The Providence news. (Providence [R.I.]) 1891-1906, 1895-06-07

"AND NOW, WHAT DO YOU THINK ME-
BoY7"
shrank little from him, and this seemed
to delight him: jealousy lies in the germs
OF love. He resisted her attempt at with
drawal from him, brought her closer to
him with an actual force that declared
tha man.
"Nobody cared -fer, y said he. at
wasn't that sort of person. Clarei You
know never knew what love was till L
met you. You do know that" She
made the little soft sound OF assent that
we all know and that none OF US can
spell, nodding her lovely head at him the
while. "She was cousin OF mine, an
elderly persona widow, by the way. like
you" She nodded again. but her smile
faded. "Ohi"--breaking off-"it's absurd
to think Of you as a widow-a little girl
like you. You're too young for the part"
"Twenty-four is not so very, yonng.
One can play many parts before that"
s'StilI you don't look It, you see? Eight
cen would be nearer the mark"
"Even so there have been widows at IL
lucky beings"
"Don't talk like that; can't bear it.
You must have been"-
"Now," with a sudden return OF light
hsartedness, "don't you talk like that; i
can't bear 1t. My past is past. There let
it lie. You know we agreed never to
mention II. Now go on and tell me what
your cousin, who hope was elderly, once
told you."
"Well, she always said she believed the
world was full of separated pairs, and that
sometimes they came together in the
paths OF life, and then were happy; but
that too often they did not meet, and so
lost all the flavor Of living. Well, we,"
looking at her with pass ionate tenderness
in his eyes, "are two of the happy ones.
Ehf"
His young, strong, charming face is
looking down into hers, as IL seeking an
answer he already knew. Into here, which
was always beautiful, but now glorious
with the light Of love she bad never
dreamt of knowing until-until, having
been crushed by fate, and driven past all
endurance, she had taken the matter into
her own hands-had thrown up the world
in which she was sitting, her people,
wham many q day she had, in the height
of her misery, prayed God TO confound--
and run away here to this little German
village to bury herself forever, IL possible.
Then 1t seemed quite possible; 1t seems
90 even now.l
The only one she could have trusted
in her trouble was her brother, Sir Ralph
Brooke, but he was In India, and that is
far cry. He might have como home; he
would, she thought, bat in all probability
his coming would have ruined his pros
poets, and perhaps, after all, he would
have recommended peace, where no peace
was. She had enc other friend, a cousin
who happened to be junior partner in
the bank In which her own private for
tune was deposited, and who could re-
init to her from time to time hel
money, as she desired IL.
For six months she dwelt on tn,
thought of flight. and then took it. Their,
was little outcry in her world at first
but no one took any strenuous measures
to find her. Her brother in India wa
written to, and lawyer consulted. Fo
the rest, her people shrugged thei
shoulders and said poor Cure was slway
little odd, you know, almost impossible
in some ways, and so on. There had bee
no pursuit, and poor Clare-Mrs. Alling
ham-had found herself one evening Il
this little unfrequented German village
and, hailing IL as a village of refuge, ha
folded her tent and stayed there.
And here she had met him. The plac
was small, out of the way, and only no'
and then people dropped in to stay da
or so, a week or so at most. Geoffro
Carlton had come for the "day or So" bu
It was now three weeks since his arriva
He was bis own master, and having n
regular bone anywhere was idling abou
the Continent, taking his journey TO Con
stsntinople-where busines matter
would require him in a month or ri
weeks-by slow degrees. Here he an
this strange. sweet girl, whom at first
seemed impossible to believe not only