The Worthington advance., 1896-03-05

ing q post On a periodical Of g. like na.s
turc; Wondering whether the burning
questions that seemed capable Of bear
ing so many and such different inter.
pretations would, in the end, prove any
less wearisome than the lovc-tales,
hair-breadth escapes, and semi-scien-
ti1ic articles with which he Tvas accus'
toned to fill the pages of his'magazine.
"Ah, WE'LL" he said to himself with 4
smile, when he had thought the matter
out, ''to stick to the evil one knows is
the safest course after all. should
only get into hotter water if 1 med
died with politics. Perhaps it may be
interesting to see how other people do
my work." he continued, languidly,
taking up the current number of the
Magazine as he spoke, 80 here
goes for light literature"
The smile faded from his lips the
next moment, and there was catch
in his breath, as, glancing over the
rable of contents, his eye lighted on the
title of the last article in the list: "Is
It Too Latew 1t was the very story
he had read so carefully and returned
to the author He threw the book from
him, annoyed that the book should
thus force itself on his notice. It lay
untouched for some minutes, while its
victim cursed the ill luck that kept
him helpless as log, when rapid mo-
ton was the only thing to bring him
relief. Then almost involuntarily hs
lifted it from the floor, and once more
read the little story to the end.
Manvers gave deep sigh, and turn
ing impatiently, gszed out" of the win
dow Groups of people were in the
garden below, apparently but just re-
turned from some excursion, for they
were talking over their experiences,
and their merry laughter reached to
his, third-hoor bedroom, and for mo.
ment drove his thoughts into a pleas
anter channel. But only for u mo-
1nent. Then voice broke upon his
car that had been unheard by him for
many a long day, and he started and
turned pale. ;1N rf.ta'S ~. sfs':
~ Couldtit he she was here? When last
lie had heard of her she was residing in
Florence with her parents. But OF
course the Blakemores. like everyone
else, were free to roam at will, and, 1t
they choose to spend the autumn
months in the cooler Switzerland, why
not?
He could not see the speaker from his
sofa, but presently she crossed the
grass, ane, accompanied by$another
girl; stood looking at the surrounding
mountains. Yes, it was Helen-Wheth-
ex Helen Blakemore still was matter
hs must, in some way, bring his Ger
man. friend To ascertain. Sss as 4 "a
\ Itwould easy toEavoid meeting,
should he wish to do SO; for, though
he, had sintended2going down the next
3iay, he might alter his mind, and no
one would think it strange: One thing
must be done, he decided, and that i'm
mediately-that wretched. magazine
must he kept out of the reading-room,
where, to certainty, it would fall into
her hands. So, with some difficulty, he
edged himself towards, the stove,
opened The little, door, and, forgetting
the book did: not belong to him, thrust
1t inside to be crematedath his, LEISURE.
i ne had hardly done this5and resumed
hi" seat when his young friend burst
IN, and, seating himself without taking
any heed sof Manvers' preoccupied air.
began to dilate on the new arrivals.
The mother and father are most
pleasant and friendly" he said, his face
all aglow" with excitement and the ex-
ertion Of his mornings climb. "Just
the sort Of people for a place of this
sort-jolly and kind and ready for any
thing. The daughter is a Spanish-lool-
ing beauty with superb eyes-1 can't
think where she gets them from. They
ere friends of that fellow Donnithorne
1.-THE man with a glass in his cye-he
IS quite gone on Miss Blakemore. But
she keeps him and everybody else at a
distance, and no mistake. haven't
had the courage to say word to her
vet, and I'm not shy man, by any
means"
Yes, that was Helen all over. How
we'll Manvers knew the look that would
come into those dark eyes of hers, if,
ly any chance, her fellow-travelers
showed undue familiarity. He had
learned, now, what he wanted to know,
and asked no further questions, deem
ing it better not to claim acquaintance
with the Blalzemore family unless
which was unlikely-they should de-
sire it.
At night, as he lay sleepless, he de-
bated with himself as to his course OF
action. With the pathetic appeal Of
that little story ringing in his ears, his
heart was very tender towards his old
love. Was it too late? One word
would make such difference in the
happiness of two lives, and could he
let that word go unspoken? No,
thousand times no. Still pride fought
hard. With all his unspeakable long
ing to touch once more the hand Of the
girl he loved, he could not forget that
if an advance were to be made, it was,
in all right and reason, her place to
make it. But his better self conquered
at last, and when morning dawned, he
had come to the conclusion to put to