The Portland daily press., 1895-08-10

give nle FOOLS hope, a FOOLS joy--e bask-
Ing IN the glare of the sunlight, with the
thunder clouds hanging above me. Will 1t!
Tell me thatl"
In ms momentary earnestness he had
leaned forward across the table and fixed
his erstwhile careless eyes upon his friend.
Ihe friend startled, looked at him gravely
for moment and then laughed.
Come, my Joe, your cynic nature IS
souring you. You want some true little
woman's bright eyes to lead you to better
| things-to teach''-
Tell me where I should find herl'' ex-
claimed the other bitterly, rising and
pushing aside his chair and moving toward
the open window ''Tell me where under
these stars, she dwells tonight, and l will
seek her and own my philosophy blum
der
Such women as you would want are
rare" said Bernard slowly. "Such one
as my Stephanie now-where could you
| find''-
mo, no, said theother hurriedly. "Not
| such as that woman, your wife. Never
that"
Maxwell Bernard had risen quickly, and
his face was white as he faced Chesney.
The room was empty save for themselves
and the whole place seemed very silent.
| Only the muffled roar of the traffic fioated
| up to them, and the little French clock on
| the mantelshef seemed to be ticking at
an awful rate.
Are you mad, Chesney, or have you
| been drinking?'' said Bernard coldly.
Something has overWrought or troubled
| you"
Something has troubled me, Max, and
| the time has come for me to speak" said
| the other in low voice, with all the old
! indolent drawl gone from his tones. II
| have brought you here tonight for that
| purpose alone, Max He stretched out
| his hands appealingIy and then dropped
them heavily at his sides again. "Dear
| old school chum, implore you, by the
| memory of the old days when we were in
| nooent and light hearted boys together, to
hear me. Believe only that gould not lie
| to you. II love you too well for that.
| But if I did not tell you others might do
so-others from whose lips the words
| would be an insult. Max, but that your
| happiness-God in heaven knows 1 have
never spoken of this thing-but that your
happiness, say, is more to me than my
own, thousand times, I would not have
spoken now. But your wife,
| "SilenceP' broke in the other hotly.
"Leave her pure name alone. man"
| 81 cannot. Max, you have been blind
and deaf. All this fair pretense. o God,
will you not see what is apparent to ALP
She-and Calvert He paused half ex-
peoting another fiery outburst, but Ber-
nard stood quite still, watching him.
Have you not seen them together? Have
you not heard? All, Max, is it not hard
enough that I should have to tell you
this?'' EE
II want no excuses. You have always
thought lightly of women. You have
dared to add her name to the list. You
coward!'' a-eg
Coward yourself!' cried the other
wildly. SIN pure friendship have come
to you this night in the memory of the old
days, when no fair, false woman stood be-
tween us-and'-
In an instant Bernardo fingers were at
his throat, and his hot breath famed his
cheek. But Joe Chesney was the stronger
man of the two and shook the other off
after short struggle and stood there with
something of his own calmness regaineS,
looking at Bernard, who had staggered
back against the table.
"You hound!' cried Maxwell f1ercely.
"You come here, presuming on your old
friendship, to breathe your false calumnies
against pure woman, to dare to speak
words
"Say no more" said Joe quietly, raising
his hand. "The time is past for explana-
tion. What do you want?"
"You know what I want. No man
shall say such words of her; no man shall
breathe her name lightly not even my
friend he added sneeringly. "My friend
Friend no more Will you meet rne?''
Joe Chesney started and glanced quick
ly at the flushed face of the other man;
then he bowed his head and assented
i So it came about that they met in a
i meadow overlooking little sleepy Bel
glan town one early spring morning, with
all the fair sunlight about them, and all
the air full OF the songs of birds. There
the friends faced each other for the last
time. The words were sharply spoken, and
the double report rang out. Joe Chesney,
with last steadfast look at his friend,
raised his pistol and fired in the air. Max
well Bernard, with white, set face, fired
| point blank at the man who faced him.
Poor Chesney turned almost round once,
and then fell forward on his face. AS the
seconds rushed toward him they were
startled by the sounds of shouts and the
plunging of horses; then there was a crash,
and the shouting sounded again. 1t came
from the roadway on the other side of the
thick hedge that bounded the field. One
man ran up where Chesney was lying and
turned him over, then came running back
with subdued face. The gentleman was
quite dead, he said.
Perhaps fear Of discovery led them to-
ward the road. One man even suggested
it, as no good could be done by waiting
there, they could only get away. They
scrambled through gap in the hedge one
by one hurriedly and came upon an over
turned carriage, with two horses near at
hand held by the driver. Near the carriage
stood two people, a man and woman.
The driver stolidly said that the lady and
gentleman were English and were hurry
ing to another station by cross route in
the hope to meet the express He was gar
rulous and said that some firing had fright
ened his horses, and that they had bolted
up the steep bank at the side of the road.