Terre Haute Weekly Gazette, Terre Haute, Vigo County, 19 February 1885 — Page 10

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BY WALTER BESANT.

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CHAPISE IU.

IRM THB HUM liat remarkable c~inoideam ft

»r%4»r?} (Ttbwbry evening that Iris flrgtfmade (the' Mif.aridB of h«e pupil,' Mr. Aftlbld j^Lu..... iTheee coincidences, I believe, happen u. tener In real life than .they do on wthe stage, where people are always turning «p at the very nick of time and the critical

T: I need little persuasion to make me believe that the first meeting of Arnold Arbuthnot and Iris, on the very evening when her ootudn was opening matters with the Fo^y cue, was nothing short of providential.

Twanhall see, presently, what things might have happened if the? had not met. Ike wififwg was, in teal* the seeond ofthethtfse really important events in the life of a girt. The first, which Is seldom remembered with the gratitude which It deserves, is her birth the second, the first mauling with her fixture lover the third, her wedding day the othsf events of a woman's life are interacting perhaps, but not important.

Certain circumstances, which will be ittv mediately explained, oonnected with this meeting, made it an event of very considerable interest to Iris, even though she diiftnot suspect its immense importance. So much interest that she thought of nothing else for a week beforehand^ that a* the appointed hour drew near aha trembled and grew pale' that when her grandfather came up for his tea, she, who was usuaftr so quick to discern tike least sign of care or anxiety in his face, actually id-net obesrve the trouble, plainly written in' Ids droojplng head and anxious opes, which was due to his interview with Mr. David Chalker.

She poured out the tea, therefore, without one word of sympathy. This would have seemed hard if her grandfather had expected any. He did not, however, because he did not know that Hie trouble showed in his 4^^ and waatxytaff to look as if nothing hnd happened. Yet in his brain were ring* lag and resounding the words, "Within three weeks—witbm three weeks," with the mgularity of %-wrid dook at midnight whenone v:vgotodeepw "Oh," ori.' it (omd, as young people always ar-s, ,Mako( her own trouble «5oh, grand r'athf^ na^ia coming to-night" ••Who is co":-g tonight, my dear?" and ttni he listened again for the »ti eking of that dock:

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three weas—within

three weeka," "Who fa ooming to-night, "dearf* ':A'' took the cap of tan from her, and sal with an eld manV deliberation, which springs legs from wisdom and the fullness of thought than from repeat to •IweuuriisBL,

The iteration of Unt refrain, "Within •kifee weeks,'*made him forget everything^ •ven the trouble of Us granddaughter's •fail. "Oh, grandfather, yon cannot have forgotten!" 8he spoke with tha least possible touch of irritation^ because she had been thinking of this thing for a walk past, day and night, and.it was a thing of sueh,stapend&us interest to her that it oeomod impossible that any eae who knew of IbobM forget what wae coming. iiv-'MSb, no." The old nan was stimulated into immediate leooQeotioa by the disappointment in her agree. no, my deary, I have not forgotten Tour pupil ia ooming. Mr. ArbuAaaMa oomtag. But, lri% child, don't let thai wmtf yon. I will eee him for you, if yon Ufca.* ..."Ko I must «a Un myself. Ton see, dear, there is tfcanwfnl deception. Oh, how. .shall I tell himf "Wo deception at til," he said stontly.

K* uoujpwwii mm vUf mo mu Bomaw/t "You advertised in yoor own initials. He i*l neter asked if the fedtials belonged to a man or'to a woman. Th* ottier pupils do not know. Why shoulA this one! What does it matter to him if yen have done the work for which he engagai your services

"But, oh, ho la so different! And the others, you know, keep to the subjeot" "So should he, than. Why didn't her •'But he hasn't And I have been answering him, and he most think that I was drawing him on to tall ma more about himself and now,. o{^ what will he think! I drew him on and sn yet I didn't mean to— till at last he writes to say that he regards as the best friend and the wisest adviser ever had. What will he think and-

