The National tribune. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1877-1917, 1897-02-04

load an old brier Throwing himself into an
| easy-chair, he lit his pipe, and, with extended
limbs. pulled clouds of pale-blue smoke to-
ward the ceiling. He was q young fellow OF
about 80, and not affecting, the mannerism of
others of his cult, wore q dark beard trimmed
in the style immortalfzed, BY the genius Of
Van Dyke. fact which made him look con-
siderably older than he really was. 80. ,..s
A mass of thick, Slack hair accentuated
the pallor of his clearly-cut face-a face cold,
reserved and dignifed, and one which re-
yealed to the close observer much OF its pos
sessor's life story. 1t showed that its owner
had seen times of trouble, times when the
very heart seemed to be knocked out Of q
man-times when his only companion was
gloomy despair but the shape Of the mouth
revealed the man who by sheer force of
character had risen superior to the trials
! which fate had imposed upon him.
| AS he sat there, consoled by the soothing
charms of the Goddess Nieotina, his thoughts
were of decidedly pleasant nature. He
| had achieved success-achieved it when
young.
And yet, look Of intense and passionate
| longing occasionally crept across his face.
Did past memories trouble him, or did he
vainly endeavor to look into the dim future ?
| He sat and smoked for some time, and then
his eye rested on the table by his side, on
which lay an envelope addressed to him.
| He took it up in listless fashion and
lazily scrutinized it. He saw that it had
| been written by female hand, and had not
been through the post, and he therefore con-
cluded that it had been left by acaller He
broke it open and read the following epistle:
| Dear Sir: Please pardon the liberty ]
| take in writing to you. have just witness
ed the great success of your play. You have
now made your name and will be much
| sought after Will you grant me the privi-
| lege Of interviewing You |? am endeavoring
| to set my foot upon the first rung OF the lit
erary ladder, but 50 far have not met with
success. am not connected with any paper,
but feel confident that the report of an in
terview with you would beaccepted. / shall
call tomorrow in order to learn of your de-
cision. Yours very truly, Annie Raleigh"
Hardinge read this communication with
much interest, but never looked at the sigma
ture He put the letter on one side, pressed
down the tobacco in his pipe, and between
the whiffs muttered:
s.Poer girl, no success-well, surely, in
the hour Of my triumph can do some one
a good turn-call to-morrOw-umph, per.
seyerine, too-well, well-I hate to be bored
land BY a woman, tooThowever, think
I'll sec her-I wonder who she is, and he
took up the letter again.
.Annie Raleigh ~ he cried. Good heav.
ems surely, tits not-no. 1t cannot be-slne ii
married long ago. and 9egetating somewhere
in the country long ere this; but what
curious coincidence :; FFRf
The name seemed to have wrought fiOOd
of reminiscence and With dreamy eyes ht
conjured up scene Of 4lanyo years back wher
he was the happy lover of aIyoung girl of 1e
His mind rambled for some time amons
those days of long ago, and ct length he ross
and opened cabinet standing on his dress
ing table He rooted put Q bundle of ole
letters and from among them took out {
slightly faded photograph. 1t was photo o
young lady, attired in a pure white dress
1t was dainty little figure, slim and neat
with pair Of laughing eyes surmounted b,
mass of beautiful haiE,n sr
He held it in his hand for, some time. anG
gazed on it as though sps}lheund. At length
his lips parted, and int D. voice Of agony III
groaned: -.4.is
.Oh, Annie, Annie, why were you no.
true? Oh, heaven, how loved you, lOvei
you with love which was my very exist
ence thought that was-yOu lovet
me, too; but no, no, no, you did not. Iwal
simply toy-a toy to be played with-ani
when tired of thrown ruthless aside. All
we'll, 1 was foolish to be entangled by 1
pretty face; and yet-no-I was not A mar
loves but once in his life, and truly l loved
then. 1t was destiny, destiny, and shaped .
curious end But surely it is time l had go
over that feeling; and yet, Annie, my BLOOD
rises at this cold picture Of you, aud low,
with the same intensity as of yore. Thos.
were indeed happy days-days when lived
in fools paradise. y He laid the photo
graph down and pondercd. "I wonde