The Press., 1900-08-23

the one thing for which had worked
and studied and fitted myself for 20
years. She wrote to me, Jess; yes,
grand letters; and, lame minded dog
that l am. didn't know how to an
swer her in the way she wanted. l
couldn't even grasp what she was driv-
ing at. and | used to think at times
that she was aiming at a smashup.
Well, then fell i'll and couldn't write
at all. But she wrote and kept on writ
ing for months, but didn't get the let
tiers. l don't know what they were
thinking of down there to hold them
back. Here they are, Jess, in my
blouse, and the last one Is awfully BIT
ter; yes, awfully bitter, little woman,
and guess the Jig Is up. Cad, don't
blame her. Six months without a
word, and then she wrote and said she
hated me and loathed me and detested
me and that l was a coward and that l
could never see her again."
Again the collie sprang up and bark
ed still more furiously. Then Mrs.
Blossom came in and asked him If he
would not go and look at his room and
see whether or not everything was all
right.
81 think there is something which
annoys the dog" he said, as he got up
to do her bidding. But she had disap-
peared again.
Bentley went to his room and stood
at the door and looked in. 1t seemed
dreary to him. He did not have the
heart to inspect Mrs. Blossoms ar
rangements. He turned again to go
back to the fire. AS he reached the
door of his den he glanced toward the
chair at the other side of the hearth
and then stepped back suddenly and
steadied himself against the door
frame. For moment he felt dizzy.
He ran his fingers across his hot eye
lids to shut out the vision. A slender,
girlish figure leaned back in it's dreamy
depths. Bentley looked again, and the
vision seemed fuller to his tired, sur
prised brain.
Louise" he whispered audibly.
A yellow head turned and smiled al
him in an old, familiar way. He stole
over to his chair and sat down. look.
ing at the quiet, graceful girl.
Louise, Louise" he whispered feel
ingly. The collie sprang at her skirts
and barked Indignantly. A strange
being filed the depths of the sacred
armchair, which Jess had been taught
never to use herself and to protect
with religious vigilance against intrud
ers. Now it was occupied.
Bentley watched her curiously. She
smiled again and dropped her head IN
her hands and watched the fire criti
cally.
Louise, is it you. dearest?"
eyes, it is l." she answered calmly
''The newspapers said that you had
been MORALLY wounded, but the sur
geon cabled other news, and 1 conclud
ed that he knew. l came today to in
quire for you Of your housekeeper. an(
you surprised me here"
"Louise, do you love me?"
"That is not the question we ought tt
consider. ] have proved my love-" sht
said firmly.
"Louise, l love you, and you know
it!' he cried out wildly. won't you
come and occupy that armchair al
| waysW
"Some time," she laughed exultant
ly, with sudden gayety, as she got vi
to run toward the door. She stopped
| in the middle of the room and cam'
back and leaned over to kiss the spo
on his head devoid of it's silken gra,
hairs and then the sunburned cheeks
scanned with lines of long suffering
and then the dear limp arm with it
| glorious wound.
eyes, some time." she laughed hap
/ nilu -EYnhanOo