The Abbeville press and banner. [volume] (Abbeville, S.C.) 1869-1924, 1903-12-02

under the others judicious play. SO
lively was the struggle and so skillful
the opponents that the attention Of the
whole surrounding party was finally
drawn to the sport, greatly to the re-
lief of the signorina, who, If she had
not betrayed her consciousness Of the
scrutiny to which she had been SUBJ
| iected certainly showed her pleasure
at the momentary respite from it by a
telling play on the part of Mr.. Ferrall.
Rousing herself from the attitude of
| couuettish languor which she had as
| sumed under the talk Of one Of Miss
Aspinwall's declared admirers she cast
q quick ,ook across the ground to
where the artist stood beside his more
| or less distracted hostess. 1t was but
fash, but he saw it, and taking it for
an invitation, forgot his anger, forgot
his resolves, forgot everything but her.
and only waiting to see that his rival
was just posing his mallet for blow
he bowed his adieu to Miss Aspinwall
| and started for the bench upon which
sat the perplexing object Of his adora-
| ton.
But scarcely had he taken three steps
before he found himself confronted by
Mr.. Ferrall.
"Take my mallet, Degraw, .entreat
you, and finish this game. have just
received a telegram which demands in
slant attention. No one can beat that
Cleveland chap but you. Go in, then,
and don't forget that Miss Rogers eye
is on you"
Before the artist could reply the mall
let was thrust into his hand, young
Ferrall was off and a dozen voices
were crying:
Whose turn? Beat that run of play
if you cam"
He gave the signorina one glance,
grasped his mallet and took his stand
by his ball. The play alluded to had
been made by his rival and seemed to
determine the game. But he was fine
player, too, and after having taken in
the location of the several balls he took
his aim and made the most brilliant
stroke of the season.
A chorus of acclamations arose, then
silence followed, broken only by the
click of the mallet and balls. When it
ceased he had separated his opponents
balls by the full width Of the ground
and croQueted his own and his part
ners through the last two arches.
Miss Clinton now advanced to the
rescue. Could she but hit a ball the
game might be saved, otherwise it was
irretrievably lost. Would she hit one?
Many on the field thought SO, but the
artist did not. He had wired" her
too effectually. And so it proved. In
making her stroke she drove her ball
against an arch and confusion was the
result. She had but to hit her part
ner's ball, put it out, and then drive
her own to the stake. But she was
nervous, and only succeeded in put
ting her own ball out.
The odds were now entirely in favor
Of the stranger and Miss Clinton. But
when Mr.. Degraw came to play some
unlucky twist Of his mallet sent his
ball on one side of the wire instead of
the other, and his opportunity to re-
trieve the game was lost.
So now it was the artists turn again,
and as he had but to hit the stake with
his ball many thought the result as
good as decided and prepared to clap
their hands. But to the momentary
amazement of every one he dallied
with his luck, and, instead Of driving
his ball carefully to the stake sent it
whirling across the field in search Of
that Of his adversary. He did not hit
the mark he had set for himself, but
he accomplished purpose that was
dearer to him than any game. His
ball stopped not three feet from the
slgnorina, and though his watchful ri
val evidently understood the motive
which urged him and sent his own ball
Immediately in the same direction he
had the opportunity to whisper:
Love me and drop this fellow. His
admiration dishonors you and maddens
me. l will not see you yield to it."
That was all, but it evidently was
enough. Her face showed first aston
ishment, then chagrin and then some
thing like despair. But the scene was
one Of mirth, and she found herself
forced to join in the general laughter
which hailed the stranger rs victor,
the artist having sacrificed the game
fol a whisper.
Had he sacrificed more? There was
every reason to believe so. for the sig
norma had become rigid after her
laugh, and then impassive, not lifting
her eyes from under her broad
brimmed hat, and only answering
questions after being startled by the
silence which followed them. And yet,
though both of her lovers felt this
coldness and suffered from it, neither
seemed disposed to abandon the field.
They fingered, chatting, one on one
side Of the ground and the other on
The other. and neither had any eyes
but for her who seemingly saw no one
But Mt last there came a moment
when the long strain upon them both
was loosed. The artist saw her move
and moved himself. when suddenly be
perceived what had occasioned her
change of attitude and incoDsiderately
paused.
His namesake from Cleveland was ap-
preaching her. Would lie hc welcome?
The artist held his breath. watching
them both with burning eyes. One
moment he thought she was going to
turn away, but the next she locked up,