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Beautiful Miss Armadale. By Mrs. V. H. PALME?. CHAPTER a "ITiQ nothing content you?* Th? dull hoax of the day at Indian Beach was that which followed luncheon. Dazing this hoar, on tbe day following the Craig dinner party, Miss Eliot and Miss Armadale, sitting behind tho seal? loped awnings of the piazza, saw Clare Craig in her short red skirt and broad brimmed hat, in which she suggested a gypsy at a masquerade, picking her way along the beach over which the rising tide from moment to moment spread higher and higher. "Clare can't walk from her house to oars without trying to get a little ex? citement out of it," remarked Miss Eliot, whose knees were covered by scone huge-undertaking in Bolton cloth and Kensington stitch. "It is a queer time to come. The tide wiU be np m half an hour, and she will have to return hy the road," remarked Mw?, Ehot, who sat just within the halL Miss Armadale asia nothing. She waa wondering that Clare came alone. Clare was waving her bandin triumph at her own agility as she scrambled by aid of ti? bayberry bashes over the sand ?une and oat of the way of an uncom? monly strong, swift wave. "I didn't see any of yon at the bathing beach this morning," she said, establish? ing herself in a hammock in one comer of tte broad piazza; "and so I thought rd como and tell you the news." "Is there any news at Indian Beach?* queried Miss Armadale. She sat in a low hung chair, her small bronze slip? pers protruding from under her white gown. "There wouldn't be bat for you,* re? plied Clare sharply. "Have I anything to do with your news, pray?* "You can judge. Alan and Mr. For? syth have quarreled. They came to breakfast separately. And then John harnessed up and drove Mr. Forsyth three or four miles back in the country, where he has found board and taken all his traps. He told me that he was obliged to do some literary work and moat be quiet. Bot of coarse I know! Alan didn't like his waltzing with you last night, and Forsyth wouldn't stay in the house.'* **My dear dare, yon jump at conclu? sions, " said Miss Armadale languidly, bat Clare saw the cool glitter flash in her sleepy eyes at the thought of new excitement. "You'd better follow my example and jump at some conclusion as to which of your beaux you'll marry,'' retorted Clare. "My choice seems to interest you," said Hope Armadale maliciously. She knew of poor Clare's devotion to Alan, who had never thought of her other than ss a little sister. Tbe crimson blood tingled in Clare's dark cheeks. "You play with men's hearts as if they were tennis balls," she flashed out "I dont believe any good woman does ED." "Clare-child r from Mrs. Eliot. .*I beg your pardon-but-I am glad I said it," was the quick retort. "And, oh, Lucille, 1 wanted to tell you that 1 had a letter from the Dacres this morn? ing. They want me to join them on their trip to Yellowstone park. And Fm going. 1 start tomorrow for Bos? ton, where I meet them Alan is going to take me to them. Fm awfully glad. 1 hate Indian Beach." The tide was down by sunset, and Alan Craig and Hope Armadale were walking on the hard, smooth sand. "I am going away for a .week," said Alan "So your cousin told us." *Give me my answer before I go." -That wouldn't be polite, Mr. Craig," j ehe laughed. "You would have noth- j ing to look forward to-to bring you j back." "1 don't understand you," he said al- | most roughly. "Does it amuse you to j tort?reme?" "Alan," she said in her soft voice, j .'think how short a time we have known ? each other-not two months." "Don't yon think you understand me | yetT She smiled in the gathering darkness. lt was so absurd-the bare notion that she did not comprehend every in and out of that frank masculine nature. "You know that you do," he said ! "Yon understand me thoroughly, though j you have only known me two months, j Now, then, do I understand you? No, Hope Armadale, and I never shall. No better in two centuries than in two months. But what is more to the point, I love you. I love you without under- i standing you. I love you so blindly and j wildly that nothing I could learn re? garding you could alter my love. So there is nothing to wait for. Will you marry me?" "Give me the week of your absence," she said, almost gently. "Let me think. Alan; let me be sure." ??You mean leave you free to experi? ment on Victor Forsyth while I am gone. Yon were on the point of engaging your? self to me last evening when our talk was interrupted by Miss Eliot remind? ing you that it was time to leave. In the three min?tes that I was away about the carriage you were introduced to Forsyth. You waltzed with him, and thejffboletenfit?T^^ ? "If you believe that and still ask to care for you, I should despise you. "I believe I am mad. I say thi which only a madman would say. 1 are right to despise me. I am glad : were frank. Pray go on, and say tha woman can't love a man for whom i feels contempt. But no; you need : say it I will spare you the disagrees task. Goodby, Miss Armadale. I cept your rejection. I will try