The Manning times. [volume] (Manning, Clarendon County, S.C.) 1884-current, 1895-06-12
THE STROKE OF RUIN.
RS MAURICE THOMPSON.

By MAURICE THOMPSON.
It was moonlight and rather late in
the balmy evening, with breeze hut-
tering along Royal street, and the
sound of guitar coming from an IN
definite distance. No street cars were
running and but few strollers-these
most creoles in high-heeled shoes tap
ping lightly on the banquettes-went
up and down the narrow way.
Bowie Harding leaned back IN an
easv chair on the iron-railed balcony,
or gallery. which overhung the side
walk, and smoked slowly, with half
closed eyes. He was waiting the ar
rival of his young friend, Francois
Rapin, who Lad lately interested him
to a singular degree.
Even at the moment, upon the un-
carpeted stairway came the active Gre
ole's feet, two steps at time, alc9g
with lively tune sung almost breath
lessly through a curving black mus
tache.
"Ah, but here I am" he cried, is
suing through the doorway and trip
ping a gay step along the floor towards
Harding.
'sWel, and what is it," demanded
the New Yorker. ''What have you
found out?"
Bah" He produced a cigarette
and asked for light by an inimltable
pantomine with head and shoulders.
maybe she wentto the French opera.
Go with me; I have box; come.
''But haven't you yet.seen herr"
''Seen her-how should know
Monsieur Harding forgets the condi-
tons" He laughed in his atrociously
frivolous French way.
II beg pardon" said Harding,
quickly; II had, indeed, forgotten
that I did not know her name, her
place OF residence, nor yet even the
color of her eyes Yes, Twill 60 with
yon to the opera. Everybody goes,
eh2"
''Not everybody, but everybody of
the best. It is the distinction; we
draw the line in front of the boxes.
Not the dead line, hope"
Even that sometimes, yes. have
known glance of sweet eyes to cost
a man his best blood under the oaks.
Are you good fencerG"
Boyle Harding made no answer, but
flung his cigar stump over the iron
flagree down into the street, where it
coruscated on the cobble- stones. and
then he rose and shook himself light
ly as one does who forms an imperfect
plan or feels vaguely impatient over
delayed expectations.
The sky above New Orleans was as
blue as sapphire, and the irregular
old houses along Royal street caught
many stray CLINT from the splendid
mood. Harding was in mood to feel
all the force of such scene. He had
come South a fortnight past with let
tiers of introduction to influential peo-
pie, but he was not seeking society; a
quiet soiourn in New Orleans with his
eyes and ears opened suited him bet
ter. he was young, however, brimful
of blood and surcharged with poets
imagination.
What was. perhaps, just the thing
he would have most desired came to
him Unexpectedly one day. Is was a
twinkle of romance in the gloom Of
Royal street. He suddenly met
beautiful young woman face to face
at the door of Gardin's old book store,
a dingy hole where you find the con-
tents of French libraries that have
been sold at successive sales or picked
up at auction. Warm eyes exchanged
an involuntary look which seemed to
have glow of inquiry struck out of
iris points. Harding was electrified,
and impulsively lifted his hat. She
passed him with half smile, leaving
a breath of violets and the rustic of a
gown quietly elegant in the air round
about.
The color of her hair, her height,
the tint of her eyes, her complexion
he could not fix one of these IN his
mind, but he knew that she was the
loveliest, the most enchanting girl
that ever breathed. The impression
entered his consciousness so suddenly
and set itself so deep and with such
thrill of romantic pleasure, that he
stopped short in the door, and stood
there, hat in hand, smiling reminis-
Gently and listening to the purr of his
own blood sweetly quickening along
his veins.
A lover is great fool; but he is
the only man who knows what song 1t
was that the stars sang; and to him
you must 60 if you would learn the
secret of heavenly happiness and the
value of dreams as nutrlment for the
imagination. A lovers soul will tre-
BILE its stature by feeding one moment
on smile
In fact, Boyle Harding had felt this
sudden growth within; it had quick
ened, broadened and sweetened his
spiritual vision, while afording fine
and richly mysterious increment to his
enjoyment of his new surroundings
This was midway in the ifties, when
New Orleans had reached the splendid
zenith of her wealth, and when the
peculiar color of her social life was
most dazzling and romantic. AS an
American city she stood apart, hot,
almost tropical heart of passion, lux
ury, pleasure and abounding hospl-
taGty. And with it all went the old
freedom of cnivalric personal courage
and the love of spectacular results IN
matters of honor.
Harding and his young creole friend
set out on foot; it was but a short
step to the Opera House, and as they
went along Rapin was prattling on
the subject of fencing, always great
vogue with the jeunesse doree of New
Orlans. He was himself a rich orphan,
living upon an almost unlimited in
come, and had long been confirmed
habitue of the fencing halls. Having
seen some rapiers and foils in Hard
ing's rooms, he was saying:
''But you must be interested in
sword play-in fencing. It is the
noblest of all the exercises for gentle