Saturday Evening Mail, Volume 20, Number 48, Terre Haute, Vigo County, 24 May 1890 — Page 6

MliU

By the Author of "Molly Bawa," Eta

•/""Vv leSatremendously good thing for her," sajs Mr.

Wading. "She's got tlifi match of the season. There she is. standing over there. Do yon see? Little girl in white, with daisies all over her." "Eli? Oh, yes,"

mys Sir George, looking in quit® the contrary direction at an overblown young thing of 30 or thereabouts—not to bo unci writable. "Not there, my dear fellow^ There!*' "Eh? Oh, ves, of course," says Sir George, in exactly the same tone. "Why, slie's a child!" "Barely seventeen. But her people put her up first chance on account of her remarkably fine eyes and the six listers yet to come. Porisonby's got a lot of money, and looks as is he adores her." "He does," says Sir George, staring at the young beauty's present partner—a stalwart Mephistopheies, who is decidedly cpriu with her "but she don't look as Is she adored him—cb?" "That isn't her fiance. Ho is lounging against the doorway on your right, Jalking to that tail dark girl in yellowMiss Nugent." "Why on earth can't he talk to his own girl'/" says Sir George testily, who la growing angry at his many mistakes.

Mr. Wilding laughs. "Miss Nugent was very near being that," ho says. "Sh« is hia cousin, an heiress in her own right, and, I dare say, the girl he would 1iavo married but for tho beaux veux Of that little baby over there. The Ponsonbys had it all arranged. It's just another case of 'man proposes,' you know." "You haven't told mo tho baby's name," Kays Sir George, who has never taken his eyes off her since first they fell on her. "Disney—Alys Disney." "Her costume suits her. Is she a Marguerite?" "Not Goethe's Marguerite," sftvs Wilding coldly and with a half fi-own. "I meant nothing half so indelicate, believo me," says Sir George, with an amused smile. "You need not ruffle your feathers like that. I meant only one of those cliarming, innocent field, flowers ono sees sometimes in—er— Birkefc Foster's pictures, and tliat. I'm told they grow in meadows but I never saw a meadow beastly bumpkins alwayB cut 'em down beforo ono can get to tho country. There's something—er—very Bpecial about her mouth, isn't there— ch?" "I really don't know," says Mr. Wilding. "Como into tho supper room and have something. I feel awfully used up."

Taking forciblo possession of the lit-

ing wall flowers to tho room beyond without making a mistake. Mr. Wilding is a young man of much merit, whoso manner ladies call "invaluable" and girls "charming." By these last lie Is regarded as a general favorite—principally, perhaps, because, though now 29, he huifejever yet selected from among them a jm ticular favorite. Ho ia still all their own. and belongs to everybody becauao he belongs to nobody.

By the time he and his companion have gained the happy land of chicken and champagne, it Weill's to Sir George Grande that he had not wanted to comc. "I wish you hadn't shown such senseless haste," he says. "I hadn't half done looking at that little girl in the daisies. She's pretty." "Don't give yourself airs," says Wilding. "Pretty! She's tho new J^auty! with a great big B. Don't make a mistake about it. You ar? to rave whenever you ^'111 he,*." uOr name mentioned, or they argue you unknown." 5I wish they would,'1 savs Sir George, with a faint grimace. "Pv© put ill iny year abroad, like a good little boy but the welcome accorded me by (lie duchess on my return could hardly bo called scorching." "One's own peoplo are always the hardest on one's little peccadilloes," says Mr. Wilding, staring at his glass. "I call it real nasty of her, anyway," says Sir George, "considering it was to please her I cleared out and lost my season last year." "Well, you know you had been going it a bit," says Wilding, apologetically. "Two fortunes, by Jove! before you were 26 and—and that other little affair. But I think, now your banishment is at an end, open censure should be at an end, too. I gave your sister credit for better feeling." "She's one of tho goody-goodies. Never expect anything from them but & scandal in the long run. And when they do give place to tho devil, it is with a vengeance. Charity, because it is the greatest, is tho rarest of all virtues, and tho duchess lacks it. However, I am independent of her and all since I came in for the Trevor estates. I wonder how long this third fortune will last me! Hi, Wilding? Never mind let's talk about that pretty child up stairs. Know her?** "She is my cousin," says Wilding. "Then site is 'a dangerous thing,1 as some old rhyme says, and justly so in this case, I should say though I believe you are fireproof. Take im hack to the ball room and introduce me to her." "You have proved yourself anything but fireproof, and she is a forbidden eweot," says Wilding. "Better keep your fingers out of the blase." "But, alas! she la another's* and sho never can be mine! that is yhst yon mean, ehT say* Sir George, laughing with exceeding light he&rtedness. "Well, HI ri*k even that and if 1 fall beneath her chariot wheels, my blood he on taj own head."

