The times. [volume] (Washington [D.C.]) 1897-1901, 1900-08-26

itent and in his right mind? oh, then she
would never have the heart to keep the
door locked against himi He might come.
II he were sorry he would come tonight.
He had treated her abominaby; but II he
were really sorry
Half-dead with WEAKNESS and weeping.
she crouched in the armchair waiting
About l o'clock her heart beat at sounds
upon the stairs; but the steps ceased on
the third etage. Once or twice tiny sounds
made her heart beat faster. Once or twice
she opened the door to listen. The last time
she did this at about 2:30. she shut II sud-
denly and told herself that she was TOOL,
ard that Edmund was comfortably Sleep
ing in the Mill. He would take his time
and come home tomorrow by daylight.
Well. he should not find her. She put
out the light and threw herself exhausted
on the bed AS she did so some hard
object struck her side, and she gave lit
tie moan. Putting out her hand, she made
out the shape of a brown-paper parcel con-
tanning objects stubbornly refused to dis.
guise themselves under wrappings. Ed
mund's old boots, Dear old boots, in
which he had tramped so many happy
miles with herl She Rugged them to her
breast with a fresh burst of tears. Where
was their owner now? Was he sleeping
comfortably at the Mill? She refused to
believe it. He was never callous-had
scarcely ever uttered cruel word to her
till that day. Yet why. after all these
hours. had he not come back? Worn out,
she fell into troubled doze, to dream
hideous dream that she was staring down
the shaft of one OF the unused quarries at
a dim forehead. If be had gone out and
missed his way in the dark and fallen into
one of those quarries. she would be to
blame! Why had she not had the senss
to make more allowance for him. instead
OF thinking merely of her own stupid feel
ings, She rose from the bed and lit the
light. impelled by an anxiety almost
amounting to terror to do something.
There was the hat she had thrown on
chair: she would go out and try to find
him. She took her keys out OF the door.
shut il after her, and went down the long
stairs, weary, excited and overweight,
with no clear notion of what she was GO
ing to do. cold wind blew through the
iron grating which formed the upper panels
OF tho front door OF the hotel She went
halfway toward it, and then realized thai
she could not open it herself. but must
wake the concierge. who controlled it with
a wire at his bedside. But Of what use
would 1t be to go out into the empty
streets in the first dawn? She could not
walk the whole distance to the Mill. and II
Edmund were on his way to her she might
miss him. She sat down upon the bottom
stairs in the apathy of hopeless WEAKNESS.
Suddenly the electric bell rang in the con-
cierge's room. Her heart gave a sudden
bound If that were Edmund, A sudden
excitement gave strength to her limbs, and
in a moment she was once more at the
door.
A figure doomed there in the grey dawn,
and seemed to sink exhausted on the pave
ment. Was it merely a tipsy student. or
was It? She called softly Edmund,
Edmund"
4 hand futteTed up to the grating. We
ronica. l can't get in
She had now no longer the slightest hest
taticn as to whether she should wake the
concierge. She knocked loudly at his door;
then. as the handle yielded to her pres
sure. ran into his room and called wildly
to tie SHORES which came from behind the
screen. lie Gordon, sill vous plait-le
cordon!"
Then at last the snoring ceased and there
was a pull upon the wire. She ran back
into the hall. At the same instant the
front door opened with click, and a man
haggard and barefooted stumbled into the
passage.
She sprang toward this spectre with the
bleeding feet. and led him tenderly to the
stairs. on which he sank exhausted.
Veronica. forgive me,'
Oh, the poor hoyI the poor boy! She
took him In her arms and rocked him
softly. Then. realizing that he had nearly
tainted she reused him with a Kiss. en-
joining him to have faith, to take courage,
to wait for one little moment, and flew
upstairs for a small flask OF cognac, kept
for emergencies. Once more at his side.
she put the bottle to his lips and watched
him revive. He put his head upon her
shoulder.
.Oh. Veronica, why did you run away
from me-"
"oh. Edmund, you darling silly: why
didn't you say your boots were too tight
for you?"
Il didn't know it till tried to run aft
er you. l was only mad and miserable.
Don't cry. darlington Heavens sake don't
cry"
I'm not crying-at least If I am it's
only because I'm so glad to see you. Do
you think you could walk upstairs now?''
The light Of the candle in their room
showed him how swollen and red her eyes
were.
My poor love. how / must have hurt
you,-what a brute l nas,"
Il thought it was all oyer-that you
didn't want me any more!"
"Oh. Veronica. how could you,'
But you said such dreadful things, and
you called me-
Il never called you"
You did; but never mind. 1t was all
your boots that did it. It was not really
you. Edmund. were you waiting long on
that doorstep"
Nearly half an hour. Nothing I could
do would wake him. What q miracle that
you should come! How was it?''
Il felt / must do mething-go some
where. Sit still now: | will battle my
eyes and you shall battle your feet, and
then well sleep"
something as soft as her own hands, and
then. as the grey light grew brighter in
the room, they fell fast asleep in each
others arms. They slept till it was broad
day and brilliant sunshine. Edmund was
the first to wake. and bending over his
wife he kissed the faint red upon her eye
lids At this ST. opened her dear blue
eyes. and. seeing his kind and tender face
so near her own. sighed and smiled to-
gether, and putting up a hand, pushed the
hair from his forehead.
Edmund. was yesterday yesterday-or
was it bad dream?"
Yesterday was the sort OF nightmare
which is caused by tight boots. But ex-
cept for a few blisters l am none the
worse for It: no. l am a good deal the
better. for l never knew till now how
much loved you''
He loved he so much that he walked !
miles and miles on his bleeding feet, Ed
mund what did you do with the boots?"
Il left hem under the old bridge at |
Chaton. Suppose we so back and find |
them and drown them in the river?'
But. Edmund. think of the school and !
the model. and all the lovely things in |
Paris that you wanted"
Don't he unknd. Veronica There's |
only enc thing want-and that's little !
honeymoon with you at the old L.
Gertrude Dix. in the Pail Mall Magazine.