The Columbia herald. [volume] (Columbia, Tenn.) 18??-1935, 1905-03-03

/ Then i came back a Few minutes agI
and hid again to see you once more
/ Somehow l felt that my agony woulC
! be less keen If | could merely see yoI
last-do you understand?-see you aft
er he had told you good night bacl
there in all his glory. l saw the whee
coming of. knew what was goinl
to happen. | could have remained hid
den and allowed the coaehman to LEI
you out and thus have escaped this
humiliation in the eyes of your friends
But what does 1t matter? They know
who am. They know why had &c
act like a thief to steal a glimse of the
woman who has enslaved newly
had to do that, when she is the favored
guest of the governor of the state and
his promised
Stop Lydia cried Don't, don't,
can't bear any more. II am only q
woman. George. I'm only a girl who
is being pulled and dragged by others.
Father begged me to permit this en-
tertainment, to accept Mrs. Dunleigh's
Invitation. l refused at first, George;
on my honor l did, but father is in a
critical condition. The doctor told me
not to worry him in the slightest, and
he had set his heart on this affair to-
night. The poor man loves such
things with all his soul, and he thinks
Governor Telfare a great man. He
actually broke down and cried when
l refused; 1t was pitiful to see his old
gray head shaking with sobs over what
he considered base ingratitude. Be
sides, Kitty was included in the in
vltation. She is my guest, and any
natural girl would like to go 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. l hunger for better things, higher
things, but in this case l really don't
know what to do"
'Then'-he took a deep breath, as If
trying to fortify himself against a
coming blow-'then you are engaged
to TelfareY
mo; / am not, George. Don't-don't
question me so closely. 1 am not hap
py. r.
But he looks upon this affair to-
night as favorable to his suit. Is that
not trueY'
HE may. George, but really don't
know what to do"
Buckley was as pale as corpse. he
brushed his brow with quivering
hand.
"God knows l have nothing to offer
you," he said in low tone. And It
was wrong for me to thrust myself on
you as l have done tonight. Your
friends will laugh at me for my dLs-
peration, but l don't care. Goodby.
l shall never trouble you again"
"Oh, George''-but he had turned and
was walking away in the darkness
She stified groan Of pain, and then
went into the house. She saw her
mother and Mrs. Dunleigh in the draw
Ing room under the prismatic chande-
Iier in close conversation, but she pass
ed on and assembled the stairs to the
room assigned to herself and Kitty.
The latter was unfastening her hair
before a pier glass and came forward,
her hands extended.
Don't let it worry you, dear" she
'aid simply.
Lydia made no reply, sinking, pale
ind miserable, into a chair and cover
ng her face with her hands.
Il say, don't let it worry you" said
Miss Cosby. But the whole thing
makes me fighting mad
"Mad?" said Lydia, looking up al
most hopefully at the unexpected out
'urst.
"Yes, mad" said Kitty. "Why should
hat young god of man be kicked anC
neered at by our world, forced tG
neak around behind rosebushes mere
y to see the idol of his dreams step
nto her carriage, while half bald.
allow faced creature receives her I'M
er palm trees, in the glare of electric
lghts, in the perfume of costly flow
RS and amid the plaudits of squirm-
ng, low necked, white shirted macs
f hero worshipers-herow orshipers,
indeed! = when George Buckley, the /
ind of hero we know, is left out in the |
old?"
"Oh, Kitty, you are darlingr' The !
dior was running into Lydia's wan !
ace. Her eyes were cleaning as they /
ad not cleaned that night. But pa
a? What about him? What would |
ou do about him?'
what would l do about him? I'd |
make him change his pills. l don't
hink he has any more heart disease
nan have, and mine flops as regular
s a clock, except when George Buck
" comes near, with those big, dreamy
yes of his. Lydia Cranston, l told
our mother l wasn't going to influence
OH either way, but If George Buckley
-anted me like he wants you he coul
ave me at the drop Of hat. God
oesn't bring up real men in velvet
ned cradles; he simply gives them the
hance to bring themselves up. know
here you stand tonight, Lydia. Sc
ure in the joy of George Buckley 8
I'VE, you are drifting away from if.
on are in danger, my grim danger
{ losing the very thing you treasure