Still Mr. Wilding palpably hesitate* "Not moral enough for sweet 17 it tfttt ItT aaya hit friend, with TUJ

faint sneen "Don'fc try to disguise thefact, old man ono can read it on your ingenuous, countenance. You will never reach the wool sack, Wilding, if you give way *o your emotions like this." "You go something beyond the mark," 3avs Wilding reflectively. "Do I? I am willing—nay, anrious— to believe you. Make me known to your cousin, then. I swear"—half mockingly —I will be as good as gold in her sainted presence, and never once cease to remember that she has been labeled as

4a

good man's bride.'" "Come, then. A promise is a promise," says Wilding.

And presently they find themselves face to face wit!* Miss Disnev and her intended, in a small conservatory, and Sir George has the pleasure of knowing that Miss Disney is now in full possession of the fact that his name is Grandepf^'::J

He has taken her card, and now says, "May 1?" standing before her with pencil uplifted, waiting her permission to engrave his name thereon. "With pleasure," says Mis3 Disney, courteously but indifferently. With the young, however, it is a3 natural to smile aa to breathe so she smiles at him.

Having made his own of this careless concession on her part, Sir George lets his eyes wander back agailx to her progranule. "It sound^ incredible," he says at length, "but it seems as if you are disengaged for this dance. I can seo no name before it. If so, may I have it?** "Am I disengaged?—then yes," returns sho thoughtlessly.' "You aro engaged to mo for the next," interferes Ponsonby at this moment, in a dull but hurried tone which he strives hard to relieve from a suspicion of offense. rf "Yea? Is it? But of course. I quite forgot. Tho next, then, Sir George, for which I am free, which will be tlie fourteenth—if wo stay so long. You see," bending slightly toward him with a childish, restless movement, "I never put down Mr. Ponsonby's name." "I quite understand," says Sir George, with a gesture of the hand and a smile. And then the interview is over, and Bliss Disney is in her lover's arms, waltzing languidly to tho strains of the band sent down to tho castlo from town.

He cuts the dance somewhat short, and draws her, not unwillingly, to the open window of a room that, leading to the balcony, is suggestive of an easy descent by stono steps to the pleasaunco beneath.

Into the night and into the slumberous garden he lead3 her, where mignonette and lato sweet roses give forth unconscious perfume to the drowsy air.

A pale young moon is hanging in the heavens above, her beams falling tenderly upon the sleeping earth. Ever and anon a fleecy cloud glides over her, threatening to blot her from her place but again, ere doubt has time for growth, it hurries on, and—

Melting like a wreath of 8now, It bangs S In folds of wavy silver round, and clothes Tho orb with richer beauties than her ownThen, passing, leaves her in her light serene. "Do you feel the softness of the air?" says the girl, turning to him with a touch of impulsive gladness in her tone. "I uac n'&tuucx fiv uuuiumic ana *j»« country better than the town. The season wearied me. It was always the same. Monotony, some say, belongs altogether to fields and woods and streams but it is not really so. Hero everything speaks to me it is only thoso others who cannot understand"— Here. she checks herself, as those some sudden recollection returns to her. "Aro you laughing at me?" sho says. "I am, I know, in one of the moods auntio calls funny. Well, even if you do smile at my folly, I shan't mind you. Look at these garden marguerites aro they not lovely in tho moonlight? Wait. Let mo try your fortune with one." She plucks it petal by petal, murmuring, as sho does so, tho old refrain, "He loves me—a little—indifferently—passionately —not at all," As tho last leaf comes, it brings her "indifferently." "Oh, you bad l)oy!" sho says "and after all your ^testations!"

"A promise is a promise,n says Wilding. "It is a lying prophet," says Ponsonby, who is a tall, grave young man of 27, with very loving gray eyes, sensitive lips, and an earnest expression. He looks decidedly older than he is, whilst she, who is only 17, looks decidedly younger. "Well,It is only natural you should make oat a good story for yourself," she says, with a mischievous glance. "Now to see how she regards you." She picks another marguerite from the group near her as she speaks, and, as she flings its mutilated remains away, says gayly, "She lores yoau** "Then?! that is, more than you deserve you have got the Uest assunance of all to lay thinking Passionately' is such rubbish. Hon vcu think soT* 'Tm lot sure,'* says Mr. Ponsonby, with his eyes on her. "No? Well, I hope you don't love mo passionately, because I should hate it. Ihcrw is each a pretense about it. It is mere sound. One can't pass perfection, you know. 1 know I couldn't love any? 3tic to distraction, as they call it. to save my life Oh, listen to that nightingale!" She turns from him and g&ns with ea ger eyes in the direction whence comes that heavenly music, while her lover jax» at her with eyes into which a cer» adn «*dn«*i has fallen.

