'll tell you beau
| tiful story about myself for the gratiflca-
tion of tho good, inGuisitive public. In re-
turn you shall tell mo what put it into
| your head to come to Brighton.
| He ate her lunch and drank her cham
| pagnc, and before tho meal was over she
| knew all about him and the bun episode.
"Plucky," she thought, and she admir-
| cd courage in n man, witty proud, well
bred'
| She looked kindly at him and smiled
| with moisture in her eyes. Emotional
| to the core Cynthia Charrington and in
| flnitely susceptible to tho realism of life,
woman of Moods-spelled with capital,
according to latter day prophets.
II hope you'll succeed with The Mirror.
| I'm sure you will, - she said, when he took
leave of her at last You must come and
see me at Palace Mansions and tell me
what you have done. But in case you
don't get the post or there is any delay
Dick broke into gentle pcrspiration.
Was she going to offer to lend him money!
She read the terror in his eyes and re-
| Trained. But that evening the postman
delivered at Dick lodgings an anonymous
envelope containing n 25 note. He knew
| that she had sent it as well as If she had
| told him SO and returned it to her prompt
| ly, with n little note of thanks
She called him names and made several
vague and bitter illusions during the fol-
| lowing day to false pride and ridiculous
| obstinacy and thought moro about him
| than she would have done if she had met
him In the ordinary way and he had been
dangling at her skirts for score of after
Moons.
| Dick filed the vacancy on, The Mayfair
| Mirror and a chair in Cynthia Charring-
! toms drawing room on many Sunday after
| moons.
Il owe my luck to you, he said to her
on the occasion of his first visit to her
| handsome fiat. II shall never forget your
| kindness" "
One day she went to the piano of her
own accord and sang to him for half an
hour. Previously he had only heard her in
public, and it seemed to him that her glo-
rious voice had never sounded SO well as
it did now in the privacy of her home.
Tho mans pulses throbbed and his head
swan, He would have liked to throw his
arms around her. When she stopped, he
took up his hat.
"What are you going already?" she ex-
| claimed in surprise.
| He muttered some excuse about "work
to do'' and left her with his brain ON fire.
He had suddenly realized a fact that
| frightened him.
On his way homo he bought photo
graph of her and hung it up in his sitting
room. He had scarcely done SO when he
tore it down again, with wrath in his eyes.
"Im fool-an asst Because woman
behaves like an angel to me forget that
I'm poor devil of a journalist and she's
! Cynthia Charrington.
He made a bonfire of 1t in the empty
grato and watched it crackle and curl in
| the tongues OF fame, with fierce delight
in his own agony. Then he went out, on
q wet night, and bought another to take
it's place. The little incident was typical
| of his frame of mind
For whole fortnight he never went
near her. Then flesh and blood could bear
it no longer, and he tramped to Kensing-
ton one Sunday afternoon.
What have you been doing with your
sclf?" she demanded. II have missed
| you"
1T is very good of you to say SC" he
said gloomily.
II won't go near her for a month,
said poor, proud Dick to himself as he
walked home. II must accustom myself
to doing without her."
A week passed-a week of overstrung
nerves, of cold detection, of feverish desire.
Then he had a shock. She was i'll. She
had been i'll for several days, and her un-
derstudy had taken her place in the opera.
There was something wrong with her
throat reported The Comet in the most
flowery and grandiloquent of journalism.
She would never sing again. Her glorious
career was cut short In the bloom of her
| youth. The nightingale would be dumb
forever Then The Comet, waxing sapient,
painted a"realistic'' picture of her proba-
! BILE future.
Dicks face went white. He called .
hanson and drove to Palace Mansions.
SIS it true that your throat's bad?" he
asked her. live just read 1t in The
! Comet
"Quite true" she said.
He gulped
| Cynthia, you're woman all alone. If
| you would let me take care Of you! I
| wouldn't have asked before, but now that
| your prospects have changed so disastrous
| lyl Hang it! What shall 1 say to you? I
hardly know. When fellows poor and
no better than other fellows, he hasn't
/ amounts to this, dear. I'm earning q de-
cent salary-thanks to you-and I could
make things smooth for you. Cynthia,
could you would you'--
She held out her hands to him with
charming gesture of surrender. ''1f you
want me, Dick''--
MY darling, you are SO good to me!'
but l think you are laboring under
mistake" she said demurely. There is
nothing seriously wrong with my voice.
/ I've only had bad cold"
"Then Tho Comets information was
incorrect" he gasped.
Quite so."
"And-and you do not need me at alp
"I need you very much" she said.
"That is why I worked that paragraph.
You see, knew if didn't do something
that your horrid pride would spoil our
lives. Don't be mad with me, Dick, or I
shall cry"
But she blushed instead-for a reason.
--San Francisco Examiner.
Temperance In Meat Eating.
/