The Opelousas courier., 1901-01-12
WHOSE SAKE;
BY Nina Montgomery


night that, God will send you health
and happiness again."
There were tears couring down he,
cheeks, grown pale now from intense
feeling.
Don't cry for me, child. You little
goose, don't you know I am not worth
a tear or prayer?"
Promise me?" she entreated.
"Ah, well, If you allow me the priv
ilege OF changing my mind, If nature
presses the soul too close In her
cramped environments"
Her aunt's voice sounded across the
lawn, calling her. Dorothy went, the
tears still glistening in her eyes.
ut is true" said her aunt, "what
Miss Eastman has told me. that you
ought to be stopped from going to Mr..
H~olbroke's, and that it was neither
good for you or quite the thing. I told
her / allowed you to go because of his
illness, but she said the world would
make no allowances for that. I was
blind not to see 1t. You'll be crying
your eyes out for something you can't
have, like a child for the moon. I'll
send you to your Aunt Sarah's right
away, until after they are married, and
you must not go there again. You
know it Is wisest and best"
Eyes, It is wisest and best as far as
l am concerned, aunt, but unless Miss
Eastman marries him right soon, he
will miss me. He needs cheering al
ways, and I can generally do that. And
you need not have told me: I know
he is as far out Of my reach as the
moon from the child's: that I am just
a Eaakeshift to kill time: yet I would
rather be just that for him than q
queen for any one else," And the girl
sobhed in distress. and continued to
sob itfully all night. Her grief, like
waves upon a stony shore, surged ever
upon the unalterable fiat of their part
ing.
The next day her trunk was already
packed for her departure, when she
went out and looked at the window
across the way.
She gathered a large bouquet Of
roses, and gained, unnoticed, the little
dividing gate between the two lawns,
where she hesitated between contend
ing emotions, the shy shrinking of tim
i'd girlhood, and the hearts Unsuitable
craving for a last glimpse Of its be-
loved. Finally the latter proved strong
est, and in a moment more she stood
before Alwyn Holbroke, the roses in
her hands.
Il hope I do not disturb you, Mr..
Holbroke. I could not go without say
ing goodby."
She had never gone into his presence
before this, save at his request.
"You disturb me very much, Dorothy.
Why are you telling me Goodbye"
Because I an going away" =.
"Why?'
aunt is sending me-"
"Why?"
"Because'-nervously pulling a
quantity of rose petals on the floor
.she says I am not looking we'll"
"That is not it; Dorothy. She was
never so careful of you before"
"It is all I an tell you, Mr.. Hol-
broke"
81 did not withhold confidence from
you, Dorothy"
"No-but." with evident relief, there
is aunt calling me-. and she told me
never
She stopped, blushing in confusion.
Never to come here again." he fin
ished for her. 81 saw Miss Eastman
go there yesterday. and I guessed the
sequel. You see she loves me SO much,
Dorothy, she cannot bear that should
have q little entertainment apart from
her"
She was too absorbed IN her own
misery to notice the intense o Of
his voice.
s'Then she will come to you, and you
will not need my poor entertainment
She laid the roses ON the stand at
his side. took his hand a moment in
her own, kissed it, dropped two tears
upon 1t, and was gone. The touch of
the soft, warm lips thrilled him. A
sweet, subtle influence seemed to arise
with the odor Of the roses. and fill his
being. He forgot pain and unhappi-
ness, everything but Dorothy. When
he rang and sent for her she had gone.
He had an interview with her aunt.
who proved as irresponsive and un-
communicative as a stone wall.
ssWho is he fretting for?" Mrs. Gran
then asked herself for the hundreth
time, and for the hundredth time could
not ind a satisfactory answer.
For months she had believed it to
be for Miss Eastman, yet now, when
that young lady had done all In her
power to show her entire willingness
to make him happy. he was growing
more fretful every day.
"Mr. Hoibroke," said the motherly
woman, "you are fretting yourself to
death. Will you excuse me II ] ask
you IL there ID any one you would like
to see that can send for?p
eyes, Mrs. Granthen; l want Dorothy
to come home
81 don't know that I can get her, sir,
for Mrs. Morton has made up her
mind"
Then ask her to come to see me"
She came unwilling, and returning,
took with her a note to Dorothy, not In
the bold, firm hand of old. but one
cramped and nervous.
Dear Dorothy:-Will you come
home? MY soul feels as il 1t must get
out Of its cramped confines. and
stretch itself into anything rather than