SIS

There she stands, a flower among iter fellows radiant, beautiful, in the light of the pure moon—such «a hild!—with her little curly head and smiling lips and laige, dewy eyes. Al ready where are her thoughts? flyingflying ever—now to sweet Philomel, now) perchance to af

Sho has given herself to him, but is she really his? The body minus the soul's is but a sorry bargain, and whether he! has ever honestly touched her heart liasf been a question with tho young man! ever since that first day when she prom-] ised to be his. I "Your cousin looks lis if she could,", she says, turning, not so much suddenly! as with a certain sense of vitality, toward^ him., "Gould what?"—with a start. §8| "Love passionately. Katherine Nugent, I mean." "Oh! Do you think she could?' Hisj manner is stilt a little vague. I "Yes. Do you know, Frank/' coming) a little nearer to him, "sometimes I havef thought she is in love with you^#**

"TTq

1

--1n arti"

The humor of this naive remark might havo struck the young man but for something else that strikes him still more keenly, and that has no humor in it a shade saddens his face.

Is it t6 please Maudie or me you give so ready a consent?" he says, a tinge of bitterness in his tone. It may be that the girl marks it and resents it. At least she turns from him with a gesture that is petulant.

Perhaps to please myself more than either," she says and, though the words might bo made to convey a compliment, the delivery of them spoils the effect.

You love me?" asks' Ponsonby, suddenly turning to her and taking her ha "Still a skeptic? Has not this mystic flower assured you of my truthf'—nodding her small head at the marguerites hard by. "I should be the one to doubt, considering the dreadful tale it told me!" "If ever," says Ponsonby, drawing her close to him, "you should feel that the— the affection you now bear me is leas than you imagined it, and that you could"— growing very pale—"give your heart more entirely to another, promise me you will let me know of it in some way, by some sign, or word, or token "I couldn't promise to be as rude as that," she returns mischievously. "Be serious for once," entreats he. Something in his tone touches her. The smile fades from her lips, leaving only a sweet reflection of it behind. Coming closer to him, she lifts one bare round arm and with very tender little fingers smooths back the hair from his brow. "There is no need for me to make such a promise," she says, "because I Khali never have to tell you that." "Nevertheless, promise!" 'A willful man must have his way.* You have my promise, then hut not In words shall I redeem it When I have learned to hate you, I will send you one of these"1—again palling a marguerite from the tall bunch growing near—" with 'notat all'as its last petal. Foorflowerf compassionately apo&rophMng it,"what a sad mission Istoald send it on! Do you know I never invoked my fortune with one of these until I tried it to-night wtthyooF* **I tun glad of that and"—eagerly "you never will again, will you?"

Why, how can I nowf says Miss Disney, with uplifted brows. "My fortune l» told you are ik How funny sounds! it putt yoa In the neater gender itosuce." "Infant tee yoa again for a week," •ji Ponsonby ndte^f, *1 go to town its®

rERRE HAUTE SATURDAY EVOKING MAIL

4

"Nonsense, darling!" "I have thought it. Is it nonsense?* "Utter. If you were right, you must? confess she has a singular way of show-f ing her attachment. Only yesterday"—\ with alight laugh—"something cutting in her manner made me tell myself I was an object of positive aversion to her." "Still, I thought it, says Alys, with all a child's willful persistence. "But of' course I was wrong." Then, "Why didn't you fall in love with her?" "Because you came to me." "Was that your only reason? See* now, what mischief I have done. She would have suited vou better than shall." "That is one point on which I will not give in to you." "She is clever, and handsome, and" "Dear heart, you are all that, and a thousand other things besides." "A thousand bad things, I dare say whereas she—she seems to lack nothing." "Beyond the crowning imperfection that she is not—you." "And yet"— Sho pauses,tmd caste at him a glanco swift but anxious from under her long lashes. "Sometimes I vex youj don't I?" she says, dropping her lids again. "No"— he is beginning, but she stops him with a merry little gesture. "Let us have the whole truth and noth ing but it," she says, with a charming smile. "You were angry.witli me only twenty minutes ago.'' "When, my dearest?" "When I forgot my dance—this dance —with you and again when I promised Sir George Grande one later on. Deny it if you dare." "How do you know that?" "Your eyes told mo. Ah!"—laughing softly—"I can seo things sometimes." "You area little witch. I confess all Your forgetting grieved me sorely but, besides that, I didn't like you to dance with Sir George." "But why?"

