The Telegraph-courier. [volume] (Kenosha, Wis.) 1888-1946, 1915-06-10
The Result Of
a Caprice
By LOUISE 3. CUMMINGS

"Auntie, why were you never mar
ried? have heard that in your youth
you were great belle"
MY DEAR replied the old lady,
why was not married Is a painful
story to me. 1t has been constantly
with me ever since / was nineteen
years old, but have never talked
about 1t. There is lesson in it for
young girls like you, and on that &C
count l will tell 1t to you"
Then the old lady told me the follow
ing story:
You know that was born and raised
in the south on one of those planta-
tons that represented typical high life
there before the war destroyed the in
Stitution which was its foundation.
came Of age shortly before the struggle
opened. suppose it is true that / was
belle. Would that I had not been
such. for the attention 1 received
turned my head and caused what en-
FILTERED my life
Among my suitors were Alfred Beale
and Edgar Turnlee. Turnlee was my
favorite indeed, / was very much In
love with him--but / wished to be
striven for and alternately encouraged
him and his rival, Alfred Beale One
day was sitting in the drawing room
of the plantation house with Edgar.
My back as well as his was toward the
door opening into the great hall, while
my face was toward large mirror
resting on the mantel over the fire.
place. | caught a glimpse of the re-
Election of Alfred Beale In che hall.
He saw both Edgar and me sitting
together. He paused and looked at us,
making no sound to indicate to us that
he was there Indeed, he was caves
dropping, but | thought little of that.
was wrapt in the idea of being an
object Of strife between two young
men and was tempted to see what
would happen between them should /
purposely increase their antagonism.
had been expecting proposal from
Edgar and now gave him every en-
couragement. He was placing an arm
around my waist and his face was
near mine when I gave a little Shrek
and drew away from him, assuming to
be indignant Beale stepped into the
room and, glaring at Edgar. upbraided
him. Edgar looked an appeal to me to
exonerate him.
1t Is impossible to give reasons for
the freaks that enter the heads of
young persons, especially young girls,
In the matter of coquetry. Instead OF
taking the blame of Edgar's act upon
myself. l walked out Of the room,
leaving my admirers to settle the con-
troversy in their own way. I had no
sooner left them than it occurred to me
that had acted abominably. If had
gone directly back and confessed the
situation might have been saved. |
was about to do so when remembered
that such an acknowledgment would
bring down upon me the contempt of
III
which I doubted.
While / was celebrating I heard
both men go out of the house. /
started to call them back, but hest
tated, and before had made up my
mind what TO do they were out of
hearing.
| wondered what would come to pass
between them. 1t did not occur to me
that they would fight duel. Dueling
by this time had largely died out in the
south, and I was too young to have
heard much of an obsolete custom
What chiefly concerned me was that /
had so deeply wronged the man l
loved. I was not only suffering from
consciousness of having done him an
injustice, but was panic stricken lest
he should never forgive me.
The affair began In the afternoon,
and from then until bedtime | was in
a state of dread, not that anything Sc
rious might occur between the rivals,
but that / had lost my lover In the
middle of the night my father came
into my room and asked me for an ex-
PLANTATION Of what had happened, for he
had heard Of it. Instead Of telling him
the truth, / left him with the impress
sion that Edgar had transcribed his
rights and Alfred had resented his act
l asked father what had come Of it,
and he replied that would learn the
result In the morning; then he left me-
This was the first intimation / had
OF anything serious between the two
men. Suddenly it flashed upon me
that they would fight. / trembled |
lay turning the matter over in my
brain, which was like a boiling cal
dron. With the first light of dawn |
arose, dressed myself, stole down the
great staircase and out on to the We
randa. Looking out from behind vine,
/ saw Edgar and two other young
men riding by the plantation. Going
to the barn, l saddled my horse, mount
ed and followed them
cannot dwell on the rest. 1t is too
painful I was some time in finding
where they had gone When l reach
ed them they had fought duel with
pistols, and Alfred Beale was living on