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About The Sioux County journal. (Harrison, Nebraska) 1888-1899 | View Entire Issue (March 26, 1896)
CHAPTER XLII (Continued.) Sin. Dene Mid nothing to Jane of what had passed. She kissed her affec tionately on both cheek, and repeated her invitation. "You may change your mind at the lait moment. I ahall hope you will," he aid. Then the train steamed out of the Ma lion, and Jane, aa with tearful eye he wared her hand in farewell, felt as though the laat Unk to that brighter life were sundered. She turned away aud walked quickly home. Aa she went, she iaw Valentine fJraeme sauntering along with Miss Knolly in the direction of the public rardens. His head waa lowered, and he wa talking with evident earnestness, while she listened with aa erident atten tion. Presently they discovered Jane, and looking rqund waved their tennis bat in friendly invitation. But June hook her head in refusal. The realitie of life were beginning, and she must ihirk her responsibilities no longer. How he envied Diana, with love and no care to spoil it. Her blushing face, so altered ince first it bad been seen at Alipore, had told its own tale, and the Adjutant, for a rejected suitor, looked wonderfully content. The girl hurried on. Now that she was actually on her way home she felt a strange longing to be there to heli or comfort, at any rate to get over the dreadful meeting with her father. Aa she entered the house, she saw him come out of the sitting-room, and go to ward the dining-room. "Father," she cried, in a low, strained voice. How changed he was so old and bow red, and with a ,daed expression on his face that Jane could compare to nothing Imt the look of a hunted animal whose la.st chance of escape had been cut off! She did not know how nearly she had guessed the truth. Turning, she entered the sitting-room. Mrs. Knox was sitting tlier with a handkerchief to her eyes, and a big blue envelope lying ill her lap. "(Hi, that is you, child, is it r" she said, presenting her cheek for a caress. "Well. I'm glad enongh you've come. It was getting about as much as I could bear. I Your father's that queer and put oat about triHes that I lgin to think he's dosing his wits altogether. He's ill, I know; but illness won't account for ev erything." ( "What is it, mother V" "Weil, my dear, it's altout our going home. lie sent in hii application for leave, as I told you. and this paper came when he was out. 1 opened itpcrimp it as that which made him angry and you have no idea how he went ou when I told him." "What was it. mode r?" asked Jane, a little impatiently; she knew of old how difficult it was to company a fact when her mother was excited. "They say they are fotiijHdlcxl to refuse his application for the present. He'll get it all right in the end. I've no doubt; but. if not. why, it can't be helped. It's no use making such a fuss. Though 1 must say," warming up, and getting indignant, as she talked. "1 think they might have shown a little more consideration, es )ecially in a case of sickness. 1 can't guess what, they mean by it. I'm sure." But Jane could. She remembered how the Deputy Commissioner had assured her that, he knew who the murderer of Jacob Lynn was; how he had told her too that every precaution would - be taken that he should not leave the station. Now he had proved his words. She sunk into a chair, looking as dazed and alarmed as the Quartermaster had bsiked a few moments before. The blow had fallen at last. Oh, heaven help them all. CHAPTER XLIII. She was powerless. Mr. Knollys had never liked her, she knew, and was most unlikely to be turned from his purpose by any appeal that she might make. The only weapon she possessed was aseles?: she might as well direct a sword-thrust against a rock as hope that her beautj or distress would touch his world-hardened heart. She felt that only one conld help her the Colonel. But would it lie afe to trust him with uch a secret? Might it not be his duty to act eoutrary to their interests? She must do nothing without consulting her father, and to do this, she must confess the knowledge she had gained. On her second meeting with her father, later on the day of her return, when he had had time to recover a little from the Mhock of hia refused leave, he had greet ed her affectionately, if somewhat ab sently, and since then he had never wemed content when she waa away. Hi manner, which to his wife waa often querulous, even violent at time, to his daughter was always gentle. At an in vitation from Jane be would, unwilling a be always appeared to leave the house, go out at once; hi food, which otherwise would have remained