The record-union., 1898-03-06

sea fog was creeping up. sad and gray,
obscuring the tall fir trees, and shroud-
ing the laurestinus. bushes that shelter
ed the garden of his hotel. He would
wait for the post, he thought. and ther
stroll up to Lord OvertOns villa. Cicely
| would be sitting at home to-day, play
| ing piquet with her father, while the
nina bird croaked out his stock re-
marks frcm his large cage in the con-
Servatory and the collie doZed on the
rug, hunting in dreams. In few
months time She (Cicely) would be his
wife. living in his own home, with her
| many pets and her books about her.
and her pretty peach face flushing with
| pleasure as her husband came in.
Dering stretched his arms over his
! head and smiled He had forgotten
Simia and its roses now. This morn
| ing iie had felt melancholy, and had
attributed the feeling of fiatness to the
| heavy, damp atmosphere; but the
thought of being with his betrothed
| so soon cheered him again. The waiter
brought in the second pOSt-a large pie
+! of letters-and Dering half smiled as
| he thought how cheerfully in these days
he could contemplate the long envelopes
I, that held bills from his tailor and gun
! maker. There was a line from his sis
ter and one from his greatest friend,
| former brother officer and prospective
best man, and underneath the heap was
thick letter with a French postage
| stamp. Jafdine's face changed as he
took it up. In spite OF this packet hav-
| ing crossed the sea there still hung
about it a familiar perfume. And he
almost smiled-so made up of contra
dictions are we-when he observed the
peculiar shape of the envelope.
She always did get the oldest writ
ing paper" he found himself saying
/ aloud.
| 1t was nearly an hour before Major
Jardine made up his mind to start FOR
! Lord Overton's house. The fog was
thicker than ever and scarcely any sea
was visible. He had the cliff walk
nearly to himself. Below, few adven-
turous people, mounted on long tailed
thin horses, were drearily canterins
along on the sands and trying to fancy
that they enjoyed it. A shabby wo-
man, who held a basket of damp mi
mosa on one arm and blew out a sad
tune On little pipe as she walked.
passed him by. But he scarcely noticed
anything. The bushes dripped on his
hand as he opened the garden gate. A
group Of starlings We're bathing hilar-
| iously in a large puddle and the
| thrusles We're having a feast of worms
| on the lawn. Through the window
came the sound of Cicely's clear treble:
| l love thee. adore thee, revere thee,
O my dream, my desire. my despair,
| She Cid not put nearly enough emo
tion into the words, thought Dering. as
| he rang the door bell. But then he
remembered that she was only child,
after all. After a few minutes talk
Major Jardine told his betrothed and
her father, somewhat abruptly, that he
| found il was absolutely necessary for
him to go to London at once on busi-
ness The sooner this sort of thing
was over the better, therefore he
thought that it would be wiser to start
! tomorrow. Lord Overton remarked
| that he was sorry, as he wanted Der.
ing to meet an old friend at luncheon
who knew more ''patiences" than any
one else in the United Kingdom. And
| Cicely was sorry too. All the more SO
| as she was worried about Vic the fox
| terrier, and she thought that Derfn9
would have helped her to discuss mat
| ters with he1Seterinary surgeon who
was coming over. But in the end it
| was decided that business must be first
attended to, and Dering Jardine started
| for London on the following morning
! by IN early train.
III.
| He had had luncheon and looked into
, the Turf Club. before he hailed a ham
| som, and told the man to drive to one
of the less important streets beyond
the Marble Arch. His destination was
a small and grimy house, bearing the
| legend Apartments on a dirty card
| in one of the lower windows. He walk
| ed up stairs, his face very pale. and
his hand nervously pulling at his mus
tache, and was shown into a typical
lodging-house drawing-room, contain
ing the portraits in Gil of the owners
of the house, a bewhiskered gentleman
and lady with a brooch as large as
bun clasping a crochet collar Every
chair owned it's own blue or yellow
woOlen antimacassar, and glass drops
ratified and shook in all directions as
the visitor entered. A woman dressed
in black was resting on the sofa one
arm behind her head. and with a pair
of shabby shoes sticking out from un-
der a rug. By her side was a table,
on which stood a shade of wax flowers
nickel teapot and half eaten leath-
cry muffin. She started to her feet and
came smiling toward Dering. For the
sake of long ago memories-from Odd
habit-he' put his arm around her and
kissed her.
You think me changed! No. you
needn't contradict me. AS if 1 don't
know every expression in your face.
dear-dearest, | know I'm horribly
thin; but then I've been so ill, and the
journey was so beastly. Besides.
there've been all kinds of other wor-
ries But never mind.
Come here and let me look at you,
That is better.''
She drew hinl-he was quiet, calm ani
passive-toward her by both hands. and
let her eyes. passionate, dark eyes, with
extraordinarily long lashes. rest upon
him. She still possessed that one
beauty, at all events. But the rest.
Dering felt that he could
hardly bear to look at her. Figure,
coloring, the laughing expression Of her
mouth--could so much loveliness ever
have belonged to this tired, haggard
woman. with gray streaks in her hair
and dark burrows under her great eyes,
II was all so pitiful that the man felt
more tenderly toward her than he
could nave dreamed possible. She tried
to rattle on from one subject to an
other, as if she almost dreaded to hear
him spe ak or to meet his anxious gaze
I'm not dressed like a widow as |
ought to be-a widow Of only three
months date. But | shan't see any
body. And, after all, Dering, those