The Camden chronicle. (Camden, Tenn.) 1890-current, 1901-08-16


little airy gestures Of white, perfect
hands.
And David Farnham, eating his
fruit and cracking his walnuts, list
ened and looked, his slow, sweet smile
deepening around his firm lips.
And she was his-his, David Farm
ham's--his wifel this exquisite girl,
with the snowdrlfts of her stainless
life behind, and the wild rose garden
of her beautiful life before. He put
his hand to his throat at the thought.
For an instant something hot under
! his eyelds blurred the flowers. the
damask, the glitterlng silver Of the
table, even the radiant, glowing, gra-
cious young vision beyond.
"Come," she cried, Il shall play for
you" ~
And play she did, while he smoked
and listened, wild, merry, capricious
music that gradually merged into lit
| tie sObbing minor strain, Slower it
grew and fainter. Suddenly it ended
in a false chord Then there was
silence.
David Farnham rose-crossed the
room. lie laid his hand on his wife's
shoulder. She looked up at him.
Evelyn he said Evelyn
The pang Of bitter prescience cut him
to the heart. He was too old, too
grave, too sad for her. It had been all
a terrible mistake. And she-she was
finding it Quit For in that long, pene-
trative look he saw that she was weak,
and white, and spent. All the light
and bloom of her beauty had been
blown out as though by an extinguish-
ing breath. A passion Of sorrow slum-
bered in her eyes, and on her lashes
the tears stood large and bright.
David" She stood up. She put
her arms around his neck and hid her
face against his breast. Il wonder
how-how well you love me, DavidP'
How wellr he repeated, hoarsely.
"GOd-Evelyn! How wellw
The answer seemed to satisfy her,
for although she did not offer to kiss
him, the clasp around his neck tight
ened. Then she turned away and
went out Of the room, and up the
stairs, the rustic of her silken gown
coming back to him with a murmuring
sound that grew momentarily more in
distinct.
He heard the door Of her room close.
Ten hours later, opening his paper
alone at the breakfast table, he started
to his feet, aghast, dismayed.
"Andrewsw he cried. Andrews"
There it was confronting him in bold
black and white
y DEATH OF COLONEL FOREST
ANDREWS"
unexpected Demise of Well-known
Citizen at Noon Yesterday"
So-his friend was dead! But-what
was that? At noon-yesterday! At
noon? Why, he had been at the mat
inee. He had come out with Evelyn.
She had seen and spoken with him. She
she had said so-that it was he who
was with her. Oh, there must be an
error-somewhere! ~
He pushed away his plate; he could
not eat He drank his coffee and
went into the library. Evelyn paused
on the threshold at sight of his bent
head, his agitated countenance. He
turned at sound of her exclamation
She was just from her sleep-her bath
The profuse folds of her white gown
were gathered by blue ribbons at hel
} throat. The bright hair was braided
in girlish fashion and hung loose. She
had never looked to him so youthful
: so innocent. Cunningham's couplet o.
i his sweetheart came to him:
'Beauteous she looks like tall garden
t lily,
Fresh from the night, and perfect TO
the dayl"
: David" she cried. "What is it?"
! In silence he held out the paper t
o her. Eat noon, yesterday" he said.
Il She read the paragraph. She wen
) white as her gown. He thought sh
II was going to faint; but she laid tn
II paper down, turned to the open door
# closed 1t, came back and stood befOr
: him.
eff you viii not look at me-" sh
h said in a low voice, 'perhaps-pel
n haps 1 can tell you"
le The grim silence was for a space VI
broken. Then she spoke:
Il did not meet Colonel Andrews yel
N terday. l did not see him yesterday
or but 1 was glad you should think
. was he whom was with. 1 went t
he matinee to meet-anothsr man. II
10 tI,o boiuht oud ,ronouoI ammonia :, r