to man enough to endure , my disappoi ment." "Alan"- She paused, standing the shelter of the sand dune. She ] one hand to cover her eyes; the ot? she held toward the angry man who v turning from her. "How unreasons' -how violent yon are: Do yon exp me not to take a second for reflection? "I do not mean to be unreasonab Hope. But I love you till I have no n son left," he said, pausing. "Take my hand. Let us be frier for a week more." "And after that?" He-held her hand and leaned besi her against the sand wall of the nie within which they stood. "Will nothing content you?" "Nothing-but one kiss, Hope Ara dale, from your sweet lips. Give i that and I can wait for eternity. L me have that to remember, and I w go away and stay till you recall me-t you say I may come." She did not shrink from him or mot Tmn. He wound an arm about her ?E lithe form just as he might for a wall He stooped, and with his disengag* hand he held her head firmly, and mouth to mouth they kissed each 6th with a long silent kiss. ? "I am content," said-Craig with nae mg eyes. "I ask no more-no promis so pledge-till you are ready to give i I am yours. It shall be for you toss when you will be mine. " She pressed his hand ever so slightly, "Let us go home now," she said wit a vague alarm in her voice. Graig left her at the door. There wi company in the parlor and he was in r mood for careless talk. He strode alon the wet, dark beach and already bega to reflect upon the nature of the bon which he had so eagerly ratified. That night Lucille Eliot went to hi guest's room after the latter was in bec "Hope," she said, "you are going tc far with Alan Craig. Recollect, I feel responsibility in the matter." "Since men are fools, what can os do?" "One can be honorable, Hope." "Dear Lucille, don't preach to mi Nothing makes me so wicked as bein preached to. Craig, thank Heaven, goc off tomorrow-to stay till I call hil back. I never could have spared nix but for his friend Forsyth's arriva Now I must See what I can do wit him." Miss Eliot sighed a bitter little sig! Forsyth had made abrief call that ever mg while Craig and Miss .Armadale wer down on the beach, and had accepted v invitation to join a horseback party f o a visit to an Indian encampment severa miles from the beach nexis day. - Miss Eliot had found this new ac qnaintance unusually agreeable. Bu she could not expect to hold the atten tion of any agreeable man whom i amused Miss Armadale to flirt with Craig himself was such a flirt that th< Eliots had regarded him and Hope a equally matched. But lately the serious ness of the affair had begun toanno^ them in a way rather incomprehensibh to persons to whom Miss Armadale wai a mere acquaintance of the season. The day of the visit to the encamp ment was one of those strange days thai come at the -end of summer at the sea shore-hot and stall-with a small coppei sun in a gray sky. Miss Armadale had two escorts on thc ride out-a couple of college boys-witt whom she rode recklessly far in advance of the rest Forsyth rode beside Miss Eliot. He had treated Miss Armadale with re serve, having found reasons for so do? ing. His mind was on her, but he almost ignored ber when chance threw them to? gether. Lucille and he talked as they rode with implacable common sense. Forsyth had never talked such radical common sense with a woman before. He quite liked it, except for the distracting thought of Miss Armadale's beautiful form in the short green habit, flying flying along the sandy wood road under the thin, sad trees-as trees are near the seashore. . At the encampment they betight bas? kets and mats, which they fastened about their waists, and so went riding homeward. "What are you talking about?" Miss Armadale reined up suddenly alongside Forsyth and Miss Eliot, who were walk? ing their horses as she put the question. They were within two or three miles of the beach, and she had not succeeded in attracting bis attention during the whole excursion. "Talking of what is best worth living for," answered Lucille seriously. "Why, fun, of course," returned Miss Armadale. "Anything that is fun for us, though it may be death to somebody else?' asked Forsyth quickly. "Oh, that is too nice a distinction for me," said Miss Armadale; "that is some? thing for the frogs and the boys to settle between themselves." "A woman without feeling is a mis? take in creation," said Forsyth in a low tone, reining his horse to Miss Arma? dale's side and looking at her with a sort of ferocity. "What do you know about mistakes in creation?" she retorted. "If I could choose I would be a woman without feeling, rather than anything else." "Why?" "So that I might be indifferent to such treatment as I have received this after? noon." "Treatment from<whom?" She looked at him with her soft, dark eyes, with her. lovely curves and her glow and bloom. "Did my waltzing disgust you last night, that you have not given me a word or a look today?' "I am not a man who bestows his j words or looks -where they, are not j wanted." ' ? "No. 1 see that. That is why your words and looks are worth having." "If tha> is your opinion, I am at your ! Bervice, Miss Armadale." "Oh, you misunderstand me, of course. Men always misunderstand me." "I do not wonder. You seem an enig? ma to me." "I am sure you could read me-though not every one can." "I am going to try to read you." "Ah, then I shall try to prevent you." "Why? Have you anything to con? ceal?" In the shadow of the pine he saw a change of color in her face. "A woman always has her feelings to conceal." "Why, no, not necessarily. I can im? agine that to the proper person she would like to reveal them." "To the proper peroon!" repeated Miss Armadale with a shrug. "But the fun consists in revealing them to the im? proper person.