The Abbeville press and banner. [volume] (Abbeville, S.C.) 1869-1924, 1907-02-13

lldtS piChIJ VI ~ W. NA"aSS 49,
dress, have I not?"
Yes, plenty"
Slowly he walked across the stage,
and passed out into the garden. In
the dimly lighted conservatory he
found Lena sitting alone. She was
leaning forward with her bare hands
elasped upon her knees. In crossing
the garden the little curls about her
temple: had been blown aside, and
now the pale light OF the lamp sus-
pended among the ferns above her
fell lovingly on the brown hair, and
drew forth little golden CLEANS. She
heard the footstep in the darkened
doorway, but did not look up or
move.
VINEYARD stood for a moment in the
doorway. The light fell on her face
in such a way that he could see the
CLEAN Of tears in her eyes. There
was a little movement in his throat
and the muscles Of his firm chin, as if
he were swallowing something with
an effort, and then he advanced to-
ward her with the usual misleading
smile. 1t would appear that he at
tributed those tears to ~over-excite-
ment in connection with the last act
of the play. Indeed there was moth
ing else for him to dc, no other cause
for him to seek, under the circum-
stances. No doubt he felt that the
evening was far from its close as yet,
and preferred to ignore the farewells
with which it was to terminate. Men
can not do things we'll without giving
their whole mind to the work they
have in hand at the moment, and
VINEYARD was, without doubt, think
ing only Of the theatricals.
"Tired?" he said, interrogatively.
Lena nodded in acQuiescence, and
slightly turned her head so that her
| face was in the shade.
Miss Wright" he said, with mock
severity-for he was desperately
afraid of appearing serious-"this
will never do"
She did not reply, and made no at
tempt to acknowledge the brilliant
sally.
"Lenc," he said, suddenly, using
her Christian name-which he did
| but rarely-"Lena, this is not like
you"
She was dressed for the third act
in white, as he had desired it, of a
soft, silky material that chung round
her sweet young form in cunning
folds. There was in her whole being
a subtle sense of refinement. Her
dress was perfect; what little jewelry
she wore was faultless; even the
manner in which her hair was ar
ranged spoke of the def handiwork
of practical fingers. AS he stood at
her side, the scent of the white jas
mine at her throat reached him, and
brought back the memory Of his re-
| quest. In an instant he saw that all
was exactly as he had desired it.
! Was it blindly, or with w%ondrous
foresight that he persisted still in his
POPULARITY?
4 am a little limp myself" he said,
c%heerfully.
II can not quite understand you,"
said the girl in the same conventional
tone Of forced interest. Il am very
much afraid you must be heartless,
end devoid of filial feelings"
"Inasmuch as how" he asked,
slowly, pulling an innocent fern into
small pieces.
because you completely ignore the
fact that you practically start to-
| night, after all this is over, upon a
| journey which in all probability will
be"
my last?" he suggested, frivolous
ly. as he threw all the particles of
fern into the air, and watched them
futter to the ground as if it were a
most interesting experiment.
She was silent, and appeared to be
entirely absorbed in removing from
her dress u small end Of thread left
there by a careless seamstress.
AT all events, there are risks at
tached to it,"
Il think" he said, "you are over
rating things a little"
The wretchcd little white thread
would keep swimming about in the
most unaccountahle manner. Lena
longed to give even the most hurried
touch to her eyes; and even as she
longad, VINEYARD turned his back to
her, and went beneath the lamp to
consult his watch. Though he con-
templated the bland face of that re-
liable piece of mechanism for some
moments, he never saw the time; but
that did not matter very much.
ut would be rather hard to over
rate Bokhara," she sad, quietly.
Then he turned and slowly came
back to her side. There was an I'M
comfortable drawn look about his
lips, and his eyes were dull as he
watched her mechanically smoothing
the folds of her dress.
"Jow do you know that it is Box
hara?" he. asked in a low, steady
voice.
81 made--papa-tell me-"
81 am sorry yoI did that-eE-
tremely sorry. Tell me-does my
mother know"
mo. No one beyond myself. But
you must tell her. 1t is better that
she should know-evcu that it is
Boki.ra-than he kept in ignorance
and suspense. l think-that you do
not quite understand--women!"
u thought there was something on