Grandfather, it is dreadfull" "What did you tell himfor, Iris, my dear! TOiy couldn't you let things go on! And bj telling him you will lose your pupil." "Yes, of oouroe and, worse still, 1 shall lose bis letters. We live so quietly here that his letters have come to me like news of another world. How many different worlds an there all.round one in London! Zt has been pleasant to read of that one in which ladies go about beautifully dressed always, and where the people have nothing to do bat to amuse themselves. He has told me this world in whioh he lives, and it his own llfet so that I know .everything he does and where he goes and"— hare she sighed h&avily—"of ootfrse it oould not go on forever and I should not mind sb much if it had not' been carried on under false- pretences." "No false pretenoes at all, my dear. Don't: think it." •Isent back, his last cheque," shf sald, ttying to find a little consolation for herself. "But yet "Well, Iris," said ksr grandfather, "he wanted to learn heraldic, and yon hata taught him." "For the last three months"—the gix* Unshed as if she was confessing her sins"tor the last three months there has not boan a single word in his letters about haraldry. He ^slls m* that he writes because he is idle, or because he wants to talk, ,or because he is alone in his studio, or because he wants his unknown friend's advice. 1 am his unknown friend, and I have been firing him adviofc" "And. very

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advioe, too," said her

grandfather benevolently. "Who is so wise as my Iris "I have answeMd *11 his letters, and never oner told him that I am only a girl."

am gladyaa did not tell him. Iris," said hsr grandfather bat he did not say why he was glad. "And'Whycant he go on writing his letters illimit iwafciim. imj fuss?" "Became he s*ys- he must make the acquaintance of the man—the man, he says— with whom he has been in correspondence loci. This is what he says,!' iiu uiiii.a fc'iiirderstanfl you, sir," remarked the nurse. "There, there, Penelope,1' *be said/ eoofchingly, you alaiincxl at a combination of Stances cVer^hich. you had no coottbl Chat fed to the unexpected appearance oif^ttibigb gentleman?

child's face rela^ed^ l*er~aote%»awKt«ito slumbered

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"But, you dear old man, what have ijoii g*l in your to-night "I was only thinking," he said, "that perhaps you might be so much happier "Happier! Nonsense I I am as happy as I can be. Six pupils already. To be sure I have lost one," she sighed "and the best among them all."

When her grandfather left her Iris placed candles on the- writing table, but did not light them, though it was already prettv dark. ShehadhAlfan hour to wait: and she wanted to think, and candles are not neoessary for meditation. She sat at the open window and suffered her thoughts to ramble where they pleased. This is a rest-: 1'ul thing to do, especially if your windows look upon a tolerably busy but not noisy London road. For then it is almost as good as sitting beside a swiftly running stream the movement of the people below is like ^the unceasing flow of the current the sound of the footsteps is like the whisper of the water along the bank the echo of the half heard talk strikes your ear like the mysterious voices wafted to the banks from the boatsjus they go by and the lights of the shops and the street presently become speotral and unreal like lights seen upon the river in the evening,

Iris had a good many pupils— six, in fact, as she had boasted why, then, was she so strangely disturbed on account of one?

An old tutor, by correspondence may be, and very likely is, indifferent about his pupils, because he has had so many but Iris vsas a young tutor, and had as yet known few. One of her pupils, for instance, was a gentleman in the fruit and potato line in the borough. By reason of his early education, which had not been neglected so much as entirely omitted, he was unable to personally conduct his accounts. Now a merchant without his accounts is as helpless as a tourist \fcthout his Cook. So that he desired, in his mature age, to learn book-keeping, compound addition, subtraction and multiplication. He had no partners, so that he di 'not want division. But it is difficult—stiy well nigh impossible—for a middlo-a^ed merchant, not trained in the graces of Setter writing, to inspire a young lady with personal regard, even though she is privileged to follow the current of his thoughts day by day 'and to set him his sums.

Next there was a young fellow of nineteen or twwnty, who was beginning life as an assistant teacher in a commercial school at "Lower Clapton. This way is a stony and a thorny path to tread no one walks upon it willingly those who are compelled to enter upon it speedily either run away nn^ enlist, or they go and ficd a secluded spot in which to hang themselves. The smoother ways of the profession are only to be entered by one who is the possessor of a degree, and it Vvas the determination of this young to pass' the London University examinations, and obtain the "degree of Bachelor. In this way his value in the educational market would be at onoe doublfed, and he could command abetter place and lighter work. He showed himself, in his l«tters, Jto be an eminently practical, shrewd, selfish and thick-skinned young man, who would quite certainly get on in the world, and was resolved to lose no opportunities, and, with that view, he took as much •work' out of his tutor as he could get for the money. Had he known that the "I. A." who took such a wonderful atao£=* of trouble with his papers was Only woman, he would certainly have exported a great deal more work for his money.