VI

"For many reasons"— He hesitates. Why raise unlovely thoughts in the mind of this tender child?

L-

-milrl hn —rr—m

Mysnsiie carelessly "and he is staying hero with us, you know. He came this morning, and will be here all tho week. And auntio says Lady Fanny Davenport is very anxious to marry him." "Is she? Well, never mind. Let us forget him. You aro going to marry me, are you not? And soon, darling?" "I think so," says Miss Disney, with the utmost serenity. "Mamma says Maudio can't como out until I am got out of the way so it is unfair to her to delay too long. And it is 'all the same to you, I suppose, isn't it?"—anxiously.

is

by the early train. You will not forget me during my absence?" "No. Take this with you, to remind you of me, every moment, until we meet again"1-she places the marguerite in his coat as she speaks—"and, when you look at it, remember the message it brought you," she says coquettishly. "For that reason its whole tribe kliall be sacred to ine forevermore," says Ponsonby, with a smile that lights his face into actual beauty. CA n. fc

It is midday, and all the world is mad and merry with excess of sunshine and the myriad harmonies of nature's gigantic chohr. Even through the carefully closed curtains of Indian muslin that shade the morning room at Moorlands, great Sol is penetrating, rendering the air hot and languorous. "I have come to a conclusion," says Miss Disnay suddenly, sinking back in her huge arm chair, that might easily entomb her, and flinging her arms with lazy giace above her head. "Yes?" The answer, which is half a question, comes in low soft accents across the misty, hazy heat that fills the room, yet with a suspicion of veiled insolence about it It conies from a beautiful mouth, however, and Katherine Nugent, as she utters the unpleasing monosyllable, turns her calm dark eyes upon- her cousin's fiancee.

The fiancee moves restlessly, and a faint color creeps into her mignonnp face. "I suppose," she says, with a rather sliy laugh, "that a conclusion coming from mo (involving, as it muse, some thought) may be regarded in the light of of an eighth wonder. Is that what your tone meant?" "And the conclusion?" asks Katherine tranquilly, and with all tho air of one who has heard nothing of the foregoing protest. "Is—that to-night will never come Was there ever such a long, long day?" "You miss Frank"—shortly. "No do I? Perhaps so. I am not sure. I was not thinking of him." "Yet ho is a man to make himself remembered even when out of sight." "You think so?" "I know it." "Katherino," says the younger girl suddenly, "how often you get mo to speak of Frank! Sometimes I have thought—but of course it was only fancy. You never did care for him in that way, did you?" "The way you caro for him? Never." "I am so glad I asked you, now. If you had given me a different answer it would have made mo very unhappy." "That is a very kindly speech. But you need suffer no generous pangs of regret for me. Frank is as little to mo as I am—to him." She shades her eyes with her hand for a moment, perhaps to conceal a smile, for presently she breaks into a ldw laugh suggestive of amusement" to her listener. "What put tho silly thought into your head?" she asks. "I hardly know." "Somebody must havo done it." Again there is tho carelessly veiled insolence of tone, tho contemptuous disbelief in her •nmpn vxi.—! c—• «?ir .«•«•

nan

pfr.ra.tinn

"Somebody, I dare say.'^aysWgTH musingly. "Perhaps"—she pauses, vv ••Was it he?" Tho words come from5 her with exceeding sharpness, as though forced to her lips by some terrible thought that has just pierced her brain and brought with it an agony too keen to be silently enduredf ... "Oh, no!" P' ''v:V"You are sure?"—still fiercely, with pale lips, and dark eyes alight with passionate fear. "You will sea how sure, when 1 tell you that Frank believes you positively dislike him. He told me bo last night Now"—laughing—"I think he was right. How angry your eyes have grown at the baro mention of his name!" "Ah!" says Miss Nugent It is a Bigh of relief that escapes her. She leans back in her chair and a great wave of color sweeps over her white face. She unfurls her huge black fan with a little crashing noise."You haven't told meliow you enjoyed last night," she says quickly, as a means of covering her confusion. "So much!" says the young girl, smiling, and throwing some animation into her air. "I saw you dancing rather frequently with Sir George Grande toward the close of the evening."

Twice I danced with him, I think. Do you know, I quite like him, though Frank doesn't?"

Men like Frank, who have been through a good deal, are always inclined to be jealous. Experience has taught them how transient a love affair may be."

