Staunton spectator and vindicator. [volume] (Staunton, Va.) 1896-1916, 1897-09-02
STANTON SPECTATOR AND vINDICAIoR.

the girl was doing up the parcel SUI
leaned forward, whispering:
Have you forgotten me, Lizzie? I'm
, Dorothy Maxwell. y
i The parcel dropped from the girl'l
hands.
II can't see through your veil, +" she
said. "We thought you were dead
Dorothy glanced hastily round the
shop, where under the fiaring gaslights
she recognized many faces. She raised
her hand to her veil, then hesitated.
where is John?" she asked.
"John is married. the girl said sui
lenly, "and has set up in business for
himself -
Dorothy clutched at the counter, and
for moment the oppressive smell, the
garish lights and the sound Of coarse
voices seemed to be one whirlinR mass
that blinded her.
''He visited long time," the girl
went on in a vindictive undertone, "but
he got tired and married last year. He
used to say come nasty things about
you. I can tell you, for going off as you
| did, with never word, and you en-
gagged to him too. What are you doing
now?" she added, raising her voice.
"Still stopping some girl or other from
marrying the man she likes, as Won
stopped me from marrying John?,
Dorothy shook her head helplessly, and,
| throwing some coins down upon the
counter, walked out Of the shop.
Instinctively she turned toward the
park, her mind filed with memories of
the past, with its hard and ceaseless
work, its privations and simple pleas
ures. and with the part John Gregory
had played in that past. So her tender,
helpful lover was married, she thought,
as she crouched on seat under the
dripping trees-married, and she was
forgotten. And she had come to tell
him that she had wearied Of the luxury
OF the last four years. that she needed
him to be happy, and that if be would
forgive and forget the wrong she had
done him she would marry him, as she
had promised him in the old days.
John was married. She smiled Bit
terly to herself as she thought of her
wild desire, as she drove to the Totem
ham Court road to tell him everything
of the accident in Oxford street that |
had first brought her under Lord Bew-
davon s notice, Of his constant kindness
during her following illness, of the |
temptation to which she yielded because |
she was always tired and often hungry, |
and of the four years at Belper Lodge
and now there was no need. Stunned |
and dizzy she rose to her feet, clearly |
seeing that she had no one now upon
whom to rely to protect her from her
self. Her castle Of cards had fallen to
the ground, the man upon whom she
had leaned-perhaps foolishly-to re-
deem the past had forgotten her, and
the agony Of her disappointment was
supreme.
But the habits Of four years are not
to be shaken off in an hour, and the
striking of the neighboring clocks re-
Dorothy that she must return
to dinner, but as her cab bore her
through the slippery streets the whirling
seemed to repeat, Gas the tree
falls SO it shall lie.' Dorothy shud-
dered, but still the words rang remorse-
lessly through her brain, following her
up the broad staircase at Belper Lodge
and into the quiet of her own room. Ii
Then she faced the situation. She I
was at least necessary to Lord Bew- 1
1avon, and he, to whom she owed SO '
much, should not find her wanting. He r
owed her, and John had forgotten. Per- G
laps she deserved that he should forget.
But when she was dressing for dinner r
he pathos Of the situation came to her
II shall be sentimental for
nee, . she thought. Tonight I shall f
wear mourning for my dead love; to- v
morrow I shall forget b
The bright eyed French maid could n
lot understand madam's inexplicable t
esire TO wear the only black gown she
ossessed that night. A bright dress, B
be pink and white, would drive away al
migraine, but Dorothy silenced d
er objections, and in silent protest the
oman clothed her in the somber garb N
be had chosen. W
Dorothy had reached the first landing nj
her way to the drawing room when ii
20 heard tie hall door open and a W
Yes, my lord, from the footman in W
ply to an eager question. The next Sc
oment Lord Bewdavon was beside in
ar Or
"Ah, yoa have seen the papers, /" he da
i'd, touching her dress. 81 was too ba
DRIED to telegraph. How thoughtful, XII
wv good of you, Dorothy, he went ye
| sadly. "You have worn this tonight fu
cause you knew how much I loved
N. And his eyes filed with tears. Oh
"Your father she stammered.
lie died last night. He would have hi
we'd you as much as I do had he known 10y
u, Dorothy. shall never forget your we
npathy. !" Again he touched the black ar
ess, then kissed her as he had never
ssed Ecr before Ia
ne
One morning, a fortnight later, Lord his
wdavoI, low Duke Of Strathwayte, the
I've to Helper Lodge, leaving shortly art
or'yaTd with Dorothy. When they re- no
'ileil, tho servants addressed her as 1or
cur grace. en-
ing
in
Gne s2,coo For Driving His Wagon. Th,
4 |