The Republican journal., 1901-05-09
which seemed to me, under the circum-

|
and would be SO glad if dear auntie
would excuse her.
Il am awfully tired, Auntie,' she
said 81 hope everybody won't think l
am very rude. :. No, Leonard,
you really mustn't come with me. 1t is
only run across the orchard, and can
slip through the side gate in the kitchen
garden and be in the house in five min
utes."
Melinda crossed the room to me, and
held out her hand. Her face was al
most as white as her dress, and when l
took her hand l found that it was burn
ing.
! "Good night" she said, and l noticed
that for once she had forgotten the
irresistible smile; 81 suppose you Won't
be going yet?"
! She spoke in low voice, and l stared.
| Surely she didn't mean
q am going by the gate in the
I, orchard" she went on recklessly, with
her ewes on the ground; and | was
speechless. -,
You ought to know it." she said
rather sadly.
| could hardly believe my ears. 1t
could not be possible that she meant to
ask me to meet her there. Even Me-
| linda could not behave so badly so very
soon. And then | remembered
the letters. OF course she only wanted
to make another attempt to regain that
| tell-tale packet.
| | let her hand fall had forgotten
| for the moment that | was holding it,
1t was from force of habit, l suppose
"Yes," l said, 81 ought to know it-I
did once. But | have forgotten it now.
| porb % 7 I'd lyrn II hottpr
You might ask him.
Again those violet eyes filled with
tears.
'How can you be so unkindH' she
whispered. Good night Then you
won't be going for long time yet, l
suppose %
Probably not" l said calmly; and
with a last glance of wisful appeal Me-
| linda went into the hall, to be carefully
| cloaked by the devoted Leonard. |
| heard his bOisterous voice for at least
five minutes begging to be allowed to
| take her home; but as usual Melinda
triumphed, for he came back presently
with glum look on his jolly face
Melinda seems pretty well knocked
up" he remarked gloomily.
''She hasn't looked at all we'll the last
week or two," said the rector I'm
afraid the poor child has rather tough
time of it at home.'
My heart pricked me- Perhaps l had
been too harsh. Melinda had behaved
very badly to me-she was an incon-
stant and mercenary little flirt-but, all
the same, | loved her better than any
one else in the world and would have
done anything to prevent her from be-
ing really unhappy.
G(ona anH bava ra1nn of colo - cold
the rector.
We played hand or two, but my
thoughts were not on the game. Was
it possible that Melinda was still wait
ing at the gate? | felt that at all costs
| must 60 and see.
I'm afraid you must excuse me" l
said. Il have a letter which must go
by the ten O'Clock post. | viii come in
again for an hour, if you will allow me,
when | have posted it.
SO | left them, and they settled down
happily to three-handed nap-Leonard
liked nap better than solO-and slipped
through the orchard to the other end,
which | knew so we'll. There was a
little old worm eaten gate in the lane,
leading into the garden of Melinda S
home, and this is where | half hoped,
half feared to find her.
When found that she was not there.
| was ashamed to own that | felt little
pang of disappointment. | had spent
many pleasant half-hourS with Melinda
at that gate. felt almost sentimental,
and tender parting scene in the proper
stage manner would have been, in my
present frame of mind, rather pleasant
than otherwise. | turned with a sigh to
go home.
1T was too good to last" | told my
self dolefully. Melinda is the most
charming person in the world. but |
ought to have known that pretty little
mouth meant weakness and lncon-
stancy. Iwish had never gone
away. =. . l was a fool to trust to
her promises. What mercenary
little thing. No doubt she had an aw-
might as well be generous and burn
those letters. 1t is all l can do
for her now. | will have a
tragic bonfire of all my hopes and hap
piness in the sitting room CRATE when
get in, and say goodby to love for once
and ALL"
! was staying in the end cottage of
the long red row which made up the
village, and my sitting-room was q
pleasant little place, with lattice Win
dow. l pulled up the blind and drew
my basket chair to the fading light.
81 might as well do the thing proper
ly," said gloomily, land make myself
throughly miserable while l am about
it. l will read them all through before
| burn them d.. there must be quite a
hundred. | can't go back to back to the
rectory tonight. They will forget all
about me if they are playing cards"
knew the rector and | knew Leonard.
flung my hat viciously into corner,
and went to my desk to get the letters
1t was nlocked-nobody ever locks
things in Petrover-and lifted the lid
and put my hand into the corner in
which I had placed them. 1t was quite
empty-the packet had gone!
l could hardly believe my eyes. l
must have put them somewhere else in
my sleep; and hastily began to search
the few drawers and cupboards my
rooms contained. No; they had vanish
ed as completely as if they had never
been. went to the door and called my
landlady to tell her of my loss, although
| had no hope of getting any informa-
ton from her. One had only to look in
her face to see that in that mass of va
cant stupidity there was no room for Gu
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