The Pickens sentinel-journal. (Pickens, S.C.) 1903-1906, 1905-12-06
BY WILL N. HARDEN.


{ VtatlQn. She Is my guest. and any
natural girl would like to so to such
an affair, and mamma urged it. Oh,
George. do pity me. Don't-don't think
I'm like the rest Of the world, for I'm
not hunger for better things; higher
things, but in this case really don't
know what to do"
'rhen''-he took deep breath, as If
trying to fortify himself against Il
coming blow-"then you are engaged
TO .TelfareT'
T-esL am not, George. Don't-don't
QUESTION me so closely. am not hap
N.Y. p
"But he looks upon this affair to-
night as favorable to his suit. Is that
not truc?"
'Ie may, George. but really don't
know what to do"
Buckley was as pale as corpse. He
brushed his brow with quiverlng
hand.
: "GoS>knows have nothing to offer
you," he said IN n low tone. "And it
was wrong for me to thrust myself on
you as 1 have done tonight. Your
friends will laugh Mt me for my des-
pcratIon. but I don't care. Goodby.
I shall never trouble you again"
ooh, George''-but he had turned and
was walking away IN the darkness.
She stitlcd groan Of pain. and then
: went into the house. She saw her
mother land Mrs. Dunleigh In the draw
ing room under the prismatic chande-
ller IN close conversation, but she pnsS.
cd Oh and ascended the stairs to the
room assigned to herself and Kitty.
The latter was unfastening her hair
before pier glass and came forward,
her hands extended.
Don't let it worry you, dear" she
said simply.
) Lydia made no reply, sinking, pale
and miserable, into chair and cover
ing her fnce with her hands.
II say, don't let it worry you," said
makes me fighting mad"
"Mad?" said Lydia, looking up al
most hopefully at the unexpected, out
burst
Eyes, mad," said kitty. "Why should
that young god Of Il man be kicked and
snccrcd ut by our world, forced to
sneak dNbund behind roscbushcs mere
ly to see the idol Of his dreams step
into her carriage, while n half bald,
sallow faced creature receives her un-
der palm trees, in the glare Of electric
lights, In the perfume Of costly flow
crs and amid the plaudits Of n squirn-
ing, low nccked, white shirted mass
Of hero worshipers--hero, ,'iworslipers,
indeed! - when George Buckley, the
kind Of hero we know, Is left out in the
cOldT Y
"Oh. Kitty, you are aFdaflingv' The
color was running" into Lydia s ,,yyan
face. Her eyes were cleaning rs they
had not CLEANED that night. '"ButYpa-
pa? What about ,him1 What would
you do about him?"
what would do about him2 = I'd
hako him change his pills. don't
Yhink he has any more? heart; disease
than have, and mine! iflopssRs regular
ns II clock. except when George. JIuck
lev coiTcs near. with those big, dreamy
eyes Of his. Lydia Cranston, I told
your mother I,wasn't. going to Influence
you either Way, but If George Buckley
wanted me like lie wants you ,hc could
have me at the drop ofrnl Int. God
doesn't bring up .renl "smen In velvet
lined cradles; ;he simply gives them the
/\chancc to bring themselves up. TtlSnow
where you stand tonight Lydia. :. &c.
cure II theeejoy< <of George Buckley 3
love, you are drifting,lnwny from 1t.
You are IN danger, my, slrl4r=in danger
OF losing the very hing;ryOu~trcasurc
above al else. Youlthinle.you can obey
your parents and always retain G gorge
Buckley's love, but rs sure as fate,
whilo you nrc now nll n woman could
bo iD his sight, If you degraded your.
SELF by marrying Telfare he would
gradually cease to love you and would
transfer his giant heart to some other
womanA I'd hate to be second choice;
bit. as God is my judge, I'd like a
chance to make that man thoroughly
hhppy. What do care about his fam,
IN? Napoleon said he w8s the first OF
his name, and George Bu6lsley may be
TIC first Of his" N y
lydia looked up sharply and fixed q