The Abbeville press and banner. [volume] (Abbeville, S.C.) 1869-1924, 1900-04-11

ment Of parting with him TILL now Lady
Constance Moray has not recelVeu line OF
message from her lover. Not even lhe signi
OF bis handwriting on a Newspaper wrapper
has reached her. This is so unlike our
Clarance. Nollie, darling, what can 1t mean2
y oes il foreshadow the fearful calamity ]
have never dared to think OF. That calam,
ity which now ! cannot Keep out o.
my thoughts. Is Clarence no longer liV'
ing2 Has the Indian woman's curse pur'
sued him to the death, also? But, mol J
nm ashamed to let such superstitious fan
cies into my mindl For If there 4.
truth in it, Clarence was the on'
to pe safe, for he loved the
descendant of the Mendoza; but, perhaps
moi a descendant Of the Indian womani
oh. what utter nonsense! / would be q:
superstitious as anyone If I allowed ny
mind to dwell on these follies. No, no,
will nor. ! dare not believe that any harm
has come to my Clarence. Perhaps he die
not really love Lady Constance; there may
not have heeE uny engagement petWeef
them, but something there was, know, fol
when Lord Harold came to make persona
Inquiries after Lord Appleby, ever
whether he or his sister had, in all thes.
wears. heard constant tidings OF Clarence
iud 1t was then, to my dismay and terror
that learned all have now told you ol
that dear boys inexplicable and fearful
silence. Oh, my Nollie, / can never beal
it! And though yours Is such large
country, the world itself sometimes seems
very small, and perhaps you, whom ioVt
even more, if that could be, than Clarence
may be the means Of finding him for me!
Learn his face by heart, dear one, ano
then, If you should meet him, you Will rec.
ognize him for me. He may have cast
aside his name; that name he had no cause
to love; but you will study his face, my
darling, and you will recognize him for my
sake Whenever'You may meet him.?
1--WE are counting days, now, Tor our
poor invallds; little while ago 1t was
months, then weeks Alasi who knows
how soon it may be hours instead OF days.
Lord Harold Moray has left Us already.
The old earl insulted him openly to his
face, asking him If he had come for dead
mems shoes before the feet they belonged
to were cold; and even my sister, Lady APP
pleby, seemed to think 1t was bad taste on
the part Of Lord Harold to come to Win
dermere House. But they all misundar-
stood him. IS BE, does.not wish at all to In.
herit the earldom or the estates. 1t was
TO INQUIRE about Clarence that he came.
His sister morirns our dear boy as dead,
and It as plain to, me that Lord Harold
shares her belief. But he, declares that IL
Lord Appleby dies, he will go In person to
America and never return till he finds
Clarence or proofs of his death. The Earl
oftWindermere sneers at this, but believe
insLord Harold. He loves Clarence and he
flpYes his sister Constance. and by my own
heart know him to be true. l am writing
you a very long letter, dear Nollikens:
h,,o 1nnn r 1OnOar. if rVtlt
bo oil too short for me II it should be twice
the length of mine. If the worst should
come suddenly, I will let you know at
once; for who knows? 1t may be yours 10
give the news ito Clarence that, in face e
ell impossibilities, he is the future Earl Oh
Wlndermere. Ever your devoted q,
Olive Gaye's eyes were glitterins
with excitement when she finished
this letter, and she could have hugged
her correspondent to her heart for the
news she had sent. She even for
gave the rambling style Of Miss Fair
fax, which would have made it diff
cult for anyone less interested to fol-
low the thread of her story. A smile
of triumph lit up her sparkling face;
then, seating herself at her desk, she
slowly read over her letter again,
pausing from time to time to jot down
special points, or else to follow out
some line of thought suggested by
phrases here and there.
y 'The old earl still in love wit h me:
Ah, yes, Toddlekinsl It is easier for
sn old man to fall in love with a
young girl than it is to fall out again.
His last letter showed no such de-
spAirs about Lord Appleby, no such
anxiety for the return of Clarence.
Perhaps he even dreams of another
heir, one uncontaminated with the
Mendoza faint, free from the curse OF
that ghostly, ,avenging Indian princess.
But for me, I never did admire the
old Sir Pitt Crawleys, of London 80
ciety, especially while there was a
choice among their youthful heirs.
But this Clarence Stanley? Ah,
Toddlekins, he isn't bit like your
Clarence, and I prefer him as he is,
much as he resembles Madame Celes-
tines Carlos!"
Olive paused suddenly in her re-
aections and in the broken phrases
she had been writing on the paper be-
fore her, aud she shivered slightly, as
if with cold.
eff he is not Clarence, "she thought,
"then Celestine was right; and if my
ClareIce is her Carlos, who was the
dead man they brought home to her,
and whose hand drove Carlos Men
doza's dagger through his hearth"
Z A livid pallor overspread Olives
keen bright face. She enjoyed drama.
tic effect; she had taste for high
class melodrama, and the dark TRACE
dies Of the world in a strong sensa-
tional novel had a certain charm; but
in life-in everyday life, mingled with
her own e1istenee-ah! It had sud
denly come home to her, and she drew
back appalled,. Then catching up the
paper she had been scrlbbling on, she
tore it into shreds, lighted it at the
ges, and watched it burn to ashes on
the hearth before her.
TO BE CONTINUED.
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