The Abbeville press and banner. [volume] (Abbeville, S.C.) 1869-1924, 1912-11-20
CHAPTER V.-(Contlnued.)


zical smile slanting her lips.
"You wish my opinion?" countered
the daughter. HE is shy, but he Is
neither stupid nor silly; and when ne
smiles he Is really good-looking."
my child" replied the woman
drawing off her gloves and examining
her shapely hands, 81 have looked In
to the very heart Of that young man
A thousand years ago, a red-cross on
his surtout, he would have been beat
ing his fists against the walls OF
Jerusalem; FIVE hundred years later,
J he would have been singing chant
royales under lattice-windows; a pa
ladin' and a poet"
How do you know that? Did he
make love to you?"
mo; but I made love to him with
out his knowing It; and that was
more to my purpose than having him
make love to me-" systematically.
three days, and he was so guileless
that he never asked my name. But
In Monte Carlo. as you know, n asks
only your bankers name"
"And your purpose?"
1T is still mine, dear. Do you real
lie that we haven't seen each other
in four months, and that you haven't
offered to kiss me
did he go away without writing to
you about that money!"
Mrs. Chedsoye calmly plucked out
the inturned fingers Of her gloves. Il
believe / did receive a note i~nclosing
his bankers address, but, unfortu-
nately, in the confusion OF returning
to Paris. I lost it. My memory has
always been a trial to me-" sadly.
Since when?" coldly. There is not
a woman living with a keener memory
than yours"
"You fatter me. In affairs that in
terest me, perhaps"
You never meant to pay him. It
Is horrible"
MY dear Fortune, how you jump at
conclusions! Did / not offer him a
draft the very first thing?"
Knowing that at such a moment he
could not possibly accept it?" de-
dsively. Sometimes l hate you'll"
In these days flial devotion Is a
lost art"
mo. no; 1t is a flower parents have
ceased to cultivate"
And there was In { tone q
strained note which described al in
tense longing to be loved. For If
George Percival Algernon Jones was
q lonely young man, it was the result
of his own blindness; whereas Fortune
C%hedsoye turned hither and thither in
search of that which she could
find. The wide Lybian desert held
upon it's face a loneliness, a desolation.
less mournful than that which reigned
within her heart.
Hush! We are growing sentiment
al" warned the mother. Besides, l
believe we are attracting attention"
Her glance swept a h~alf-circle CON-
placently.
Pardon me! / should be sorry to
draw attention to you, knowing how
you abhor it."
my child, learn from me; temper Is
he arch enemy of smooth complex
ions. Jones-it makes you laugh"
1T is a homely, honest name"
IT grant that. But a Percival Alger-
non Jones!" Mrs. Chedsoye laughed
softly. 1t was one Of those pleasant
sounds that caused persons within
hearing to wait for 1t to occur again.
Come; let US go up to the room. 1t
Is a dull. dusty journey In from Port
Said"
Alone, Fortune was certain that for
her mother her heart knew nothing
but hate. Neglect, Indifference, In
justice, misunderstanding. the chill
repellence that always met the least
outreaching Of the ehild's affections,
the un~accountable disappearance,
the terror Of the unknown, the blank
wall of ignorance behind which she
was always kept, upon these hate had
builded her dark and brooding re-
treat. Yet, never did the mother come
within the radius of her sight that she
did not fall under the spell OF
strange fascination, enchanting, fight
against it how she might. A kindly
touch Of the hand. a single mother
smile, and she would have flung her
arms about the other woman's neck.
But the touch and the mother-smile
never came. She knew, she under
stood; she wasn't wanted, she hadn't
been wanted in the beginning; to her
mother she was as the young Of ami
mails, interesting only up to that time
when they could stand alone. That
the mother never made and held
feminine friendships was in nowise
astonishing. Beauty and charm, such
as she possessed, served Immediately
to stimulate envy in other women's
hearts. And that men Of all stations
in life flocked about her, why, 1t is
the eternal tribute demanded of beau
ty. Here and there the men were not
all the daughter might have wished.
Often they burnt sweet flattery at her
shrine, tentatively; but as she coolly
stamped out these i%ncipient fires.
they at length came to regard her as
one regards the beauty of a frosted
window, as a thing to admire and
praise in passing. One ache always
abided; the bitter knowledge that had
she met in kind smile for smile and
Jest for jest, she might have been her
mothers boon companion. But deep