* What a strange, bold speech this was, Forsyth reflected after he had left the party. Hope Armadale was truly an enigma. But what a fascination she possessed! When he found that Craig had left the beach so unexpectedly for an indefi? nite absence, he suspected that Miss Ar? madale had refused him, and as time passed without his return he was con? vinced that this was so. But one day coming upon that young lady unexpect? edly he found her reading a long letter in what was to him Alan's unmistakable handwriting. "Miss Armadale," he said frankly, looking significantly at the sheets which she hastily attempted to fold, "I ap* knowledge myself beaten. I had begun to suspect that I could understand you. But I see that I do not." "What do you misunderstand, Mr. Forsyth?" she asked haughtily. "The encouragement you have given my attentions during the past three weeks." "Your attentions, Mr. Forsyth?" "Certainly, my honest and unmistak? able attentions-which you nave, re? ceived as- a woman receives such marks from a man who she knows is about to ask for her love." ? Forsyth stood tall and severe before her. "I am sure I do not understand you." "Hope Armadale, you have known from the first minute I looked at you that I was in love with you-my first love, let me tell you, for any woman. After that first meeting 1 let you alone. I believed that Craig had a claim on you. You remember the ride home from the encampment and what yon said to me to lure me on. Days passed: Craig did not return, and you gave me every evidence of-preference" "Stop, Mr. Forsyth!" "Pardon me, I am not through. You are dealing with some one besides Alan Craig today. You have given me, 1 say, every mark of preference. Alan's continued absence convinced me that everything between you and him was ended. I have been waiting for a suita? ble opportunity to say in words what you well know that I feel. I come here today and find you smiling and blushing over a love lettef from-my rival." *^You are very cross. Mr. Forsyth." she pouted. "Is that all you have to say to me?" "What would you have me say?' She was a little afraid of him. "Which of us two you love," he an? swered fiercely. She turned unexpectedly pale. She clasped her hands in a mechanical way, letting the papers fall to the floor. There were tears in the lustrous eyes she lifted to ForsythV stern face. "You must wait," she stammered. "Wait, to be fooled further! No, Miss Annadale; I am through with you. heartless, unscrupulous" "Mercy!" she cried. "It is the merciful who receive mercy. May you never know its meaning." The interview took place in a bow window, from which there were steps to the lawn. As Forsyth uttered the last words steps were approaching through the parlor. He was too much agitated to control bis manner, and hastily open? ing the French window he sprang down the steps and was soon out of sight. He was beaten. His violence, his self betrayal had not elicited anything which he sought to know. He was ignorant whether Hope Armadale cared for him, whether she was engaged to Alan Craig -just as ignorant as when his pursuit began a month before. CHAPTER ni. Staggered to the window with his load. He strode back to his boarding place and spent the night writing. Opening his window in the chill gray dawn he heard the dull, distant roar of the sea heard it, he thought, nearer, wilder than ever before. A group of men in oilskin suits were plodding silently along. For? syth recognized them-they were from the life saving station. What were they doing? There was no storm, no wind. And while he thought about it the sound of terror, of the remorseless waves j coming higher, nearer, seemed to thun der "Danger! Danger!" Forsyth caught his mackintosh from a hook, sprang through the raised win- j dow, which was on the ground floor, and ; hurried after the men. "What's up, Olmstead?" he asked of one of them whom he knew. "There's a devil of a high tide!" "Have the boats been washed away?" "Boats! The whole beach'll be washed away, I'm thinking." "Are the cottages in danger?" "That's what we are going to see about." Forsyth asked no more. Craig cot? tage and the Eliots' villa were a quarter of a mile apart, and both were very near the beach. There were no men but the servants in either. The light grew stronger moment by moment and the noise fairly deafening as they approached the sea. "How