At this the 80^eRe4^.etxpTx^6iWbn.thfe »AS this Iris read in his letters and underw stood. There is no way in Whieh -a more surely and mere asturally reveals his

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is done to him! Nona. He wqn% he aa^moan, 1 suppose, as to ask for his -managr hade'again." "I think he ongM to have it all tonei*" odd Kris "yes, all from the very beginning. I am ashamed that I ever., took any money from him. My face burns when I think of it"

To this her grandfather made no reply. The returning of money paid for services rendered was, to his commercial mind, too foolish a thing to be even talked about At the same tihne Iris was quite freo to manage her own affairs. And then there was that roll df papers in the safe. Why, what matter if she sent away all her pupils! He changed the subject "Iris, my dear,n he said, "about this other world, where the people amuse themselves the world which lives in the squares and in the big houses on the Chelsea embankment here, you know—how shonld yon like, just for a change, to bgoog to that world and have no workjfc&dof* "I don't know,* she replied carelessly, because the question did not interest her. "Yon would havo to leave me, of cobrse. You would sever yoar connection, as they say, with th^shooL* "Please, don't let as talk a a

"You would have to be aahamed, perhaps :Of over having taught for your living.M "Now that I- never should be—never, not if they, made me a duchess." "Yon would go dressed in silk and velvet My dear, I should like to eee you dressed up just for once, a* we have ssen them at the theatre." '•Well, iSshtruld like one velvet dress in my life. Only one. And it should be crimson—a beautiful, deep, dark crimson.w "Very good. And you would drive in a carriage ictstead of an omnibus you would sit in the 9talls instead of the upper circle you would give quantities of money to poor people and,you would buy as many seconds hand books as you pleased. There are rich people, I. believe, ostentatious people, who buy new' books. But you, my dear, have been better brought up, No books are worth buying till .they have stood the criticism of a whole generation at least Never buy new books, my dear." "I won't," said Iris. "But, you dear old man, what have, you got in your head tonight? Why in the world should we talk about getting rich?"

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true character £htuv*n ma correspondence,

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than the studies in hand, thoee who the- iettess may laarnto know each other If tbey have the mother wit to read between the lines. Oartainly this young schoolmaster did not know Iris, nor did be dssirs to discover what ahe was like, being wholly occupied with the study of himself. Stirange and kindly provision of nature. The less desirable a man actually appears to others^ the more fondly he love3 and beliafas in himself. 1 have heard it whispered thgt Ifarcissus was a hunchback.

Then there was another pupil, a girl who was working her very hardest in order to ba ooBMt as she hoped, a first-clasa governess, and who, poor thing, by reason of natural thickness would never reach even the third jrank. Iris would have been sorry for her, because she worked so fleroely and was so stupid, but there was something hard and unsympathetic in her nature which forbade pity. She was miserably poor, too, and had ap unsuccessful father, no doubt as stupid as herself, and made pitiful excuses for not forwarding the slender fees with regularity.

Everybody who is poor should be, on that ground alone, worthy of pity and sympathy. But the hardness, and stupidity, and Hi-tem-per,, all combined and dearly shown in her letters, repelled her tutor. Iris, who drew J^ginary portraits, of her pupils, pictured* the girl as plain to look upon, with a dtjllj eye, a leathery, pallid cheek, a forehead without sunshine upon i^ and lips which seldom parted with a smile.

