The news and herald. (Winnsboro, S.C.) 1877-1900, 1895-06-27

she laughed again before she Went
on-'shere you are enjoying all this
as If nothing had happened. 1t was
absurd of me, was it not?''
"Would it have gratifed you had I
had I killed myself, say?"
"Don't!" she said earnestly.
"Men have been known to do that,
you know he pursued; s'and for less
cause than I have, too"
''Oh; please do not speak so," she
returned. "Promise mel know you
will not-wil not do that; but prom
ise me you will not do anything you
should not"
81 will do the best I can," he re-
piled. seriously enough.
"You ere laughing at me-" she re-
sponded, passionstely. s'You made
me think you loved me, too"
II am very glad I did make you
think you; but it should not have
been hard---I had only the truth to
tell"
ana YET you are mere!
eyes, I am herr, as you see"
''And you don't mind at all?' she
said, petulantly.
"Ah, yes, Ethel, but I do mind, he
returned, gently. "Perhaps if / did
not mind so much I wonld not be
here. T loved you, and--but-" he
said, interrupting himself, and then
he continued witha sadness which she,
being busy with her horse, which had
become restive, did not notice, al
though she heard his words-"but
dare say you do not wish I should go
into all that again. do you?"
ssNo," she answered, CURLY, an
moved that he should SO ask her if he
should speak of his love; and then, IN
her annoyance-an annoyance he was
conscious of, although he could not
understand it-she struck her horse
and urged him forward so that he be-
gan at once hard run, which carried
him and his rider quickly out OF sight
before she could check and turn him,
as she tried almost at once to do.
When at last she succeeded, and came
back to where Gray had stood, be had
turned and was walking away, striking
at the plants along the path with his
cane, angry and hurt that his wound
should have been so ruthlessly and 50
nesdlessly opened. But, in truth, it
had not gone far, if at all, toward
healing.
"Mr. Gray!" Ethel called. for he
was not yet out Of hearing. Mr..
Gray, you had not finished" she went
on rs he joined her.
eFinished?" he repeated. 81 don't
know. But I am sorry to have driven
you away by speaking OF my love. J
shall not so offend again.
"Oh," she responded, demurely.
ssBesides." he continued, at once
breaking his promise, "you have told
me that I was able to make you be-
lieve that I loved you. Why should l
speak of it again?'
81 don't know, am sure," was all
she could find to soy.
HOf course it is all over now. I
would like TO assure you, though.
You were good enough, you know" he
explained, 'eto say that you had been
worried. T can only thank You for
your kindness and interest, and say, as
I said before, that I mean to do the
best can. I will not be overcome,
he added with determination, cor let
my life be ruined.
ssIt will all be easy enough, ]
fancy" she returned.
'tDon't," he pleaded. ''Don't say
anything so unt-u 1t will no be
easy"
s.But you left me so suddenly last
night, and-and-" she went on with
hesitation and evidert embarrassment,
"and you began so soon to forget
and 70 be here and interested IN other
things"
"Oh, yes," he assented as she
paused, "but, at al events, I did not
begin to try to forget until you forced
me to. And" he continued, grimly,
'I have not succeeded very we'll,
either. But I will"
sob, certainly you will. There is
no doubt of that. There are 30 many
things man can be interested in."
"Fortunate'-,a man is compelled to
heat least. I think fortunately. He
has his affairs
''That is just it," she interrupted,
petulantly. 'sHis affairs, indeed! -
eyes," Gray went on, not needing
! apparently, the interruption. "And
it is fortunate for me that I am com.
PEELED to be interested in my affairs.
is it not? If my way had all been
made fer me I could afford to nurse
my grief and to make much Of it, and
I dare say 7 would. And that would
not be good to do, surely"
'No. T fancy not" she answered,
doubtfully, and then with 8 quick
change Of manner she asked him:
"But why did you leave me SO sud.
denly last nlghtT
"There are times when a man can
not retreat too quickly" be returned,
quietly, 'sand it seemed to me that I
had come to one of them. It was ali
or nothing with me. I had been lover
so long-I was your lover, you know.
Even though you did not know it, and
whether you wanted me to be or not,
I was; and you do know it now. When
coa1d not be that I could not be
anything. I have loved you-how can
c2s tell? When did I first meet you?
Ever since then think I must have
loved you, and looked forward, and
hoped to win your love and you. I
was blind, perhaps, and deluded, but