neglected until cold, r perhaps altogether, at her request would Iw partaken of with pitiful docil ity. He wa aa nnlike the bluff, hand some serge ut major of a year ago as !l waa poeaible to be, and in nothing more changed than In hi demeanor to his wife. The he had been u proud of her as is ooly poMlbie tor a man to be of some pos ses Ion that might be supposed to be iw yond hia attainments or deaerta. Now, he cow Id met patiently endure her pres ence. 0o II happened that It waa Jane who waa gaaerally alone with him, and therefore aha had ao diflculty in finding M opportaaitj to apeak to him, aa aba had oXammad. Tail ac row Wt. Jenny. You har afvw ttM a about it Did ran have a Iwi WWt ttwr ke aald to her. "Ver oleaaaat, father. Mi that tbora waa fcf WaV W W tmitMai? rxn i? 'is ome talk of your marrying the Hon. Barry Larron, but, perhap" it waa on the tip of his tongue to add, she lied to me; but consideration for his daughter (not hia wifel prompted him to substitute "she waa mistaken." "There was some talk of it, father." confessed Jane, quietly; "but it will never be." . "I am sorry fur that. I had hoped hoped I should like to see you settled before " "I know what you would say, father I have known it all for some time, and I want to help to conceal it, if I can." He peered at her through the gloom with dilated eyea, afraid of mistaking her meaning, through his guilty conseieme always dwelling on the oue dreadful sub ject, yet her awe-struck tones might havs removed all doubt. "About Jacob Lynn," she went on, in a whisper, and would have continued, but his head dropped upon hia hands, and he groaned so deeply that she knew he had understood. Yet he dare not raise his eye toward the daughter whose life, by his mad, im pulsive act. he had ruined. Sot until Jane stole over to her father' side and drew his head on to her breast did be venture to look up. Then little by little the whole story was drawn from his lips; how he had met Jacob I.ynn that afternoon, intoxicated, and stayed to remonstrate with him. "Give me your daughter and 1 will nev er drink again," had been the reply, with a drunken laugh. "I would sooner .-e her dead at my feet than married to such a one as you," the Quartermaster had retorted, warmly. Then in his fury, scarcely knowiug. scarcely resonsihle for what he said, the trooper had poured out such a torrent of abuse that it was with difficulty the other refrained from a reply. He ai-cused Jane of having schemed his removal from Alipore thnt she might in the end marry the Colonel; in his drunken rage he railed at her ami called her names. At last as one foul epithet escaped bis lips, the Quartermaster could restrain himself no longer. The fatal blow was given only one, yet so terrible in its results, and like ly to be the undoing of theui all. When her mother entered the room to keep her father company, Jane closed the door softly and stole away, and at once I wrote a note to Colonel I'rinscp. Hear oloncl Prinsep ' lie began, though she thought with a faint smile of his suggestion, that as a tieuaix-e she should use his Christian name, she did not do so then "You said that when I wanted help I was to ask you for it. I need it now. Will you eome to-morrow morning as early as you can? Yours sin cerely, JANK KNOX." She dispatched it at once, and an hour later received the reply: "Dear Jenny: 1 shall be with you to morrow morning at ten o'clock, without fail. Be very sure that I will do for you all that is in mv power. Alwav vour friend. STEPHEN FKINSEP." The following morning Jane was walk ing on the road in front of the house soon after nine o'clock. After further consid eration she thought it wiser not to wait for Colonel Prinsep inside. Walls have ears, and it would never do to risk the danger of any one overhearing their con versation. Tired and overwrought by the excitement through which she had gone, it seemed an endless time liefore he came, though really he was a little before the appointed hour. "You have been waiting for me?" he exclaimed. "Child, how tired you look!" He had made a movement to lead her back to the house, but she drew hack. "Not there. Some place where there is no chance of our lx'ing overheard. It is something liuHnant I have to say, or I should not have asked you to come." He looked at her reproachfully, but said nothing. She was tired in trouble and he had come to help her. They turned into the compound of the next bungalow, which they remembered was empty, yet for the moment, in their abstraction, had forgotten bow it was Jacob Lynn had been found dead there. Simultaneously they recollected, and Colonel Prinsep would have taken her