Mineral Point tribune. (Mineral Point, Wis.) 1869-1938, 1873-06-26

saved from the wreck! have an intense
taste for Oceania, out of all the geography
Think how delicious to go cruising in
your private vessel amongst those
Summer isles Of Eden, lying in dark purple spheres
Of sea,
as the rhapsodical young man of Locks
ley Hall calls them, and all the while to
feel yourself about nextdoor- -but-one to
the sweet probability of becoming Rob
inson Crusoe.'
''Or else food for sharks; l can't say
which consequence would be the least
disgusting"
'Pshaw! you ought to be fond of roam
ing round the world, you are So"
"Rich" is the word that she finds trem-
bling on her tongues verge, but to pro-
nounce it seems a bold familiarity.
$50 what?" he question:, with fair
amount of curiosity in voice and eyes.
"Ah,' she cries out, for a kind of an
swer, talking of brambles, here is
horrid one that has fastened itself to my
skirt! Please help me to get rid Of the
monster, Mr. Dalgrish"
He gives valiant assistance; and while
he is giving it she rattlcs off more than
one headlong remark with view to make
him forget his recent question. And she
succeeds; for presently they are walking
along again, and he is very tractably lis
tening to her opinion on the last popular
novel,
81 don't like the girl bit" she objects,
with decision. "The idea of her being in
love with What's shis-name for nearly a
year and not knowing it! Women always
know in such cases, unless they are sheer
nonenities."
"Are you sure of that?" he murmurs,
with lips SO near her check that she can
feel his breath family touch it. The wind
has fallen, the sun is lower, the dark
green grassy lands wave all about them in
many graceful undulate line No liv-
ing creature is in sight no house; no sign
Of life except one or two bronze-brown
cattle feeding in a near meadow. 1t is
utterly still, and the lulled air is laden
with keen sweet perfume.
Rufus Dalgrish looks at the woman
who walks beside him, stately, composed,
beautiful. Her pale summer draperies
fall in long soft folds about nobly-
moulded figure. He marks the white
CLEAN of her small, delicate hands; he
marks the rich knot of roses worn upon
her full, shapely breast; he marks the
pinkish glimmer of tenderest fleshtints
beneath her neck's fair, f1eecy covering;
he marks these and many other charms,
and he feels his blood glow as if the
warmth of some genial wine were filling
its veiny labyrinth.
At first she smiles for answer a slow,
provocative smile, gradually turning the
grayish luster of her eyes till they dwell
steadily on his for a moment, then veil
themselves and drop toward the roses on
her breast.
'Ihose are charming roses. Let me
see: you have one, two, three, four Can
not you spare me One-thc smallest-for "a
60utonniere? 1t isn't SO much to ask, con-
sidering this poor empty buttonhole of
mine"
Again her eyes meet his own; again the
smile dawns into livelier brilliance about
her vivid-red lips. On either cheek there
is deepened flush, as she lifts hand to
disengage one of the roses from its rest
ing-place.
Just then her whole face becomes sud-
denly filled with mixed alarm and sur
prise. Barely a yard from Dalgrish
stands a gaunt, ugly, unshorn man, seem
ingly emergent from the earth itself,
though huge mass of rocks not far off
may account for his abrupt appearance
He is painfully dirty from crown to sole;
and he carries bundle in red handker-
chief, painfully dirty likewise. Why do
tramps always show such an UNMARRIED
preference for bundles in red handker-
chiefs over every other color?
The man grumbles something, address
ing Dalgrish, and extending Dalgrish-
ward about as entirely repulsive-loOking
hand as one might well fancy.
Rankest impostor never found more
willing victim than Miss Martel's CON-
panion has been all his life. If he lacked,
when rich, that finer charitable sense
which teases some rich men into the
building of hospitals and asylums, he has
still always possessed such careless gen
erosity of temperament as will make him
fling cOppers more or less broadcast with
out regard to the deserts of the recipient.
His hand is in his pocket now, when Miss
Martel's whisper has the effect of keeping
it there.
Il wouldn't, if | were you. He looks
like perfect wretch"
There are times when it is well to call a
spade spade, as everybody knows; and
again there are times when such candor is
far from discreet Whether the man
hears Miss Martel's precise words or
does not hear them, cannot be stated.
Anyhow the disgusted look that her face
wears quickly finds answer in his own
irate scowl.
"An' so yell keep an honest man from
gettin' few pennies, will ye, my fine
miss?" he growls hoarsely. "More's the
shame on yer name spirit!'
Dalgrish has drawn his brows together
savagely, long before the last insolent
word is spoken.
Look here, my man. he breaks out,
with sharp force of tone, "Ill thank you
to be off and have no more to say"
The man half turns, his unwashed, un-
slightly face one glover of sullenness.
Then he pauses and faces Dalgrish again
he has remembered, perhaps, that they
are on no public road, but out Of view and
hearing of anything more protectional
than those few cows in the near meadow.
And it would seem as if the recollection
has emboldened him accordingly; for, a
moment later he had given vent to such a
burst of oa'hful personality as makes Miss
Martel raise both hands to her ears with a
short, shocked cry.
Her companions grasp tightens about
the slim little walking stick he is carry
ing. You Internal scoundrel." he shouts
furiously, IF you're not off this instant
IN give you the sort of thrashing that you'll
not forget for weeks
The object of this indignation replies
| with husky, guffawing laugh, drops his
red bundle, and settles hand on each
hip.
"Thrasb mo will vnr roupr rept.