Holbrook argus., 1901-11-16
@ HAT was what Terence Dawnay |

 CT. He was in Ireland now with his regiment, but he wrote very regularly to his dear little girl, and, though there was no question of any formal engage ment between them, he had assured her that their understanding was as sacred a bond to him as any public betrothal, and of course she believed him, for she was young and she loved him.
 She was thinking of him as she walked down the path to meet the post man. This was her letter day, and Irish letters always come by the midday mail to the Devonshire village where she lived within sight and sound of the moaning sea.
 It was late in June, and the summer wind tossed her pretty hair against the cheeks, which were soft and flushed like a beach, The postman was coming up the hill. A smile crossed his weather-beaten face as he caught sight of the waiting figure.
 1.-TWO letters, missy, this morning." he said, as he sorted them from his bundle. '"That's all, miss."
 Two letters!
 She went out on the cliff side with them. One was, of course, from Ter ence. How well she knew his dear untidy writing! She smiled as she put 1t in her pocket. That must be kept home as a bonne bouche.
 The other one was in quite strange handwriting, as she tore it open, look ing at its contents with bewilderment. A blank sheet of paper inclosing a small newspaper cutting met her eyes. What could it mean? The color faded from her cheeks.
 "We understand that an interesting engagement will be announced before the end of summer, and we may safely offer our good wishes to the beauty of the year, Miss Sergeant, at the same time congratulating the gallant fiance on his luck. MT. Dawnay is well known in Dublin, where his regiment is at present quartered."
 The little bit of paper fell to the ground. Of course it was not true. It could not be true. Some one was try ing to make mischief between them. That was all. Why, he was hers-he had been hers from the very first day that they had met. The newspaper did not know what it was talking about. She eyed the envelope with disgust Who had done this thing? And who was Miss Sergeant? Terence never mentioned her.
 She pulled his letter out of her pocket and opened it, reading it with a sudden chill which quenched the happiness in her pretty eyes.
 My Dear Little Girl-I have hardly a moment for letter, so am afraid this will be very short, but there is so much to be done here just now, what with polo and goodness knows what else be- sides, that I have enough to do to get everything done in the day. Pm going down to stay near Cork next week, with some people called Sergeant jolly house and no end of gaieties, of : course. I wish I could have managed to run over to you, dear, but it Is quite impossible. You see, there are maneu- vers coming on, and I must be within easy reach of headquarters. I don't know that there is anything of interest to tell you. I have been thinking lately that it's bit rough on you to be kept hanging on for such an interminable time-not that I've altered; you know that-but, you see, things are not look ing very bright for us, are they? It's awfully late. I must stop. Goodnight, dear little girl. Ever yours,
 TERENCE.
 The sun was hidden by thick cloud, the sea moaned on the rocks below, and light wind ruffied the waves. It look ed like a change in the weather. But the girl did not notice the signs of change. Her eyes were fixed unseeing on the letter in her hand. She stopped and picked up the little paper, which she had allowed to flutter to the ground unheeded. No need to read it again It was imprinted on her memory for all time. She wondered what there was for her to do. Must it be renunciation That was a question to be answered at once, and before she turned her steps homeward she had made her resolve. "Our dance, Miss Sergeant" The girl looked up.
 ''Is it? No; l don't want to dance. Do you mind if we sit it out?"
 Do I mindP repeated Dawnay with look in his blue eyes which only amused the beautiful Miss Sergeant } She had seen that look so often that ii made little or no impression on her ' Had she not danced and firted through . some dozen seasons and received more than her share of attention? Of course , Terence was a nice, dear boy, but as to . anything else-she laughed at the mere : idea. She was striving for a higher destiny than that, in spite of all the so- , ciety papers and their rumors.
 Dawnay looked at her as she lay [ back in low chair waving great ! feather fan to and fro. He believed in her thoroughly. He believed that here , was the lady of his dreams. Have you any more dances to spare , mel" he pleaded. 'I know I was late i but that was not my fault" 7 Not one left" she said indifferently She talked to him in her low, sweet