away, but she resisted. "This place is as well as another; what does it matter?" she said, wearily. "At least, come into the sun and sit down," he said, authoritatively; and hav ing found her a seat that looked away from the spot they had all such good reason to remember, he waited patiently for her to say more. "Hid yon know," she began, abruptly, "that my father had applied for leave home?" "les. I knew it." he acknowledged. "And that it had been refused?" "All such papers pass through my hands. Yes. 1 knew it had been refused, "And can't will you tell me why?" anxiously. "I had a private letter this morning telling me that ail leave in the regiment would lie refused until the inquiry into Lynn's death was completed," he an swered, slowly. She gave a faint gasping cry. I'ntil now she had clung to the hope that there might have been some trivial cause for that ominous refusal, and it cost ber something to relinquish it. "Is that all yon wanted to know?" he asked her presently, and for a few mo ments received no reply. "I,et me tell yon quickly, then, it will Im less ditm-ult to talk about. It is" he spoke a though the word were be ing forced one by one from ber llp "it is my father who i guilty of that murder; and J want you to tell me how beat to creen him?" "I have guessed that it wa o," he re marked gravely; then aa he turned aod denly pale and atarted to her feet, ter rified by a new fear he added, quickly: "No, no; no one elae suurta him that I know of. It was something yoa aid, which I misunderstood at the time, that rat awakened my suspicions." "flometaing that I aid," ah repeated, blankly, wondering how she could have hem weak enough to ao betray herself, aad whcthei to him only. "Ye. One day at Mrs Denes, you ill something alut an inquiry that the Commissioner was instituting, and begged me to go away. I knew nothing then of your suspicions of myself. The only rea son 1 could imagine for y..ur naming wa that your father was guilty, and y-.-i feared that my evidence might tell aga,ns him. To allay your fears, unfounded a they were, I was prepared to go, and had made all the arrangement to do , when you explained to me what you had really thought. Then of course it wa tin (trees a ry I should leave. Now tell ue how I can help you best " "I want you to tell me. Theu let me bear the whole story, s it occurred, or at least so much as jou can bear to H-ak of." She told him all she knew, with dry lip and a faltering voice. "Why, it is not murder at all scarcely manslaughter!" he exclaimed, at its con clusion. "Then you do not blame him not alti gether, at least?" "Blame him? Why, what else could he have done? Any one would have struck the miscreant who dare to malign you some would have done more." "I don't see how they could do more than kill him," said Jane, with a little matter-of-fact air. lecoming more like herself now that she saw how lightly the Colonel seemed to take the revelation which to her had been terrible beyond word. He even gave a half smile, which was reflected in her face. IJght seemed to be coining at last, and a sense of safety now that he knew all, overcame her for mer dread. "You say," continued Colonel Prinsep, thoughtfully, after awhile, "that Mr. Knollys thinks that it was I who caused Lynn's death?" "He did think so once; but whether he does so now I am not sure. This re fusing to grant my father' leave " "All leave in the regiment is stopped, you must remember." "Ah! true. But then even if he had not suspected him liefore he might now, if he looked upon his application for leave as an attempt to escape.," suggested Jane, shrewdly. Colonel Prinsep reflected for a moment before he replied. "I think our friend ha too overween ing au idea of his own (wrspicaeity to be eaily turned from his first opinion. How ever, that remains to be seen. I am go ing now to find out how the Isnd lies, and think what is best to be done. You shad hear from me again to-day. Oisid-b.v, Jenny keep up good heart." He clased her hand firmly ami smiled encouragingly into her eyes. Then. 0 she tisik the path leading to her own com pound, he went in the oposite direction: not toward the Cutchery-as Jane, lo ik ing over her shoulder, could not fail to sec but toward the officers' mess. (To be continued.) STO R Y 0 F ANDREW OAC K SO , An Incident Illuxtratinz the t-ympj-ttictic Nature of the Mao. Au Incident ill the life of President Andrew Jackson is recalled by the re cent death In Jackson. ).. of bis private secretary, Samuel Baker, at the ripe age of It.".. Mr. Baker was verj cntlni siasttc In sounding the praise of Pics idem Jackson and continually insisted that he hud one of the most sympathetic natures that ever grai-ed Hie White House chair. As a case in point be leils the following incideut dining the first term of Mr. Jackson: A young mau lu the anny had 'i -ei: sentenced to le shot for desertion, ill: 1 his wife had prayed for a hearing wit s the President before the execution an 1 had Ik-cd granted it. Baker ns.