The Abbeville press and banner. [volume] (Abbeville, S.C.) 1869-1924, 1896-07-01

| preciatlve. You must ADMIT tnaI nave
reason on my side. Show me the bene-
| fit Of working ones self to death, when
there is no necessity for it. You only
see the surface, Margaret, but I go
| deeper" O.,
"On the contrary" smiled Margaret
you see only the surface, while lock-
deeper. You lcok only at the need of
money, but I see hundred effects in
which money has no part. Necessity is
| a very accommodating term, and Aas a
different shade of meaning for DIFFERENT
people. AS for working one'stself to
death, I'm afraid that is also On accom-
modating term. A lazy ma9fmight con-
slider the slightest exertion step to-
ward that lamentable end,'
Il suppose I am that lazy man."
II shouldn't be at all surprised. And,
setting Joking aside, Brian. do think
that no man has right to do nothing.
Lounging about day after day, with no
higher ambition than to amuse ones
self would, it seems to me, make man
or woman more particularly MANI,
tired of himself. Now, don't look at
me with that expression, please. l don't
want to be a shrew, or a preacher,
either. I detest everlasting preachers,
and 1 don't intend to be one. Never
theless, wish to gracious you'd find
sonnet thing to do, and have better
reason for going to New York than your
present one, which is-well, not partic-
ularly creditable."
Margaret's voice broke slightly, but
she tried to hide the momentary weak
ness by slipping her coffee.
Brian's face had flushed very visibly
at her allusion to the reason Of his visits
to the city and he, too, went on eating
In silence.
Margaret" he said, presently, If you
! have any old men or women who need
ioctoring call me in and I'll show you
what I can do. I'm pretty fair, not
withstanding my want Of practice.
very we'll, Brian, be prepared for an
early call. 1t is not your ability
doubt. though.
AS he had said, Brian went to New
York the next day. Il shall BE- back in
day or So" he told Margaret on bid
ding her good-by. you may expect
me-.
Margaret did expect him, but she was
disappointed.
The days passed, and after his first
| lSLlSI SuC uCdlu uO lIoL Q llOiii 4AAh&' SAS
became worried and anxious, though
edge her alarm.
She did not dream Of bodily harm.
Intelligence of such a mishap would
nave reached her quickly. Yet in sene
intangible way she felt that he was in
| danger and needed her.
In cases like this philosophy is of
little avail. To tell herself that this or
shat was impossible, that Brian was
merely forgetful and Indifferent, aug
uented rather than relieved her fears.
| To relieve her mind she rode over to
The Cedars to see and talk with Alice;
but upon reaching her destination she
was told that Alice had left the house
with the intention Of returning in short
| time.
As she had the afternoon at her dis
| posal, Margaret decided to wait; so she
found her way to the small room ad.oin-
ing the library and seated herself in
| lounging chair. The house was very
silent, and the room unusually warm,
and as consequence Margaret, becom-
ing rather drowsy, was soon quite un-
conscious of her surroundings.
How long she remained so she did not
know, but presently she was aroused
by loud voices raised in some alterca-
tion. At first they were rather indis-
! tinct and seemingly put part of dream.
Very well, Sir, go to the devil for all
I care"
"The Coloners voice." Margaret de-
cided, still unable to shake off the i'm
preston OF dreaming
What's the good Of your education,
| I'd like to know" the voice continued.
DO you imagine gave you the orpor-
| tunity OF reading law for you to give it
up when you grew tired? No, sir! This
{ idea of writing that's turned your head
is only another name for doing nothing.
| Confound me- believe you Want to be
like that d scoundrel, Leigh"
Margaret started. Was this dream
ing?
aYou are mistaken" came the answer
in Berties voice. Il have no desire to
emulate Brian in any respect. Please
credit me with some consideration fo1
| Alice"
If you didn't show more for her than
he does for his wife, I'd shoot you with
my own hands. He ought to be hung,
| the scoundrel! Leaving his wife as he
has been doing, allowing his domestic
| affairs to be the talk Of the neighbor-
| hood and her name to become the sub
iect of discussion with every vulgar
| gossip in the place. and he galivanting
| around the city like loafer, lounging in
! clubs mornings, Moons, and nights, and
| drunk at that Beale saw him the other
day lying on the club house steps, too
drunk to move. And Margaret has
thrown herself away on such creature.
Don't get so excited, you say? Do you
think I am made Of stone? Do you
think I can talk quietly and calmly
when l remember her? Why in the
| name of heaven do such men have
wives? Why in the name of a just
| heaven should she have such husband?
And why in the name of the devil don't
some one shoot or hang him?
Margaret had heard aIl-every word.
! the Colonel's igh-pitched denuncia-
tions, Bertie's lower but not less en-
phatic ones, and now she could hear the
| Colonel angrily pacing the library, his
regular rapid steps seeming to keep
time with her quick heart beats.
No, this was not dreaming. She was
fully awake. And crUuching down in:
her chair she pressed her hands over
her eyes as though she would shut from
her sight the shame and disgrace that
was actually touching her life. Why
had it never occurred to her before?
Why had she not guessed that, while
she passed her thought!ess, unthinking
days in the safety Of her own home, he
was following q path Of ruin amid the
| gilded temptations of New York? now
much of the blame would lie at her door,
and what would be the end? All! those