The herald-advance. (Milbank, S.D.) 1890-1922, 1904-03-11

VI pSlIy dllOy dllco'
They were at Greystcke presently,
and Margaret fourd herself in due
course in the drawing room. A few
people were in, and Margaret was in
troduced to them.
She was sitting beside Mrs. Wynter,
a gently interrogative person, when
the door opened and some one en-
tered. Margaret did not look up until
Mrs. Wynter said:
"Ah, there is DR.. Cleland at last.
Now, my dear, you will find yourself
sustained in your profession
Margaret looked up. all the blood
rushing from her face. her heart sud-
denly beating fast and loud. Yes, it
was Paul Cleland indeed!
His eyes seemed somehow to go
| straight to the corner in which h
was sitting. He started, and a mo-
Inentary change passed over his face;
but he controlled himself in a minute
so quickly that Flo, who swept her
elaborate dinner gown up to him, did
not notice it.
Here you are at last, Dr.. Cleland.
Now, l have some one | wish to in
troduce you to. Come over to mothers
or rather, DR.. Margaret Crawford"
Margaret bowed, feeling his eyes
were fixed on her face: then, max
ing a great effort, she extended her
hand.
DR.. Cleland and l have met before,
Flo" she said, quite clamly and dis
tinctly. "We met each other at col
lege."
OH" said Florence, in an indescrib-
able tone. An angry little flush rose
to her cheeks as she glanced at Gle
lands dark, imperturbable face. There
was an expression on it now which Flo
had never seen upon it when he looked
at herself, and her woman's instincts
were sharp enough to tell her that,
whatever his feelings toward Mar
garet were, they were not Of the Ordi-
nary kind.
Yet Paul Cleland made no effort to
be near Margaret for the rest of the
evening, and Margaret herself rather
avoided him than otherwise. Only
once his eyes fixed in a strange. in
tense way on Margaret's face, and the
expression Of it sent a thrill of angry
jealousy through Florence.
That night, when Margaret was at
last alone in her own room, she sank
on her knees and prayed, through fin
gers tightly wrung together: "Oh. my
God, help me! 1t is hard-harder
than l thought-harder than l
thought"
The days passad somehow. 1t was
the month of September-rich. sweet
September-with skies Of clear blue
not summer blue. with it's depths and
softness and sultry heat; but a blue
paler. cooler, brighter; fresh. bracing,
invigorating September, coming like a
breath of cool air after a day of ener-
waiting heat. The evenings were be-
ginning to grow longer, and were even
now chilly with the first breath of the
fall of the year.
The world was fair outside, but Mar
garet Crawford's heart was in no
mood to enjoy it. How she lived
through those terrible days she never
afterward knew. Seeing Paul every
day, talking with him, knowing, above
all-what agony the discovery gave
her, and yet, with a woman's incon-
sistency, how sweet the knowledge
was to her!-that his love had under
gone no change, it was sometimes
more than she could bear.
She tried to be cold and distant, and
succeeded SO well that she managed
TO deceive Cleland for a time. He be-
gar to think that, after all, those had
been right who called Margaret Craw-
ford cold and proud. Had she loved
him as he did her, he argued, no dis
grace on her fathers name, no real
crime, even had he committed such,
could stand between and separate
them from each other.
One day Florence Wynter and Clel-
and were sitting together in the old
fashioned suramer-seat at the end of
the great rambling garden O. Grey
stoke. Florence had managed to es-
cape from her persistent admirer, who
was a good-looking and pleasant
enough young fellow named Frank
Thorpe. and made some excuse to en-
tice Cleland into the garden.
Presently the figure of Margaret, tall
and slim III its dark garments, walked
slowly down the garden path. At the
same moment a carriage rolled UP the
drive outside.
Florence started up suddenly.
isn't it too warm to sit much Ion
ger, Doctor Cleland? Let us go In
now"
"I find it very pleasant here" Clel-
and answered eagerly. You do not
need to go in yet. do you, Miss Wynn
ter? Here is Miss Crawford coming
down the garden"
THAT is Sir Edmund Yorke's car
riage, and I must go in and entertain,
for m is lying down." said
Florence. do cone-aHd help me to
make conversation, Doctor Cleland."
you really must excuse me, Miss
Wynter; I'm not a ladies man. as you