The Brandon news. (Brandon, Miss.) 1892-1961, 1907-09-19

carried her through the situation
with at least equal success. But all
the time Beauchamp was under the
severest tension.
He had strolled some little dis.
lance from the house when the
woman, wrapped in light cloak, ad.
vanced rapidly toward him.
"Maud!-LadJ Beaton!" he ex-
claimed. She stood in his path.
Give me few minutes CONVEX
sation with you. FL want to ex.
plain!' she cried in broken voice.
If you refer to the past, no ex-
PLANTATION is needed. You were wooed
by richer and titled sutton, and
you ignored that you were the plight.
ed wife of another!"
Il know how badly, how wickedlv
I have acted! You were away at the
time, and every possible pressure, by
father, mother, friends, was put upon
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.
| 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
cries that are still fresh"
But only listen to metz .
"No, it would be useless. The
fact 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. Goodnight" =
With a bow, he turned upon his
heel. When he returned to the house
he found I-r. Wyndham alone in the
smoking room
II am sorry to say that I must
leave early tomorrow morning, my
dear Wyndham. Do not mention it
tonight to any one. I must ask you
to make my adieux!"
Wyndham looked up at tt pale
set face, upon which the recent scene
had left it's traces, and answered, Il
am sorry to hear that. I had antici-
pated some pleasant days together;
and tomorrow we have some nice
people coming down. But if it must
be, it must be-" Is
AS he passed into the hall he ret
Lady Beaton, who had just returned
from the grounds. Il have been in
dulging in moonlight walk, hoping
to hear the nightingale. But they
are no. singing tonight, it would
SEEM" she said, speaking quite
loudly She was pale, and her eyes
looked a little red, but her tone was
free and unembarrassed.
ut was very ungallant of the night
ingales to disappoint lady," he
answered, in the same strain.
81 shall find more than compensa-
ton in the drawing room. What a
delicious voice Clarice has,. She is
singing one of my favorites-Schu
bert's 'Serenade.' Are you coming
to listen"
II am afraid I must deny myself
the pleasure. Goodnight. Lady Bea-
toni,
Yet as he reached the drawing
room door he paused to listen to a
SIRENS voice. Clarice, at Lady Bea-
tons request, had recommended 1.-THE
Serenade." With what a Passionate
sadness she poured forth that won
derful melody, which is the very voice
of love!
Can she be like the rest?" he
sighed. II shall not see her before
l go. Perhaps never again."
Slowly he walked up the stairs to
his own room, the waves of the
haunting melody following him until
he shut the door against them.
Four summers have come and
gone, and it is the June of the fifth
year when we again look upon tie
verdant lawn and bosky gardens OF
the Pines. The scene is the same,
SO are the dramatis personae.
Mr.. Wyndhan, looking rather
grayer, though he is still a handsome
man on the sunny side of sixty, is
smoking cigarette: Clarice is read
ing aloud, while Beuachamp, now a
colonel, is reposing in chaise
Tongue. But how altered! He has
been serving abroad and has returned
home invalided.
Outwardly at least there is little
left of the proud, indomitable, SELF.
reliant man Of the past in the. pale,
worn-looking figure, whose hollow
gray eyes, once SO ruthlessly keen.
are now intectly fixed upon the