The free press., 1895-11-14


"Harry, who is that young girl
there, coming toward your mother,
with the old lady in the black vel
vet ?"
'That is Miss Adair. Do you think
her handsome ?''
Handsome does not express it l
must have an introduction. She is
the most exquisite being ever saw, and
she looks just as good as she is
lovelyp
Harry Arnold laughed amusedly.
"a clear case of love at sight! l
will present you.
A few months went by, and
to Florence's dismay, she learned
that the kind friend she had grown
to like SO much had all the time been
cherishing other and dearer hopes.
The girls eyes filled with tears as she
answered Mr.. Heatherton's unexpected
avowal of his love for her, and told
him frankly why it was his hopes must
be futile.
81 did not know you felt in this
way, Mr.. Heatherton, she says earn
estly, ''and 1 hope you will not blame
me for not speaking of my engage
ment before. 1t was my aunt's wish
that it should not be announced until
my betrothed's return from abroad.
l mover, until this moment, dreamed
that you felt for me anything but
friendship, or that p
She paused, the rich blood rising
in a rosy glow to her very brow.
What was she about to say? What
were the words that trembled on her
lips?
Max Heartherton is too much of O
gentleman TO take advantage of her
confusion, but these are his thoughts.
cit is duty engagement. She
does not love this man. But whether
she does or not, there is no chance
for me. She has too much principle
to break her plighted word.
An hour later, in passion of tears,
Florence filings herself upon her knees
in her own room. Her maiden heart
has been awakened from its repose at
last, and the conviction has been
forced upon her that the calm, sisterly
affection she bears towards Rupert is
different from this strange, chaotic
feeling with which Max Heatherton's
lmpassioned words have thrilled her
being, and that in refusing this man s
noble heart she has lost something
out of her life that can never come
again.
For long time she knelt there.
battling with herself. When she
rises her face is very white and re-
solved.
81 must do my duty. l betrothed
myself to Rupert because l knew it
was the dearest wish Of my kind aunt's
heart, and now that my word is given,
1 will not take it back"
Time goes ON and Rupert roturns.
and the day has been fixed for the
wedding, but an appalling shadow In
ervenes-the shadow of death.
One morning dawns and finds Mrs.
Wilmott unable to ries, or even to
move, stricken by that foe that comes
30 suddenly and SO insidiously-paral-
ysis.
As the day passes the doctors look
graver and graver, and their appre-
tensions were not without cause, for
another twenty-four hours sees the
kindly eyes closed, never to open upon
her sorrowing niece again.
A few days have gone by. All the
last solemn ceremonies have been COM
pleted, and the will has been opened
and read. But, though IN her be-
reavement she needs comfort from
human friendship more than ever be-
fore, since the day of the funeral
she has not seen her betrothed.
When he does come to her it is not
with sympathy and consolation, but
with gloomy brow and cold eyes.
81 consider that l have been de-
ceived," he says; 81 always under =
stood, as did every one else. that you
we're to be your aunt's heiress, and
now you tell me that you have known
all along that your aunt had no power
to will her property away from her
husbands family"
A fame OF anger drives away the