The Indianapolis journal. [volume] (Indianapolis [Ind.]) 1867-1904, 1897-08-01

Mind yourself, in short, Sir Ralph cried
Mrs. Cochrane. hilariousy. You'd better
make sure what kind of young woman
you're marrying while there's time. It's
proverbially weak-minded, you know, 10
There was an unmistakable sheer in her
voice now, as she fixed her shallow gaze on
Sir Ralphs open face and quite suddenly
Sylvia Yorke started to her feet.
Ralph she said sharply. Il wish you'd
go. I'm tired to death. Go at once?'
"sir Ralph is here, please. Miss. He came
away with me at once"
ng-the day that was to be Sylvia Yorke's
by Mrs Cochrane's housemaid She was
standing on the threshold of Syvia's bed
room.
There was no answer. Sylvia herself was
standing with her back TO tie door. For the
moment she did not move. Then she turned
and came across the room. She seemed
hardly fs3 to realize the servants presence I'M
til she was actually passing her, and then
she suddenly put out her hand.
,,iIl5 Ak. you, Lucy" she said. You are
Then she went down the stairs; she
opened the drawing room door and went in,
shutting it deliberately behind her.
Sir Ralph was waiting for her, and he
came hastily toward her.
Dearest he said, there's nothing
wrong? Your note-Sylvia, dearest, how odd
But Sylvia stopped him.
Don't" she said, steadily. but in a low,
strained voice. I've got something to tell
you Sit down, Ralph.
Something to tell me?" he echoed He
obeyed her mechanically and she walked
to the window. Then she turned and faced
him, steadily.
II didn't mean to tell you until after we
were married. | didn't mean you to know.
You won't marry me, of course, when you
do know, but L can't help that; must tell
you"
Sheer wonder and bewilderment evidently
kept Ralph Hamer in his seat, and sealed
his lips. His eyes We're eloquent enough
n no
space of silence, and then she went on
I've deceived you she said, you've
simply been taken in. You think I'm cous-
IN OF Mrs. Cochrane' s, girl of good fam
lily and without relations. I'm nothing of
the kind. | never heard of Mrs Cochrane,
nor she of me, until few months ago.
don't want to drag her into it, more than
| is necessary, but you must know the fact.
L paid to come to her-paid her to introduce
me and take me about-do you under
stan2!'
There was a long, deep breath Ralph
Hamer had risen to his feet, and he stood
| gazing full at her, his pleasant face pale
| and daZed.
'I-don't think do, he said, in low, un-
She laughed fierce, grating laugh. A
| burning patch of color appeared on either
| cheek, and she began to speak recklessly.
You WILL" she said, when you get used
| to it. l paid, tell you, to live in her house
and go about with her, and nothing was to
| be said by either of us to any one. Well,
| that's not all-if it had been, L might have
| told you when we were first engaged. | sup
| pose it Just possible that L might nave
come into Mrs. Cochrane's house in this
way and yet have been-all right-a lady,
and that kind of thing But-I'm not l
| come of common people-not even middle
| class-but common people. My father she
paused moment, and then continued, de-
| hantly-"my father keeps a little public
| There was a moments blank silence. Then
| Ralph Hamer turned away, and, stretch
ing out his hand, steadied himself against
| a tall chair back, and stood with his head
| bent as though he were confronting rough
| wind.
| When the girl spoke again her voice had
| dropped strangely. 1t was hard and dull
| 1T is due to you, she said to know how
| it came about-as far as | can explain it.
| | don't know how it was that l was always
| different from the girls [ ought to have
| made friends with-the butchers daughter
| and the baker daughter But | was | al
| ways wanted to know more and see more;
| I wanted another kind of life, and j hated
| all our ways My father and mother spollt
! me. They sent me to good school away
| from home even when l was quite little
| thing. And then, when my money came, II
| was all easy" She paused and laid one
| hand on the window curtain clinchins it
| tightly. 1T was a cousin of my fathers
| who left me my money, she said. I've not
| wouldn't use 1.-THE said he did not want II,
| and they wanted me to have my way. |
| was fourteen then, and they let me go ana
| live in Dresden. L went to live among gentle
people altogether and then knew knew
| that l couldn't help it-that it was in me
| to like it best and 90 be like them-and not
| like-my own class. [ read and heard
| things and / longed to see the world L sup
pose was ambitious, according to my mis-
| cradle lights, and l thought l could make
| life for myself. | saw Mrs. Cochrane
| advertisement. and | answered it. didn't
| tell my father and mother where l was
| they look upon me as a being from another
| sphere, poor things, and leave it all to me.
| They've never even heard of you'll couldn
| very well be married from home you see;
| She stopped an instant, drawing a quick,
| deep breath. Then she went on: I'm an
| adventures, | SuppoSe-like melOdrama,
| or novel. / thought
| that before. / never thought of marrying
until got into the swing of things and saw
| how easy it would be. Then l made up
my mind that l would You may as We'll
| know the very worst of mel drew you on
l Thought you were just the thing. AND 1t
was all right. l should have gone through
with it, only-only-" Her voice broke and
died away. There, was moments silence,
! and then she added, hoarsely, 1T doesn't
| matter. l couldn't bear to hear that hate
| full woman sheer at you-thats ALL
| 1t seemed to be all, indeed There was no
| sound in the room, except the mans quick
| breathing and the soft SOUND made by the
| girls hand as she clenched and un-
| clenched it round a fold in the curtain. At
| last Ralph Hamer said, in low, stifed
| voice:
do you mean me to understand that
| you never cared for me?
| A spasm passed across her face.
| Il don't see what that has to do with 1t,
she said I've deceived YOU don Wy you sea
| never have thought of marrying me If you
| had known all about me-" She stopped alb
|
| 1T is no use to say I'm sorry, or anything
| of that kind. OF course, you'll always hate
| the thought of me. Try not to think of me
| at ALL
| She tore her hold from the curtain, and
| was dashing blindly across the room toward
| the door, when her passage was suddenly
| blocked. Ralph Hamer stood straight be-
ITS too late, Sylvia" he said. His face
was white and drawn, and his voice was
| husky. 1T doesn't matter now what |
| should have done or shouldn't have done.
| Do you think | care a hang who you are
| or what you are? You're Sylvia-my Sylvia.
| That's all | know-all l care about unless
you don't love me?"
She drew away from him, gazing into his
"Do you quite understand what I've told
| you?" she asked. DO you quite under
stand?"
Il don't understand whether you love me,
Sylvia-and nothing else matters"
There was a moments GREATNESS pause,
and then, quite suddenly, she was sobbing
passionately on his shoulder.
''Oh, how dense you are" she cried, wild
". How very, very dense. Don't you see
| that it's just because I've grown to love
| you so. to love you more than anything or
anybody in all the world that 1 was forced
to tell your
1t answered very well. What far-off an
cestor had repeated himself in Sylvia Yorke
it was impossible to say. But whoever he
surely gentle blood ran now in hers. Lady
Hamer made herself a place in the London
world, and she and her husband are one of
the happiest and most popular couples to
be met with. They are nowhere more popu-
lar than in the house Of Lady Hamer'S