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OCR
FT ST pa ete a etn ieee Mel
oo al we we ere ee SEE
‘
B4
FOR CASH ONLY.
(though he was an extra)—-a circumstance
which enables me to'add verbum sap. AS a
rule, [object to the playing upon the simplicity
of human nature (that chord being already
worn almost to attenuation); in this case, how-
ever, you may trust me not to spoil sport. I
* hate the Jesuits; but I must acknowledge that
if ever a pious fraud was justifiable, it was so
in the instance I have in mind. Only I can-
not permit you to imagine that Annie Dar-
rell has fallen a victim to artifice, nor can I
resist the pleasure of’ writing
bert.’ That irrepressible outburst of © affec-
tion will, however, hardly have surprised
you more than the news Iam about to com-
municate. Clare and I are in London. ‘As
Parliament was sitting, and the’ fashionable
world in town, we thought it only due to them
and ourselves that we should come up at least
for the season. Our common passion, as you
know, is for’ gayety—routs—(an old-fashion
term which always tickles me); andit is not as
ifwe had not money of our own wherewith to
entertain society. Our ‘at homes’ will, no
doubt, be duly advertised inthe Morning Post,
so that you will know when to look in without
putting us to inconvenience. Seriously, we left
Sandford somewhat suddenly on account. of
somebody ona very bigh horse indeed being seen
to ride by our window. With Mr. Fibber was
Miss Fibber and her afflanced husband, a hand-
some youg gentleman, who, howerer, off his
horse, did not impress me so favorably; there
was a sense of loss, as though four of his own
legs had vanished. I cannot suppose that any
of the party—which nominally includes: Sir
Peter, but him we did not see—knew Clare was
still at Sandford; but there they were among
the ‘fashionable arrivals;’ and it being quite
within the bounds of possibility that we might
all find ourselves (at 5d. the bunch) in the lift
together, we two at once fled the place, and left
the enemy in possession of the field. « Clare was
dreadfully agitated at the sight of Percy; not
that I believe she has one spark of affection for
him left, but ‘the associations’ were proba-
bly too much for her. It seemed to me that
she suffered from a positive sense of suffoca-
tion, and only began to breatke freely when
the train‘ began to move. Our lungs are
now in the most perfect order, as you may
imagine, when I tell you we now reside in
Bellmgham Park, where, moreover, there are
no trees-to interrupt the light and air. It
is a fancy of the Post-office authorities to
add the letter N to this address>? It is my
own little house, you must know, which, for
the present, Clare has consented to share
with me. ‘How I wish you were at this end
of the Coalborough line! Its terminus is
not a quarter of a mile from me. We may
think it strange if (with all your money!)
you should seem to grudge the railway fare,
_ and not run up to see us occasionally; besides,
I conclude you can get a free pass. A morbid
desire for originality prevents me from repeat-
ing the classical quotation I have already made
use of, but you will bear this in mind.
** Always yours, dear Herbert, very sincerely,
“* ANNIE DARRELL.”
Light, and designedly light, as was the tone
of Miss Darrell’s letter, it set the recipient
thinking gravely enough. - That the school-mis-
tress had gnessed the secret which he believed
was confined to himself and Mr. Oldcastle was
very clear, but in her hands he felt it was safe.
There was a chord, not only of sympathy but
‘of tacit understanding between himself and the
writer, running throughout her lively communi-
cation, which gave him assurance of this. She
knew Clare’s character as well as he did, and
swould,,therefore, be very careful—holding the
views she did as regards the disagreeables_of
: poverty—to drop no hint ofthe actual state of
affairs. On the bare suspicion of it he felt that
Clare was quite capable of stripping herself of
her last penny and taking in plain needle-work
for a subsistence, for she was Stokeville bred.
He would have given all hehad left in the world
to have been able to persuade himself other-
wise.
On the whole, however, since Miss Darrell
‘Dear Her-|°
was by no means sorry, under the circum-
stance, to have her for his confidante. He read
her letter over again very carefully, then folded
it with his usual precision, and placed it in his
breast-pocket. Then he turned once more to
that of the secretary, and, declining in a few
civil words his offer of a composition in lieu of
the royalties for his invention, accepted the
office of assistant-engineer in London.
*. CHAPTER XL..
AT HIS MERCY,
Waite Herbert and Gerald were having their
unpleasant quarter of an hour together at Oak
Lodge, a scene was being enacted under an-
other roof in Stokeville, hardly inferior to it in
dramatic interest. There had’ been a dinner
party at the Hall the previous night, in which
three young people had returned from Sand-
ford-on-Sea on purpose to take part. Indeed,
it was a sort of informal banquet in honor of
Mildred’s marriage with, Mr. Frank Farrer,
which, it was understood, was to take place
almost immediately. Mr. Farrer, senior, had
been present as the guest of the eyening. The
old squire was notafrequent visitor at the
Hall; his politics were opposed to those of Sir
Peter; and being as great a man in his way as
the knight himself, their intercourse partook of
the character of that of the two kings of Brent-
ford. Mr. Farrer’s ancestor had come over
with the Conqueror, and laid hands on certain
property (belonging to other people) of which
his descendants had never loosed their hold.
They had stuck to the land like barnacles toa
ship’s bottom, a circumstance in the squire’s
eyes as meritorious as the behavior of a Casa-
bianca. Whereas, Sir Peter, ‘‘too proud to
care from whence he came,” plumed himself on
own person. Then, to set against the latter’s
museum, which nobody visited, Mr. Farrer had
built a model village, in which, since no public-
house was allowed within two miles of it, very
few people could be induced to live.
