The Anderson intelligencer. [volume] (Anderson Court House, S.C.) 1860-1914, 1898-10-12

I She was a clever girl and accus-
toned to being looked up to as quite
an authority on literary matters by
her own special coterie. Had not
Dunning Jones, the most successful
Journalist in the city, told some one
that Miss Rossiter was very inter-
esting girl, we'll read and up in ev-
erything9 But before "unbounded
knowledge" how could one talk
easily or air ones little opinions2
For the first time in her life the
self possessed, cultivated Miss Ros-
sitter felt shy, crude and ignorant
She was really very superior
young woman, of lofty aims and
ideals; but, being very human and
very charming person, she had her
little limitations, all of which she
would have confessed to you with
refreshing candor. Still she could
not help wondering for moment if
life with a person who thoroughly
understood" her would, after all, be
as helpful as life with some one
whose love exaggerated her virtues
and blinded him to her defects.
AS she said to her most intimate
girl friend afterward: SIT never oc-
Cured to me before just how many
of my 80 called virtues were called
out just because Tom thought pos
sessed them.
''You see that touched me so, the
implicit confidence in me, that I
would Immediately proceed to cult
vate all my supposed good quail
ties, so that I might keep my place
in Tom s regard with greater satis-
faction to myself.
This night referred to, however,
she did not allow herself to so dis
tinctly formulate the thought.
Onos more she turned the conver-
sahon to books, to art and to music.
But what pleasure could there be in
conversation where the other par
ty concerned knew before she spoke
all that she would say. He even in
directly apologized once for antici-
pating her.
IT cannot help it, you see," he
said. II came in answer to your
wish, burdened with the conditions
it imposed upon me.
sit does make conversation awk-
ward, I admit, but we may as well
make the best of it, for I am power
less to leave you unless
"Unless what9' said Miss Rossi-
ter with more of the 'speed the
parting guest in her tone than was
consistent with true politeness, but
the stranger only smiled and looked
once more into the fire.
A sense of injury commenced to
rankle in Miss Rossiter's mind.
"And all because of a foolish wish,
that have heard a dozen girls
make, my life is to be spoiled in this
way" she thought. Perhaps Tom
would not have loved her so deeply
had he really understood her.
The past tense of that last thought
sent a pang through her heart.
Was she always to be tied to this
dreadful mind reader of a realized
ideal2
She supposed the only thing left
her to do was to live upon such a
high plane that she need not object
or fear to be as printed page for
him to read.
And yet, oh, the WEAKNESS Of the
idea!
No more half severe, half coquet-
tish lectures to Tom on his stupid
ity, always ending in increased
alteration on his part and increased
affection on hers, for it always
pleased her fancy, after having
firmly established her claim to ideal
ship in Toms mind, to be so ex-
tremely gracious and penitently af-
fecticnate that the Large and ap-
preciative audience of one," as Tom
remarked, went home happy.
But all those old, happy times
were over, she thought.
Such deep pity for herself filed
Miss Rossiter's mind that the great
tears gathered in her eyes, and ono
had escaped from beneath the long
lashes and was slowly rolling down
her cheek when two strong arms
suddenly EMBODIED her, and sym
pathetic voice, TOMS voice, was
saying, "What in the world are you
dreaming about, you poor dear2"
Now, Miss Rossiter was not as a
rule wildly demonstrative, but upon
this occasion her manner was warm
enough to crafty the most ardent
lover.
She clung to Tom as if he had
just been rescued from some dread
ful calamity and she feared to lose
him again, and when he begged her
TO tell him what was the matter,
that he "didn't understand" :" she
exclaimed rather Historically: "Oh,
that is the beauty of it. I don't want
you to understand, Tom, dear, and
I'm so glad you don't. / don't think