Freeland tribune. (Freeland, Pa.) 1888-1921, 1895-11-14


with sudden movement, pulls back
her loose-hanging sleeve, revealing an
ugly, livid bruise ON the fair white arm,
then, with bitter smile, she let's 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, fiercely, ''i5 was all horrible
mistake; MY cowardice has brought
you to this. My darling, you love mc?"
She does not move; shiver runs
through her-a shiv2r Of mortal agony.
Ruth, speak! Tell me You love mel"
"You hurt me-" she says, family
striving to free herself from his firp
grasp. She raises her agonized eycs t"
his, and then she is clasnrd in his arms
For one instant she lies passive, then
frees herself with u 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.
81 will not GO" he cries, vehement
lyi Ruth, you do not, you cannot mean
it. For your own sake" lie ad-
vances quickly, but she repels him.
For my own sake and yours, GO"
And then he knows that all is ended.
With one farewell look he leaves her,
ard goes out of the room, while she
sinks wearily into her chair, a dull
aching pain tearing at her heart
strings.
Time slips by insensibly. new
beauty has Csurped Lady Berrington's
position in society, from which she has
now withdrawn herself. Her husband
is dead-ltilled himself IN the hunting
| feld-and she is free to come and 90 as
she will. The great town is shattered
and empty, and she has flown to the
restful quietude of Pens court, the
home of her childhood, which she mas
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
a dinner party, she hears the familiar
name mentioned. He is coming to stay
with some distant neighbors-ah! 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.
pers: Tomorrow he will come, ;" and
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
volyety turf, a maid appears from the
house.
"A gentleman in the drawing-room,
my lady" she says. ''IIe gave nc
name"
Ruth, with 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 i'll 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 last!''
Something in his unresponsive atti-
tude strikes cold chill to her heart;
has he forgotten2
Il 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-"
Eyes, 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 flying
visit to the Carews, at Marsh hall; you
know them, of courscr'
Very slightly - then you do not
stay long?"
Not long. There are many prepara-
tions to be made before April with
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 a wild flood to
Ruth's heart leaving her sick and cold
everything swims before her tired eyes
she must speak. y She makes
an effort.
Il hope-I sincerely trust-you may
be happy" she says, a little unsteadily;
II must call on Miss Carew"
"You are very kind" he says, with
his happy smile "IIow familiar this
place seems. Our days of Irritation are
at an end, Lady bennington; ah, one
does foolish things in the heyday of
youth, but you showed yourself to be n
wise woman"
Ruth smiles. Has he forgotten all?
"Iel l." she saws with bitterness. s'yvn