Then there whs, besidee, a Cambridge undergraduate. He was neither clever, nor industrious, nor very ambitious he thbught that' a "'moderate place was^quite "good enough for him to aim at, and he found that this unknown and obscure tutor by correspondence was cheap and obliging, and! willing to take trouble, and quite as efficacious for his purposes as the most expensive: Cambridge coach. Iris presently discovered! that ,he. was lasy and luxurious, a deceiver of himself, a dwaller in Fool's Paradise, and a consistent shirker of work. Therefore, she disliked him. Had she actually known him and talked with him she mijcht havo liked him better in spite of these faults and shortcomings, for he was really a pleasant, easy-going youth, who wallowed in intellectual sloth, but loved physical activity who will presently drop easily, and comfortably, and without an effort or a doubt, into the bosom of the church, and will aval op later on into an admirable country parson, unless they disestablish the Establishment in which case, I do not know what he will da

But this other man, this man who was comirig for^an explanation, this Mr. Arnold Arbuthnot, was, if you please, a very different kind of pupil. In the first place he was a gentleman, a fact which he displayed, but not ostentatiously, in every line of his letters next, he had come to her for instruction—the only pupil she had in that science, in heraldry, which she loved. It is far more pleasant to be describing a shield and setting' questions in the queer old language of this queer old science than in solving and proposing problems in trigonometry and comic sections. And then—how if your pupil begins to talk round the subject and to wander into other things! Ton cannot'very well talk round a branch of mathematics, but heraldry is a subject surrounded by fields, meadows and lawns, so to speak, all covered with beautiful flowers, Into these the pupil wandered, and Iris not unwillingly followed. Thus the teaching of heraldry by correspondence became the most delightful inter* change of letters imaginable^ set iff and enriched with a curious and strange piquancy, derived from the fact that ore of them, supposed to be an elderly man, was a young girl, ignorant of the. world except from bo6k%. and the advle* given her by twoo^d, men, who formed all her sodety. Then, as was natural, what was at first a kind of plsiy became before long serious and earnest confidence on the one side and a hesitating reception on the other.

Latterly he. more than once amused himself by ^rawing- an imaginary portrait of her: it was a pleasing portrait, but it made her feel uneasy. "I know you," he said, "from your letters, but yet I want to know you in person. I think you are a man advanced in years." Poor Ins! and she not yet twenty-one. "You sit in your study and read you wear glasses, and your hair is gray you have a kind heart and a cheerful voice you are not rich—you have never tried to make' yourself rich you are therefore little versed in the ways of mankind you take yonr ideas chiefly from books the few friends you have chosen are true and loyal you are full of sympathy, and quick to read the thoughts of those in whom you take an interest" A very fine character, but it made Iris's cheek to burn and her eyes to drop. To be sure she was not rich, nor did she know the world so far her pupil was'right, but yet she was not gray nor old. And, again, she was not, as he thought, a

Letter writing is not eVlnct, as it is a commonplace to affirm, and as people would" have us believe. Letters are written still— the most delightful letters—letters as copious, as charming as any of the last century but men and women no longer write their letters as carefully as they used to do in the old days, because they were then shown about' and very likely read aloud. Our letters, therefore, though their sentences are not so) balanced nor their periods so rounded, are more real, more truthful, mores ontaneous, and more delightful than the laborious productions of our ancestors, who had to weigh every phrase, and to think out their mots, epigrams and smart things for weeks beforehand, so that the letter mi&ht appear full of impromptu wit I should like, for instance, just for once, to rob the o' tward or the homeward mail, in order to read all the delightful letters which go every week backwards and forwards between^...the.folk in India and the folk at horn* ••I shall lose my letters," Iris reflected, and tier heart sank. Not only did her correspondent begin to draw these imaginary portraits of her, but he proceeded to urge upon Tier to come out of her concealment and to grant him an interview, This she might hav? refused in her desire to continue a correspondence which brightened her monotonous life. But there came another .thing, and this decided her. He began to give, and to ask, opinions concerning love, marriage and such topics—and then she perceived it could not possibly be discussed with him, even in domino and male dis guise. "As for love," her pupil wrote, "I suppose it 4s a real and not a fancied necessity of life. A man, I mean, may go on a long time without it hut there will come a time—do not you think so?—when he is bound to feel the incompleteness of life without a woman to love. We ou^ht to train our boys and girls from the very beginning to regard love and marriage as the 'ottly things really worth having, because without them there ia no happiness. Oive me your own experience. I am sure you jntet have been in lova at some time er 6thfr in your life."

