The Cecil Whig. [volume] (Elkton, Md.) 1841-current, 1875-05-08

-shiftless he Ell do-weel, that he is. and
then Miss Gerry paused suddenly, adding
after a moments reflection, 'fm afraid l
am hurting your feelings again, and l had
better stop"
- No you are not, Miss Gerry. You are
mistaken, but you are very kind, y murmur-
ed Sctar brokenly, from behind the damp
handkerchief.
81 mean to be, at any rate" Miss Gerry
answered, her accent thawed by appreca-
ton. "But | ought to have remembered
Walter Craven, and not have said so much
about Neil Conway. Though l must re-
peat that Neil is worth thousand of him,
apart from his having thousand pounds
Another little silence. Then Miss Gerry
stopped and kissed Setar's forehead. She
even sighed a little.
"Put down that abominable portfolio,
my dear, and go and take walk. ltwould
do you world of good. And Setar, think
of what | have said; and remember what
vast deal of happiness may be found in
Thirty Thousand Pounds"
Left alone, Setar tried to go on working.
Impossible. Disturbing thoughts had been
suggested, and troublesome German idioms
became more involuted and more uncer-
tain, until sense and nonsense were very
much the same thing. Setar took hiss
Gerrys advice finally, sorrowfully; for she
had prom sed herself to finish that day the
article she was at work on, and she needed
the money. But, in this instance, time
lost might he speed gained; so the poor
plain walking dress, neat for all that, was
donned Aud all the time of her dressing,
Miss Gerry S words rang in her ears.
1t was bright enough day in early
Spring. The wind blew freshly, however,
with some Renaissance of March moods,
and dissipated any hint of the languors of
April and May. 1t lifted Setar's hair, and
cooled her hot forehead, and made her step
brisker, despite her preoccupation; but it
did not, and could not blow away the re-
frain sounding in her ears, nor reach the
trouble at her heart. In spite of sun and
wind. and clear sweet sky, the world and
the day seemed out of joint. Never had
Setar felt so bitter the thousand hardships
of her position in life. Never had the
many spurs that patient of the unworthy
takes, seemed so many, or so hard to bear
Never, alas, had it seemed SO futile to wait
for that far off, hoped for promised day
that fair, bright day-when Walter Craven
should be able to make her his wife. For
though he was poor, too poor to marry, he
was far from being the ne'er-do weel that
Miss Gerry had called him. On the con-
trary, he was man of talent and energy;
but he was also young physician, poor
and without connections, and he tasted the
bitterness known to those "who only stand
and wait.
SO poor Setar's walk did her less good
than she anticipated. She came home more
dispirited than she set out; and | must do
her the Justice to say that her friends would
have been as much surprised as she was
herself, could they, like her, have known
the pang of discomfort with which she
opened the familiar books when size re-
turned.
That too, was only the beginning.
She saw Neil Conway quite as often as
she saw Walter Craven. One was often
dispirited and silent; the other always full
of the sunny sweetness Of success. Nor
was Neil Conway's devotion at all altered
by his good fortune. In truth, he accepted
his windfall with wonderful good sense,
and was only so moderately elated as the
most bilious sport of luck might have for
given him for. 1t was as evident as posi-
bic that his former rebuff from Setar had
not discouraged him; and opinion ran high
as to the probable result of his persever-
ance. Most of the ladies-all of those who
were marred-were of opinion that she
could not be such an idiot as to discard him
n0,o. But however they differed on minor
points, they agreed on one-nobody could
imagine what he could see in that plain,
silent creature, who dressed like fright.
And while these differences and agree
ments added zest to the life about her.
the struggle waxed fiercer in Setar's mine
and heart. She bewildered herself with al
sorts of sophistries. She made herself al
| most believe that it was for Walters sake
alone that she hesitated. She pretended te
! think that it would be cruel to marry hin
| poor and struggling as he was-when she
could do nothing to assist him; and She
resolutely hid from herself all that vas
reserve of vital force and living interest il
life and labor which springs from the sym
| pathy and companionionship of those whom
] we love and who love us.
And Miss Gerry was ever at hand tt
counsel her. Miss Gerry's keen dark eye.
saw her irresolution, and her keen tongue
did what was possible to increase it. But
| Gerry was aware of the impeachment Of al
actual engagement. That would have beer
sacred in her eyes. She was merely con
scous of dangerous attachment-an at
tachment that from her point of view wa
simply absurd; and that when suffered te
interfere with anything so desirable as thi
possible marriage, became really monstrou
quite insane-and not to be endured
As usual, the expression of more than sh,
felt at first, at last awakened a feeling
deeper than she expressed; and Miss Gerr.
became so warmly interested in Neil Con
way, and in his success, that her read,
anger was quick to be awakened by tn
slightest opposition. And she talked t.
Setar, and Setar talked to her, until the.
became more intimate than either woul,
have deemed possible six weeks before
For the credit of my poor, irresolute, over
worked, self-deceived little heroine, | an
sorry to say that her part in these CONVEX
satons usually consisted of faintly-state'
objections to Miss Gerrys practical view
of life which were merely stated that the.
might be overthrown by Miss Gerry's viva
cious wit; and then half pleased, hal
ashamed of herself for being pleased, Seta
would sit paely silent, while her crushed
heart plead dumbly for the true, true love
that seemed likely to perish beneath thu
pressure of these Thirty Thousand Pounds