-d to dwell upon the nervousness of Presi dent Jackson before the interview. If. was dUejuiet. restless and he seein.-.l overcome with dread. At the app -.ip ed hour the woman was ushered la his presence. Willi her were her w atuall children. These ilircc had .-.a:. ly entered lot- mom when tin- m .: ...m fell upon her knees .it the feet " President, and the children knelt i either si.lc and the three prayt d lo !:. "Siicli prayers and praying." I'.a.i.M used to ,.'iy, '"J never saw nor lend ... my life." Jackson cat through it u II with tea streaming down his face, and his en,i liody convulsed w ith sobs; it seemed .! If hia very determination had forsn.;."i hliu, and he seemed incapiible of mov lug or utlerlug a aotiud. The woman bad finished: and with the cliil.!-eo clinging to him on either side the Pi-cm dent: arose. With a voice full of ten dermna and pity he told the woman that what she asked could not lie giait; ed. lie told her the safety of the ani ; demanded that there nhould be no in terfereuce with justice In such cmsc. and then, his courage forsaking lii.n he tied Into au inner office. 'There It was," aald 1 hiker, "tluif I found him on a lounge, completely pros t rated. He did not arouse for so:::, time, and when he did it was with .n. feebleness of a man who had Just re covered from a long Illness. Slowly he rose, and, with a look of despair l bat I can never forget, he turned to me an 1 Uttered them' words: "I would to i;...l that I waa not President." " Juke on the. Hlshop. Bishop Pa ret, of Baltimore, tells a good story at bin own exjense. He was recently on a train, and near him sat two drunken men. Presently one of the men, with a forcible expletive, re marked to the other ttiat souie one had rolds-d hlin of a 3) bill. Ilia friend re marked: "Oh, I guess not; you must hare it alxuit you noinewhere." But the other Insisted he hadn't, and that be had the Mil when he came aboard the train. Some one had roltlsxl lilm, and be proposed to find It if be bad to search the whole rrowd. "Aa It hap pened," says Bishop I 'a ret "I had a $J bill, and that waa all, and a I waa the nearest man to them, and the first likely to be approached, I felt a little uncomfortable. Then It occurred to me to pretend to be aaleep. Ktire enough. In a minute more I waa accost ed with, 1 aay, nelgbborT but I mad no anawer. Then the men grabbed my arm and shook me, but to no use, aa I didn't wake up. If kept on shaking, howerer, and alwaya a little more forci ble, until at laat bla friend Interpoaed with: 'I aay, Hill, let him alone, will you: he'a drnnker'n ran ar:" A PASSING. Toa passed with that first sudden flush ( If springtide, and the eternal hush Fell on your li, and on your eyes The mystery of mysteries. W saw the starry primrose break To golden purpose fur your sake; The heavy hyacinth became A herald to proclaim your name. Beneath the shadow of the firs Bells chimed for fairy revellers. And where the white uarcissus blew It scattered all its sweets for you. We saw, alas! but you, as one For whom all seasons bad outrun. Saw rot, nr heard the thrushes sing In tranquil shade at evening. Your hand are folded on your breast Like lilies joined in endless rest; Your feet have climlied the hidden road That bounds the quiet land of Cod. Budget. MISS DAKULNGTOX. It had rained steadily all day. and now, at the approach of evening, though the down pour waa lessening, the clouds were still black, and there seemed not the least promise of clearing weather. "This la Intolerable," and Eleanor threw up the wludow with a fore which made Mrs. Alton start. "Oh, you mean the rain. It Is pro voking our last day hen?, too! How oold that air Is! I believe I waa almost asleep. I wonder what time It la."' Eleanor made no reply, but remained gazing moodily out at the sea. The dashing of the waves on the beach sounded mournfully; the water shone darkly In the fast-coming night. Lights were beginning to twinkle along the lit tle harbor. Eleanor's face wore a strangely pathetic expression In the dim light. Her companion regarded ber curiously. Waa ahe regretting leaving South Shore? "No moonlight sail to-night. But, of course, Mr. Ijuighain will eome over to say good-by," observed Mrs. Alum, tentatively. There was no reply from the figure at the window. "It must !e almost time to dress for