The Worthington advance., 1900-07-06


on her. It seemed strange to be so
near to her and so Indifferent to the
fact. For one thing was clear to me
that if I had ever really loved Lucy
Dormer, I loved her no longer. We
were quite unsuited to one another,
and if I married her it would mere
ly be useless sacrifice of two lives.
II treated you badly she said, alb
ruptly. raised my eyebrows. After
Maisie's confession there seemed no
reason for the admission.
'There were things" said, slowly
that needed explanation"
'some things are beyond explana-
tion."
"Perhaps they are better left so.''
Zone can ask forgiveness" There
was faint note of entreaty in her
voice. I fidgeted impatiently with a
little ornament on the mantel shelf
If asked for forgiveness she would
give more.
IF one desires forgiveness" said,
at length. It sounded brutal, but it
might avoid worse things.
'Oh!" she cried, II do.'
"You!" I said, with astonishment.
"You! What have I to forgive you?"
She toyed with her handkerchief.
II thought Maisie would tell you.
The child was always fond of YOU"
So she knew.
"Maisie has told me- I said, grave
ly. 'Lucy, it is right to be frank. I
have discovered that my little play
fellow, child as she is, has the best
love that can ever give to anyone"
She looked at me in surprise. Then
she laughed scornfully.
II see," she said. "You want an ex-
cuse. You might invent one without
taking my poor little sisters name in
vain"
ut is no excuse" I: said, firmly. We
looked at one another for minute in
silence.
"Then," she said, "1 did not hurt
you. I am glad" She stamped her
foot passionately. mo, no, am not.
I am sorry-sorry, do you hear?" I
shrugged my shoulders.
There is no more to say?'' sug-
gested.
"No more to say" she echoed faint
ly. walked to the door. "Fred!" she
cried, abruptly, II must say it. Listen
to me, if you will not forgive.'''
'Forgivc?" I asked. "What have I
to forgiven" She looked at me in ap-
parent bewilderment.
"Do you not know that I never told
my people of your explanation? That
let ALT the blame rest on you?''
my letter." I cried. my letter?"
"The letter you sent to Maisie?"
"She gave it to you?''
"Of course she gave it to me-" said
Lucy opening her eyes wide. "Why
not?" I ought to have known. My
brave little girl!
"Maisie told me that she never gave
you the letter, Lucy; that all the
blame was hers" walked to the win
dow and looked out for time in 81
lence, broken by Lucy's sobs.
"She told you-that-just to-screen
me-" she said, brokenly.
eyes" could not say more for the
moment. Presently walked back to
the fire. God bless her!" said, soft
ly. "Let us say no more about it, Lucy,
and be friends for her sake.''
Lucy wiped her eyes and looked into
the fire. Then she spoke with her eyes
averted from me.
when we quarreled it was only what
I had, for some time, intended,
"Your reason?" Iasked, mech hanical-
". did not really care.
"Some one else was better match.
II did not like him so WELL" bowed.
1t was immaterial. II knew that my
people would disapprove of my break.
ing our engagement for this reason.
They were fond Of you"
II was fond of them" Their be-
havior had hurt and surprised me. In
the letter I had particularly asked
Lucy to show them my explanation,
whether, she accepted it OF not,
"ConsequentlyOI I was glad = or
thought i was- when + heard some
thing about, you which gave me an ex-
acuse to quarrel."i Is.qaafn' val
1T was false, a. T told YOU il the
"As you.to1d me in Sic letter. i :. 1h..rr.-- merit
fore I did not answer the letter DR. tell
my parents, but let the blame rest on
you" She sshivered. stst2, Fl 90
"Do not oubas.about Il any more"
2 s.-E : & 2 Et Z 3.