Walker Lake bulletin. (Hawthorne, Nev.) 1883-1926, 1896-12-09
AN l trust you, Maudie?o


Trust me! In what way,
~ Gerald? l am afraid l have
not been paying much attention to all
that you were saying
She turned her beautiful flower-like
face toward him with mocking moue,
her blue eyes sparkling under their
dark lashes with II mischievous light in
their depths, and with a coquettish lift
ing of the finely marked eyebrows,
which distracted and unneryed him
from the task he had set himself. Would
she ever be serious? ever see that life
held deeper interests than the whims
and amusements of the passing hour?
His wife!-this bewitching, lovely,
irresponsible being! He went over to
where she was lying in long chair In
the shadiest, coolest corner of the YER
anda, and taking her two slim white
hands in his strong brown ones, he
knelt beside her and said: "Maudie,
have to leave you here with Mrs.
/ Tailyour, and | want to feel sure that
while am away from you, my dearest
one, you will be prudent and do moth
Ing foolish or unsuited to your position
as my wife for which afterward you
would be sorry or ashamed
"Geraldr' she interrupted, with petu-
liant Indignation.
eyes, my darling, must speak plain
ly You remember last winter, 1t was
unintentional on your part, | know but
still how unhappy you were made by
all the wretched talk and gossip that
followedw
"That was three months ago, Gerald.
am older now and more experienced.
am sure you need not remind me of
that miserable affair; it is unkind of
YOU"
She withdrew her hands from his
clasp with a reproachful gesture, and
added, pouting: "After all, 1t is not
my fault that l am pretty, and cannot
help it if your friends will admire me
and pay me attention"
"But you will be careful, my darling;
promise me; this fellow Perce-
val"
80, now, you are going to abuse
Lord Perceval again, | suppose; | am
so tired of that topic; | shall not listen
to a word against him, Gerald; | have
known him all my life; he is my oldest
and greatest friend, and I do not in
tend to give him up for any one; no,
not for any one, not even for you, Ger
ald-so therel"
She sprang to her feet and walked
quickly to the edge Of the yeranda,
where she leaned over the balustrade
with her head ayerted from him in an
attitude of mutinous defiance. So small
and child-like creature, and yet pos
sessed of such potentialities to wound
and hurt the man who loved her with
all the passionate intensity of his
strong and sensitive nature. Such n
slim. fragile-looking being, and yet so
powerful in welding an influence over
the hearts of those around her
A look Of helpless and bafiled anxiety
passed over Major Jocelyn's handsome,
care-worn face. Without glancing at
him his wife continued coldly: Il con
slider it very ungenerous of you TO at
tack Lord Perceval in the way you have
done lately, limiting at things against
him, throwing out insinuations as to
his character, but with nothing really
definite that you can state against him.
You know | like him, that he is my
friend | call it mean of you, Gerald,
positively mean.'
"There are plenty of things | could
state against him if felt inclined, but
there is no need to particularize. 1t
ought to be enough for you that | tell
you that distrust and dislike the man.
Lord Perceval has brought a slur on
the names of too many women for any
honest man to care for his wife TO call
him friend"
He spoke with angry emphasis, ana
afterward there was an ominous sill
ence between them for some moments.
j 1t was at last broken by the girl saying,
with passionate reproach: 70, 1T Is
cruel of you, Gerald, to speak to me
like this, to want to quarrel with me in
these our last moments together; to
leave me with angry words upon youl
lips, making me SO unhappy.
Her voice trembled and broke, and her
hands went up to cover her tear-laden