The morning news. [volume] (Savannah, Ga.) 1887-1900, 1895-09-08
CHAPTER III.

CHAPTER III.
The August sunshine streamed across
the pretty room, the soft sweet-scented
summer air foated in through the wide
opened windows and gently stirred her
soft brown hair. but Brenda Forsyth was
unconscious Of its touch. She was kneel-
ing by her bed with her face pressed down
upon the coverlet. and she had been kneel-
ing there quite motionless Tor more than
an hour Presently she rose. pushed back
the hair from her forehead with a slow
weary movement. and walking 70 the
window. stood there looking out How
did I come TO ito she mUrmured. How
did come to it? 1 imagined OF course
of course. know now I imagined! But
how She broke or suddenly. a strong
convulsive shudder shook her from head
TO foot, and she turned and began to
walk restlessly up and down the room.
The hours which had passed since Bren-
da and her cousin had stood in the garden
together on the evening before, had not
restored the color to her face. 1t was
quite white and slightly drawn. and her
eyes, under which were heavy shadows,
had a fearful, self-convicted expression
in them. Brenda had had no sleep that
night. Every one OF it's long hours had
been spent by her first IN terrible strug-
giles with herself and her own senses, and
then in relentless self-analysis and self
reproach. 1T shows-it shows how wrong
] have been" she said at last, half aloud.
at came from yesterday! I let myself
think"
She broke of again and let her face fall
upon the high mantelpiece near which she
had paused. She was thinking of her
thoughts of the day before, when, with
her lovers letter, had seemed to come a
climax TO the vague feelings which had
haunted her now for weeks; strangely
growing feelings of indchnable distaste TO
the thought of Edmund Sartorys which
had suddenly taken form and substance,
as she read the words in which he pressed
on her their speedy marriage. in an unut-
terable Tepugnance TO him personally and
an inexpressibe shrinking from the
thought of becoming his wife. She had
taken her courage in both her hands and
had set herself to face this new con-
seriousness and sift 1t unsparingly to the
bottom.
The girlish love for the man she was
10 marry had died out with her early
girlhocd; she had accepted the future
before her as a simple matter Of course,
and being very emotional and unroman-
tic she had so far been quietly content;
so she would be again. she had told her
self, when she should have reasoned the
matter out. The result Of her first at
tempt at self-analysis had been 80 pain
ful blush that her hands had been
clasped over her face, and face and
hands alike had gone down upon the
table by which she had been sitting. But
she was brave and strong woman, and
she, like Alan Durant, had faced the
knowledge of what might have been and
had then put It resoluteIy out of her con-
sideration. II did not affect the problem
before her, and she had known that 1t
did not. The inexplcable sense of repul-
sion against her lover which she had been
facing with such perplexity and dsmay
had grown upon her undoubtedly since
Alan Durant had been at the Red House,
but she had been conscious of it before
that, she had been conscious of II ever
since she herself had lived there.
She was thinking OF all these things
now as she stood there with her face hid
den even from the sunshine. She was
looking back at her yesterdays thoughts
and struggles as a woman looks back at
wrong-doings past, which at the time
she did not know for wrong, but over
which a painful light had risen. Between
to-day and yesterday there lay for Bren-
da Forsyth the great gulf Of a terrible
shock. At last she raised her head, and
her face was paler than ever while her
eyes were large and wild with a look
which suggested that she was frighten-
ed of herself.
II must put II away" she said to her
self. must put il away and never let
myself think il again. Oh, how have l
grown so dreadful? No thoughts that
were not wicked-wicked-wic
10. sr.a1,
oh poor Edmundr She paused, shudder-
ed again >uncontrollably. and then her
thoughts ran on once more. She would
marry him at once, she told herself fin
ally; she would marry him as soon as he
liked, and she would forget everything.
She would
"Brendal Brenda! Where are YOU Sar-
aorys has Gomez
II was her fathers voice calling to her
from the hall below. The sound as it fell
on her ear seemed to arrest all physical
movement in her as it arrested the cur
rent of her thoughts. She stood for a
moment half turned toward the door,
on which her startled eyes were fixed and
then the color rushed swiftly and suddenly
TO her face. Was it possible it was so late
she asked herself hurriedly. She had
come up TO her room at ) o'clock ana
her lover had not been expected until
z. II was past now, she saw, as she
at her dress she remembered that she
had prepared herself for dinner, and then
--ah. yes, then she had begun to think
again
Brenda" called her father again
'Brenda. Brenda" Without another in
stant's pause, the burning color still in
her cheeks, Brenda crossed the room, I'M
locked and opened the door and passed
swiftly down the stairs to where her ia
Their stood, with his hand on the baluster,
waiting for her. At the other end Of
the hall, with his back turned to the stair
case for the moment. as he gave his hat
and gloves to the man servant was a
tall fair young man, and as Brenda reach
ed the foot of the stairs, and saw him. she
uttered quick, welcoming exclamation
unusually demOnstrative for her
Edmund" she exclaimed, ooh. Ed
mundr'
The young man had turned at the first
sound OF her voice, and as her eyes fell
on his face, she stopped suddenly. a
strange gray pallor spread over her face,
and she would have fallen if he with a
quick cry of alarm. had not crossed the
hall hastily, and taken her in his arms.
BRENDA he said, you are ill!'