The Providence news. (Providence [R.I.]) 1891-1906, 1895-06-08

with that silly girl has been too much Tor
you. 1 shan't allow any interviews OF
that kind again. You are mine, now,
nv love, mine" There is ring OF true
triumph in his voice. IL restores her.
Once again her spirit flashes out.
"Oh, yours I" says she, laughing trem-
ulously, while still the tears are on her
face, lone would think / was your
"Well. why not ?" with all a happy
lovers insoience. "who now shall deliver
you out of my hand W
"who, indeed ?" cries she, joyously.
The answer is very near to them. There
Is a slight stir in the room inside, and she
turns. Her pretty hands are still olasped
in his. Her head Is on his heart. Ills
eyes are fixed on hers-but her eyes.
One might pray to be delivered from
such light as now shines in hers. There,
there, where the light from the open
window CLEANS upon the terrace, they
are fxed-staring-wild. lie had not
gone, then.
A man has stumb bled from the window
on to the terrace and Is coming toward
them. His step is not altogether steady.
he is sufficiently himself, however, TO be
| able to take in the situation at glance,
and there is q malevolence and distinct
| enjoyment of 1t on his face as he advances.
"My dear Glare, you'll" says he, 81 hardly
expected to meet you In this remote spot.
ately at Carlton. "Pray, introduce me.
| / am always, my dear sir, delighted TO
meet to meet any OF Lady Strangway's
| friends" !"
Carlton rises.
at is a.liel" says he vehemently, look
| ing only at Clare. "Deny it'll" His voice
| is stern, commanding.
| She, too, has risen.
| "It is the truth" says she in a dying
| tone. "Leave me now" She looks full
| at him, and be can see that her eyes are
brilliant with pain, her lips-her dear lips
| white.
"Lster on will explain. But GO now
goi"
The voice dies away.
| 1t Is midnight
Upon the terrace Carlton PAGES up and
down with but one thought in his mind.
To see her, TO upbrsid her, to leave her.
| For a moment he rests by the ratings,
and even as does SO he finds her beside
him. She lays her small white hands
| upon the ratings, too, very close to his,
and looks up at him with clear, open eyes.
| There IL no shame in them-no change
nothing save the old, unaltersbls love.
| "Well?" says she slowly.
He returns her glance with terrible
anger in his.
"Is il your part to question:
"Let me have my one question:, says
she, quickly. "You can have oil the
| rest"
"And your one?"
She hesitates.
"After all, 1t can wait" says she. ASK
me anything you like now, and will an
swer YOU" Then, incoDsequentially, as
becomes n woman; "Does IL seem too bad
for you? Can you find no excuse, know
ing all you do3 Knowing-of him?"
Timidly she lays her hand on his, but
he filings IL back.
"Whst did you mean? What did you
hope fort"
III hoped for love--a thing had never
yet known. / hoped for happiness had
! never so much as dared to dream OF be-
fore. hoped"-she filings up her head
"for life with youp
He is silent, he Ia thinking of that little
haud he has flung from him.
~ hoped, too," says she, quite evenly,
with the evenness Of despair, "that once
out of the beaten track of the world the
fact OF my having husband alive would
never be iscovered-would, at all events,
never reach you. l thought, was sure,
| he would never find mel"
"Oh, foof" says he passionately.
AZ know, know, knowW Suddenly,
as it came, the wild burst OF ang gush dies
away, and the dull tranquility that had
characterized her before comes back.
"Yet one can hope against hope, and,
somehow, / never doubted. Fool, indeed! f!
| You have well named me-"
Don't mind what say tonight" says