The Minneapolis journal. [volume] (Minneapolis, Minn.) 1888-1939, 1904-05-07
che rove Chat Fever Dies
FLORENCE
The Inn b. the Shore"
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candles which made a feeble but
pleasant and appropriate, illumination
in the old-fashioned room. : .
When the servant went out, Beatrice
was sitting on the music stool, with
her hands in her lap, and from the
other end of the long room Lord
Catherington, with his hands behind
him. was watching her
There was a long pause. Beatrice
looked at the keys, wondering whether
she had better venture some remark
about the proper care of pianos, or
whether she should wait for him to
speak; but before she could make up
her mind, Lord Catherington began
to stride up the room, and she trem-
bled with a very definite idea of what
she had to expect.
IF I have to turn out of this place
and to become plain Fulke Gathering
ton without any 'handle,' I shouldn't
be a beggar, you know" he began, in
a rather wistful tone of voice.
Beatrice drew herself up with alac-
rity.
Don't think about it yet" said she;
don't believe in the possibility yet.
Wait and see what your lawyers say.
I believe it's a trick"
| He smiled.
| well, I hope it may be trick
I've written to my solicitors. If 1
can still keep the oldGhome and the
title, and the rest Of it, it will be bet
ter for me, and for Ermyn, and-and
| for you, too, I hope" His voice
dropped a little, and after a pause
he said in a bashful sort Of way: DO
you know what they say here, about
yOu-and me?'
I'm sure I don't know and I don't
CARE said Beatrice, rapidly. you
said yourself that one mustn't pay any
attention to the gossip of country
place"
Lord Catherington leant against
the grand piano and played noisily,
stand which somebody had put upon
it as an appropriate ornament.
well, but you may just pay atten-
ton to this. L want you to-
And out of the corners of his eyes
he gave her one shy, rapid glance,
and then again busted himself by try
ing to wrench the top off the ink
stand.
Beatrice stood up.
I'D rather not hear it," she said,
peremptorily.
We'll, you must, SO there's an end
Of it," said Lord Catherington, sud-
denly standing up face to face with
her in sort of desperation. "They
say that you are really my wife, and
uOl just Tic SOVeIlleSS.
Beatrice burst into an hysterical
laugh.
How absurd" said she.
ST don't think So" retorted Lord
Catherington, before she could go on
II don't see anything absurd in it, and
I'm sorry you do. Why shouldn't you
be my wife? If you don't like me-
I'm sure you pretended to-
Face to face with this new Difficult.
| tx,T %,,;, f1II 11o+
which triumphed even over the pang!
!, Of her guilty conscience. With a thrill
Of exultation over the thought that hi
, loved her, came a sudden determine
ton not to confess her. own crime un
til she had seen the issue Of the trou
BILE with which he was now threat
ened. Weak in some respects, tn
nature of Beatrice, like that of man,
another woman, was strong for thos
l she loved, and she had become pos
! sessed by the idea that she, with he
f feminine intuition and devotion, nigh
be Of real use in ferreting out tn
t truth concerning what she PERSISTENT.
, and illogically looked upon as an i'm
n posture.
: Obstinately,. pertinaciously she sal
s to herself that her Lord Catheringtol
t was Lord Catherington, and she re
solved not to move from Stone Court
If she could help it, until the matte
4 was sifted to the bottom.
So, instead Of answering him by
point blank refusal, she listened, wit
y her head bent, to his words, and the
;, said very quietly:
II II haven't pretended. I do like yoy
But T won't marry you. I won't eve
I thank you for what you've said unit
q you've had this matter cleared vi
e and found out all about this man VIII
says he's your nephew"
>, But why shouldn't you?" Do 20
y mean that you won't think of hav
e ing me unless can give you a title ?
: persisted the viscount, trying to max
/, her meet his eyes.
XII you may think that If you like,