The Portland daily press. [volume] (Portland, Me.) 1862-1921, 1896-08-28

as thought, for the best-but my brain
must have been turned. / wronged you
when / married you, and now you must
forget me. If write to you. you need
not answer. can worship you at dis
tance and pray for you as well in my
prison cell as by your own dear side!''
That was all They did not embrace.
She gave him her hand to kiss, as he
seemed very much to want it. People
appeared to have a mania for kissing
her hand, it was so very small and
shapely.
"There, that will do" exclaimed
Beatrice suddenly. "Never mind that
flower"
"But Lord Daddenham specially asked
me, miss, to bring it up for the pur-
pose" protested the astonished Payn.
''Oh. well, I don't care. "
"You never looked more lovely in all
your life, miss, I'm positive muir
INJURED Payn, as her mistress moved to
the door.
"Reallyp'
The perfume of Turkish tobacco floats
w LIZA IOoUI11o Uk1O L1OIAC4V CA4O 10 OUU-
side. She quivers with strange discon-
tent
ST do wish people wouldn't smoke
here before I have breakfast she re-
marks.
"But, miss
"Oh, hold your tongue, Payni 1t
doesn't matter much what they do, aft
er all :"
Viscount Daddenham is the diplo-
matist of old times. He pitches his Gig
arettes into the fire, but does not rise.
He prefers to contemplate Beatrice as if
she were an old master or modern land
scape, merely remarking:
"Well, how are we this morning?"
1--WE are, /" says Beatrice, perfectly
well, thank you.
Viscount Daddenham laughs. There
are times when he rather likes Miss
Mayleigh's humors. Beatrice Williams
is Miss Mayleigh. She has been that
ever since her husbands sentence as an
embezzler Viscount Daddenham per-
suaded her. He said she had to choose
between happiness Of kind in that
way or the most positive misery con-
ceivable, as an unprotected woman of
the world, at the hard mercy of her
old acquaintance. She had therefore
chosen.
These two breakfast together. The
viscount is exceedingly COOL To tell the
truth he knows Beatrice rather too we'll
now. And yet she still exercises great
fascination over him. He used to tell
her that there was no woman in London.
to compare with her, not only for her
beauty, but also for her composure of
manner. my sweet sedative, 4" was one
of the silly pet phrases with which he
once christened her. Tc&ay, however,
something troubled Beatrice oontinu-
ously. She did not give the viscount
anything like half her attention. More
than once he actually frowned-only to
smile indifferently the next moment.
Do what she would she could not get
little Paul out Of her head. While she
trified with the toast she saw him pick
ing oakum, or some equally nasty stuff.
She supposed they did that sort of thing
at Portland. She had never taken the
trouble to acquire any exact information
about the routine occupation of man
like her husband in place like Port.
land.
''Bee." said the viscount, "what the
DEVILS the matter with you?''
with mel What should there be?''
THAT smile is put on, my friend. 1t
doesn't deceive mer'
s'Did I smile? I'm sorry, for if SO T
must have been deceiving myself. I
don't feel exceptionally jocose. -
The visoount uncoils his long, slender
legs, and, standing erect, shrugs his
shoulders
WELL" he says, II won't pretend
to understand you. should be glad if
you'd drive me to Paddington to meet
the $751;
every well. Touch the bell, will
your The brougham is yours
s'Was, you mean
''Ah, thank you, to be sure; you gave
it to me. But you'll have some lunch
first?'
The viscount goes toward Beatrice,
puts his hands on her shoulders and
looks her steadily in the eyes. She
meets his gaze as steadily.
''Bee, % he says at length, you're up
to some deviltry."
s'I'm sure I don't know, she replies.
eff SO, it would be sickeningly monot-
onous, but hardly surprising"
Thanks, will lunch" says the
viscount
He rings the bell. During lunch and
afterward he puts aside his easy manner
and becomes grave. 1t has occurred to
him that he never loved this beautiful
woman more than now. He half hints
as much. She makes him a grand cour.
tesy. 4s
And so in due time the carriage is
ready and Beatrice, looking magnificent
in her furs, leads the way.
Yet all the time-she cannot think
why-little baldheaded Paul and his
devoted face keep recurring to her. The
viscount mods to several acquaintance.
She takes no notice of any one That