Northern Wisconsin advertiser. [volume] (Wabeno, Wis.) 1898-1925, 1906-07-12

| anu WHSIc were YOU! lou Hdu MISS
Dale in your charge. Surely you
could have checked the horse. Your
own frightened 1t, suppose. l don't
understand it. A touch could con-
troll her."
Perhaps you could have done it if
you had been on her back, and if a
touch would hold her, I wish you had
BEEN" said Cyril, scornfully.
81 am afraid you are not much of a
horseman, Kingsley"
MIR. Kingsley saved my life at the
risk OF his own, Mr.. Dyce," she said.
with bright, flashing eyes.
Then I've are all indebted to Mr..
Kingsley" said Philip Dyce, with a
rapid change of tone, and he held out
his hand, but Cyril turned aside from
the white hand, and raising his hat to
Leola, walked away with his horses
bride on his arm, just as the groom,
who had been a long way behind
when the accident occurred, came up,
leading the miserable mare.
81 shall never forgive myself, Miss
Dale" he said, in remorseful tones.
81 assure you tried the horse most
carefully. | would rather have died
than you should have run any
chances of an accident. suppose
you believe me?"
Il am sure of that, said Leola;
but Mr.. Kingsley and she blushed,
was quite right. 1t did run away,
and he saved my life
THAT believe" said Philip, "and
he has laid me under an obligation
which nothing can repay. Believe me,
Miss Dale, that | am grieved beyond
expression at having spoken TO MIN so
harshly. Kingsley is a brave fellow,
for all his bad temper
bad temper!" said Leola, the hot
blood sufsasing her face.
You saw him reject my hand" said
Philip.
After you had-insulted him.,
said Leola, proudly
Miss Dale" he cried, in the most
perfectly feigned distress, do you
think that 4 am capable of insulting
the man, let him be who he may, the
poorest clod in the land, who saved
your life"
They had reached the foot of the
staircase, and Leola turned to go up
TO her room.
Have you forgiven me, Leola-
+ Miss Dale?' he murmured, fixing his
leyes on her
There is nothing to forgive, Mr.
Dyce," she said.
She loved the man, not the figure,
not the face. The love of woman is
a fearful thing; the love of such a
woman as Leola Dale was terrible In
Its intenseness in its entirety, in it's
undergraduates.
Il love him!" she murmured, rising
and looking in the glass as she made
the avowal. Il love him! Oh, Tiff
he does not love mel" she added, with
a low, fearsome cry.
Then she took up the unloosened
tresses of the soft, dark hair. to re-
coil them, and touched them with "A
strange novel tenderness.
! Does he love me?" she murmured.
did he call me his darling-did he
kiss me? Could | have dreamed Il?
oh, Cyril-oh my darling! love me a
little, for love you SOL"
Il love you, Cyril, love me little. :"
His thoughts were of Lord Bean
mont. the generous noble-hearted
man who had made himself Cyril's
friend
: What have | done? What is 1t
would do? he asked himself Am |
to betray my friend? Heaven knows
} I love her with all my heart and soul:
but so does he! He, the man who
has given me his confidence and
: friendship; the man who is best
suited TO her, while T. he paused,
J and, thrusting his hands in his
pockets, walked to and fro with
, moody brow.
Thank Heaven," he murmured,
"she did not hear me--did not know
} that-that-I kissed her! That was
wrong-wrong!" he murmured, re-
proachfully. II had no right to do
that. Such a thing was Dissertation
W hSi SAhPie, putSs SlrAsn nedrt.
But how could |, loving her as do,
feel her clinging to me feel her sweet
face press to mine, and not kiss her?
; oh, my darAng! yes. that is what l
called her, My darling," he laughed
! with self.scorn. CAS- IL she could
; ever give a thought 20 me, to me who
: am her-servant; have been fool
5 "a fool to ever come within her pres
ence. Wien she told me that morn
. ing-surely must have loved her
: then'-when she told me that she was
the mistress of the Abbey. ought to
! have gone back to Australia, any
| where out Of her presence, and let
, things go. ! ought to so now, IL I
have any regard for the sacred claims
OF friendship"
No! l cannot go and leave her to
the Vaccinations Of tina, scoundrel.
J Philip Dyce. slow, feel that he is
, Il n grOOnirel ana that ~ A. -,~k.s..-