Wheeling Sunday register. [volume] (Wheeling, W. Va.) 1882-1934, 1899-12-03

| home to her parents.
"Oh."
''She knows everything.
"Oh." ne cried. "Oh, confound it,!
Robert, remember that you"
"And who told her?" he almost
shouted. you? or did the old bag
come and tell you that but oh! wha-
does it matter now? l don't care. !.
don't want to know. I'm lost man.
you're a headstrong boy-a fool of a
boy!" I said bluntly.
81 shall be a man soon. and then
You'll see. All of them shall see II they
can keep her and me apart. Not they.
You'll see-see if you don't, mind you.
You'll-oh Eugene, Eugene! why
didn't you let me know?"
He dashed a few tears from his eyes
and then looked fiercely and defiiantly
at me.
"Was twas it your doing, sir?"
Eyes, it was
"Then l never wish to see your ugly
old mug again. he blurted out
Robert"
''And I shall not go back to your
school-never, sir, never, upon my soul.
will go home directly-by the next
train. I-I-I-oh, please clear out and
leave me to myself" he cried. Il
think I'm going mad. Why couldn't
you let us be? We're old enough. We
understand what we are about. We
were so fo-fond of one another"
MY dear boy, you don't expect me to
sympathize with this outrageous nom
sense?" 1 said indignantly-but l did.
81 don't expect anything from you,
sir
Come back with me, Robert, and let
us reason it out. Let me speak to you
as a father would speak"
II won't move peg for you or hun
bred like you"
1 tried to reason with him, to talk it
over, but he would not listen. He was
a thorough rebel; could exert no au-
thority over him without making
scene, causing a scandal hideous lot
of paragraphs possibly in the Inkle-
borough Gazette. Perhaps it might as
well be for him to go home-it was on
ly 30-mile journey-and would write
to his father before the evening post
went out. Robert would have time to
cool down, to be more rational to
think in day or two that it would be
better to come back and resume his
studies and forget all about it, as nine
tynine boys out of a hundred would
have done.
But he never did forget. He went
home by the next train, and he never
came back to me again. He was a boy
who always kept his word.
q
This is not quite the end of the story.
If it were 1 might probably have left
it unwritten, for the love stories Of the
very young are so much alike, and end
in such feeble splutterings and roars
Of laughter, and shamefat ed looks awry
How did this end? That is what trou-
bles me to this day-ten years after
ward-when l met Robert White again
at a reception in Paris. / have got on
in the world little, he a great deal.
am old and white haired, and they call
me the Professor. He is a famous art
list. The world talks of him, raves Of
him already. | have no idea that it is
the same Robert White who is resi-
dent in Paris, who has been trained in
the French schools, and who-despite
the name-I have Always thought a ia
nous Frenchman. l am an old totter-
ing man and he is young, very hand
some, and as tall as a -guardsman-
But l know him, and I feel inclined to
shrink away from him as from someone
to whom l had done an injury years
ago. He comes straight up to me,
| laughs and holds out his hand.
Mr.. Chatwick-do you not remember
me?"
Eyes, l think do" murmur 'You
are Robert White
| 81 am very glad to see YOU" he says
lightly, because I have an apology 70
| offer you for my ridiculous behavior Of
ten years ago. By Jove. what thun-
dering young ass I was, sir"
Il am glad you see it in that light
| now. l was afraid" 1 came to a
full stop.
Afraid of what?' he asked.
well, well, l really do not know "
is my feeble answer. "You-you were
| so extraordinary boy. You took
| things so much to heart
"Ah, yes, 1 did," he replies thought
fully; "but have grown out of all that
| The world soon brings fellow TO his
| sober senses. You were very wise &c
separate little vansittart and me. You
did your duty thoroughly"
That is Tiny duty; and he owns &c
the wisdom Of my precautions now.
| feel very glad.
| esyxyla+ ,ire, oos,15 7 5a1D