The Camden chronicle. (Camden, Tenn.) 1890-current, 1901-08-30

O higher destiny than that. in spite Of
an the society papers and their RUNE
ors.
Dawnay looked at her rs she lay
back IN q low chair waving n great
feather fan 10 and fro. lie believed
In her thoroughly. lie believed that
here was the lady of his dreams.
''Have you any more dances to spare
me" he pleaded. I know / was
late, but TINT was not my fault"
"Not one left" she said Indifferent
~.
She talked to him IN her low sweet
voice, and he was quite content to sit
In the cool shadow and listen to her.
"And when do you so on leave?" she
said. lazlly.
THAT" he said steadily. entirely
depends on circumstance"
Meaning the little girl you left In
Devonshre?" she said with mocklng
smile "Oh l know all about her!
Lord Carruthers-you know him?-told
me he knew her people"
81 don't know what you mean," he
said hotly. "There is but one woman
In the world for me, and She
He broke off. A couple were pass
ing their retreat talking IN light,
laughing tones.
"Rhoda Sergeant? Oh, she VIII end
by marrying Carruthers, OF course.
She is only playing her usual little
game with that nice boy, Dawnay.
She might spare such a youngster.
That sort Of woman has no mercy"
The voices trailed away into silence.
"You heard thaty said Dawnay in
hoarse accents; 'but 1t is not true? It
can't be true that you have been play
ing with me all these weeksm
The woman looked at him for a mo-
ment Some good angel, a rare enough
visitor to her, urged her to tell the
truth for once. She did so with curl
GUS feeling Of pity. The boy was in
such earnest,
ut is quite true"
''Dawnay staggered to his feet.
For a few terrible minutes he looked
at her In silence-a silence which
frightened her.
'Then Heaven help the man who
loves your 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 stifly and drew a long
| breath.
His lnfatuation was dead. He had
called it love in his youthful ignor-
ance, but the bewildering light of
truth had dispelled that idea forever.
What a fool he had been! He stood
for a moment looking out on the still,
gray morning, and, with a sudden
flood of remorse, remembered the let
ter to which there had been no an
swer the letter which in a 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 shad-
| Ow?
"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.
His eyes fell on a revolver hanging
against the wall But he turned away
with grim smile he was not the sort
to run away from trouble when he
found himself face to face with it. He
was no coward, at least.
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.
1t was letter from his dear little
girl after all! For a minute or two
he hardly dared to open 1t; then he
tore It open. and read its short con-
tents with eager eyes
Il should have written to you before
now my dearest-for you are always
that-only I have been very i'll, and am
only now up on the sofa, and can only
write these few lines to say that love
! you-dear; l love you so much that
l must do what seems to be the only
thing left for me to do, and that is to
give you your freedom. l don't blame
you, dear-I shall never think badly of
YOU Always believe that l love you
better than anything on earth. sign
myself for the last time. Your Dear