Custer weekly chronicle. [volume] (Custer City, S.D.) 1890-1931, 1895-04-27

toiu tnem In a weak whisper of Ar
thurs being privy to his intention of
searching the haunted chamber for
t~lorence's bangle ON that memorable
day OF his disappearance, the magis-
a issues q warrant for the arrest of
Arthur Dynecourt.
But 1t Is all in vain; even though two
OF ,he c~leverest detectives from Scot
lann 4 ara are pressed into the service.
no tldings OF Arthur Dynecourt come
10 Dgnt. A man answering 10 his de-
scription, but wearing spectacles, had
been traced as having gone on board n
vessel bound for New York the very
day after Sir Adrian was restored to
the world, and, when search in other
quarters fails, every one falls into the
ready belief that this specialized man
was IN reality the would-be murderer.
80 the days pass on, and it is now
quite a month since Ringwood and
Florence carried Sir Adrian's senseless
form from the haunted chamber. and
still Florence holds herself aloof from
the mar she loves, and, though quite
as ~asslduous as the others i'm her atten-
lions 10 him, seems always eager TO get
away from him, and glad TO escape any
chance ~ a t~eie-d-tete with him. This
she does III defiance of the fact that
Mrs. Talbot never approaches him ex-
cept when absolutely compelled.
Sir Adrian is still a great invalid.
The shock to his nervous system. the
dragging out of those interminable
hours in the lonely chamber. and the
strain upon his physical powers by the
absence Of nutrirnent for seven long
days aud nights, had all combined TO
shatter a constitution once robust. He
is now greatly improved in health. and
has been recommended by his doctors
TO try a winter in the south OF France
or Algiers.
He shows himself, however, strange
ly reluctant to quit his home, and,
Whenever the sabSsseis usoptioucd, ne
first turns his eyes questioningly upon
Florence, II she is present. and then,
receiving no returning glance from her
downcast eyes, signs, and puts the mat
ter from him.
He has so earnestly entreated both
Dora and Miss Delmaine not to desert
him, that they have not had the heart
to refuse. and as Ringwood is also stay
ing at the castle, and Ethel Eilliers
has gained her fathers consent to re-
main, Mrs. Talbot acting as chaperon,
they are by no e "A dul! party.
To-day, the first time for over a
month, Florence, going TO her easel,
draws its cover away from the sketch
thereon, and gaZe5 at her work. How
long q 1t seems since she sat thus.
happy in her thoughts, glad in the be-
lief that the one she loved loved her.
yet all that time his heart had been
given to her cousin. And though now
at odd moments, she has felt herself
compelled TO imagine that his every
glance and word speaks of tenderness
for her, and not for Dora-still this
very knowledge only hardens her heart
toward him. and renders her cold and
unsympathetic III his presence.
No. she will have no tickle lover
And yet, how kind he is-how earnest.
how honest i'll his glance! Oh, that she
could believe all the past TO be al evil
dream, and think OF him again as her
very own, as III tie dear old days gone
by,
Even while thinking this she idly
opens a book lying on the table e
her, where some brushes and paint are
scattered. \ piece of paper drops from
between its leaves and flutters 10 the
ground. Lifting it. she sees it Is the
letter written by him to Dora, which
the latter had brought to her. here to
this very room, when asking her adj
vice as to whether she should or should
not meet him by appointment in the
lime-walk.
She drops the letter hurriedly, as
though its very touch stings her, and.
rousing herself with bitter self-con-
tempt from her sentimental regrets.
works vigorously at her painting for
about an hour, then, growing wearied,
she filings her brushes aside. and goes
to the morning-room, where she knows
she will find all the others assembled.
There is nobody here just now how
ever, except Sir Adrian, who is looking
rather tired and bored, and Ethel VIII
iers: The latter, seeing Florence enter,
gladly gathers up her work and runs
away 10 have q turn in the garden with
Captain Ringwood.
Florence, though sorry for this tete-d
tete that has been forced upon her, sits
down calmly enough, and, taking up a
book, prepares to read aloud to Sir Ad-
rian.
But he stops her. Putting out his
hand, he quietly but firmly closes the
book, and then says:
"Not to-day, Florence; / want to
speak TO you instead"
Anything you wish" responds Flor
ence steadily, though her heart is beat
ing hastily.
Are you sorry that-that my unhap-
py cousin proved 50 unworthyy' he
asks at last, touching upon this subject
with a good deal of nervousness. He
can not forget that one she had loved
this miserable man.
"One must naturally feel sorry that
anything human could be guilty of
such an awful intention" she returns
gently. but with the utmost unconcern.
Sir Adrian stares. Was he mistaken
them Did she never really care for
the fellow, or is this some OF what Mrs.
Talbot has designated as Florence's
"slyness7? No. once for all he would
not believe that the pure, sweet, true
face looking SO steadily into his could
be guilty OF anything underhand or
base.
1T was false that you loved him
them" he questions, following out the
train of his own thoughts rather than
the meaning Of her last words.
"That / loved Mr.. Dynecourt.' she
repeats in amaZement, her color rising.
What an extraordinary idea to come
into your head! No; if anything, l con
TESS | felt for your cousin nothing but
contempt and dislike
"Then. Florence, what has come be-
tween us?' he exclaims, seizing her
hand. You must have known that l
loved YOU many weeks ago. Nay, long
before last season came TO a close; and
then | believe-forgive my presump-
tion-that you too loved me-"
"Your belief was a true one" she re-
turns calmly, tears standing in her
beautiful eyes. But you, by your W
act, severed u.s."
II did,"
"Yes. Nay, Sir Adrian, be honest in
your dealings with me as l am with
you, and confess the truth"
II don't know what you mean" de-
clares Adrian, in utter bewilderment;
you would tell me that you think il
was some act Of mine that-that ruined
my chance with your"
"You know it was'-reproachfully.
Il know nothing of the kind"-hotly.
Il only know that / have always loved
you and only you, and that l shall
never love another
You forget-Dora Talbot says
Florence, in a very low tone. Il think,
Sir Adrian, your late GOODNESS to her
has been neither kind nor just"
81 have never been either colder OF
warmer to Dora Talbot than / have