Courier Democrat. (Langdon, N.D.) 1891-1920, 1900-09-06
CHAPTER VIII,

What is wrong. Pussie?" asked
Harry Reynolds. entering the library,
whose sole occupant was the girl whom
he had thus addressed.
She was sitting, half-lost, in the
depths Of great armchair, wholly
aroused her.
She glanced up, her face flushing
scarlet. as though fearful he might
read her thoughts.
His eyes met hers frankly and fear
lessly. In vain she sought to find any
trace of the burden which must so re-
Gently have oppressed him; in vain
she tried to read in his face a single
line of the pitiful story to which she
had listened the previous evening, and
which had since rung in her ears with
pitiless insistence, banishing sleep and
rest alike from heart and brain.
The money was nothing All that
she had she would gladly have laid at
his feet, could he but have stopped to
reclaim it without dishonor Not an
hour since had she put the required
sum into Helen's hands.
She had herself drawn it from the
bank. not allowing her check, as usual,
to pass through her guardians hands.
She wondered how Helen would ac-
count to her husband for the possess
sion of such sum; but she was too
crushed to put her wonderment into
words.
Poor Helen! How she must suffer-"
thought the girl; and her heart hard
ened toward the smiling cause Of all
this heavy trouble.
"What is wrong, Pussie?" he re-
peated, as now, having reached her
chair, he bent over her and gently
stroked the hair back from her low,
white brow.
1t was an old habit Of his, this ten
der, mute caress; but to-day she
shrank from his touch as if it hurt her.
He withdrew his hand, and a much
surprised look swept over his face.
She felt the hot tears we'll up to her
eyes. The mad impulse seized her to
rise, and, compelling his glance fully
and frankly to meet hers, ask him to
tell her of his temptation-beg him to
paint it to her in colors so strong, so
vivid, that it would make atonement
for his fault, and once more she could
feel her faith and her respect restored.
But her promise to his wife kept her
silent.
"Have offended you Grace?"
Low and very sweet was the earnest
voice in which he put the question
ono. mol" she said at last, answer
ing him. "The world is out Of gear to-
day. One of my illusions has been dis
PEELED. 1t reminds me that I am grow
ing DID,"
He laughed. A careless. almost boy
ish laugh it was, in it's freedom from
all trace Of care.
"You are growing old, Grace? The
world, indeed. must be out Of gear If
age can dim our sunbeams, for you are
the sunbeam Of the old house. dear. I
think you scarcely can fail to recog-
nize 1t. How we shall hate the man
who steals you from us!''
"Don't!" she cried. springing to her
feet and walking hastily toward the
window, where she stood looking out,
as she continued speaking. IT shall new
err marry. If that is what you mean.
There is no man, not one, whom
woulG trust"
His face was very grave now. and all
Tie brightness ildu Neo from IL, as, 1Ol-
lowing her, he laid his hand upon her
shoulder.
Grace, something very serious has
occurred to make you talk like this.
Perhaps you will say have not the
right to say that there are men worthy
of trust; and yet think we have both
forgotten that there ever was an cpl
sode in our lives which might lead you
to distrust me. At least, dear. you
never have doubted my love for you,
though 1t was the pure, unselhsh love
would have given sister, had Heav-
en- vouchsafed me such blessing.
have never known my loss of one since
you came to US. Sometimes, Grace. I
think my feeling for you 10 the truese
and purest Of my life. Don't give me