Holbrook argus., 1901-11-16

Ills DEAR LITTLE GIRL


''You heard that" said Dawnay in | hoarse acents. But it is not true! It can't be true that you have been play ing with me all these weeksw
 The woman looked at Aim for a mo- ment. Some good angel, rare enough visitor to her, urged her to tell the truth for once. She did so with a curi- ous feeling of pity. The boy was in such earnest
 ''It is quite true" Dawnay staggered to his feet. "Then heaven help the man who loves you," he said, and turned and left her.
 Terence Dawnay sat In his quarters with his head buried in his arms. The | cool dawn crept in through the win | dows on the motionless figure For hours after his return from the ball he had not moved.
 Presently he raised his head and looked about him with haggard eyes. He got up stiff1y and drew a long breath.
 His infatuation was dead. He had called it love in his youthful ignorance, but the bewildering light of truth had dispelled that idea forever. What fool he had been! He stood for mo- ment looking out on the still, gray morning, and with a sudden flood of remorse remembered the letter to which there had been no answer-the | letter which in moment of his blind infatuation he had written to his dear little girl. He loved her-loved her. | Dear heaven, had he thrown away the substance only to find himself striving to grasp a shadow? | Why had she never written to him :? Had she given him up without a word without even a struggle?
 The thought paralyzed him.
 Truly he was to be sorely punished | for his madness.
 | Then, with an exclamation, he seized a letter which was stuck up on the mantelshelf, possibly put there by his servant on the previous evening.
 It was a letter from his dear little girl, after all! For a minute or two he hardly dared open it. Then he tore it open and read Its short contents with eager eyes.
 q should have written to you before now, my dearest-for you are always that-only have been very ill and am only now up on the sofa and can only write you these few lines to say that I love you, dear. I love you so much that 1 must do what seems to me the only thing for me to do, and that is to give you your freedom. I don't blame you. dear. l shall never think badly of you. Always believe that I love you better than anything on earth. I sign myself for the last time, Your Dear Little Girl"
 Twice he read the little heartbroken letter. A knock at his door awoke him from his miserable thoughts with a start.
 Flight o'clock, sir" said his servant s voice.
 Come in, Stevensv' he shouted as a sudden idea flashed upon him. "Put l some things up in my bag. I may be away a day or two. And just get my serge out, will you?"
 Obtaining three days leave, he was able to catch the night mail from Kingstown to Holyhead, and the next afternoon saw his arrival at the little house where his dear little girl had struggled back to all the pain of life. which at present seemed shorn of all its gladness.
 He walked straight in. There was no one to be seen, and, opening the door gently, he stole into the room where his dear little girl was lying looking out at the distant blue sea with such sad, tired eyes.
 She looked around as she heard the door shut, and a cry burst from her lips-a cry which brought Terence to her side, and the next minute he was down on his knees. holding her to his heart and kissing the cheeks which had grown so thin and white.
 My sweetp' he cried. "Only tell me that you forgive me! Oh, darling, I have been nearly mad since I wrote that letter to youl Can you ever forget it and take me back? You shall know all, dearest. Only tell me that you love me first"
 "That Is such a very stale story, she whispered faintly, with smile which told him that the gates of Eden had opened to him once again.-Wom- ans Life.