dinner. I will light the pas." ami Mrs. Alton moved briskly about the room. Eleanor left the window as a ktusk was heard at the door, followed by the entrance of a scrvmit bearing a bunch of fragrant red rows, and au envelope "For Miss Harrington." Eleanor burled her face In the dow ers an Instant, and then opened the note and read: "South Shore, August. My IiearMIss Harrington: My d!"Hp!"d"tnient Is very great that the weather prevents our sail. I know that your are fond of dark roses. Will you di-om these worthy to ls worn by you this evening? I shall give myself the sail pleasure of a parting call. Very sincerely yours. "KOYAL LAN' I HAM." She handed if lo Mrs. Altou, w ho read It very deliberately. "Well," she paused, "1 thought lie would come, but what will you do with him, Eleanor?" "I think I do not understand you." "I menu this: He loves you anil means to marry you. and " "Means to marry mo!" Interrupted Miss Harrington, haughtily. "Have I given him mi son to suppose that I am to Ik; had for the asking?" "Oh, come, don't crush me. We arc close enough friends, certainly, to dis cuss this frankly. You must know that he well wants to marry you. then. Ho you Intend to marry him V" "I have told you before that so far marring? ban bad no part in my plans of life." "Ho j im mean to say that you care nothing for Koyal Ijiiighatn ?" "No." "You Jo cure for him. then?" Eleanor raised the roses to her face, and, looking calmly at Mrs. Alton, an swered: "Yes." Her companion smiled. "I thought so. Then you will marry him, of course?" "I ahall not marry him." She was silent a moment, and then, throwing the flowers on the table, said: "I shall tell It all io you. ris I have made such an admission, oh, I care for him-1, who have said that no man should In fluence my life! I have met other men ns handsome, as attractive; they did not move me. Why Is It that in the course of ten short weeks he hits lie come the center of all to me? But It Is a folly, a mildness. I will not submit to it. I will crush H out. It Is a hu miliation." Mrs. Alton was Intensely surprised. Was this the proud, sclfcontalucd Kh-anor Harrington, who waa making ao passionate an avowal? She went to the window and leaned out a minute; then, suddenly turning, she wild: "It sounds like the confession of some silly girl of 17, and I am a woman of Hi. Bah! AYhat folly!" She moved restlessly up and down the rsun. "Iive! It Is an Illusion and marriage a " "Oh, Eleanor, don't I " Miss Har rington kcIzhI her friend's band. "Don't look at me ao reproachfully, Clara. Yotl know what my sentiment are on this subject, I admit that Koyal Langliain bail made a certain Impres sion ou me, aroused a certain feeling In me which people call love. But kilo not Isdleve In It; if won't last. It has Iwcn iKirn of the ( harm of the sea. the de licious air. the witchery of the moon light nights, all the beantlftil things we have enjoyed so well, but Olii-e I am away from all these and from him II will piifs away." She laughed scorn fully. "It mils! pass. Marry ? Mr free dom la tisi precious." Hhe carelessly took np the rosea, and said In her ordinary tones: "How fine these aret I-ct tia dreat for dinner." Then she left the room, carrying the flowers with her. When she apieared at dinner she wan as self-sweed aa csual, and ra dlantlr lovely In a white gown of some soft, diaphanous material. Two of the roses were lu her bosom and another lu her hair. Koyal Itughau) a pi wared biter lu the evening. Mr. Alton observed the flash lu his dark eyes a they rested ou the flowers in Mis HarringUm'a drewi. Ou the pica of letter to be written she made her adleux and left him alone with Eleanor. But, if anything mo mentous tisik place twtween them, nothing In Miss Harrington's manner after bis departure indicated It and Mrs. Alton did not venture to question her. The next morning they left for New York. 'The marriage of Koy Laugham and Miss Cecilia Halton is to he one of the fashionable events of the coming month." Miss Harrington dropped the paper. So be w as gulug to be married? Well why, what waa the matter with her? She felt faint and such a curious little thrill had passed over her. Of course she had known that lie would. Had she not told him that she was sure that he, aa well as she, would ssn forget thi4e ten weeks at South Shore? But he had vowed of course, he hud; all men do ao. How long ago was It? Why, It waa nearly three years. How those last months In Europe dragged! How gs)d It bad seemed that morning to wake up In New York! But, what waa the mat ter with her? She felt so languid; It must be the effects of ber voyage. Yet she bad felt so well this morning. She