The Manitowoc tribune. [volume] (Manitowoc, Wis.) 1866-1878, 1873-06-19


every niece Such was the sentiment,
if not the precise words, in which the
heroic Well-thas is, the immortal
Ner'-
But, dear Sir Mordaunt, Mr.. Stichel-
bach is all but a strangerl'
If Mr.. Stichelbach were Fifty stran-
gers. and Charles, as you style Captain
Fitzmaurice, and yourself had spooned
and squabbled since babyhood, it comes
the same thing. If Ftzmaurice.' added
the old gentleman, rather regretfulIy. as
he glanced at the handsome eager face of
the young sutton, had written tragedy.
then, indeed
How can you say he has not?' asked
Marigold, mysteriously.
II CALCULATED the young gentleman.
Hold your tongue, Sir, said Mari
gold, imperiously. The modesty of
these poets 7
l never wrote line since was at
college, worse luck 7 muttered the lover,
disconsolately.
DO you mean this, marry?' asked
good natured Sir Mordaunt, visibly
Frightening. Can Ca-psha Captain
Fitzmaurice do anything in that line
By George! if SO, it might not be too
late
My dear kind friend + sobbsd Mari
gold.
Ay, ay, my love, hats all very we'll,
said Sir Mordaunt uneasily.
But business first. If Charley-hang
it, Charles-will give us a scene, even q
passage or so. from this drama, we will
see what can be done. Come sir, if ever
memory answered to the spur, now is the
time? Begin
The young soldier colored to the roots
of his hair, hesitated moment, then
said
MY dear sir, not even under such
temptation can l bring myself to repay
your trusting kindness with hypocrisy
and deceit. l never"
He was interrupted by the entrance Of
the footman.
My master, Sir Mordaunt, sends his
compliments. said Mr.. Jeems, and would
be 'appy to see you in his library, as soon
as convenient
There, that will give you time to send
for the manuscript said the old gentle.
man, with a twinkle Of mischief in his
eye. Or, at any rate, to collect you,
thoughts. I'll bring him up, never fear.
But, mind you, the more highfown and
tyranical the better. Hang the matter.
Tone, sir, tone is all i
And the baronet, with glance Of laugh
ing encouragement, hustled away
Come, it is not difficult after all !!
said Fitzmaurice, gaining courage as he
marched up and down the room. Tone
| eh!'
But the inspiration would not come.
Tone, he found, was not. strictly speaking
the sum-total of what was required. A
certain infusion of significance, of intelli
bility, would be demanded, even by the
enthusiastic admirer of Fitzball. In vain
the unhappy young man smote his fore.
head, and rolled his eyes in the most ap.
proved fashion. Nothing would come. All
the time poor Marigold watched the
laboring bard, followed every movement
with wistful eyes; but forbearing the
slightest interruption, least some infant
tragedy, destined to be the parent of so
much joy. should perish in the moment
of its birth.
Time, however, declined, even at the
request of pretty little Marigold, to slack
en- his pace one instant. 1t seemed as if
the sound of Sir Mordaunt's steps had
hardly died away when he was heard
returning, chatting as he came with the
master of the house, who accompanied
him.. As they entered Marigold thought
the face of the former looked bright and
encouraging.
/ knew your father we'll, Captain
Fitzmauricc, said the old gentleman,
and regret that have seen so little of
Ills son. Ny friend Drury tells me that
you haye desired q more intimate &C.
quaintance, and it gives me additional
pleasure to learn that your visit to my
niece at this early hour was prompted by
desire to seek my assistance in matter
you have very much at heart.
'Ahem.' said Captain Fitzmaurice.
Sir, /"
May 1 ask in what manner l can serve
you, sir?' resumed the old gentleman a
little stiffly.
Fitzmaurice glanced despairingly at
his ally, Sir Mordaunt.
He will never. Cornish, have the
courage to tell you,' observed the latter.
Why SOP
Come, man, out with it boldly said
Drury.
Sir Mordaunt himself, said Fitzmau-
rice, can best explain, -
Well, Drury, explain said Mr.. Cor
nish.
Com, then, replied his friend, Fitz-
maurice has heard of your attachment to
the poetic drama, and
Partakes it probably?' exclaimed old
Cornish eagerly.
Partakes it! Sir, he has written
tragedy
And Sir Mordaunt threw into the last
word solemnity that all but defeated its
own purpose.
A tragedy?'
But, my dear SIR murmured Fitz-
maurice apart to his too-zealous support
er.
Don't be a fool! was the answer, in
the same tone.
My dear young friend said Mr..
Cornish, it will afford me the sineerest
pleasure to hear you read your piece
III