The Portland daily press. [volume] (Portland, Me.) 1862-1921, 1895-11-22
A TRAGEDY OF Love.

Tho sun shone high in the blue heavens.
The soft, fragrant air, heavy with the
scent of roses and carnations stirred the
creepers on the low, white house, signing
family through the trees at the bottom OF
the velvety terraced lawns which sloped
down to the edge of the miniature lake.
shimmering in the hot July sunshine
Through the trees walked stiffy tall,
broad shouldered specimen OF the stronger
sex. with long, military stride, whistling
carelessly as he skirted the lake and disap-
peared into the tangled wood path. AS he
passed out of sight woman came slowly
I'D the green terraces, pausing, as she
reached the top, to glance back at the re-
treating figure in the distance. Then she
turned away, with little impatient ges
ture gathering the soft folds of her gray
dress together as she mounted the wide,
shallow steps and sauntered slowly along
the shadowy shrubbery path, where the
leafy branches met overhead forming
natural avenue of cool, delicious shade
She sat down YEARLY on the rustic seat al
the far end Of the messy path, resting her
head against the old tree at her back, the
dark shadowy background throwing into
strong relief the slight, gray figure, with
the small head proudly erect, crowned with
masses of golden brown hair, curly and
soft, forming dark setting for the pale
face out of which shone those glorious
dark gray eyes, with a deep violet tinge in
them, lust now filled with an overpower,
ing weight OF WearlnesS ana agony OF dis
appointment.
ssHe never cared she said to herself
sAre his eyes so blinded that he cannot see
the truth for himself?"
Her bosom heaved under the soft, silky
folds of her cool gray dress; her hands
were tightly clasped before her. Suddenly
her whole attitude changed and relaxed,
and she resumed her old careless posture.
A maid came down the path with silver
salver in her hand, on which reposed
card The woman glanced at the name
inscribed thereon Lord Bennington.
81 will come in, she said, and the maid
returned to the house. She sat motionless
for an instant, then rose quickly, as II
some sudden determination had seized
her. A scornful smile curved her red lips
as she walked into the cool, shadowy draw
ing room, through the open French win
dow AS she entered man advanced
quickly to meet her He seized both her
hanCs in his, saying passionately:
"Ruth, 1 have come for my answer
What is 10 boz"
She turned away her head for an in
stant, and looked out into the sunllt gar
den. down to the dark shady wood, with
the Lake dancing in the hot sunshine;
then sho looked back into the dark, hand
Soma face of tho man before her.
'sIs is to be-yos," she said in her clear,
cool voice. with no trace Of emotion, but
she shuddered inYoluntarily as she was
elasped in her lovers arms.
That was the first act of the tragedy.
The curtain rises on the second act.
Ruth, Lady Bennington, whose unemotion-
al, tragic beauty has tanen the world OF
fashion by storm, is seated in her flower
scented boudoir. She has not altered much
during the last two years; her beauty is
still as marvellous as ever, unspoiled by all
the turmoil of London season, where the
world has bowed down to the new beauty.
At first, to her unsophisticated mind, the
Intoxicating whirl of oeaseless gayeties
was at once pleasant and novel, but now
she is heartily tired Of 1t; she is filled with
an intense, mad longing to revisit the old
hcais In the quiet, peaceful .oountry-tha
old fashioned garden, the tangled wood,
and the lake, g3ishmering uader a cloud
less, dazzling sky-how it all comes back
to her flood of bitter memories. A warm
hreeze steals in at the open windows, blow
ing out the long flmy curtains, and bear
ing a Whit of Inignonette from the flower
filed balcony.
The door opecs and a man enters. AT
the sight of him Ruth rises, with sup
pressed cry, pale to the very lips. she
holds out her hand.
"Captain Tremaynel" she says, "this is
indeed surprised I had no idea that you
had returned"
The visitor holds her hand in his, let
ting bis eyes rest on the pale, lovely face
for moment; then they both sit down.
He Is the first to speak.
"I only arrived in England a few days
ago and, being in town, seized the first
opportunity to call on you, for the sake OF
'suld lang syne.'
Ruth smiles and slowly uLfurls her
feather fan. The heat is terrific.
''You are very kind, she says, "and
am more than pleased to see you. Two
years have passed since we last met; am
much alteredP'
She looks straight at him inquiringly
and the look sends a hot thrill through his
whole being.
eYou are more beautiful he says slow
ly.
This seriously spoken speech causes a
little ripple of light laughter to break
fror0 Ruth, as she slowly fans herself.
'sYou have grown complimentary dur
Ing your two years absence on foreign
service,' she says lightly, but her eyes
drop as they meet his.
SIS it actually SO long since spent that
long, delightful day at Pens Court? Do
you remember the lake and the walk ia
the woods?"
stRemember!' Her voice thrills with
some strong, hidden emotion. LAS if
should ever forget the''- She checks her
self hurriedly.
"And now you are marriedP' he re-
marks irrelevantly. 81 was coward
then" ::
ga coward9 Why?" She disregards his
first remark.
''Why2' he asks fercely. Because was
afraid to speak, because knew you feared
poverty--that you sought brilliant alli-
ance''-
She stops hiia with sudden, imperi-