The Worthington advance. [volume] (Worthington, Minn.) 1874-1908, 1897-08-05

another moment was in the whirl of the
dance. ~ 4s LAP, 81, s., aa .,s rig NJ. 5sS ID
In the open doorway Irving Willis
stood and watched her with fascina-
ton he could not understand. It
seemed dissertation to see her waist en-
circled by a mans arm, yet what mat
tered it to him? and he turned away
for quiet stroll upon the beach. 10
What mattered it? Again and again
during the weeks that followed did he
ask himself this question. What cared
he that her smile was as sweet, her voice
as caressing to others as to him?
Whence came this sweet content,
whether on ride or drive, dance or walk,
so long as she was his companion, this
morbid unrest when he knew another
occupied the place he sought? Had he,
whose little bark so long escaped the
shoals and rapids. been engulfed at
last? 3D.:
Even so. Irving Willis, with all his
impregnability, had hopelessly lost his
heart to young girl who had seen
scarce 10 years. In vain he fought
against it, in vain strove to loose the
bonds which held him. Tight and tight
er were they drawn around him. though
the hand which held them was all I'M
conscious of it's subtle strength. But
at last his struggles ceased, and de-
lirious sweetness came to him in the
hope of winning Ethel Hayes for his
| wife. Then came the time when he
| could no longer withhold from her the
story of his love.
II did not mean to love you, Ethel"
he said. II did not know my life pos
sessed need, but should you send me
from your side, shudder at the empti-
ness of what once thought filled to
repletion. Darling, give me my an
swer.'
II am sorry-more sorry than can
tell you, Mr.. Willis, that this should
have happened. but indeed, I cannot
give you the answer you wish. I did
not dream of your feeling for me, but
looked upon you as my friend, and
l am already bound" >
"Bound, Ethel! What do you mean?
Not surely that you have given your
heart to another's keeping. Look at
me, child! Let me look into your
eyes and tell me if you can that you
| love another. Then, when hear my
doom from your own lips will be-
lieve how cruelty 1 was deceived when
sometimes thought to read there the
story of your love for me-
"Hush, Mr.. Willis. You have not the
right to thus address me. My father on
his death bed, when was but a child,
made me promise that would marry at
certain age the son Of an old friend I
had known from boyhood. We were
child lovers, and I willingly gave my
consent, and now" as the sweet voice
faltered, II certainly cannotwithdraw
it,
"Do you love this man, Ethel?'
again, I say, you have not the
right to question me-" but culver of
pain rang through the words, which
caused Willis heart to beat anew with
| hope.
You dare not answer me. Ethel,
are you mad to hold to so rash VOW?
Think, little one, of the long life which
lies before us both, and answer me, was
it intended we should live apart? Look
in my eyes, Ethel. Tell me you do
not love me if you can, and I will leave
you without word, content to pursue
my lonely path unshrinkingly. This
much is my right. This I demand
of you-"and Irving's dark eyes pierced
with stern questioning into the violet
ones lowered to the ground. II am
waiting, Ethel. All, you cannot speak
them. Ny daling, my darling" and
snatching the lovely form to his heart,
he rained passionate kisses upon the
upturned brow.
The next morning with heart full
of hope he descended to the breakfast
room. Her place was empty, and pass
ing through the Office to seek her, the
clerk handed him note. Recognizing
the chirography as hers, he tore it open,
and as he read the fair dreams of the
night vanished, the structure of his
fondest hopes lay scattered on the
ground:
Il have not courage to see you again.
| have already sinned against the man to
whom I have given my plighted troth, but
| oh. Irving, by the love you swear is mine,
forget me. My life Is given to another.
give me strength-I have no heart. 1t has
| turned into stone. Remember that. Think
of it only as stone. 1t has petrified forever,
SO that it Is even dead to suffering; and if
in the days, the long months and many
years which must live through. occa SION
ally our paths touch. pass me as in forget
fulness. remembering l belong no longer
to myself, but am anothers. Good-by.
| Irving, in the old English sense. God be
with you. May you one day find the hap
piness He has denied me- Your friend al
ways, ETHEL HAYES"
Six weeks afterward, when he had
returned to the city's gayety, and the
leaves were beginning to turn from
crimson to brown, Irving Willis, think
ing of his own hopes shattered and
fallen, sauntered slowly down the crowd
ed streets, when he felt a hand upon his
shoulder, and CHEEKY voice in his ear,
and, turning, saw Hal Rutherford's
| handsome face.
Back again, old fellow? Glad to SEQ
you. Then my prophecies were fruit
less, after all. Well, declare, you're
incorrigible. By the way, that was a
sad accident happened to young Som
ers. He fell from his horse last week
and was killed. They said, you know,
he was engaged to that charming girl
we met last summer-Miss Hayes. She
is spending some time, 1 believe, with
Mrs. Struthers. Where are you going,
Willis? 1 have been rafting away for
about five minutes without response,
I'll meet you this evening at the club.
Dine with me at six" and with q shala