The Camden chronicle. (Camden, Tenn.) 1890-current, 1903-05-22


brilliant bauble sparkling on her fn-
ger
but It doesn't prove to me that Tom
Sheridan Is a clever detective just be-
cause he thinks the finest diamond at
Tihany's belongs to you" leased her
father, and the young girl had blushed
and smiled as she confessed that Tom
had done some very clever work, in
deed, IN discovering her feeling toward
him. but don't you think that was
painfully evident?" said the heartless
parent ,-.i ..f...s-
How familiar Il all seemed. Outside
he caught a glimpse OF steadily falling
snow between the heavy folds Of the
Venetian curtains, but within all was
summer-like and soothing. A fire of
driftwood sent a delicious warmth
through the apartment A giant bowl
OF ancient delft trimming over with
the delicate La France roses she loved.
offered him their incense generously.
There was her violin In a corner. The
night he had learned he had nothing,
and had given her back her freedom,
she had played TO him in the freight.
It was burned into his memory in
ettaceably. He saw again her tall.
slight figure in It's clinglng, white drap-
cries, her charming face bent softly
above her violin as she played "Du
Dist VIE Fine Blume," and sang the
words almost whisperingly. 1t was
moment he would never forget, because
1t was the moment before he had lost
her forever, and men remember such
things.
How dear and familiar it all was. 1t
would be so easy, so very easy, to turn
back time for a little month to that
moment when he had stood there in
that same place, eager, happy, uncon-
scious, waiting for the sight of her, for
the wonderful sound of her voice. The
warmth, the fragrance, the delightful,
artistic comfort of the room made a
harmonious prelude to the bliss of her
arrival When she entered it was like
a flash of lovely sunlight after dark
ness.
He heard her light footsteps coming
tripping by down the oak staircase.
In moment ne would see her again,
charming, RANT face, so dear, so diff
ferent from all other face, the one face
of his dreams, of his prayers.
He took step toward the door, and
then his eyes fell upon a copy of the
Daily Argus lying on table before
him. He turned aside brusquely and
walked quickly to the window, where
the snow was falling steadily beyond
the Venetian curtains. But Of the
weather he was quite unconscious. He
saw suddenly the busy, mask-like face
of the city editor the hard, white glare
Of the green-shaded electric lamp cir
cling down upon his bent head and be-
meath the pulsing thunder of his brain
he heard the city editors voice saying:
"You know, Mr.. Sheridan, we news
reporters are Obliged to belong to
the neuter gender"
He must never forget those words
again.
ooh, Tom, dearest" said the voice
which was so wonderful and so differ
emit from all other voices in the world,
81 really began to think you never
were coming to see me again"
There was curious mixture of Joy
and pain and bubbling, irrepressible
laughter in her tone. Sheridan turned
away from the dreary reality of brown
stone houses frowning grimly in the
falling snow, back to the enchanting
but forbidden delight Of the room so
summer-soft and soothing. He dared
not lift his eyes to hers, but he said
quite firmly in view of the mad b.
ing of his heart:
II have been sent up by the "
Argus to interview you about your %
gagement, Miss Winterton.
ooh, indeed" said the girl, smiling
happily, you may tell them it's quite
true"
ooh, Marion!" burst forth poor
Sheridan, helplessly in spite of his
fixed determination to merge his iden
tity in that of his paper. ct isn't
it can't be true?"
l.. -