The Abbeville press and banner. [volume] (Abbeville, S.C.) 1869-1924, 1903-12-16
love and poetry. again? Nowhere.

Yet, as the word thrilled through his
consciousness, he found himself look
ing away and behind him to the open
parlor door, where in the huge frame
formed by its lintels he saw Miss AS
pinwall standing, with her gaze fixed
on his and an inexplicable smile OF her
lips! All, she is lovely, too, and he
found himself asking, as many q man
had done before, why his heart should
have yielded itself to one whose cap
rices were q constant torture 20 him.
and not to the noble nature, open mind
and serene beauty of this finest speci-
men Of her sex. There was no answer,
and with q sigh he looked back only
to hear the signorina murmur:
"And what did Mr.. Degraw's man
say to you?"
"Only what should relieve your
mind" was his answer. "He is-well,
he is not our enemy, and nothing can
occur to US without his knowledge"
Her hand, which lay on the open
balusrade, tapped the wood impa-
tiently.
II wish I knew what plea would
serve" she cried. won't you take a
trip to New York just for a week.
NO." he answered; mo, I shall stay
here, and if this Degraw, as he calls
himself, shows even so much as the
tip of his cloven foot"
"Harkw she cried, drawing back as
If she would fly upstairs. "He is
coming now; hear his voice on the
porch. You have undone us both. I
can never recover my self-possession
sufficiently"
1T is not necessary. 1 am going to
meet him and unmasll his pretensions
before this household. 1 was going to
wait, but will not see you sacrificed.
Don't, dearest" he pleaded, for she
had almost grasped his arm, II am
master Of this situation and you will
soon see him sneak away abashed-"
He leaaed toward the door. He had
his eye ON his rival, who was crossing
the piazza to meet him, when Miss AS
pinwall. stepped forward and inter-
losed her. firm figure between him and
his secret fee. -.
"Read this" she whispered. 1T is
the letter from Mr.. Morris. 1t came
in the six o'clock mail"
She drew him into the parlor. She
thrust the paper into his hand. Mech
anically he opened it; mechanically he
read it.
"Dear Miss Aspinwall: Mr.. Hamilton
Degraw is q well-known person in this
place. He is a fine, intelligent and
conscientious gentleman, of irreproach-
able character and connections. This
1 wrote you before. In person, he is
tall and imposing, and with his first
word he impresses himself upon you
as gentleman. His hair is dark; his
eyes gray; and he wears large mus
tache. If you have any doubt as to
the person who presented my first let
ter being the gentleman he processes
to be, ask him. the name Of my little
one who was born three months ago.
Il he says it is Frederika Holcomb, be
sure he is all right, for that is the
name We settled to give her, on the
evening be spent with us before going
East. We have changed it since to
Dorothy, but that he cannot know.
with regards to yourself, remain
most respectfully yours,
HERBERT NORRIS"
The artist re-folded the letter, gave
it back, and, slowly sauntered out into
the hall. He was followed by Miss
Aspinwall, who, gliding by him, ap-
preached the newcomer with grave
but courteous dignity.
"Good-evening," said she, and began
4 conversation that naturally and with
ease led up to the subject Of Cleveland
and the people who live there. The
artist stood in the doorway, with his
back to them; but he heard every
word, and showed to those who thought
it worth their while to watch him,
countenance Of growing uncertainty,
as theestranger's answers came quick
ly and without embarrassment, even
when the Norris family was discussed.
At last he moved to hide his agitation;
the crucial question had been put in
these words:
"Mr. Morris has little infant, be-
lieve. Do you know what name they
have given it, Mr.. Degraw?"
The answer was direct and unhesi.
tating:
'They have called her Frederika. At
least, that was the name decided upon
on the last evening I spent with
them"
"Thark you" was Miss Aspinwall's
response. II have been wanting to
know for a long time" And she
turned to flash a glance at the artist.
He had gone.
To be continued.
Disraei on Love.
The sale of batch of letters to Dis
L. Eof Il,