The Louisiana Democrat. [volume] (Alexandria, La.) 1845-1918, 1897-09-22

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Wilson laughed in answer, n saying
Goodnight" he left them
CHAPTER XVIII.
LINZ FROM THE L LIFE
AS Margaret hoped and expected,
BERTHE put in an appe arance two evenings
later-the same light-hearted, CHEEKY
BERTHE, with his never-falllng good
humor and his almost inexhaustible
store Of news and gossip, to carry her
back to her homo and let her feel, IN
Imagination at least, something OF Its
old pleasures and interests.
Changes in o small place are always
more significant and Of more general
| interest than those in a great city,
where the identity Of the individual is
lost in the great labyrinth Of humanity,
and Margaret, whose affection absence
had only increased, took q keen delight
in hearing not only Of the friends she
had left but of even the slightest occur-
renee about Elmwood and it's surround
ings, and, In return, Bertie wanted to
hear about herself.
This city ar has not brought the
roses to your cheeks" he said. II hope
0 haven't developed such a fondness
for it that you will be sorry to come
back to u.s."
Never, Berthe; my mind a never
even imagine such q possibility. In the
first place, I don't like New York, IL
actually hate it, though I shouldn't tell
anyone but you; and, II the second
place, I love Elmwood dearly. Then
there are things l enjoy there which l
cannot have here; my rides, for one
thing. Occasionally l have a ride in
the park, but it isn't the same as at
home. Here one must go at q certain
gait. and people ride awkwardly, too,
I think. 1 suppose it Is the fashionable
wav. but it isn't half so graceful. to sec
them pounding their saddles, one might
say. 1t really tries me to look at them.
The park Is beautiful, though. New
York may we'll be proud OF It. have
been around a great deal. Brian takes
! me everywhere. and I usually enjoy the
places we visit:
and Brian?" questioned Bertic, meet
ing her eye.
Her head dropped slightly. BERTHE
saw the action. He left his chair and
came to her. ..
TELL me, Margaret" he said, placing
his hand upon her shoulder, 1T isn't SO
| hard for you to answer" 49,
NO." she replied in q low voice, II
} should not be so hard now. My heart
has ached, oh, 80 terribly, and / have
( been hopeless and despairing, because !
t was a!one-so help!ossly alone. An. !
t know what you would say. | have
. friends. Yes, such true friends. DC
y you think l ever doubted them, Bert.es
But YOU can understand that there arc
sorrows which none "a share. Lately
. | have been more encouraged. He has
,; left me so little, but last night he was
:. later than usual, and tonight he Is
not here-at all"
Her head dropped still lower n hit
g band fell until 1t rested on hers Will
a gentle, r%eassuring sympathy In 1T
h touch.
. "An may be right he said with al
effort at consolation.
d Perhaps" she answered. Il can onl.
y. hope, and if it should not be. the disap
Q pointment will be so bitter. Last nigh
he did not seem perfectly himself.
it tried to believe l imagined It,. but l or
l. afraid l showed something in my ao
tons. l tried 80 hard, too-eo hard no
% to let him see."
why should you have tried2" erie
20 BERTHE, pressing his lips hard. 'Wh
n should you consider him? You hav
a feelings, too. Must they always b
%outraged?"
r Margaret raised her eyes at thi
Or strong expression OF his thoughts.
II think women can't consider the
; feelings, Bertie," she returned, with
D. sigh. 1T seems to me that, no matte
how hard or how bitter it may be, the
can never get beyond the range OF out!
.. l think we grow to be hypocrites IN
u way. We arc SO often obliged to nc
our hearts. l know I have often emile
d my brightest when my eyes were burr
Ing with tears l held back. suppos
g, the baptism of sorrow must touch I
IS oil, and l only hope that it may was
~. out all that should not be In my III
81 and make me Drawer and stronger e
ls' what Is to come. Are you leaving IN
al BERTHE? I'm afraid you find mo vel
doleful."
II Il leave you, Margaret. to find hir
I cannot bear to sit here and hear "
talk and There; I'll act like a bal
next. Margaret, you are a dear, bra
70 girl. Long ago, when"
" Before you thought | should gre
10 into such o sedate young woman,
terrupted Margaret, hastily. I'VE us
de to fight gloriously in those days, did
az we? Uncle fancied I should always
~. a tomboy. wonder if he would rcco
ve niZe me now"
no She finished with IL sigh, and the lig
words had held such deep meaning tn
&c BERTHE found it hard to meet the ey
~ she raised so bravely to his.
we so long ago." he said, half absent
no mot quite six years since | first 81
" you. I remember the day so perfect
~. You were just home from college, o
NJ you had two cats tied together by I
,ra tails. I thought you such a cruel bt
az Well, you want TO go? shall see J
mi again, sha'n't1 l? You are like a brei
from Elmwood, BERTHE"
You will see me again, and sot
Margaret. Now look me in the II
and promise me that the day shall ne'
of come when you will cease to regard
a as a brother. III re; goodnight; W
nj tears pain mo. God forgive Driaa
The canro.."
md Once upon the street Drrtic wall
ost along, absorbed in thought This III
TIL .~1 Nrs