The Topeka state journal. [volume] (Topeka, Kansas) 1892-1980, 1904-09-03

reading magazine myself, and
laughing as only a man laughs who
sees deepest humor where other men
see nothing
But the end was not yet.
When rubbed my eyes next morn
He had gone out. heard. At mid
day, Jean was still out All, sulky, OF
coursei Settling pride urged him TO
kill me out of the way-and the same
useful pride reminded him that ne
had to finish the holiday at my ex-
pense- 1 strolled out at length, indif-
ferent as to the remainder of his
movements. As 1 turned down the
| square, a telegraph messenger sour
ried past. But 1 was thinking hard OF
an oval face, with dancing, pansy sort
i brown eyes Jean had mad MS
chance; now to find mine-or make
it!
Half past five. when desolate, glum,
! turned back for home Even that
golden, glorious afternoon had palled.
and as for life ahead, without Miss
May Ronald's laugh and glance
But Mrs. Corbould was lowering
mysteriously in the hall
"Gone," 1 ratified 1t seemed that
all had flown.
heard Mrs. Corbould go out. The
door of her room-our own room
again now-stood mournfully ajar;
cage from which our precious song
ster had flown. Something made me
I
The awful, the understandable silence
of it-that tried to speak to me! Just
that faint scent of violets chung there;
nothing mOre-our dream voice was
gone. 1 moved around in awe, touch
ing the things that she must have
touched. The piano was mutely, ap-
I ran my finger along the white keys.
to hear their sound again-but how
different a sound And then 1 shot
back from it and stood perfectly still
I L f1,n cold
ing doors from our side of them
Jeani The sly. desperate Jean! He
knew nothing yet; nothing except that
he was alone in there-wlth her pc
thought. And he was tapping to her
1t had come to that
What next? Why, as 1 held my
breath drinking in the exquisite irony
of something white was pushed and
fluttered. A note, just visible in the
dusk. Heavens, he had written!
never hesitated. Softly 1 closed |
the door, lit the gas, and, with
slow diffidence. drew away his note. |
could picture him just beyond the |
woodwork, his breath suspended. list
ening as for his life. And now, I |
was reading his burning words.
Dear. dear Miss Ronald: Speak |
once more must, at any cost. 1t
spells death or life nowl Tell me that |
you were not offended beyond hope at |
my bitter words last night; that you |
did not leave me in that way from |
sheer aversion, 1t would kill me, but |
must know tonight. 1t is my one |
chance-my Jealous. interfering, tact
less friend is out of the way for once. |
Dare I hope afresh? I await your /
dear finality on this cold side the fold |
ing doors. Yours ever, Jean Lori |
mer, artist"
That was it. I do not think |
paused an instant, because my glance
happened to focus pen and ink on the |
q r-6 100 moo for oil
1 sat down in a corner and wrote |
upon the reverse side of his own note
paper; wrote in stiff. feminine hand,
and purpOSely misspelled his name. !
oh. if the folding doors had crashed |
in at that moment
Mr.. Lorrimer: AS you insist, must
answer what some women might con-
slider a studied impertinence, coming |
from one who does not appear to be
in a position to think of marrying. In /
fact, do not think my intended hus-
band, who will be shortly visiting
Anglers Rest, would care for me to
say anything more than this to a total
stranger Kindly accept hint
Yours, May Ronald"
I tapped How his heart jumped, |
knew 1 pushed the reply under and |
skipped back, waiting to hear gasp
or a moan. When that dead silence
became uncomfortable, 1 tiptoed out, /
took my hat from the hall peg and |
slipped from the house. Somehow
did not care to face Jean Lorrimer |
just then. Besides, with that sick /
longing at my own heart, 1 only want |
ed silence and solitude-some spot /
where 1 could stand and fight my own /
bitter battle.
I had found it: quiet little strip of |
beach just beyond the pier, only ac-
Swallowed" Miss Ronald to the spot
but how different it looked nowi
L had turned to go. Should 1 ever !
forget? My heart took a convulsive
bound. A figure stood there, just I'M
der the cliff; it was as if she had risen |
at my approach and dared not move |
either way. 1t vast was May Ron
aid! She had not gone; she was here
still.
The next moment was a sort of /
whirling blank. through which came /
up her quivering, half-defant whis-
per.
Forgive me, I had to. Forgive
met
Not till afterward did I realize that
had sprung, caught both the shrink |
ing little hands. and held them as if
1 never meant to let them slip again. /
1T was for your sake-I would not |
stay there" she whispered. and
and 1 could not explain. 1 saw what |
must happen-you would hate each |
other if 1 stayed longer. II sent the |
telegram there to myself, to get away |
quickly, hoping you would not find me
here again, and-oh, don't let him
knowl He frightened me; he would |
never AcdNc tilGs lie SAUL uillll L lOlQ
him the name of the man 1 preferred |
to
Then" I said, drawing her close, |
be armed with an ANSWERED. there
be some one from tonight"
No, she did not tell me then and |
there, but afterward could value her
the more for that.
Eight o'clock was striking when, in
a dreamlike whirl. I hurried back into
the parlor. When should I dare to
tell him-what could / tell him?
M,