Aiiybodylwill understand that Iris coald

H^OTE #azbtte*^

not pOiSiBiykivf hor own experience in love matters, doiNttuld. she plunge into speculative philosophy of this kind With her pupil Obvioiniy the thiug must oome to an end. Therefore she wrote a letter to him, telling him mat '*1. A" would meet him, if he pleased, that very evening at the hour of dght

It is by thjs time sufficiently understood that Iris Agjen professed to teach—it is an unusual combination mathematics and heraldry she might also have taught equally well had she chosen, sweetness of disposition, goodness of heart, the benefits conferred by pure and lofty,thoughts on the expression of a girl's face, and the way to acquire all ithe other gracious, maidenly virtues but either th^re is too limited a market for these branches of culture^ or— which is perhaps the truer reason—there are so many English girls, not to speak of Americans, who are competent to teach them, and do teach them to their brothers and their lovers, and to each other, and to their younger sisters all day long.

As for her heraldry, it was natural that she should acquire that science, because her grandfather knew as much as any pursuivant or king-at-arms, and thought that by teaching the child a science which is nowadays cultivated by so few ho was going to make her fortuna Besides, ever mindful of the secret packet, he thought that an heiress ought to understand heraldry. It was, in-' deed, as you shall see, in this way'that her fortune was made but yet not quite in the way he proposed to make it Nobody ever makes a fortune quite in the way at first intended for him.

As for her mathematics, it is no wonder that che was good in this science, because She was a puplLof Lala Roy. -y.J

This learned' Bengalee condescended to acknowledge the study of mathematics as worthy eyfn of the Indian intellect, and

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used himself with-them when he was not usefully engaged in chess. He it who, being a lodger in t^e house, taught iria

are! usefully engaged in chess. He it was Iris as soon as she could read how letters plfcced'side by side inay be made to sitrnifv ind to accomplish stupendous things, and how they may'disguise the most graceful knd beautiful curves, and how they may ivei} open a way'into boundless space, and 'there' disclose marvels. This wondrous world did the philosopher open to the ready ind quick-witted girl nor did he ever lead her to believe that it was at all an unusual »r an extraordinary thing for a. girl to be

quick and apt for science as herself, nor lid he tell her that if she went to Newnhaih Dr to GHrton extraordinary glories would »Wait her, with the aodamations of the multitude in. the Senate Housfc and the praise of the moderators. Iris, therefore, was not proud of her mathematics, which ieemed' part of her veiy nature. But of her 'heraldry she was, I fear, extremely proud—, proud even to sinfulness. No doubt this: was the reason why, through her hw aldry, the humiliation of this evening faUi upon her. '••If he isyoung," she thought, "if hois fottng—and he is sure to be young—he will be very angry at having opened his mind to a girl''—-it will be perceived that, although ihe knew so much mathematics, she was really very ignorant of the opposite sex, aot to know hat a young man likes nothing io much as the opening of his mind to a young lady. "If he is old he will be more humiliated still"—as if any man at any ago was ever humiliated by confessing himself to a woman. "If he is a proud man, he will never forgive me. Indeed, I am sun bhnt he can never forgive me, whatever' kind of man he is. But I can do no more than tell him «(n sorry. If he will not forgive me then, what more can I say! Oh, If he should be vindictivel"

When the clock began to strike the hour, of Iris lighted her candlee, and before the pulsation of the last stroke had died SiUf die heard the ringing of the house-belL

The door was opened by her grandfather himself, and she heard his voice. ••Yes," he said, "you will find your tutor in the first floor front, alone. If yon are ia clined to be vindictive, when you heernll, please ring the bell for ma"

The visitor mounted the stairs, and Iriy hearing his stept began to tremble shake for fear.

When the door opened she did not at lookup. But she knew that her pu^il was there, a^nd that he was looking for his tuter. "Pardon me"—'he voice not unpleas* ant—"p ,i me. I was directed to this room. "I have an appointment with my tutor." "If," said Iris, rising, for the time for confession had at length arrived, "if you are Mr. Arnold Arbuthnot, your appoint ment is, I believe, with me." "It is with my tutor," he said. "I am your tutor. My initials are I. A*

"I am your tutor. My initials are I. A.' The room was only lighted by two candles, but they showed him the hanging head and form ot a woman, and he thought she looked young, judging by the outline. Hervvoice was sweet and clear. '"My tutor You?"

