The Morris County chronicle. [volume] (Morristown, N.J.) 1877-1915, 1910-05-10

| the hearts Of each. At length the
organ begins to play a dreamy set of
waltzes, followed by an air from one
of Verdi's operas. A sleepy-looking
priest saunters down the aisle, put
ting on his gown as he goes; a
sleepy-looking chorister boy with in
! cense-burner and book saunters be-
| hind. And then in lounges chris
teRing party, everybody gossiping
and laughing, with that frank famii-
iarity toward mother Church that
characterizes the whole most Catho-
lie nation. Belinda and Roger make
their escape through a side door, left
open by the drowsy-eyed priest. and
| which leads down five or six break
neck stairs, into the sacristy.
Here they open window, and dis
cover a balcony, or mural terrace,
about twelve feet in length, exquis-
itely cool, sunless, and siesta-invit-
ing, and with the whole panorama Of
town, river-mouth and harbor out
stretched beneath.
Perhaps from this height we shall
be able to see Miss Burke about
somewhere" cries Belinda, tardily
conscience-stricken.
Belinda" says Roger Temple,
somewhere irrelevantly, don't speak
of Miss Burke, child, until the sub
Ject is forced upon u.s. There is some
thing you have omitted to explain to
me, and this is good moment to
have it out. Mr.. Jones has gone
my profound gratitude go with him
but why? What sent Mr.. Jones
away?"
I'm sure l don't know; that is, of
course ] know" answered Belinda
lucidly. Mr.. Jones went-well, be-
cause he found there was no good in
his remaining any longer"
Il see. You have behaved badly
to him, Belinda, confess it! Four
days ago your dearest hope in life
was to possess the Jones diamonds.
Don't you remember what you said
that first evening of our acquaint-
ance, the evening when Sonora La
grimas promised to show me the AL
hambra?'
She turns away quickly, yet not so
quickly but that Roger can mark the
conscious reddening of her cheek. II
behaved badly to him, I know, and
to myself, too; badly from beginning
to end. 1t makes me ashamed when
I think of it. But now-oh, l have
grown old and wise suddenly. 1t
seems quite a year since you and
Rose first came to st. Jean de Luz"
II am sorry we have made your
time hang so heavily. However, you
will be rid of us soon. Spencer is
not amusing herself, it seems, and
Rose says she does not dare stay
more than two days longer. Don't
quite forget us when-Belinda, oh,
my darling!"
And with this all is over. The
tears are raining down her cheeks,
and Roger Temple has taken her
hands in his and spoken words such
as he never spoke to Rose.
II have been so miserable" she
stammers out her poor little confess
sion presently, miserable, hopeless,
happy, all at once. Don't think bad
ly, don't think altogether badly of
me, sir, and never, never, never, tell
Rose!"
Think badly of you, Belinda, child!
That is the cruelest stab. What, in
Gods name, do you suppose think
of myself"
And you will never tell Rose-I
mean when you are far away, and
all this is like a dream? You will
never tell Rose, and you will not
blame me more than you can help,
when you think of me?"
Blame you, my dearest!" And
Roger draws her, shrinking, trem-
bling. with rapture that is half joy,
half fear, to his breast.
The organ plays on and on within
the church, and the priests voice
drones out the christening service.
and down beneath, on the shore, the
fisher children are calling to each
other, and far off GIBBS and falls the
Atlantic. Belinda knows not whether
these sounds last minute or an hour.
Roger loves her, Roger loves her,
and she is with him--her hand
clasped in his. his breath upon her
cheek, his whispers
"Montrez moi les robes de pretre,"
cries voice in rasping tourist
French. "Quand j'ai WI je pale, pas
avang."
=-,.-<.sS To be Continued.
An Apartment House Appetizer.