The pioneer express. [volume] (Pembina, Dakota [N.D.]) 1883-1928, 1896-02-14

and even mind. They had b0n1she6
sleep from her couch and had left her
weary and nearly distressed. 4 n
Lady Evelyne Wynter had, for near
" q month already, been engaged to
be married to Mr.. David Maclane, a
young American gentleman Of reputed
immense wealth. The young man was
one Of the lions of tie season, aud
Lady Evelync Wynter, whose twenty
ak summers had warned her that 1t
was time to look about for q husband.
had taken rather morbid pride In se-
curing las her prize, the sensational
hero Of the year. The daily papers,
and the weeklies, too, for that, had
described the young Westerner with .
fcrvent eulOgy and graphic pictur-
esqueness which would not have been
out of place in telling the story OF a
god Of mythology. He was the hero Of
o hundred fights and as many hair
breadth escapes. and, like all heroes,
he was as gentle as he was brave and
strong. In these very words. that
fashionable journal, albert Gate"
had described young Maclane, and IL
the writer's on albert Cate were not
IN q position to know everything Of
everybody, who was?
VII Suc AA6uC pIGV1OuS 10 Tue COm.
mencelnent Of this second part Of our
history, Lady Evelyne had been to a
ball. given by one of the leaders of
fashion. Generalization had been
showered upon her, and she knew that
she was the object of such envy and
mild hatred as, even In the highest so
ciety, is the punishment of success.
She had been at her happiest, and at
her brightest. when suddenly the news
had been whispered about the room
that the young Earl of Cleve had not
only been discovered in America, but
that he was actually in England, per-
haps, even, in London.
will not 20 SO far as to say that
Lady Evelyne was a flirt, but there
was no doubt that she had allowed a
good many suitors to hope, and that
she was extremely fond Of playing
with her numerous admirers. She had
fitted from one foamy, airy infatua-
ton to another with the grace and seri-
BUSINESS of butterfly, and she had ac-
cepted the offer of Mr.. David Mac
lanes hand and fortune, to spite all
the other girls in town, to start with.
and secondly, because Lady Gwendale,
with homely, motherly assidutty, was
q very Cassandra in her admonitions,
that it was time for her daughter to
get married.
I am inclined to doubt that such
thing as a real, serious attachment
was at all in the nature of Lady Eve
lyme Wynter. But she had been very
fond; IN fact. fonder than she had her
self Imagined she could have been, Of
Herbert Chauncey. He was barely
two years her senior, and they had
known each other since childhood.
Lady Evelyne had returned home
from the ball with the broad
summer day. and had not been
able to Danish Herbert's revived
memory from her mind. She babbled
about him while her maid undressed
her; she found the subject more inter
esting while the girl brushed her hair;
and when the young woman was dis
missed Lady Evelyne was left by her
self to dream Of fancies. Herbert
Chauncey's picture would persistently
intrude itself upon her not unwilling
mental eyes. During the first quarter
OF an hour or so she thought the fresh.
ly-caued-up "reminiscences very nice.
Herbert had been a sweetheart-one De
the many moths that had fiuttered
round her brilliant light. Now he WIS
back, and she would see him again,
and as he was an earl, and, doubtless.
unmarried, they would be able. TO
speak freely together. It was then
that Lady Evelyne remembered that
she was engaged to Mr.. David Mac
lane, and, for the first time, she ON
sidered that her engagement was rath-
er bore.
These self-communfngs protracted
themselves through the early morning
hours into the late morning hours, and
gave rise to the unusual fact that|11
o'clock had struck without Lady Exc
lyme having rung for a cup of tea.
Lady Evelyne was lying drowaly,
moving one hand about the streak Of
golden sunlight that broke into the
room, and playing with the sciltil-
lating atoms that danced in it, when
the door of the chamber opened and
Lady Gwendale appeared upon the
threshold, followed by Evelyne's maid.
She was a stately parsonage, whose
iron-gray hair sat well against a kind.
~ face.
Ito Be Continued.)
NEW USE OF sHAkEsPEARE.