The Lamar register., 1900-06-20

Vail htip IT, hc cNs-
barbara, am most nnlucky fell
low. Dear, 1t would be better for you
II you never saw me again"
She looks half frightened, but her
hand creeps closer into his palm.
There isn't any fresh trouble, is
there7" she asks, noting all at once the
haggard look in his face.
Then he tells her suddenly and
abruptly. almost roughly. making the
worst of II almost in his self-reproach
and misery, sparing himself nothing.
pouring 1t all out in a whirlwind OF de-
spair.
Now you know the sort of man you
have promised to marry" he says.
with sudden fierceness. "A gambler.
and a gambler who cannot meet his
engagements, No Bouverie ever dis
graeed himself like that before. You
had better say good-by to me, Bar
bara. Your aunt was right am not
fit match for you!"
Barbara's cheeks are pale enough
now.
George leans the bicycle against
tree, and leads her across the grass to
a wood. where the green moss grows
In feathery tufts like sofa pillows, and
where here and there the celandine is
lifting It's sparkling. spring-like face,
the birds filllng the air with song. All
the world appears full OF hope and
promise; hope seems everywhere but
in the heart OF George Bouyerie.
Barbara's eyes are slowly fillins
with tears. but what is that in wom-
- ka~ hap
tender TO the erriug and more lenient
to the failures. so ready TO forgiven
She and George have seated them
selves on fallen tree. and she Is the
comforter. His hand is held to her
bosom. her face. full OF love and pity,
is upturned. with the tears quiveFins
on her lRshes.
Il feel as IL l could shoot myself!
George erGes passionately. Sweet
heart. have only brought sorrow on
you"
Barbara looks at him brayely.
George. when I promised to marry
YOU # was 10 be for better. for worse.
1t Is the same as IL we were married
now. I am glad you have told me
your trouble IL Is very dreadful; |
hardly understand what II means: but,
my dearest. will help you to bear
It"
How sweet are her words, how earn
est the pure and lovely face,
George only grOans.
Barbara does not know OF the mire
of difileulties that 50 nearly submerge
him.
He turns his hagEard gaze on her,
Nothing can help me. unless | get a
hundred pounds: and what feel most
is what this viii mean to my poor
mother"
He might have thought OF this be-
/ fore. but Barbara does not say so; on
ly leans her cheek against his shoul-
der. and looks away at the golden sea
7 OF danodils that fiutter so gaily In the
March sunshine.
II would rather release you" George
SAYS hnskIly. Il shall have to go
abroad or somewhere"
II will 90 with you" Barbara says,
I in sweet, unsteady voice, You
cannot give me up, George. for won't
I be given up unless you do not care for
me any longer"
''I must love you till | diet" cries
poor George, love and remorse making
him well-nigh desperate.
But even Barbara cannot raise his
spirits. Nothing can lift the gloom
I from his face. A trouble like this takes
the life out OF n man. The girl puts
her arm about his neck and draws
his grave. unhappy face down TO hers.
George, after this you will never
bet on those horrid horses again?
Once this trouble passes away-and IT.
will pass. dear-you will be brave. !
think, George Oh, | don't know
how to say II, But do you remember
the preacher in the square? He said
God will help people to resist tempta-
ton even in the little things OF every
day life"
THAT is rubbish" George returns,
answering her caress. My old mother
talks that sort of nonsense. don't
believe she buys new bonnet with
out asking for guidance as to the
color of the ribbon" He laughs
mirthless laugh. 1T stands to reason.
darling. l don't look on a mess like
mine as what mother calls chasten-
ing of the Lord. have brought it all
on myself. worse luck! and l don't
expect a miracle to get me out OF the