Ydu mean" emotionally that Frank has loved so often that" I mean nothing. There is really no occasion for any excitement. But of course you will understand that a man cannot grow to Frank's age without having played with fire. There is nothing to render you uneasy in anything I have said." 'I am not uneasy"—flushing warmly. •No? But of course not There is really nothing in it"

I know that," says the girl loyally, yet even as she says it her heart grows heavier within her. There is really nothing in it: but why had he told her she was his first and only love? Perhaps men always said that to the object of their latest fancy. "Once last night, when.you were dancing with Frank," she says, turning to M'jga Nugent and recovering her self possession by an effort, "I looked at you, and both yoa and ho were looking at me. Was he talkihg of me then?" "Does he ever talk of anything else? A ff»" freshly in love Is the most selfish thing on earth. Later on they grow more considetate, and can afford to forget the beloved angel now and then." "Can they?"—wistfully. Will Frank indeed learn to forget bar at times? "Tea. What were we saying just tien? Yoa asked sow if he was talking of yoa? Yea, entirely. He was telling me of something yoa bad said—I forge* what now—and be was laughing. He called yon 'sach a child,* I

It was some silly little trifle, amusing because of its crudity,^. He is very devoted to you."

Again the sting is in her tone. It makes the girl's lips quiver, and brings the light of rebellion to her beautiful eyes. "At It one is not a child. You make me think he spoke of me aa a doll, a baby, a mere plaything." "Oh, no! Merely as a very young girl. You are young to him, you know he is quite ten years your senior." "The advantage there is on my side, surely," haughtily. "If I don't mind it, he need not." "Quite so.^ I think every woman should be ten years or so younger than her husband," says Katherine, who is -.just six raontlis younger than Ponsonby. "And as for him, I know he prefers extreme youth. It is easier to mold and form."

She closes her fan with another click, drops it languidly into her lap and smiles faintly. 'To mold!'" The girl's tone has grown strangely cold and calm. "I am to be iducated to his will, you mean?" "Well, that was what he said" "Said?" "My dear child, I can't remember the ixact words, but he told me last night is had gained a treasure—one of those .are beings to whom tho world is unknown. He dreaded no rival, he said, because—I really forget the 'because,' but it was something to the effect that, as you had not dreamed of lovers until he came on the scene, they wore not necessary to you, aiid all that. I told him not to lie too certain"—laughing—"but ho quite scoffed at the thought that" you could prefer any one to his royal highness. After all I doubt if it is a wise thing to let a man feel too sure of one." "Is tliat how he talks of rae to vou?" says Alys, with a glance of cold disdain from her heavily fringed eyes. To really know any one is difficult and to view one's dearest friehd in a different light is- to regard him us a stranger. "Wo have been prosing a good deal, havo wo not? 1 am afraid I have made tho day even duller for you than it really is." "Perhaps it is my fauft," says Miss Nugent politely. "Impossible! You have tried your best to enliven me, and if you have failed it, is my fault. It is the heat, I suppose. Who could havo believed in so hot a sun in September?"

Miss Nugent, as though scenting sarcasm in this speech, glances at her sharply but the girl has risen and has averted her face, and, after a languid attempt at further conversation, quits tho room.

Concluded next week.

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When the men como in froiu shooting, however, she reappears in a charming pale pink tea gown, and as Sir George flings himself upon tho lounge close beside her she turns to him with new graciousnesB, and lets her lovely eyes smile into his, and draws away her skirts that ho may nestlo oven nearer to her. "Sfio is rehearsing her new role," says Katherino Nugent, talcing in all this from afar, with a curl of her lips and a shrug of her handsome shoulders, and a unlovaljr.„«rail«k o' riftv.Uish.,Gratification.

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DCLINDSEYS

FSfakes A Lcn-dy Kmplcxlf). FfcptendM Tanks, and caret BcnU, JtcndHl xonjc, .nnu cury» •*»»*, let. Scrofulftj Mcrcorial and allBlot

Di*ouc«. Sola by jrcrar Iru«t«t. Sellers Medicine Co., Pittsburgh,Pi

ii,' vr to f-HMVHw* iur m« of our nuijil lO Home-Grown Nursery Mtoek. WANTED

MOST LIBERAL TERMS.

Unequalled facilities Ope of tho Uiyett, olded-tkabiUJud,and test knme/t JSunerie* In tbe country, Addrewi W. *T. SMITH, Geneva Tfmrtuny,

KtUbllihH Iw tH4O. fionW S. Y.

SCHOOL OF

TElEGRAPHf

OmbkM «ii]i Iradlirff pltoad to Kullwitr

Oortof iMrMag Ihm. Head for dmur,

AUSW,\£ UUt^ JK*#*vUle,Wi*eo»riii

THIS