Chicago eagle., 1898-07-16
CHATTER XVI.


Ou,c,e was lying on the door BY the side
of the bed, stretched out full length, with
nor face buried In her folded arms. She
had not put dress on In place of the
wet one she had taken on, and her bare,
plump shoulders cleaned white against
the red and gold Of the drugget. She was
not crying. She had sobbed out all her
passion, til she had no strength to sob
any more. Yet the pain was there still,
the cruel aching pain that seemed to be
tearing Mt the roots Of her very life.
Would II ever 20 away? Would she ever
oeain feel Glad, and careless, and happy,
as she had once feit3 II seemed impossi.
bic. The agony that she had suffered
before, when she had first lost her lover,
had not been half 90 keen rs this agony
she was suffering now, when she had won
him back again.
Il seemed 10 her that she dared never
TO show her face as Percy Stanhope's
wife. ms II all the world would know how
false she had been to the truest friend
woman ever had, and hate her for It.
"Oh, that I had never come here! she
thought, turning her throbbing head from
aide 10 side in n vain search for ease.
"Evcrything would have been right II
She could hear the crows outside her
window, holding their nightly conclnve!
The low, sweet cry Of the cuckoo came up
from the rain.wnshed fields. Inside the
house all was quiet. Now and then
door would slam, and once Mrs. Hardinge,
passing across the hall, called out some
thing TO Etty; save for this. everything
was very quiet. The stiffness was terrible
nj. Il h. La .s..1 tsta MI HnR
sound TO break the hush, till she felt no
II she were going mad. As she lay there,
the pale evening light fell upon her, upon
tho dusky head and the white. bare arms
and neck and shoulders. She burned and
cheeks were milk white. the next they
we're crimson, Her head was throbbing
80 much that she could not think clearly;
she could only suffer. Strange fnncics
came into her brain, and she knew quito
yet they tormentcd her.
II am never to know peace again." she
walled to herself In a kind OF despair.
"This Is how I shall bc tormcnted all my
life, because ! wns false to ETY."
Old days were back with her, days
when she had tumblcd In tho hay fields
with Esther and Lyon Durrnnt, her broth.
er. Lyon had been dead years, and she
knew II; yet that did not hinder her SEQ
Ing him exactly as she used to see him.
She was sitting In the spacious old parlor
at the farm, nnd Etty's mother was plling
her plate with homemade cakes. She
was lying In the big whitc-curtained bed
In the room above tho pantry, and her
cheek was close against Esther's cheek.
and she could feel hcr gentle breathing "a
she slept. Her eyes smnrtcd with tears,
she felt as II she were choking. And all
the time she knew that these were but
memories; that that dead past was over
and done with. II had nothing to do with
the changed, miserable present; II never
could have anything to do with the fu'
turc. The most trivial things came to hel
remembrance, nnd held her fast, 80 that
she could not think Of the ono thing OF
which she 10 wanted to think.
She got up aud bathcd her face In cold
water. That seemed to clear her brain
and refresh hcr. Then she flung shaw
round her, aud sat down on the side OF the
bed to think. She remained there u Ions
time, q creature tossed nnd torn between
two master ycarnings. Her whole sO,,
clcaved to Percy Stanhopc with love
Us strong as death. 1t frightened hcr
this wild, intense passion; she had nevel
dreamed she could ever feel anything like
It. There was more pain than pleasure II
II. moro dread than either.
ut would kill me to give him up,
think" she sud to herself, looking ou
ut the gathering night, with fever-bright
smarting eyes. "Yct how could I endur,
10 make her suffer. as I suffered when
first came hcref"
She could not forget Esther; she coult
not get the thought Of her anguish out o.
her mind. Between the two loves he
heart wandered to and fro, and could no
find rest. As she sat there she heard
clock in the lower part OF the house strik
Ing ten o'clock. The sound sent a thrill
through her. All Mt oncc-without he
having had any former thought OF doini
such thing-it struck her that she shoul,
just have time, IL she hurried, to catch tn,
twelve o'clock express.
II will 60 to my uncle" she said, hal
aloud. slipping down of the bed an'
searching about among the things Oh he
table for light. "Iie will tell mo wha
l ought to do; and, when I am gone, per
haps Percy will go back to hcr."
She could not keep back Il sob as sh
said Il. 1t was like tearing the heart Ou
Of her body to go, yet she felt In som
strange way constrained to do II. Quick
ly, with painting breath, ana hot, nervou
hands, she packed up her things, throw
Ing them into the boxes anyhow. 4 fey
that she thought she should want TO TAX
with her ut once she stuffed into smal
bag that she could carry In her hand.
As she was gathering her ornament
together, she came across q set Of pearl
that her uncle had given her on he
birthday. Esther had admired thes
pearls, she remembered; ana she put ther
on one side till she had finished her task
and dressed herself In dark stuff dres,
her ulster, and u little black velvet ha,
with q veil tied close about her.
Then she wrote line--just one line
with pencil on one Of her visiting card
and laid II with tho pearls In their case
"For Esther on her wedding day, frol
Dulcic."
That done, she sat down to try to sti
the beating Of her heart. which seemed {
have risen up into her throat. aud to
choking her with its pitiful palpitations.
Some one came and tapped gently o
the panel OF her room door. She kne,
quite well that It was Esther, but sh
neither stirred nor spoke. After a Will
Esther passed on to her own room, an
all was quiet again. A few minutes afte
that, Dulcie passed down stairs unsee
and unheard. and out by the back gut
into the road.
1t was still, damp, starless night. A
she walked along. between the hig
hedges, with the blank gray of the sk