The Indianapolis journal. [volume] (Indianapolis [Ind.]) 1867-1904, 1897-08-15

struggled on. The soldier spoke grufly
| through the roof, and the hanson turned.
He had been going to look up old friends.
He would not now.
Frances reached her rides end and scram-
bled down to the mud. She left the fresh
rain, and courage, too, behind. and went
soberly into an agents mody office
There was cold comfort for her there.
The agent IN. MADAME lame t Who w was very
! deal of her for people TO rely on-looked up
obviously and smoothed her sleek hair
down anxiously, and listened to some
speeches
Are you doing your best for me?" she
| asked.
The agent was offended. "Mesdames"
are touchy.
80 much so, Miss ORen. that have
had several complaints from ladies whom
have recommended TO call on YOU They
have reproached me with sending them to-
toto so obviously unsuitable a person"
oh" said Frances.
unfortunately your appearance is that
is nOt-such as people generally said
madame, floundering moro because of her
clients excited face than because she was
Il understand" said Frances bitterly.
hair looked wilder than usual Il am not
venerable"
Then she departed and stood bankly in
the street for q moment. People do general
brellas, but she forgot to open hers.
1T is no good" she said, catching sight
disorderly. She, thirty-eight.
She took one or two objectless, hopeless
sezed her n0 With the mpetuousness Of her
hasty nation she made up her mind, turned
opened her umbrella and hurried up the
street.
She did not think, she certainly did not
pause to consider what she was about to
do. Proceeding along the pavement rapidly
her mind eagerly full Of her own affairs
and that bright idea, she charged through
the rain
Half down the Strand the spikes of her
umbrella dabbed into somebody and she
raised it hastily. Not even looking to see
If the big person she had collided with was
damaged, she passed quickly on, a vision
of black, untidy hair, bright cheeks and
shining eyes; then only short blue skirt
The person she had run into stood still
and looked after her till the last glimpse
Of her was swallowed up. He tugged at
his .grizzled mustache and sighed, then
stalked sadly on his way.
Frances shot on, unheeding She stopped
at last. and went into unpretentious
little shop smelling like a hairdresser's
but not ostensbly such She bent over the
counter and spoke a few incoherent words
was no need to put her desire more
clearly
Golden or auburn, Miss?" he said.
Il am a fool" criel Colonel Williamson.
The night had closed in and hidden the
rain. but no blinds could shut out the drip
and patter. It was a melancholy sound, and
it fitted in with the colonels thoughts. He
was not at his club, not having fallen into
home ways yet. He was sitting at his hotel
thinking.
Poor colonel; his story was not a happy
one, apart from the regiment, its fights and
glorieS. 1t was a common story often told
in novels and perpetually available by
penny novelties. A young subaltern packed
off to India; a girl at homeland writing on
either side forbidden The passing-hopeful
enough-of a year or two. Then a wedding
in the papers, and headlong forgetfulness
by one breathless reader of the unimpor-
tant she-cOusin whose name reSembled one.
The usual story-helping misunderstanding,
the usual lapse of years, and tEen-discov-
cry.
Colonel Williamson was gray when he
sailed for home India and-crcumStances,
age a man. But 9. leap of romantic eXpec
body still single. He dared sometimes to
dream of a graVer sadder face than had
visited his dreams once. and then left
nightmare gap through years-of somebody
whose wild spirits gone by this, and in
whose Subdued affections he might awaken
love. That dream lasted out the voyage
and brought him to town And then
II am a fool " he said grimly. Il might
have known she could never grow old as
DID. Would she not laugh in my face if
dared to show myself claiming recollection
young ever. l dare not go to her with
this bitterness of difference between us. Let
me stick to a dream that may brighten my
lonely life but never shatter it by trying
to prove it true. Oh, Frances. after all
these years the same: while /"
Colonel Williamson dropped his head upon
his hands. 1t grew very dark.