long before flood?' asked For? syth uneasily. "Still an hour," and while the man was speaking the party paused at the sight before them-a gray wave with curling streamers of spray towered above the distant sand dune and broke hissing beyond it-the first. A shudder ran through the little party. "We had. better divide," suggested Forsyth. "Count me as one of you. This is the nearer way to Mrs. Eliot's.. The waves must be up to their lawn. Let us make haste." A moment later and they could see the villa, and as they sighted it a group of people were rushing from it with cries that were drowned hythe tumult of the waves. "They have escaped, and none too soon," muttered Phil Olmstead. Forsyth was pressing in advance. "It is not the family-it is the servants," he groaned as the half clad men and women ran beckoning frantically toward them. Waiting for nothing, they passed on, but not so fast as the high tide. A great crash of shattered glass told them that the windows were giving way. Forsyth ran now like a man possessed. The beau? tiful villa was creaking like a vessel among the tossing waves. Already ar? ticles of furniture were floating about. "These are the chambers,." he shouted and began the ascent of a ladder which stood-it did not occur to him to wonder how it came there-under Miss Anna dale's window. In the gray light, amid the deafening roar of wind and waves, he leaped into the girl's chamber. Aman was before hun. This man stood hythe bedside. "Hoper he shrieked as he lifted the unawakened girl and huddling the sheets about her staggered to the win? dow with his load. Forsyth had paused. Hope awoke now, and paralyzed with fear struggled from the arms of her saviour, and the three confronted one another-Alan Craig, Forsyth and the woman they both loved. The water into which they descended was knee deep. Olmstead bound the little party together and fairly hauled the women to a spot of safety. Their lives were saved, and as they flew from the scene the wild waves were sweeping through the pretty rooms, through the presses filled with dainty garments, scattering the contents of toi? let cases and jewel boxes. At the nearest place of safety, where breakfast and clothing were furnished, a stranger, who evidently belonged with the Eliots, was first observed by Forsyth and Craig. He was a tall, middle aged, grizzled gentleman, who would be pom? pous under less forbidding circum stances. "Mr. Auchinloss, of Scotland," was the title by which he was presented. "He arrived only last evening," they were in? formed by Lucille. "It is Hope's intended husband, you know," Mrs. Eliot explained abruptly to Forsyth when opportunity occurred. "They are to be married very soon," she added hastily. "The engagement took place in England in the spring. Hope would not have it announced until Mr. Auchinloss could come over for the mar? riage. It is a very fine match for Hope, and I trust she will appreciate her good fortune." Forsyth made no reply, and Mrs. Eliot added, with a quiet smile: "Hope has been a sad flirt, but I sus? pect her flirting days are over." A few weeks later Hope Armadale wedded her laird and went off across the water to be a grand lady. Neither Craig nor Forsyth saw her again after the morning when they looked defiance at each other amid the furies of the high tide. But the months went by, and a year from that fearful day Lucille Eliot and Victor Forsyth were joined in marriage in the pretty little chapel at Indian Beach, and rumor asserts that an en? gagement will soon be announced be? tween the best man and the first brides? maid on that happy occasion-to wit, Alan Craig and his Cousin Clare.-True Flag. _ She Was Very Pretty. "I was in San Francisco and strolled down to witness a fire that was raging within a few blocks of my hotel," said Dick Goodwin, addressing the experi? ence meeting assembled in the Lindell corriders. "As usual, I got well to the front. A moment later a rather pretty woman came rushing down the stairway of a burning office building and threw herself into my arms, imploring me to save her. She appeared nearly crazed by excitement, and I allowed her head to repose on my manly shirt front while I strove to soothe her. She moaned and sobbed like a stricken child, and pro? tested that she had lost everything she had in the world. I could not help wondering what property she could have in an office building, but as she was rather pretty I was willing to take her word for it that her fortune was going up in smoke before my eyes. "She soon caught sight of some one she knew, and with profuse apologies for disturbing rae was quickly lost in the crowd. 'Yer watch chain's broke, mister,' said a bootblack at my elbow. Then I began to take^stock. My watch and diamond sparkler were gone, like? wise a fat roll of bills from my vest pocket. I tried to find the maid all for? lorn, who had left my fortunes so tat? tered and torn, but the earth seemed to have opened and swallowed her."-St Louis Globe-Democrat. Historian Adams' Dish. 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