The Indianapolis journal. [volume] (Indianapolis [Ind.]) 1867-1904, 1900-09-30

still floating through the rooms. the
dancers were few. and the couples who had
energy left for waltz or polka were reye,-
ling in the delightful parquet, over which
they could now glide swiftly and lightly
without c~olliding with their neighbors.
This is decidedly the time to dance" said
a tall, slight man, with dark eyes and
hair turning a little gray about the tenn
pies. Don't you agree. Alma?"
Yes. 1t is perfectly delightful" replied
his partner. a pretty fair girl in a simple
frock of soft white chiffon. but we must
stop now. ] am sure mother is worn out
"One more turn" he pleaded. Just
one!"
Very WELL" laughing. "but you are
really Unsuitable tonight"
II plead guilty. With you for my part
ner. I could go on for ever"
IT am afraid 1 could not. even with you.
So stop now. I'm GREATNESS"
I'm sorry for that" coming to a stand
still. 1T feel as though" drawing her
arm within his own. 'the night were only
beginning"
1T has passed very quickly" with a soft
sigh. "All too quickly
My darling he whispered, as they
found themselves in a quiet gallery beyond
the ballroom, "you do love me?"
Yes" She trembled, and drawing her
self away from his encircling arm. leant
against the wall. "You know L do. But
hushi Here comes my mother
He bowed and turned to greet an elderly
lady in rich velvet and lace. and wearing
a necklace Of magnificent diamonds, who
came hurrying towards them.
AT last" she cried pettishly. Really,
Alma. you might be a little more thought
full. 1 am weary to death. 1t is absurd
TO stay to such an hour. Mr.. Cunning"
with a cold and naughty glance, will you
oblige me by asking for my carriage?'
with pleasure" he answeted. surprised
at her manner. And offering his arm he
led her downstairs to the cloak-room.
81 am more annoyed than I can say,
Alma" said Mrs. Malcolm. as she and her
daughter drove home together through the
silent streets. 1T Is wrong to make your
self remarkable in the way you do with
that man. You can never marry him, so I
beg you will dance less with him. Keep
him at a distance"
Alma crimsoned over throat and brow.
81 mean to marry him." she said firmly.
"He Is poor, but"
IF it were only a question of fortune.
hunting"
Mother. pray-I love Charles. Don't"
Love him. Mrs. Malcolm twitched her
skirts, and bit her lip. 'I trust not. He
is not worthy Of you. He makes love. but
cannot marry. Confess now. Has he asked
you to DE his wife,"
mo. But
Listen, Alma. I must warn you-teIl
you what / have heard. There are strange
rumors going about this man. He comes
from no one knows exactly where. and
some say-it is an awful thing to think of.
seeing how he behaves-but they say he
has a wife already"
Alma uttered a cry of horror. and the
color forsook her cheeks.
"Ohi mother! How can you repeat such
a calumny? Charles was married. but his
wife died years ago."
ASK him where-how-when. I don't like
the man. n don't trust him."
Mother, you wrong him."
For your sake 1 hope so. But till I am
convinced that his wife is dead. till he
proves it beyond a doubt I forbid you to
dance with him or speak to him when you
meet"
But I must tell him why-explain. He
comes to see me tomorrow to" A sob
ehoked her utterance.
Then ask him straightforwardly. Tell
him-or> shall II"
mo, no. I'll see him and then send for
you
Very well. And remember. dear. ] do
this for your good. Better suffer a little
now than-more hereafter. This matter
must be settled once and for ALL"
"Yes. mother. Charles will do that to-
morrow" And holding her head very
high Alma stepped out of the carriage. and
bidding her mother good night" went up
stairs 10 her room.
But next morning Charles Cunning did
not appear as he had promised, and Alma
spent a miserable day. In the evening
came a telegram saying that he had been
Unexpectedly called out of town on bust
ness which would probably detain him for
some time. A week passed and nothing
more was heard. He neither came nor
wrote.
He must be back for the Montrevor's
ball." Alma told herself. II am sure he
would not miss that" And she tried to
look careless and Indifferent, though her
heart was breaking.
To the Montrevor ball Alma went with an
aunt and two young cousins, her mother
being somewhat indisposed. This, the girl
felt, was the best thing that could have
happened. She would be freer to talk the
matter out with Charles Cunning. If Mrs.
Malcolm were absent. and might count up
on staying longer at the dance, as Hetty
and Kate invariably danced on to the last.
and their mother never babe them go till
they were quite willing TO do so.
But alas, poor Alma's disappointment
was bitter. Her lover was not at the ball,
and she had great difficulty in restraining
her tears, when after hours of watching
and waiting she told herself he would not
come; that something extraordinary must
have happened to keep him away from this
dance. at which he knew he would surely
meet her.
I'll ask auntie to take me home,' she
cried. wringing her hands. "I cannot talk
and dance whilst I am so miserably I'M
happy. And yet-he might come late"
Afraid TO go. lest she should miss him.
and feeling il impossible 10 exert herself in
any way. Alma took refuge in a little al
cove. screened from the ballroom by a
heavy curtain. Here she sat for some time