The McCook tribune. (McCook, Neb.) 1886-1936, 1900-08-03
OOe A kF1kY/ A Fascinating
sSS % Romance
W. AI~ Alan Adair,.

were to be married OF the even
teenth. Both Joyce and Alan we're
willing to forego the details of the
London season. They had taken q
charming house in the country, where
they intended to spend the summer in
honeymooning. If they liked the
neighborhood, and 1t suited them
they thought of buying it, as a little
country house where they could live
when tired of London. But for this
season it was to be their home as
soon as they had returned from
abroad. They were on their way to
Liberty's to buy hangings for their
new abode when a block occurred in
the traffic. Joyce and Alan were
laughing at some foolish joke, and
to move on. A slight woman with a
child in her arms attracted his atten-
ton.
The child was about three, and
Alan could see that his head was o W
cred with rich brown curls. He could
not see the woman, but the pose of
her head seemed familiar TO him. In
an instant the color forsook his face,
and everything seemed to turn black
before his eyes. When he had re-
gained control over himself the wom-
an was gone. Joyce turned quickly
and saw the pallor on his face.
Alan" she cried, in alarm, my
darling, what is it? Are you not
well?"
"A passing faintness," he said. He
could not tell her that this strange
woman carrying a child, and whom Of
course he had never seen before, re-
minded him of Veronica. and it gave
him a shock.
Are you often like this?" she
asked, anXiously. "Ch, Alan. there is
only a fortnight more, and then l
shall be able to come and take cara Of
you always! l am sure you do too
much" she added, tenderly.
He gripped her hand hard. 1t would
be exquisite to have her with him al
ways; but he was truthful above all
things. Il have never been faint be-
FORE" he said.
Then it is the prospect of spending
life with me that alarms you," she
said, gaily. Alan had regained his
usual color and his usual manner.
The cab stopped at the door of the
shop, and he sprang out to help her
down. They were both very much in
earnest over their purchase. Joyce
had exquisite taste, and Alan was
deeply interested in getting all that
she wanted; but he was conscious all
the time of a feeling Of strain. Do
what he would he could not get the
woman's figure out of his head. It
was an utter absurdity that this
strange woman with her child should
have so upset him, and he hated him
self for the thought that he must al
ways keep something from Joyce.
Although she knew all about it, yet
he felt that he should not have liked
to tell her why he turned faint when
the hanson stopped. He did so yearn
to be entirely one with the girl who
had promised herself to him, and how
could he with the shadow of the past
over him? And all the time that he
criticized Joyce's hangings, and the
colors and tints that would do we'll
with her fair skin and light hair, he
felt an undercurrent of restlessness.
IT'S only because my happiness has
made me nervous. l feel like the old
Greeks, who made libations to their
gods when some great good fortune
happened to them. If 1 could only give
something's thank-offering-for what
1 have got!"
Joyce was too much in sympathy
with him not to know that something
was worrying him. They went to
lunch at some quiet place, and when
she had got her gloves off she put her
hand in his and said: Now, what is
worrying you? 1 must know"
He looked at her. and, to her sur
prise, his eyes were full of tears.
Joyce" he said, 81 cannot quite tell
you, because it is difficult to make you
understand. When our cab stopped in
Oxford street, and 1 turned faint, 1
saw a woman with a child who re-
minded me of poor dead Veronica.
Mind you, 1 did not see her face, but
in her walk was like,
and"
Joyce was as pale as Alan had been.
has made you sad, Alan. You
loved her more than you thought"
mo, no." he said, cit is not that
at all, Joyce, but the sight of that
woman made me realize how
necessary you are to me. Darling, il
Is because love you so. that l cannot
bear to think of losing you. If l had
to wait another two months instead of
weeks I think 1 should go mad,"
He pushed his hair from his brow
and leant his head on his hand. Joyce
that he was overdone and nerv-
ous, and that she must brace him up
little. She recognized, with a gush
Of th~ankfulness to God, that here was
man who loved her as few men love
women, and that the poor dead girl
could V have had his heart. 1t
vas only pity, as he had said. She saw
his in a flash even as she looked at
him.