Dodgeville chronicle. [volume] (Dodgeville, Wis.) 1862-current, 1865-11-30
MILDRED GRANT.
CHAPTER L.


CHAPTER 1.
And if they order you to give me up,
Mildred, what will you do p
The scene was coy and rather handsome
room in an English country house. The walls
we're lined with books, and a table, Uttered
with dictionaries and grammars stood in a
recess between the ow-wiDdows. Gu side
were to be seen the gay tints Of a pleasant
1ower-garden, and the bright spring sun
shine, streaming into the room, lighted up
even the heavy damask window-curtains and
the dark leather armchair drawn up to the
hearth. La this chair sat tall, spare man
Of about twenty-seyen, whose closely-shaven
and rather thin face wore a somewhat stern
look, belied by pleasant voice and kindly
genial smile. pair Of thinly-mounted
short-sighted speetacles made him look olde.
than he really was, but behind them twin
killed. pair Of remarkably handsome gray
eyes. A girl Of seventeen was standing on
the rug before the fire, her bright hair tum-
bled rather untidily about her face, and
the little fingers somewhat daubed with ink,
held German grammar, as if she had come
to task her masters help in the matter Of the
half-written exercise lying on the table.
Every one who visited the Royal Academy
Trust me-" Mildred Grant might have
been taken for the girl in that picture; she
was so like her as to render further descrip-
ton unnecessary.
" And if they order you to give me up,
Mildred, what will you do ?"
lie asked the question, but he probably
needed no answer, and Mildred gave none,
except such as might be conveyed by a shy
fnptr from unday hon. ava1 n HIT ha % p,o
close up to the big chair, and, standing by
the side of it, laid her hand on the arm A
larger nand covered it instantly and Mr..
Reeve looked up into her eyes.
- And you really think you have courage
to hold out? Four years, Mildred; it is a
long time. Poor child, you have good deal
to go through, but how TO help it -.
never felt so inclined to grumble at my
position"
Greatly" she questioned with CLEAN of
a smile, then, changing her tone, +" But dom
you think there is little chance of their
consenting .now?"
Dearest childie, no When you say that
sort of thing, it almost makes me feel as if |
had taken a wrong advantage of your ignor-
ance of the world. No, Milly, if you ever
belong to me, it can only be when you are
twenty-one, and your own mistress, and in
all the time till then | shall never be allowed
TO see you. Heigh-ho! But still" he add
ed, as if talking 10 himself, sit wouldn't be
right, it wouldn't be honorable, 10 keep them
in ignorance. No, it must be told tonight,
coute que coHfe."
Helapsed into silence, but presently began
again Mildred had left her position by his
chair and seated herself on footstool be-
fore the fire.
Z" People would say was talking nensonse,
but really don't think it will be such very
bad thing for you after al. know you love
me, and don believe you ever could love
any one else so WE'LL" Her lips formed
"never," but the sound was scarcely audi
BILE. "And you see, poor as | am. | believe
shall always be able to maintain myself by
teaching or writing, Perhaps could get on
the staff of one of the newspapers, and you
will have money enough to make you rich
under any circumstances.
Mil lred veered round upon her footstool
and put her two hands clasped together up
on his knee.
al don't believe you care for me bit, oil
you wouldn't say such unkind things on pur
pose 10 vex me. Such nonsense, too" she
went on, with the pretty pettishness of s
child; and, indeed. she looked little more
"as if when vel mean some day every
thing have won't be yours, your very own
and not mine st all. And m so prond some
times when | think il will make a difference
TO you. And | want you to do me great
great favor. Yon won't like it, l know, bu
you must promise not TO scold me Just Ibis
once, and she looked at him with pleading
eyes.
He did not seem much inclined to 10 b.
angry.
What is it, Milly 9"
"B t promise me you'll do it 90
That's what you used TO ask me when yol
were little bit of child; but must heal
what this wonderful favor is, first. / don
altogether trust you in these sort of things.
"Well, but you must doit Why don't Vol
say it for me? 1t is so hard to get out. ant
you know what mean"
She hid her face in her hands that wer,
still on his knee, and went on.
SCI mean if-if you have TO leave Chaley
you may be long time before you get worl
that viii suit you, and We more money than
know what TO do with, even now, and if yol
would only take a little-only a little-an,
spend il for me, it would make me SO very
rsry happy" And, on the verge of crying
she put on his knee a little purse, Melted wit
bright silk and beads, IN which lay ban
notes TO the amount Of 600. He opene
and looked anthem with moved expression
For second he did not speak, then he too
them out, and tucked them into her hand
shutting it tightly with his own.
'.MIly, cannot do it, )" he said, ''my dar
ling, III keep the purse as long as live, bu
you must not ask the other. ceuld no
speak openly and fairly TO your guardian
had touched Mildred, / cannot"
She said no more but rose and stood look
ing at the FIRE with a sorrowful face. Pres
emily he reused himself, and, looking at hi
watch, said:
"Put away your book, childie. and W,
will have last walk together; they nee'
not grudge us that, at all events.
She obeyed in silence, and methodicall.
tidied the room.
"Come here, Mildred" be said, when sh,