The squire had no title, but, on the other
hand, was a knight of the shire, and cherished
the remembrance of one of his ancestors having
refused a baronetcy on the ground that it could
add no dignity to his social position. It was
true that both the fact and the ground were
disputed; but that did not prevent a sense of
self-sacrifice mingling with the squire’s self-
importance in a manner very agreeable to him-
sélf, and which was displayed to most advan-
tage when, as on the present occasion, he could
place his thumbs in the armholes of his white
waist-coat, with his back to a drawing-room
fire. Perey Fibbert remarked that his uncle’s
behavior ‘that evening resembled that of a
magnificent Newfoundland dog, eclipsed in the
court-yard, where he was wont to reign by the
appearance ofa St. Bernard. The necessity of
being civil had not presented itself so forcibly to
the worthy knight for years, and he resented it
by many a private sniff and growl. But toward
his rival he conducted himseif with urbanity.
If everything could not be said to go ‘‘ag mer-
rily as a marriage beil,” it was because that
pastoral description of enjoyment hardlysuited
an atmosphere so laden with wealth and red-
olent of importance. It was generally agreed
that ‘‘there had been no hitch,” which, on the
whole, was’ satisfactory; for, considering the
volcanic ‘character of the chief elements, there
might have been an explosion. .
In the evening there had been a reception,
which included half the beauty and three-quar-
ters of the wealth of Stokeville; and, if, as Sir
Peter observed with pardonable pride to Dr.
Dixon, ‘‘ you could have figured them all up the
tottle would have been millions.” ‘
Mr. Frank Farrer did not return home with
his father, but remained to accompany Mildred
and the home party to some local entertain-
ment the next day. He was_a late riser,.and
on coming to the breakfast-table found Mildred
awaiting him alone, Sir Peter and Percy. hav-
ing already repaired to the mill as usual.
There was an unwonted gravity in the young
man’s eyes and a pucker on his ordinarily
smooth forehead that would have attracted the
evidently took a sensible view of the affair, he
being a sort of William the Conqueror in his | me
had her own reasons for seriousness, was too
preoccupied. to notice it. ‘She gave him her
cheek to kiss, as in duty bound, though in a
somewhat perfunctory manner; but to her sur-
prise, and even alarm, he took no advantage
of the offer. There was a bloom on her cheek,
not, it must be confessed, so natural as ‘that
which belongs to the peach, but for all that it
was a very pretty cheek, and few’ men would
have set their faces against it except in a phys-
ical sense. “ . :
“ Why, Frank, what is the matter with
‘With me? Nothing,” he answered, quietly.
‘*Tam no saint, Heaven knows, but I think I
have nothing to reproach myself with. Can you
say the same, Milly?” -
She had no need of any extraneous color now.
The warm blood rushed into her face in a tor-
rent, and into her eyes there stole an affrighted
look, which he took for tenderness alarmed, and
which touched him. * pot
“Of course I may be wrong; I hope I am
wrong,” continued the susceptible youth, laying ;
his hand upon her shoulder, though not. caress?
ingly; ‘‘but there are matters which require ex-
planation. Will you ‘answer me one question—
truly—before I go into them?” ‘ .
She moved her head in assent; she could not
speak; she would have given much to have been
able to avoid his gaze, which was very fixed and
earnest. : mo
“Very good; it is simply this: do you really
love me, Mildred?” - . .
“Oh, Frank, what a question!” .
“Yes; a strange question, no doubt, ‘from
an accepted lover; one too the date of whose
marriage has been already fixed twice, and has
twice been postponed sine die. Still, I must
trouble you to answer it. Do you really love
_. ‘My dear Frank, of course I do. Iam not,
it is true, a village girl to go into ecstasies;
much less ‘to sicken and to swoon,’ like the
girls in poetry books.” :
“T admit that; still, I hope you are not’
quite like the girls in the book you gave me to
read the other day—Butterflies, I think it was
called. Girls without any hearts at all, and
some very queer ways of their own. They have
their attractions, no doubt, but scarcely as
wives.” . °
“T really don’t_know what you mean, Frank.
Am I to prepare for a lecture on morals?”
‘«Pray, pray, don’t talk like that, Mildred!”
said the other, earnestly. ‘No; I am not
fitted to preach morality, even if I had the gift of
preaching. Far from it.” ,
“You are good enough for me,” answered
Mildred, softly. . of
‘‘ Nevertheless, I wish I was better, for your
sake—that is, if goodness has “anything to do }
with the, matter at all. I sometimes think it
has not. You don’t know.how difficult it is for
me to talk like this—I-mean to express my
thoughts.” .
And the young man left her side and began
to pace the room. :
Mildred uttered’a gentle sigh; really of re-
lease, for the touch of his fingers had embar-
rassed her strangely. It was something that
she had got rid of his searching eyes, and could
collect her thoughts and,prepare her defense.
‘*My dear Frank, I think you area little
exigeant. .
‘Mildred, for Heaven's sake, speak English,”
he exclaimed, curtly.. ‘‘I hate those artificial
ways and phrases. They are good enough for
ball-room flirtations; but let us two for once—
and before itis too late—understand one an-
other. When I asked, ‘Do you really love me”
I meant something more than ‘ Will you bear
my name; will you sit at the head of my table:
will you accompany me to dinner parties and
balls? Ifyou don’t know what I mean, it will
be very sad for both of us.” :
* But I really do tove you, Frank.”
“TIthank you; and I believe you; but un-
happily there is another question, Mildred, to
me at least equally important, and which I
must have answered ‘with equal truth—it is
this.” He had come up to her again and taken -
both her hands in his, and was once more look-
attention of most tiancees, but Mildred, who
ing straight intohereyes. ‘‘ You have said you