The Dupuyer acantha. [volume] (Dupuyer, Mont.) 1894-1904, 1899-09-28

submitted himself to the others skill
full hands. In a few minutes Thorne
had dressed the cut and he at once
went upstairs to pack. When he
reached his room, however, he sank
into a chair, with that hopeless look in
his eyes which only ome to a man
when he loses the woman he loves.
His story was a little out of com-
mon. This was the second time he had
been engaged to the girl he should SO
soon have led to the altar. He had
made her acquaintance during a visit
to the country three years previously.
She was the daughter of a country par
soma pretty, shy girl who had spent
every day of her eighteen years in the
~seclusion of a sleepy hamlet. In a day
he learned to love her, but several
months passed before he dared ST TX
OF his love. Even then he had taken
her by surprise. She had yielded to
MS passion, however, and they had
plighted their troth in the rectory gar
den. She was only a child and he was
a man-twelve years her senior, and
rendered grave beyond his years by a
long struggle against adverse circum-
stances.
After that she had gone to London
to visit some friends. They were fash
lonable folk and they had laughed at
her simplicity; they had laughed also
at her big, awkward lover. They
brought her "out." She met many
men-among them his cousin. He had
made love to her-in a fashion that
was the direct opposite of her lovers
undemonstrative way-and she had
been dazzled, as a moth is dazzled by a
bright light.
So she had chosen. He had ac-
cepted his fate without a word. 1t was
natural that she should care for this
younger man.
Then Craven's friends found him an
easy berth in one of the colonies. re
was to proceed there 1T once, and at
the end of a year he was to return
home and marry her. He had suffered
shipwreck, however, and he had been
given up as dead. In due course
Thorne, whose love had not abated a
Jot, had renewed his suit. She mad
told him that her heart was with the
dead, that she could never love again,
but that if he liked to take her know
ing that-Well, once again they had
become engaged, and once again fate
had interviewed.
With a heart full of bitterness he
waited for the London train. 1t was
late, and he strobe the narrow plat
form impatiently. He was eager to get
away. He meant to go away forever.
He would leave the country. He would
travel. In a fresh land, among fresh
people, perhaps he might forget.
Would it never come? He looked at
his watch for the twentieth time. He
seemed to be the only passenger. Yet,
stay-as a trail Of smoke denoted the
trains approach some one hurried on
the platform in breathless haste. 1t
was a girl, a pretty girl, but evidently
suffering from great agitation. She
gave a hurried glance up and down the
platform, and as she caught sight of
his motionless figure, she went straight
to him.
"Ah, thank heaven I am in time
she gasped.
At the sound of her voice he fell
back and his bag dropped.
Loo! you?" he cried. How did
you?-What do your"
What do I want?' she said. 81
want you"
He stared at her in round-eyed
amazement.
"But-but you do no know" he
cried.
Il know everything.
"You-you have seen him?"
eyes"
There was a pause. A porter hurried
up.
Coin, sir?"
NO." she answered, quickly. and
taking his arm she drew him aside.
ooh, John, it was all a mistake!''
she said. II was a silly girl-but It is
different now. You had my heart all
the time-but I did not know it. But
I know it now and-and4 / have come
to tell you, only I can't tell you very
we'll here. See, the train has gone.
Come back with me-"
ArI ha oonon