A haunted life

by James Grant

'None,' repeated Chute, in a half-reproachful tone.

'Save my kindest wishes. You know, Trevor, that I used Jerry very ill; I am well aware of that, but it is too late now to—to——' She paused in confusion, and then said, 'Poor Jerry, I pity him with unspeakable pity.'

'I would that he heard you,' said Chute, caressing her pretty hand.

'Why?'

'Does not Dryden tell us that pity melts the mind to love?'

'Do not repeat the admission I have made,' said Ida, as a shade of annoyance crossed her pallid face, adding firmly, 'Let him have no false hopes; my heart has a great tenderness, but no such love as he wishes, for him.'

'And now farewell, Ida, for a long time.'

'A pleasant journey to you,' said she, and tears started to her eyes, as he bowed himself out of her boudoir.

'Thanks—to-night may see me in Paris.'