"If you really are Mr. Arnold Arbuthnot the gentleman who has corresponded with A for the last two year? on heraldry, and— and other, things, I am your tutor."

She had made the dreaded confession. The rest would be easy. She even ventured to raise her eyes, and she perceived, with a sinking of the heart that her estimate of her pupil's a~o was tolerably correct He was a young man, apparently not mere than five of? six and twenty.

It nuv repaained to be seen if he was vindictive. As for the pupil, when he recovered a little from the blow of this announcsment he saw before him a girl, quite young, dressed in a simple gray or drab colored stuff, which I have reason to believe is called C&rmelite. The dress had a crimson kerchief arranged in folds over the front and a lace collar, and at first sight it made the beholder feel that, considered merely as setting of faw? and figure, it was remarkably effective.' Sufely this a the true end uat'hlm of ltd! fsUhlns adornment out

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Ho the:eMMpt«y qb0t of ktfsptag'ene warm.

"I—I did not know," IhsijjwiMfc man said, after a-pause, "I did not all that I was corresponding

Here she raised her'e|ps»a|guh. end he observed that her eyee were very large and full of light-r-"eyes like the fishpools of ""Heshbnn"—dove's eyes. "I am very sorry," sue saidj meekly. "It was toy fault."

He observed other things now, having reamed the use of his senses. Thus be'saw at she wore her hair, which was of a wonderful chestnut-brown color, parted at the side like a boy's, and that she had not committed the horrible enohnity of cutting it short He observed, too, .W* at while her lips were quivering and her cheek was blushing her lode war steadfast Are dove'o eyes, he asked himself, always steadfast? "I ought to have told you long ago, when you began to write about—about yourself and other .things, when 1 understood that you thought I was a man—oh, long ago I ought to have told you the truth!" "It is wonderful IT said the young man, "it is truly wonderful!" Ha was thinking of the letters—long letters, full of sympathy, and a eurious unworldly wisdom, which she had sent him in reply to his ajwn, and he wfes comparing them* with her youthful face, as one involuntarily compares poet's appearance with his poetry—generally a disappointing thing to do, and always a foolish thing. Ma "I am very sorry," she repeated. *. "Have you niany pupils Uke myselff* "I have several pupils in mathematics.' It does not matter to them-whether they arc tatight by a man or a woman. In heraldry I had only one—you."

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He looked round the room. One end wa.1 occupied by-shelves, filled with books inonu of the rtindowB was a table, covered with papers and adorned with a type-writer, by means of which. Iris carried on her correspondence." .'For a moment the unworthy thought crossed his mind that he had been, perhaps, artfully lUredftn+.y a Siren for his destruction. Only for a moment, howeVer, because she raised her face and met his gafe# again, with eyes so frank and innocent that he could not dpnbt them. Besides, there was the clear .outline of her face, so truthful and so honest The young man was an artist, and therefore believed in outline. Could any $ane and intelligent creaturedoubt those curvos of cheek and chin? •'i have put together," she said, "all your letters 1'or you. Here they are. Will you please take them back! I must not keep them any longer." He took them and bowed. "I made this appointment, as you desired, to tell you the truth, because I have deceived you too long, and to beg you to forgive me and to say that, of course, there is an end tq our correspondence."

"Thank you. It shall be as you desire.' Exactly," be repeated, "as you desire." He ought to. have gone at onoe. There was nothing more to say. Tet he lingered^ holding the letters inch's hand. "Tq write these letters," he sai^, "ha* been for a long time one of my greatest pleasures, partly because 1 felt that I was writing, to a friend, and so wrote in fuli trust and confidence, partly because they procured me a reply—in the shape of your letters. Must I take back these letters of mine!"