would go out for a brisk walk. Yes. that was what she needed. She wished that the Altous were not away. She wondered If Clara knew this Cecilia Halton. As she put on her wrap she wondered If she was beautiful. Who was she? Her inline was not familiar. How dull It seemed! Was the weather changing? As she walked along Ela nor wondered where the glory of the day had gone. The morning had seem ed so bright. A gentleman coming hastily around a corner brushed up against her. His quickly spoken "Beg pardon" changed Into a surprise, "Why Eleanor!" She looked up; It was ber cousin. Jack Alton. "I thought you were in Washington," she remarked, as she shook hands with him. "We got back this morning. Business was pressing, and they w Ired me. But you do not look well. Too much Euro-?" "How Is Clara?" "She Is blooming; gone driving with the Ijines. she was not exiecting you till next steamer. She will be delight ed. Come to dinner with ns this even ing; we will go to the o'rn. I must rush now man waiting for me. We shall exjsvt you. mind." Eleanor walked on. How rude of Jack to tell her that she was not look ing well! She must take a long walk, and get up a color for the evening. But who was this Cecilia Halton? Yet what difference did It make? Of course, he could marry whom be phased. She had said that she would get over that folly of South Shore. Of course, she was over It. But slit; was dlsnpoSntod. She had bsiked forward to meeting him and being friends; that would have lieen delightful. She did enjoy talking to It i tn. lie was so companionable so so- but that, of course, was all over, now. How tired she was! Perhaps It would be better to go home. She must not be tired In flic evening. When she reached home, she bsiked critically at her reflection In the mirror. Yes. she did looked fagged out. Was this Cecilia Halton young? she wondered. But w hat (11 1 anything mat ter? Life seemed so bare! And, throw ing herself on the bed, she burst Into a passion of tears. She wept tlrst lo cnuse like a flash It nunc to ber why life seemed suddenly so bare, and then she wept for rage that, after all. that folly of South Shore was not crushed. On the contrary. It was stronger than ever. At last she fell asleep. When she awoke. It was almost dark. She was wretched. How could she endure It. She must get away from herself, the opera was the thing. She rang for lights, and was soon en gaged lu tin- preparation of an elabor ate toilet. She would wear one of her most beautiful gowns. Jack should not again have a chance to say that she did Dot hsik well. And llieu, supposing that Clara should suspect? Horror! This last thought brought a ssit of color to either check, and a finding of strength. She would look her best; her parting glance Into her mirror assured her that she did. Mrs. Alton's remarks on her appear ance were satisfactory. Jack assured her that she was stunning. On their way to the opera bouse Jack remarked: "I that Koy Langhain's marriage Is iiunounii-d for next month." "Who Is Miss Halton?" Inquired Eleanor, carelessly, "She Is a Philadelphia girl," returned Mrs. Alton. "She Is very young and ex tremely pretty. I met her last winter." Eleanor felt a pang. "Young and lovely," and she wa,s old -'M nearly. " I ii trim in Is dreadfully gone," laugh ed Jack. "He runs down to Plilladel phlu three or four times a week." Another pang, and be had vowed to licr IM three years ago! Oh. the shame of It! He had forgotten, and she she, the stroiig inlndcd, self-poised Eleanor Harrington, who bad laughed at love, was still remembering. She would not think of him; and she launched Into such a brilliant flow of talk that Mrs. Alton wondered bow Jack could have thought of her as wemlng dull. The opera house was lllled with a gay audience, and the overture was Just beginning when they took their scats. Miss Harrington's glance wandered slowly around, smilingly acknowleded aeveral recognitions and thee Mettled on the orchestra. The music was spark ling and gay, and Kleanor'i spirts rose; something of her old serenity was re turning. How foolish she had been to I hi m miserable! Of course that non sense would pats away. Perhaps, If be had notkvd an occupant of a seat to the left, just bin k of her. she might not have felt so coufMont. Koyal Lang ham was seated there, in company with his cousin, Koyden Laiighutu. lie had seen Fleauor's entrance, aud his heart had given a great Is.uud. as he saw that she was more beautiful than ever. All the old madness came rushing over him. His gaze never wandered from her face. He was In a tumult of de light at lieing so near her. Perhaps, erhaps, if he braved her coldness and almost