The Scranton chronicle. (Scranton, Miss.) 1897-19??, 1901-03-16
I ever shotF Because you are such /.

| IL was very poor pun, Dut you
laughed and dimpled, glancing up at
him through your long, dark lashes,
for you knew only too well you had
added another heart to your already
outrageously long number of devoted
slaves, and you even smiled when you
heard Miss Primly say, quite audibly
(as you passed out of the room) !:
Outrageous firtl Mr.. North. how
can you admire her?"
You will meet Jim tonight. and he
will mutter: Delighted to see you,
Mrs. Gouvenier," and will cross to the
opposite side of the room, where he
will look at you longingly and bite
his mustache savagely, thinking how
selfisf your husband is TO forbid you
to dance, because he is too old to find
any pleasure in it himself.
They will all be there, the old
friends. Ut seems much longer than
two months since you went abroad
have you missed them?
Did | say "all?" No, not all, for ]
remember a pale face, with such ear.
nest gray eyes.
He found more important things in
life than pleasures and dances. There
were so many poor to help, so many i'll,
so much suffering and unhappiness. He
took life too seriously" Jim had said.
do not see why your mouth should
droop so at the corners. Don't do il,
Phyllis. 1t spoils Cupid's bow. Is
there still pain in your heart when
you think of that poor boy? Well,
don't do it, then; forget him; there are
so many you should be sorry for, and
it is rather late to begin now.
There is a step on the stairs; bow
quickly your face changes as you rec
ognize your husbands step. All the
life has died out of it and it has grown
cold and expressionless. You rise to
meet him as he comes toward you.
My dear Phyllis, do be CAREFUL
1t would never do for him TO see your
face as it is now, such look of long
ing has come into it as the thought, ''it
might have been so different if" goes
beating through your brain. But with
a master stroke of self-restraint, you
force a smile and lower the eyes that
are filling with tears so fast you dare
not trust them, and say with half
laugh and voice that is perhaps a
trifie unsteady: Don't / look lovely I
Is it time TO go, dear?"
Just then you are interrupted by the
sharp noise of door being shut vio'
lently. Everything grows dim and con-
fused. Your husband seems to grow
DINNER and DINNER until he fades
away into the darkness; you rub your
eyes and look with astonisment at me
| also have changed, from stately
pier glass to little oval mirror hang
ing over your desk. You look into me
with eyes that can hardly believe the
vision of yourself that reflect, for in
stead of your Paris wedding gown you
have. on a dainty matinee jacket ant
your hair falls in pretty confusion over
your shoulders. You stretch out your
hand to letter that lies before you or
your desk and with a glance of won
der you read in your own penmanshiI
these words:
Washington, d. c., Jan. IS, 19OO.-
Dear Maj. Gouvenier: I have seri-
ously considered the question you
asked me last evening, and l feel much
honored that you should wish me tc
become your wife. If can add to your
happiness by giving you the answer
you so much desired
What is the matter?
Why should you crush the letter In
your hand and then tear it up and
throw it into the waste paper basket
The confused look has left your face
you are beginning to realize that after
writing that letter this morning you
leaned back in that comfortable chair
and thought of the great happiness
that was in the future for you.
You imagined yourself as a wealthy
woman, thinking of the many delight.
ful things the majors" money could
do for you.
Gradually you grew drowsy, you
leaned your head against the back OF
your chair, your eyes cosed-the
dream that followed did not picture the
future at all as you had imagined it
would be; you realized too late Gt
seemed too late in your dream) that
,
piness, and that it was not so easy as
you had hoped it would be to forget a
certain pair of gray eyes. | confess
that all through that dream l did all
could to make you see the mistake you
would make if you did so in reality.
What are you doing. Phyllis?
Surely, you are not so childish as tc
write to that poor, discouraged mis-
sionary on the western prairies? And
you really intend to give him the an.
swer he has loDged for for the past
three months?
Well, you are a queer girl to let a
mere dream influence you so. What
win society sag?
The beautiful, proud Miss Phyllis
Varian to be married to a missionary
to give up the gay life she has found So
pleasant, to live in wretched little log
hut in the place of a churchi
But you seem determined. and Z
smile hoyers over your beautiful rec
lips as you seal your letter, and can
not help but wonder If you were ever
really as happy as you are now.
And You viii go to the charity bal
tonight, but not as Mrs. Stoctor
Gourenier," and you will tell Jim about
the letter you wrote this morning art
the love light will shine in those large
dark eyes as you add: Eyes, Jim.
| -. I,