She made no answer. I "It is hard, is it not^ to lose a friend- sci slowly acquiir^d, thus suddenly and unexpectedlvF' v' "Yes," she said, is hurt. I am very sorry. It was my fault" "Perhaps 1 have said something, in my ignorance—something which ought not to have been said or #rjtwn- nomething careless^^mething which has lowered me in your esteem——'' & "Oh. no—nor said Iris quickly. "Yfi have never said anything that gentleman should not have said," 'V "And if you yourself found any pleasure! in answering my letters "Yes," said Iris with franiCDais, "it gave me great pleasure to refcd fend to answer your letters as well as I could." "I have not brought bade your letters. I hope you will allow mis to keep them. And, if you 'will, why should we not continue our correspondence as beforef but he did not ask the qusstion confidently. "No," said Iris .deddedly **it can never be continued as before. How could it, when oiloe 'we have met and you have learned the truth?"

"Then," he continued, "if we cannot write to each other any morei can we notrtalk?" She ought to have informed him on the spot that tiie thing was quite impossible, and not to be thought Of for one moment She should have said coldly, but firmly—every right-minded and well-behaved girl would have said, "Sir, it io not right that you should come alone tn a young lady's study. Such things are not to be permitted. If we meet in society, we may, perhaps, renew our acquaintance."

But girls do go ott sometimeb as' if there wfts no such thing as propriety at all, and such cases are said to be growing more frequent. Besides, Iris was not & girl who was conversant wsth social convenances. She looked at her pupil thoughtfully and frankly. "Can we!"'she asked. She who hesitates is lost—a maxim whioh oannot be too often read, said and studied. It ia one of the very few golden rules Omitted from Solomon's Proverbs. "Canwef It would he pleasant" "If you will permit me," he blushed and stammered, wondering nt her ready acquiescence "if you will permit me to call upon you sometimes—here, if yen will allow me, or anywhere else. You know my name. I am by profession an artist, and I have a studio close at hand in Tite street"

To tfall upon me here she repeated. Now, when one is a tutor and has been reading with a pupil for two years one regards that pupil with a feeling which may not be exactly parental, but which is unconventional. If Arnold had said, "Behold me! May I. being a young man, call upon you, a young woman she would have replied: "No, young man, that can never be." But when he said, "May I, your pupil, call sometimes upon you, my tutor 7' a distinction was at once established by which the impossible became possible. "Yes," she saidj ^I think you may call. My grandfather has his tea with me every evening at six. You may call then if it will give you any pleasure." "You really will let me come here

The young man looked as if the permission was likely to give him the greatest pleasure. if you wish it!J, •""S&e fcpoke 'just exactly'Hke an Oxford Don giving an undergraduate permission to take an occasional walk vHth him, or to call for conversation and advioe at certain times in his rooms. Arnold noticed the manner, and smiled. ••Still," be said, "as your pupilf'

He ippant to set her at her ease concerning the'prbpriaty of these visits. She th'otrght he m^ant a continuation of a certain little arrangement as to fees, and blushed. "Ito," She said "'I must ftot consider you nipofeil aitir loncer. ton have put an end

s*®'.^.

th that yourself." •1 dS doi.mind, friend."

t. v.

"Oh," she said, "but we must not pftdge* ourselves r.tshly to friendship. Perhaps you will not like me when you

Her eyes grew humid and her voice trembled. No other friends in the world! Strange to say, this young man felt a little eense of relief. No other friends. He ought to have sympathised with the girlfe loneliness he might have asked her how she could possibly endure life without companionship, but he did not he only felt that other friends might have been rough and ill-bred this girl derived her refinement, not only from nature^ but also from separation from the other girls who might in the ordinary course have bean her friends and associates, And£ if no*6ther friends, then no lover. Arndld* was only going tovidit the young lady at her brother but lovers do not generally ap-' prove, the introduction of such novel effects as that caused by the appearance of a brand-new and {previously unsuspected brother. He was glad, on the whole, that there was no lover.

Then he left her and went home to hie studiojjwhere he sat till midnight sketching a thousand heads one after the other with rapid pencil. They were all girls' heads, and they all had hair parted on the left side ', with a broad, square forehead, full eyes, and straight clear-cut features. "No," he said, "it is no good. I cannot catch the curve of her mouth—nobody could. What a pretty girl! And I am to be her •brother! What will Clara say! And how—' oh, how in the world can she be, all nt the same time, so young, so pretty, so learned, so quick, so sympathetic and so wisef [This delightful *tory will be found continued in the Saturday and weekly issues ot the Gaeette. Buy the Saturday paper, issued in two editions, one at 2 o'clock and the other at 4 o'clock p. m. of the newsboys on the streets, or get it by subscribing for the daily. The daily Gazettk it iurnished at 15c per week delivered. The Weekly Gasittb, a large ten page illustrated sheet, is sold v. $150 per year. Office 26 south Fifth street.]

