Griggs courier., 1895-11-15

but" She breaks of abruptly, and,
with . sudden movement. pulls bacl.
her loose-hanging sleeve, revealing IN
ugly, livid bruise on the fair white arm;
then, with q bitter smile, she lets the
sleeve fall again, and turns toward the
window. He starts to his feet, his
handsome face dark with passion.
Ruth" he cries, seizing her hands
in his, fercely, ''it was all horrible
mistake; my cowardice has brought
you to this. My darling, you love me?"
She does not move; q shiver runs
through her-a shiver of mortal agony.
Ruth, speak! Tell me you love met"
"You hurt me-" she says, family,
striving to free herself from his firm
grasp. She raises her agonized eyes to
his, and then she is clasped in his arms.
For one instant she lies passive, then
2rees herself with q wrench.
"Leave me-" she says, unsteadily;
''why do you come, now that it is too
late? You must go. Good-by." She
holds out her hand in dismissal and
farewell.
His passion completely overmasterS
him as he looks upon her, pale and sor-
row stricken.
II will not CO." he cries, vehement
~; "Ruth, you do not, you cannot mean
it. For your own sake" He adj
vances quickly, but she repels him.
"For my own sake and yours, 60"
And then he knows that all is ended.
With one farewell look he leaves her,
and goes out of the room. while she
sinks wearily into her chair, . dull,
aching pain tearing at her heart
strings.
Time slips by insensibly. A new
beauty has rsurped Lady Berrington's
position in society, from which she has
now withdrawn herself. Her husband
is dead-killed himself in the hunting
field-and she is free to come and 20 as
she will. The great town is shuttered
and empty, and she has flown to the
restful quietude Of Pens court, the
home of her childhood, which she has
bought back as a home for herself in
her lonely widowhood. Then wild
hopes fill her heart. Now that he
knows she is really free, Maurice will
surely come to her-he must know.
These hopes are strengthened when, at
q dinner party, she hears the familiar
name mentioned. He is coming to stay
with some distant neighbors-ahl It is
to be near her he is coming at last. As
each day passes she waits feverishly for
his coming; and still he comes not. As
each long summer day wanes she whis-
hA
tomorrow passes, and still he comes
not. Then, one evening, as she sits
peacefully under the cedar trees on the
green lawns, resting in the cool even
ing air, full of sweet, faint perfume
from the glowing flower beds on the
velvety turf, q maid appears from the
house.
IA gentleman in the drawing-room,
my lady," she says. "He gave no
name"
Ruth, with a wild hope, rises slowly
and walks over the lawn, her black
dress sweeping over the grass, her pale
cheeks tinged with pink color as she
mounts the shallow steps and enters
the cool, shadowy room, full Of flowers
and delicious perfumes waited in on
the evening air.
A man is standing with his back to-
ward her, but as her dress sweeps over
the soft carpet he turns and faces her.
Aquivering smile flashes into her sweet
gray eyes, and she holds out both hands
with little glad cry:
"Ah, Maurice! At last, at lastl"
Something in his unresponsive atti.
tude strikes cold chill to her heart;
has he forgotten?
II could not pass your nelghborhood
without looking you up, Lady Berring.
ton" he says, easily. "How lovely this
place is! Are you living here alto
gether?"
Ruth feels her throat and lips are
parched and dry, but she answers him
with an effort.
Eyes; could not endure that dreary
town house-after@"
"Yes, yes," he says, hastily; ''after
your terrible bereavement; you are for
tunate to have been able to secure the
old place in time; am paying q flying
visit to the Carews, at Marsh hall; you
know them, of course!"
Every slightly y-then-you do not
stay long?"
''Not long. There are many prepara-
tions to be made before April with q
smile), before my wedding-you have
not heard? Juliet Carew will be my
wife in few months time; may ask
for your congratulations for 'auld lang
syne'?"
The blood rushes with q wild flood to
Ruth's heart, leaving her sick and cold
everything swims before her tired eyes
she must speak. = She malker
an effort.
II hope-I sincerely trust-you may
be happy" she says, q little unsteadily,
II must call on Miss Carew."
"You are very kind" he says. with
his happy smile. "How familiar this
place seems. Our days of Irritation are
ut an end, Lady Bennington; ali, one
does foolish things in the heyday of
youth, but you showed yourself to be .
wise woman"
Ruth smiles. Has he forgotten ALL
"Yes" she says with bitterness; 1--WE
look back with contemptuous pity on
such follies In maturer years."
When he is gone she stands on the