Custer weekly chronicle. [volume] (Custer City, S.D.) 1890-1931, 1900-10-20
CLARENCE
BY BRET HARTE.

IN INV ARk
patio, and the silent house, from
which he could now see that the SER
wants had been withdrawn to insure
the secrecy of the gathering. Cool and
collected as he knew he was, he stood
st for n moment in hesitation. Then
the sound of voices came to his ear
rom the garden room, the light friv-
olity of Susy's laugh, and Hooker's
huskier accents. He had forgotten
they were there-he had even forgot
ten their existence.
Trusting still to his calmness, he
called to Hooker in his usual voice.
mat gentleman appeared with a face
which his attempts to make uncon-
cerned and impressive had, however,
only deepened his funereal gravity.
II have something to attend to-"
said Clarence, with a faint smile, "and
u ask you and Susy to excuse
me Tor a little while. She knows the
house perfectly, and will call the ser
wants from the annex to provide you
both with refreshments. | will join
you a little later" Satisfied from
Hooker's n that they knew
nothing of his later interview with
Plnckney he turned away and ascend
GU 10 MS w room.
He then threw himself into an arm.
chair by the dim light of a single can
die as If to reflect. but he was CON
sclous, even then, of his w calmness
and want of excitement, and hat no
reflection was necessary. What he
had done and what he intended to do
was quite clear; there was no alterna-
tive suggested, or to be even sought
after. He had hat sense of relief
which comes with the climax of all
great struggles-qven of defeat. He
had never known before how hope
less and continuous had been that
struggle until now it was over. He
had no fear for tomorrow: he would
meet ii as he had today. with the same
singular consciousness Of being equal
TO the occasion. There was even no
necessity of preparation for it: his
viii leaving his fortune to his wife,
which seemed a slight thing now in
this greater separation-was already
in his safe in San Francisco; his PTS
OILS were in the next room. He was
even slightly disturbed by his own in
sensibility and passed into his wife's
bedroom, partly in the hope of dis
turbing his serenity by some IN
TO of their past. There was no disor-
der of fiight-everything was i'm it's
place, except the drawer of her desk,
which was still open as If she had TAX
en- something from 1t as an after
thought. There were letters and pa
pcrs there-some of his own and some
in Captain Pinckney's handwriting. 1t
did not occur to him to look at them
even to justify himself-or excuse
her. lie knew that his hatred of Cap
tain pinckney was not so much that
he believed him her lover, as his Sud
den conviction that they were alike!
He was the male of her species-a be-
ing antagonistic to himself whom he
could fight and crush and revenge
himself upon. But most of all he
loathed his past, not on account of
her, but of his own weakness that
had made him her dupe, and a misun-
derstood man to his friends. He had
been derelict of duty In his selfish de-
votion to her; he had sti1ed his ann
bition, and moderated his own pos
sibilities-no wonder that others had
accepted him at his wi valuation.
Clarence Brant was a modest man,
but the egotism of modesty is more
fatal than that of pretension, for it
has the haunting consciousness of SUI
prTior virtue.
lie re-entered his W room and
again threw himself in his chair. His
calm was being succeeded by a physi-
Gu. WEAKNESS; he remembered he had
not slept the night before and he
ought to take some rest to be fresh
in the early morning. Yet he must
also show himself before his self-in-
vited guests, Susy and her husband,
or their suspicious would be aroused.
lie would try to sleep for a little
while in the chair, before he went
downstairs again. He closed his eyes
eddy enough on a dim, dreamy recol-
lection of Snsy, of the old days in
the little Madrono hollow where she
had once given him a rendezvous. He
forgot the maturer and critical un-
casiness with which he had then re-
CriyeG her coquettish and willful adj
vances which he now knew was the
effect of the growing dominance of
Mrs. Peyton over him-and remem,
bered only her bright, youthful eyes,
and the kisses he had pressed upon
her soft, fragrant cheeks. The faint
ness he had felt when awaiting in the
old roe garden, a few hours ago,
seemtd 10 steal on him one more, and
to lapse into d delicious drowsiness.
lie even seemed again to inhale the
rerfume of the roses.
"Clarence!"
He started. He had been sleeping
but the voice sounded strangely real.
A little girlish laugh followed. He
sprang to his feet. 1t was Susy,
standing beside him-and Susy even
as she looked in the old days!
For with a fash of her old audaci-
ty, aided by her perfect knowledge of
the house, and the bunch of house
hold keys she had found, which dan
gled from her girdle, as in the old
fashion, she had disinterred one of
her old frocks from a closet, slipped
it on, and loosening her brown hair
had let il fall in ripping waves down
her back. 1t was Susy in her old girl
ishness, with the instinct of the
grown actress in the arrangement Of
her short skirt over her pretty ankles,
and the half conscious pose she had
taken.
Poor, dear old Clarence" she said
with dancing eyes, 81 might have won
dozen pairs of gloves from you
while you Slept there. But you're
tired, dear old boy-and you've had a
hard time of it. No matter-you've
shown yourself a man at last!-and
I'm proud of YOU"
Half ashamed of the pleasure he
felt. even in his embarrassment, Clar-
ence stammered: But this change
this drcss!"
Susy clapped her hands like a child.
81 knew it would surprise you! It's
an old frock ] wor the year / went
away with aunty. / knew where it
was hidden, and fished it out again
these keys, Clarence-it seemed
so like old times. Lord! when / was
the old servants again-and you
come down. inst fnl4