The Hartford herald. [volume] (Hartford, Ky.) 1875-1926, 1875-08-04

portmanteau, and setting off for Mont
Blanc, or something Of that kind and l,
being heartily tired of the Courts of Pro-
bate and Chancery, and Veruleam Build
iugs, Gray's Inn, was only too glad to
follow his advice, and take my railway
ticket for Geneva"
"And Switzerland has restored
you--?'
"In measure, perhaps; but not en-,
tirely. You can see that l am not vet
very strong, when even the pleasing emo.
ton of meeting Unexpectedly with my
sometime ward is Amos. too much for
my ultra-lady-like nerves. But you were
saying, my dear Mrs. Dalton, that they
had been talking Of me here"
"Oh, at the breakfast>table this morn
ing. When your visit was announced,
one of the gentlemen said he had met
you in Switzerland. and that you were
looking ill-unhappy|
Unhappy! All, my dear Mrs. Dalton,
what a misfortune it is for a man to have
constitutional pallor, and a head of
dark hair The world will insist upon
elevating him into blighted being, with
a chronic wolf hard at work under his
waistcoat l knock myself up by work.
ing too hard over difficult Will case, in
which some tiresome old man leaves his
youngest son forty thousands pounds
upon half a sheet of note paper; and the
world, meeting me in Switzerland, trav-
elling to rescue myself, comes home and
writes me down-unhappyi Now. isn't
it too bad2 If l were blessed with red
hair and a fat face, I might break my
heart once in three months, without any
Of my sympathetic friends troubling
themselves about the fracture"
my dear Mr.. Margrave," said Ellinor
her voice, in spite Of herself, trembling
little-"I am really new quite an old
married woman, and, presuming on that
fact, may venture to speak to you with
entire candor-may / not2"
with entire candor, certainly. 1"
There is the old SILVER in the dark eye
lashes, and the white lids droop over the
handsome brown eyes. as Horace Mar
grave looks down at the hat which
swings backwards and forwards in his
listless hand.
'Then Mr.. Margrave, my dear guardi-
an, for 1 will will call you by that old
name, which I can remember speaking
for the first time on the day Of my poor
fathers funeral. ObI' she added, pas
sionately, chow well-how well remem-
Der that dreary, wretched, terrible day !
L can see you now as l saw you then,
standing in the deep embrasure of the
window in the little library, in the dear,
dear Scottish home, looking down at me
compassioDately, with dark, mournful
eyes. l was such a child then. can
hear your low, deep voice, as 1 heard it
on that day, saying to me-'Ellinorl your
dead father has placed solemn trust in my
hands. | am young. may not be as
good or as high-principled man as, to
his confding mind, seemed to be; there
may be something of constitutional weak
ness and irresolution in my character
which may render me, perhaps by no
means the fittest person he could have
chosen for your guardian; but so deeply
do l feel the trust implied in his dying
words, that I swear, by my hope in heav-
en-, by my memory of the dead, by my
honor as a man and gentleman, to dis
charge the responsibilities imposed upon
me, as an honest man and an honorable
gentleman should discharge them
'Ellinor Ellinor for PHYS sakel" he
cried, in a broken voice, clasping one
white hand convulsively over his averted
face.
81 do wrong" she said. Ito recall that
melancholy day. You did-you did dis
charge every duty, nobly, honestly, hon.
orably; but now-now you abandon me
entirely to the husband-not of my choice
but imposed upon me by a hard and
cruel necessity, and you do all in your
power TO make us strangers. Yet, guar
dian-Horace, you are not happy L
Not happyp' he raises his head, and
laughs bitterly. my dear Mrs. Dalton,
this is such childish talk about happiness
and unhapyiness-two words which were
only used in lady's novel, in which the
heroine is unhappy through two volumes
and three quarters, and unutterably bles
in the last chapter. In the practical
world, we don't talk about happiness and
unhappiness; our phrases are, failure anC
success. A man gets the woolsack, anC
he is successful; or, he tries for it all biz
life, and never gets it-and we shrug oul
shoulders and say he is unfortunate. Bu
happy man, my dear Ellinor-did yor
ever see oneY'
"You mystify me, Mr.. Margrave; bu
you do not answer me-
because, Mrs. Dalton, 10 answer yol
| must first question myself and believe
me, man must have considerable,
courage, who can dare to asl
himself whether, in this tiresome jour
ney of life, he has taken the right of th,