The aegis & intelligencer. [volume] (Bel Air, Md.) 1864-1923, 1900-09-07

down to think. Again the process was
entirely fruitless, and she was beside him
before he realized the situation.
They greeted each other with q formal
ity that struck FentOn as incOngruous.
He did not quite relish his position,
yet the circumstances were agreeable
enough.
81 expected to find you here" Mrs. Cor
wen said.
why"
at was always a favorite spot Of
yours"
80 you remember that?'
"Why should forget?"
He looked at her closely. In that
searching light he found no flaw in her
beauty. Mrs. Corwen was alluring. as
Kitty Densmore had been.
81 thought" he said, you might have
forgotten what had happened at that
time"
81 forget nothing" she answered, "and
least Of all the time when l was hap
pest"
"And you are not happy nowT he
asked. The question slipped from him
before he saw to where 1t might lead; but,
having asked it, he waited for reply
with an equanimity that surprised him.
self.
81 am not happy" she said, after a
pause.
81 suppose" he said, "that you have
found settling down in life little prosaic.
For myself I accepted the prose long
ago."
How long agoT'
ITO be quite candid" he said. "it was
not long ago, after all-say two months"
"And l." she said, Eat the same time
began to find the world narrower than Il
thought it was"
81 think" said Fenton, picking up a!
glove which she had let fall. that we
have both been very foolish He drew
the glove slowly through the fingers of
his left hand as he watched her, and
then, realizing where they stood, he
moved away he was not, as / have
said, sentimentalist, but of a sudden he
felt insignificant and ashamed. He saw
the woman who followed him for what
she was-very weak. very petulant, very
beautiful, so tender as to appeal with
infinite persuasion to his strength. but so
light of will as to be of less danger to
him than to herself. When he turned to
her again, his voice was lower, but it had
taken a more certain and decisive tone.
He did not wonder that he had ever loved
her. but he knew that such love as re-
manned was never to be spoken.
eve have been very foolish" he said,
''because we have not accepted the posi-
~tion which we ourselves made. Even up
to this morning my foolishness was alive;
now it is over and dead" She moved
away from him a little, with the simple
instinct of a child. Then, as men will on
such occasions. he fell into the terms OF
platitude: Life is full of disappointment;
one more or less between the beginning
and the end can make small difference.
II my advice is Of any service, take it
for what it is worth. Go back to your
hotel, and, after breakfast, make my
friend Corwen take you to Dinard. He
will, you know, il you only ask him.
shall perhaps see you In town before
Christmas"
She paused in her walk and looked ae
him. half pouting and little afraid.
"Are you going away, thenF' she ask
ed.
"Yes," he said. st shall go tomorrow
morning by the first diligence. We shall
probably not meet again here. Your road
lies in that direction; mine in this. Good
by"
They shook hands in the casual way Of
chance acquaintance and parted. When
Fenton reached the Hotel du Centre, he
shut himself in his room and spent day
of peculiar and irritating inactivity. He
did not suffer from any acute disquiet,
but his life had temporarily ceased to In
tcrest him. He saw that be had been
very near a precipice. but the feeling OF
safety did not fill up the gap which his
disillusion left. He told himself again.
as he had done four days before, that he
was a fool. Perhaps the sincerity Of this
belief helped to hold him to his resolve.
The following morning, as his luggage
was being carried out, he stood at the
corner Of the square from which the hill
crowned with the crucifx was visible. It
was deserted and bare. half shrouded in
a thin veil of mist. The driver, in the
hard, metallic voice of his kind, cried,
"a voiture!" and Fenton took his
place without another look behind.-Ex-
change.