Santa Fe daily New Mexican., 1897-11-11

to relieve him or herself. What could the
evening have in store for her? She knew
her cousin well enough to expect little
from him. This man would scarcely take
upon himself the trouble of introducing
her and, Of course, the hands Of the host
ess wsre full Truly the situation was
ritiable.
They had stopped dancing and wcro
walking about like two shipwrcckcd sail
ois ON desert island, he looking anxious
| ly for some sign of rescue, she with the
)settled despair of one who knows that
none can come. And SO they walked and
walked. Dances began and ended, the
music floating mockingly out to them,
but still they walked on, their conversa-
tion, il one may dignity it by that name,
consisting of spasmodic attempts at little
speeches prompted by common politeness.
Finally In desperation he sought a Sc
cluded seat where she would not be seen
at all, but where his eye could command Il
view of the entrance to the supper room.
Here he placed himself like a cat waiting
to pounce upon it's elusive prey, while she,
poor little thing, was trying so brayely to
repress the hard sobs that rose in her
throat and to keep the horrible silence
from settling down upon them, as it
threatened to do. So eagerly was his eye
fastened ON the doorway that fortunately
he did not look at her, else he would have
seen face almost tragic in it's misery that
would have stamped itself indelibly upon
his mind. But then, he could not know
that this was the party of which she had
%a11 70, ,inI, ch, had
actually lived these many days past. He
could not know what this failure meant
to her, and how many bright sweet hopes
it swept away out Of her life. He could
not know how, as she looked ahead, the
days stretched themselves out in endless
grayness and there seemed nothing, moth
ing worth living for.
Oh, she clinched her cold little hands
and determined on one more effort to re
deem herself in this strangers eyes. IT
am very sorry, Mr. Blake" she said quite
calmly, "that have been so thrust upon
you, and know have made your even
ing terrible bore. l also realize now that
even had / known every one here it would
have made no difference. There are some
unfortunately Of which this may be said
but what can woman do in such Il posi-
tion9 want, however; to thank you''-
'Oh, please don't talk like that, he in
terrupted quickly still without losing
sight Of the door, ''you know | go to so
many affairs But he never finished
what he intended to say, for suddenly
bounding from his seat, he exclaimed in
the forgetfulness of the moment, "By
.Jove, there is your cousin at lastp' He
started forward with u gleam in his exag-
gerated eyes which seemed to say, "Ah,
you shall not escape me now" She fol-
lowed him quickly and they joined the
cousin, happy in the possession of another
blond in brilliant red. Mr.. Blake grasped
the hand Of tho latter like a drowning
man clutches the proverbial straw, thus
giving Arabella an opportunity of saying
in an undertone to her cousin, "I should
like to go home if you please"
'What, SO early! Why, we have not had
supper YETI he cried in astonishment.
You must take mel she demanded
sternly, and he saw certain determine
tion on her plain features that made him
turn and say SIT is too bad that l cannot
have the pleasure of being at supper with
you, but Arabella is not feeling well, and
l.
to my friend Mr. Blake. Good night!'
1t was quick work getting into the made
over cloak, for itdid not make any differ
ence now about "mussing'' the dress, and
they We're soon rolling through the white
snowy street, away from all the light
warmth, perfume, flowers, music, beauty
nd-and-happiness (?).
At home! Dear old home! Had it ever
seemed SO sheltering before! She had
scacrely dared trust herself to speak dur
ing the drive, but when they reached tho
front door she held out her hand saying
with strange, harsh little laugh: 81 was
not % brilliant success, was l, cousin?
Goodby."
The door closed quickly behind him,
and she hurriedly turned out the hall
light, knowing her mother would be wait
ing for her. Somehow, as she quickly
groped her way up the stairs in the dark
ness, the situation seemed prophetic of her
whole future life, and she whispered to
herself those touching words which James
Lane Allen puts into the mouth of Mrs.
Falconer, 81 shall go softly all my days.
The years rolled away over the head of
the poor little, ugly girl, as they will roll
over the heads of all of us, until she is
now woman of 35. She has been true to
her word She has gone softly all her
days, but it has been the soft tread of
trained nurse in the sickroom, where she
has found that happiness which appalls
and silences the rollicking old world Yet
sometimes even now, when this brave
good woman lies down OH her little VIII
iron bed to well merited repose, when
the bead of light is hidden behind the
green shade, the patient at rest, and the
medicine given for the night, her pillow
is wet with the salt tears of bitterness Mt
the recollection of the first and only party
Of her lifc.-Ida S. Buchanan in Louis
vile Courier journal.