Custer weekly chronicle. [volume] (Custer City, S.D.) 1890-1931, 1898-04-23

Pauline Darrell was not herself that morn
ing. Miss Hastings had told her SO several
times. She bad asked her again and again IL
she was ill-if she was tired-and she had
answered drearily, NO" Partly to cheer
her the governess had suggested that they
| should take their books under the shade Of
| the cedar tree. She had assented YEARLY,
without one CLEAN of animation.
Out there In the sunlight Miss Hastings
| noticed how cold and white Pauline's face
was. with its hard, set look-there was q
shadow in the dark eyes, and, unlike herself,
she started at every sound. Miss Hastings
watched her keenly. She evinced no dis
pleasure at being so watched; but when the
elder lady went up TO her and said, gently:
Pauline, you are surely either i'll or un-
happy
II am neither-I am only thinking" she
returned, 1mpatiently.
Then your thoughts must be very I'M
pleasant ones-tell them to me. Nothing
sends away unpleasant ideas so soon as COM
municating them to others"
But Miss Darrell had evidently not heard
the words; she had relapsed into deep medi-
kation, and Miss Hastings thought it better
10 leave her alone. Suddenly Pauline look
I'd up.
Miss Hastings" she said, II suppose a
solemn promise, solemnly given, can never
be broken?'
1T never should be broken" replied the
yoverness. Instances have been known
where people have preferred death to break
ing such a promise"
Eyes, such deaths have been known. L
should imagine" commented Pauline, with
a CLEAN Of light on her face, that no Oar.
rell ever broke his or her word when it had
been solemnly given"
~ should imagine not" said Miss Hast
ings.
But she had no clew to her pupils musings
or to the reason of her question.
SO the noon-day shadows crept on. Pur-
ple-winged butterflies coquetted with the
lowers, resting on the golden breasts OF the
white lilies, and on the crimson leaves of the
rose; busy bees murmured over the rich Glove
carnations; the birds sang sweet, jubilant
songs, and q gentle breeze stirred family the
leaves on the trees. For once Pauline Oar
rell seemed blind to the warm sweet summer
beauty 1t lay unheeued before her.
Miss Hastings saw Sir Oswald coming to-
ward them; a murmu Of surprise came from
her lips.
Pauline" she said, look at Sir Oswald
how i'll he seems. 1 am afraid something is
wrong"
He drew near to mem, evidently deeply
agitated.
81 am glad to find you here, Miss Hast
ings," he said; II am in trouble. Nay, Pau,
line, do not go; my trouble should be yours
For the girl had risen with an air of proud
WEAKNESS, intending to leave them together
At his words the kindest he had spoken tC
her for some time-she took her seat again.
but tho naughty, listless manner did no
change.
IL am nearly sixty years of age said Sil
Oswald, "and this is the first time such
trouble has come to me. Miss Hastings, dc
you remember that conversation Of ours las
night, over that roll of notes in the ebony
boXY"
Il remember it perfectly, Sir Oswald"
IL went this morning to take them from
the box, to take their numbers and SEM
them to the bank, and | could not find then
they were gone"
"Gone" repeated Miss Hastings. 1T Il
impossible! You must be mistaken; YOU
must have overlooked them. What did theN
amount tor
Continued Next Week.)