The silver messenger. (Challis, Idaho) 1890-1912, 1902-10-14
HER ONLY STORY.
BY 2AGDALEN ROCK.


"Did you not know when l held your hands
in mine, when l sought you out day after
day! Not knowl You are the falsest, the
coldest-hearted girl in the worldi"
"Oh, jack"
you have ruined my life. You made me
love you, you led me on that you might re-
ject my love, that you might laugh at me
and crafty your Unsuitable vanity--you, the
promised wife of man old enough to be
your fatherl
The girl raised her tear-wet face. If Jack
Graham had been looking at her he might
have regretted many of his hard words; but
his eyes were fixed gloomiy on the sea.
"Oh, Jack, thought you knew thought
every one knew about-about Mr.. Har-
greaves! Perhaps am all you say-heart-
less, contemplate, but-but won't you
please say you forgive me, before go?"
Forgive you'll" the young man said.
Forgive you'll"
Rosalind Westray shrank back at the con-
tempt in his voice. She was only 49, and
she knew nothing of the world. Her life
since her emancipation from the schoolroom
had been passed by the side of the invalid
mother who had persuaded the girl to con-
sent to the wealthy Mr.. Hargreaves' pro-
posal. Her mother ami she had passed the
summer at the village of Carmel, and it
was here she had made Jack Graham's ac-
quaintance.
He lifted his hat, and without another
word turned abruptly away. The girl
made an uncertain movement, as if about
to follow; then she turned and went slowly
into the house.
Where have you been, my dear" her
mother asked, querulously.
only for walk" Rosalind answered,
turning away.
you have been long time, and see-you
have not replied to Mr.. Hargreaves' letter"
ut does not matter, mother"
Does not matter indeedl Rosalind.
you are positively heartlessl"
II mean Oh, mother, l don't want to
marry at ALL"
Mrs. Burton, the kind-hearted landlady
of city boarding house, was putting the
finishing touches to her tea table. She had
sent her oldest little girl to ask Miss
Westray" to come and take tea with her.
Poor girl," she said to herself. Moth
ing for dinner either to-day or yesterday
but cup of milk and a bit of dry breadl"
And it gave the kindly landlady great
satisfaction to see her guest partake of
hearty tea.
Amy success today" she asked, sympa-
thetically, as they sat over the tea table in
the coy little sitting-room.
The girl shook her head sadly. She was
greatly changed since the night when Jack
Graham had upbraided her on that Septem-
Der evening at Carmel. Her mother had
died suddenly only two weeks later, and sew
en- years of bitter struggling with fortune
had followed, for she had at once told Mr.
Hargreaves that she could not marry him.
There were many lines around her lips now,
and her eyes were not so bright. She had
tried drawing, and giving music lessons in
turns, but all with no success
did you ever try writing?" the landlady
asked. Short stories for children, say.
You certainly have the knack of telling
them.
81 have never thought of it. Oh, mol am
sure Couldn't"
Nevertheless, when she returned to her
lonely room she was thinking of Mrs Bur
toms words. Perhaps she could write at
least there would be no harm in trying; and
then suddenly there came to her mind the
remembrance of the night when she had
parted from Jack Graham, and of all the
bitter words he had said, and she drew a
note book toward her eagerly. She recol-
lected every word of that conversation.
She would write story of which that scene
should be the central incident!
By noon on the following day Rosalind had
made up her first literary production into
a neat parcel, and had dispatched it to the
editor of the Argus. The only communica-
tion she sent with it was formal note ask.
ing that the manuscript, if rejected, should
be returned to Miss R., in care of Mrs Bur.
ton"
The editor of the Argus was not in very
amiable mood on the morning when it came
into his hands, and the efforts of an anna
teur were not likely to be mercifully treat
ed. The morning mail had brought an al
most overwhelming flood of manuscripts.
why on earth will women insist on try
ing to write verse;" he said, irritably, fold.
ing up the manuscript he had Just glanced
over.
He inclosed the printed note conveying
the usual polite compliments and regrets,
and then turned to look for the writer's
name.
Miss Jane Hargreaves / wonder if that
is a relation of Rosalind Westray's hus-
band?" He sealed the envelope and laid it
aside. Poor Rosalind-she deserved bet
ter fatel" he said, softly. How savage
was with her that night Perhaps had l
been more patient she might have But,
there, Smithson tells me that Mrs Har-
greaves IL the jolliest woman in the
county,"
He sat silent for time, and finally awoke
from his reverie with start.
II must get on with this rubbish, l sup
pose"-and he dragged Rosahnd's manu-
script viciously from its cover. Another!
Well, III make hurried readings do"
On the contrary, however, he read and re-
read the manuscript. When he reached a
certain point during the first perusal he
went back to the beginning and started
afresh; when he reached that point, he
stopped and looked at the address wonder
ingly.
Miss R., care of Mrs Burton. Who is
Mrs. Burton, and who is Miss R.! Can it
be only coincidence? It's impossible 1t
is Carmel, without a doubt, and she GER
tainly wore gray dress, and the words are
Just the samel"
He read the manuscript yet once again,
then he looked at his watch, and finally rang
the bell. Five minutes later he was being
rapidly driven toward Mrs. Buttons board
ing house.
Miss Westray was engaged in darninp