The Port Gibson reveille., 1907-09-19
A WOMAN HATER
c<EEREESE>


father, mother, friends, was put upor
me. Did you receive the letter
wrote in my Distraction"
He bowed his head.
Forgive me, Herbert, forgive me!
hardly know how it came about.
l must have been under some spell
some hallucination!"
No, you were so dazzled by the
coronet that you could not see right
from wrong!"
1T has brought me nothing but
misery and remorse," she moaned.
Nonsense! This meeting las un-
nerved you, has brought back mem
ories that are still fresh"
But only listen to met"
No, it would be useless. The
faet will still remain that you are not
Maud Selby; but Lady Beaton, that
every tie is broken between us for
ever. If you have no more thought
for you honor as a wife than to risk
being discovered here with me, I still
retain too much respect for the
woman once loved and looked upon
as my future wife to prolong this
conversation. Good-night!"
With bow, he turned upon his
heel. When he returned to the house
he found B-r. Wyndham alone in the
smoking room.
am sorry to say that I must
leave early tomorrow morning, nv
dear Wyndham. Do not mention it
tonight to any one. I must ask you
to make my adieux!"
Wyndham looked up at tt; paIs
set face, upon which the recent scene
had left its traces, and answered, L
am sorry to hear that. 1 had antici-
pated some pleasant days together;
and tomorrow we have some nice
people coming down. But if it must !
be, it must be-"
As he passed into the hall he -:ct
Lady Beaton, who had just returned |
from the grounds. ''I have been in
in a moonlight walk, looping
to hes- the nightingale. But they
are nct singing tonight, it would |
seen, she said, speaking quite
loudly. She was pale, and her eyes
looked a little red, but her tone was
free and unembarrassed.
1t was very ungallant of the night
ngales to disappoint a lady" he
answered, in the same strain.
i shall find more than compensa-
ion in the drawing room. What a
delicious voice Clarice has: She is
singing one of my favorites-Schu-
'ert's 'Serenade.' Are you coming
o listen"
Il am afraid I must deny myself
he pleasure. Goodnight, Lady Bea-
on!"
Yet as he reached the drawing
DOM door he paused to listen to a /
iren's voice. Clarice, at Lady Bea-
on's request, had recommended "The /
'erenade." With what a 3sionate
adness she poured forth that won j
erful relcdy, which is the very voice
f love!
"Can she be like the rest?" he
ighed. Il shall not see her before I
go. Perhaps never again!"
Slowly he walked up the stairs to r
is own room, the waves of the '
aunting melody following him until
e shut the door against them.
Four summers have come and n
one, and it is the June of the fifth t
ear when we again look upon tie I
erdant lawn and bosky gardens of u
ne Pines. The scene is the same. Fl
are the dramatis personae. "
Mr.. Wyndham, looking rather h
rayer, though he is still a handsome S
ian on the sunny side of sixty, is t,
nokins cigarette; Clarice is read h
lg aloud, while Beuachamp, now Il
'lonel, is reposing in a chaise
ngue. But how altered! He has e.
cen serving abroad and has returned fl
Ome invalided. G
Outwardly at least there is little u
ft of the proud, indomitable, self it
liant man of the past in the pale. 81
orn-looking figure, whose hollow al
'ay eyes, once so ruthlessly keen, ia
e now intently fixed upon the F
ader. n
Clarice is little changed, save that cl
II beauty is more matured; her tall, al
aceful figure is more firmly set. d.
ne dark eyes are as soft and luc- m
ous as ever, the pale complexion is
rhaps shade warmer, but a sha- gC
w of sadness is over all. III
Beauchamp has been staying at II
e Pines nearly a month. When he OF
st came he had not long left sick th
d, and was incapable of using any So
ertion. But the genial Surrey air st,
S wrought wonders upon him. Each RI
y he is gaining strength. is
And was it only the air? Was "T
ere no other factor? Watch him sn
he drinks in the silvery accents tw
Clarice Wyndham's voice and the 70
arning look in his eyes, that are oV
tened upon her. In a pause in the. Pc
lding she looks up and meets his
se. Her eyes fall instantly and
ep blush suffuses her pale cheek.
ief as was the flash it thrilled him in:
the soul.
He glanced toward Mr.. Wyndhant,
o was doing in his chair. Then ha
whispered softly, "Clarice!" tin
And, as though there had been a cid
npelling magic in his voice, she
e and, WITH hot, flushed cheeks, the
7anced to his side Lii