The Bossier banner. [volume] (Bellevue, Bossier Parish, La.) 1859-1952, 1897-10-07
ONE HOURS CHAT.
BY HELEN BEEkMAN.

TWO Young men were seated upon
the wide porch of a seaside hotel
chatting of things past and present,
md finally glided into confidential in
,erchange of experiences, unmindful
Of the fact that they were within ear
shot of an open window, whose close
blinds were deceptive, inasmuch as
they kept out sight, but admitted
sound.
One of the men, Roy Somers, had
lately returned from three years Sc
iourn abroad, and had accidentally met
at the dinner table his old college chum
and dear friend, Robert Blake, young
lawyer rising in his profession. Of him
l will say here that he was yet young,
about 26 or 27, 4 good-looking, manly
fellow, with a handsome income. Now
le: him speak for himself.
Lying upon wide lounge, just un-
der the window of which | made men,
ton, was a little figure hidden by an
afghan, but above this could be seen
face of delicate beauty, with child
like blue eyes, wistful and pathetic in
expression, and loose curls of pure gold
en- tint. Over this face was perplexed
shadow, and more than once the pretty
lips murmured:
"Oh, how mean, oh, how wicked it is
to listen! But | must hear! | must
hear!"
The friends had discussed current
topics, until, as | have said, they be-
came confidential, when Roy said, rath-
er abruptly:
81 heard some gossip about you as ]
passed through New York.
"Yes? | did not know | was of suffi-
cient Importance to be the subject of
gossip: What, if it is not secret, did
you hear?''
"Tell me first, if you are engaged to
be married?"
"No!"
"Short, and not particularly sweet.
heard, then. that you were engaged to
hunchback, a little monster!"
The face on the other side of the win
dow grew white as snow, but Robert
Blake gathered his brow into heavy
frown.
Don't be angry, old fellow!" his
friend pleaded. Il was foolish to re-
peat it. l might have known it was
false, being well aware of your fastidi-
oGs love of beauty
False, yes: But I would give all
cwn to make it true! You have heard
ttc gossip, shall tell you the truth?'
"See here, Bob! I've made mess
somehow. Do forget it."
Look at that" said Robert, opening
small velvet case he took from his
breast pocket. Tell me what you
thing of it?''
ut is beautiful! Lovely! One of the
few faces one may call angelic"
And mind and heart are as beautiful
as angelic as the face
Il can easily believe it. The ex
preston is pure and sweet as Babes
"Yet you Just called her little mon
ster"
Bob! You cannot mean that she
the original of this miniature, is de
formed"
Yes. She was crippled in childhood
s-by me-
"By you"
She is connection of mine, a step
child of my uncle and when we wer.
shioren we spent our summer togeth
sr' as l was a yearly guest at Owl:
Nest, my uncle's PLACE on the Hudson
enc was the sweetest little fairy at tel
years old that you ever saw, and | wa
great hulking boy of Is, and die no
understand how delicate she was.
actually believe | was in love with he
'aen, but | was at the most awkward
age Tor such sentiment, and l coveret
.ny actual alteration by teasing her
we We're on the hill behind my uncle
mouse, where there was a steep decliv
NY, anu l was, as usual, half rompin.
WIN her, taxing her temper by m,
udtetul manner, when, somehow, heav
81 KNOWS how, ,unintentionally l pushe,
aes over the edge of the hill, and sh
,eA Gown to the foot. When I reache
aef she was white and senseless, and,
.aought, dead. Oh, the long agony O
.Aat walk when l took her in my arm
ne Lause, staggered into the ROOF
"ue.s her mother was, putin
vi aa'2 her arms, only to rush away 70
Sses wss . murderer in my ow