scorn of his love, he might have won; he bad been too easily discour aged. Why had he let all this time pass by? Why had he not followed her? She bad cared for him; she had not dared to deny It but she had laughed at It as a folly. . He scarcely heard the music, but sat In a whirl of thought until the curtain fell at the close of the first act. The movement of the audience aroused hlin. His cousin left him to speak to some friends. Eleanor was laughing and talking with the Altons. How happy she seemed! Presently she looked around, and her gaze met Langham'a. He bowed; she returned bis salute In a somewhat surprised manner, be thought and then gave ber attention to the stage where the curtain was rising on the si-cond act Eleanor wa In a rage. To think that she should see him! Of all tilings It was the one to upset her. What waa that look In his eyes? Oh, was the misery of the after noon coming back? But that look In his eyes! How dared be, when he was going to marry another woman? She wished the oera was over; she felt (Ired again, and the munlo was not as bright aa liefore. The soprano waa walling over an unhappy love. How tiresome It all was! Would the curtain never fall? But It came to an end at last, and Jack proposed that they Join the prora enaderK. After n few turns they came njMin Ijingham and his cousin. The latter shook hands with the Altons, while I-anghain greeted Miss Harring ton. Eleanor answered she scarcely knew how. She could not meet his his glance, for there was that look In his eyes again. Her self-possession had utterly deserted her. The crush of the proinciiaders had utterly separated her from the Altous and Ijingham's cousin. Eleanor vaguely wondered who the latter was. She and Langham were practically alone In an angle near the stairway. "Ah!" he murmured, "we meet again after all these years." Eleanor felt faint. "I cannot, will not believe, Eleanor, that we have met once more only that I should be again repulsed. Clvc me some hope. There has not been an hour all this dreary time that I have Hot longed for you." Eleanor found It Impossible to utter a word. She could not raise her eyes. How dared lie? "You told me that I would get over what you called a madness; but I love you more than ever. You did care a lit tle then. Ho you now?" Her Indignation now dominated ev ery other feeling and found voice. She drew herself up haughtily; her eyes Hashed scorn. "Sir, how dare you! You are about to marry another woman. Have you no honor?" Here Jack's voice was heard: "I,ct nit present Koyden Langliain, Elea nor." As the Altons came up. Miss Harring ton saw that the corridor was nearly empty; the promenadors were return ing to their seats. "1 have heard a good deal of you. Miss Harrington," said Koyden Lang ham. as he bowed low over her hand. "Mrs. Alton has been very impatient for your return to New York." Eleanor bsiked bewildered. "He Is Mr. Langham's eousiu." ex plained Mrs. Alton. A sudden light burst upon Eleanor. She glanced quickly at Koyal Laugham; he looked amused. The ptoiiulng of Eleanor's last words bad dawned upon him. He turned to Koyden: "My dear fellow, we have gotten mixed up. Miss Harrington has Just been congratulat ing me upon your approaching mar riage" -then to Eleanor "you see, wo are both called Koy, though my cousin Is Koyden and I Koyal." The Altons laughed. "Why, Eleanor, did you really think It was Mr. Ijinghaiu?" asked Mrs. Al ton. Koyden said whimsically; "Don't you think It Is hard on me, Mixa Harring ton, that my cousin is always Mr. I-aag-hain aud I am only Koy? But It Is too much that he should receive congratu lations due me. It Is 1 who am to marry the sweetest girt lu Philadel phia." Eleanor observed that he wag light and fair and much younger than hia cousin. "We must go to our seats now," said Mrs. Alton. "You will ImiiIi Join us at supper after the opera," ordered Jack. If Mrs. Asliton had any curiosity n regard to the meeting of Eleanor and Ijinglinm she made no sign, Eleanor waa In a whirl. She could not think. She dared not Koyal Iin bam bad no further opportunity that evening of eaklng to her, but the next day be went to ber and demanded an answer. "Thcso years have proved, Eleanor, that my feeling for you Is not tho 'fancy' you called it If you can tell me that yon have 'crushed out your feeling for me, I will go away and leave you. Can you?" But Eleanor could not. New York Home Journal. . Hervert Him HIchtT Columbus, (ia., ha broken the rec ord. A man wa convicted and fined the other day liefore the Record for not returning an umbrella. You bet If a young fauaband falla to kiss his wife when be cornea boote, th glrla notice It