Wauwatosa news. [volume] (Wauwatosa, Wis.) 1900-1948, 1904-02-13
CHAPTER WI.
IN THE TRAIN.

q look of trouble in her lovely eyes. She
was dressed for travelling, and, indeed,
was on the point of taking a long rail
way journey to spend a few days in a
country house. After that-well, after
that she told herself she did not know
what might befall her. She had fought
a brave fight, but she was beginning to
admit that the world was too strong for
her, and that it would crush her in the
end. More than ever since that day, two
months ago, when she had departed from
Cromartie. leaving the man she loved "
ing there between life and death, ter
rible shadow had pursued her, and was
pursuing her still. In her heart she knew
we'll whence it had first arisen-from the
malice of Eustaee Darnley. He had never
forgiven her her rejection of his suit, and
was moving heaven and earth for his re-
venge.
When she drove in the park she saw
averted chances; invitations ceased to
pour in upon her; her own invitations
were declined; the smart rata tat of So
ciety footmen ceased to summon her own
footman to her door. She was a fallen
idol; and, when idols fall, it is the way
of their erstwhile worshipers to trample
them under loot.
81 viii give it up she sighed, as she
descended the stairs. "Open disgrace
would be more than could hear
She was driven to Kings Cross. and the
footman secured her q lirst-class com
partment for herself and her maid. The
train was within two minutes of its time
of starting, when a gentleman, who had
but just left an incoming train, caught
sight of Emerald. and straightway he
rushed to the booking office and bought
ticket for York.
lie came back just as the signal was
being given. An obsequious porter who
recognized him flung open a carriage door
but the gentleman deliberately passed by
it, and himself opened the door Of the
carriage wherein sat Emerald Beringer.
She looked up in surprise at the intru-
sion, and saw-Douglas Dundonald.
A lovely flush suffused her face; she
responded to his greeting with tremor
and an agitation which pleased him well,
for his heart told him they we're born of
love
Presently she regained her self control
sufficiently to ask after his health. Was
he quite recovered from his accident?
Had he suffered much pain? Was all
danger over? The gentlest, sweetest
solicitude was in her voice, but it was
the solicitude of friend no more.
How she had fingered for sight of his
dear face only her heart knew In those
first days Of agony, when he had lain be-
tween life and death, and the brief bull
ietins in the papers were her only means
of knowing his condition, she thought she
must have gone mad. She stole furtive
look at him now, and seeing how haggard
he had grown, her heart overlooked with
pity and with love-
He, upon his side, was telling himself
that it was happy omen that he should
see her the moment he came to London.
and but for the presence of that smart
French maid, he would have lost not a
mclnert Of avowing the love he had so
nearly ayowed at Cromartie two months
ago.
But the fates were propitious to him
beyond his dreams. At one of the stop
ping places the maid got out to speak to
the guard. Whether she stood talking to
him too long, and in her furry lost sight
of her lady's carriage, or whether some
instinct told her his wish, and she was
good-naturcd enough to oblige him, he
never knew: but the fact remained. that
at the very last moment she ran up the
platform from the guards van, and en-
tered the first compartment which had its
door open for her
A flush of joy almost of exultation,
mounted to Dundonald's face as he saw
this; Emerald, on the contrary, turned
pale.
The train had scarcely started before
he was sitting by her side, looking with
passionate ardor into her face
My dearest" ne said, in a thrilling
whisper, "the moment / have hungered
for has come at last. l told you at Gro
martie | loved you. Can you love me?
Oh, my beautiful, beautiful darling, be
good to me, and end this long suspense.
Tell me you viii be my wife"
Il cannot tell You that
Her voice was little higher than
whisper, but it was very firm.
A spasm of fear gripped his heart. He
had thought she loved him, but that low.
breathed refusal seemed to give the lie to
his tender hopes.
He went on pleading.
"0f course, my dear one, know must
not expect to win your whole heart as
gNe' OAiiS dSh 4Ol iSSAfG " LiY "
win it,"
Eyes, but that is just what I cannot
give YOU"
will you tell me why not 2"
His voice was grave and gentle, his
look one of reyerential respect.
My conscience tells me ought not to
be your wife You will be Duke of Doom
-one whom the world bows down before;
| am woman it would gladly trample
under foot"
you are the woman I love, dearestl
Ought not that to be enough for your"
st would not be enough for the
world" In a firmer voice She added: II
have made up my mind; I will not drag
you down. Look at my birth compared
with yours. Think of the man l married
of the life lived. All things unfit me
to be your wife"
Dear love, there is but one thing that
/ should call umftRess," he answered ten
Derby. "You yourself are pure as the
driven snow, let your surroundings have
been what they may. The only thing