MBS. WANTLAND'S INJURIES.

Struck By a Car While Picking up Coal This Morning. The patrol wagon was telephoned for at 10 o'clock this morning to go to the Wabash Iron Mills. At the mill office, the officers found Mrs TiHthia Wantling, aged 54, suffering from injuries received by being struck by a Vandalia car at the Second street crossing of that road. At the time she waa struck she was picking up coal. The officers removed her to her home at the southwest corner of Chestnut and Water, and Dr. T. W. Moorhead was summoned:

Mrs. W ami and miraculously escaped being killed outright. Her bips and shoulders were dislocated and a severe gash was inflicted on the head. Dr. Moorhead tound her in a very precarious condition. Little hope is entertained ot her recovery. Bhe is the mother of Jeflse Wantlaud, ot Kidder's mill.

There is no truth in the rumor that] she is dead.

by several New witbthom to

^eoatfaoe your

once

come to

"Then1 remain your disciple." 1

"Oh. no," she flushed again, "you musty already think me presumptuous:

enough

presuming to give you advioe. I have written so many foolish things——" "Indeed, no," he interrupted "a thousand times no. Let me tell you once for all, if I may, that jou have taught me a great deal—far more than you can

ever

under

stand, or than I can explain. Where did you get your wisdom!" Not from the Book of Human Life. Of that yon oannot know much as y^t." "The wisdom is in your imagination, I think, you shall not be my pupil, nor my) disciple, but—well—because you have told me so much, and I seem to have known you* so long, and besides, because you must never-' feel ashamed ot having told me so much,., you shall come, if you please, Ms my brother."

It was not till afterwards that she reflected on the vast responsibilities she incurred in.' making this proposal, and on the eagerness with which her pupil accepted it "As your brother!" he. cried, offering her his hand. "Why, it is far—far more than I could have ventured to hope. Yes, I will' come as your brother. And now, although you know so much about me, you have told ne nothing about yourself—not evenyouTj name." ''My name is Iris Aglen." "Iris! It is a pretty name." "It was, I believe, "my grandmother's. But I never saw her, and I do not know. who or what my father's relatives are." -,v, •'Iris Aglen!" he repeated. "Iris was the Herald of the Gods, and the rainbow waa constructed on purpose t6 serve her for a-,' way from heaven to the earth." "Mathematicians do not allow that" saift the girl, smiling. "I don't know any mathematical But

now I understand" in what school you learned your heraldry. You are Qoeen-at-Arms, at least, and Herald to the Gods of Olympus."

He wished to add something about the loveliness of Aphrodite^etAd^ the wisdom 6f Athene, but he refrained^' which was in good taste. "Thank you, Mr. Arbuthnot," Iris H#plied. «'I learned my heraldry of my grandfather, who taught himself from the booH»4 he sells. And my mathematics I learned o^ Lala Roy, who is our lodger, and a Wrnetl Hindoo gentleman. My father is d«ad-^-and my mother as well—and I have net.'?' friends in the world except thoee two old men, who love me and have done their best to spoil me."

th'-

.•

McDtNALD'S FBIEND§.

Voorhees and Lamb 6o to Albany to Urge the Ex-Senator's Claims. Washington, Feb. 13.—[Indianapolis' Journal Special. 1—Senator voorhees and| Representative Cobb have taken .charge! of the recently-made petitionsasking for a Cabinet position for ex-Senator Donald, and have gone with them to

bany, where they will be presented to Mr. Olevelaod personally The indorsements' thry took wi»b them aire very strong, and bear the names of inor£ than a score of leading Democratic Senators, the entire delegation ot Democrats Indiana, and a number of others! voorhees and Lamb left here at noon to-dav. It is stated they will receive at New York a very formidable memo:ial from banters ana financial men, prepared by August Belmont, and that they jrtH be joined there

who will go where an open' the treasuryahip

fight is tobe made for McDonald