The tribune. [volume] (Beaufort, S.C.) 1874-1876, 1876-06-07

But did not sell myself for them.
And 80 you are really engaged to Miles
Bond, and there's no help for it2"
Well, not really engaged; won't
give my word-at least not quite yet.
You see, grandmamma, one hesitates to
rivet the chain, as they say in novels.
And then Miles says he will wait; he
won't hurry me; he'd rather wait
century in sweet suspense, as he calls it,
than to be refused at once. But I sup
pose It will all end one way"
"And what will y,u answer to Harold
Helper2"
"Heaven only knows. 1t will not do
to tell a man who offers one his heart
that he ought to have known better.
Nor that you will not marry him
because his father was stonecutter."
Mr.. Helper accepted his refusal, how
ever, with good grace. He made no
fuss about it; he merely assured her
that her happiness would always be
dearer to him than his own.
"That's the letter of a gentleman,
said grandma, "if his father was forty
times stonecutter."
| "Pshaw |" said Miss Agnes, tearing
it into fragments; but, curiously enough,
gathering them together as soon as
Mrs. Peverill's back was turned, as if
they were sweet to her as scattered rose
leaves. Perhaps she was thinking of
the days when Mr.. Helper was her
fathers clerk, and had taught her chess
of winter evenings-days when she was
not so worldly minded, and more ro-
mantle, and didn't guess the worth of
position Id long descent. Perhaps she
regretfully remembered the spring
mornings when they pushed through
the woods for wild flowers and ferns,
when he made quaint album for her of
pressed seaweeds- she had it hidden
away somewhere now.
| "It wouldn't 'tdo," she said, half aloud,
answering some unspoken thought. "I
Should always be haukering for family
and money. One must give up some
thing; it may as we'll be love cs any
thing. Oh, if my father had only been
stonecutter, toop'
Grandma Peverill met Mr.. Helper in
the street later. "I hope you don't
mean to desert u.s." said she, "because
that foolish chit of an Agnes doesn't
know when her bread is we'll buttered.
Remember it's a woman's privilege to
change her mind. If you neglect US,
you shut your life from happier chance
as the poet says. Nobody knows what
may happen"
"But I hear that Miss Peveriu has
encouraged Mr.. Bond" said Harold,
helplessly.
| "And you're going to stand aloof and
let that little Miles Bond walk over
you9 Now let me tell you that mean
to make you and Miles executors of my
will; so I'd like to keep on friendly
terms with you-don't you see2'
"Thank you; but aren't we friends,
near or apart7"
"'Tis said that absence conquers
love" she laughed; "and haven't you
heard of the virtue that resides in pro-
pinquity2 If Agnes sees Miles every
day, and you once in six weeks, which
do you think she will be most likely to
love best 2"
"It is not likely that she will ever
love me, whatever happens"
"Who said she would never love you9
Aren't you worth forty Miles Bondsa"
Certainly not in Miss Peverill's re-
gard"
"Prithee, what do you know of her
regard, Sir Faintheart ?"
every little, to be sure"
C.. He either fears his fate too much,
Or his deserts are small,
That dares not put it to the touch,
To gain or lose 1t ALL
"Haven't put my fate to the touch,
Mrs. Peverill, and haven't found that
my deserts are miserabIy small9"
"Dear me I see that you don't
know that women blow twenty ways of
a morning. Who knows but she is cry
ing her pretty eyes out this minute, and
wishing with all her silly heart that she
had it to do over again"
"Miles knows" laughed Harold.
"Come and see who knows best. An
old woman's advice isn't to be sneezed
at. 1 refused my first lover myself, be-
cause I thought he'd come back and
tease me into it, but he never did.
Served me right, too"
And Harold did as he was told. He
| made himself intimate at the Peverills'
| as of old. He was there in season and
out of season. He bore with the
caprices of Agnes and the condescen.
| sions of his rival. He was often left to
the tender mercies of Grandma Peverill
while Agnes and Miles made the garden
or the river echo with their songs. He
came and went like shadow. When
| Agnes chose to listen, he let loose his en-
thusiasm; when she gave him the cold
shoulder, he accepted it without MUIR
mur-as if one should be grateful for
any gift of hers-and fell back upon the
old lady's unfailing kindness. One day,
however, even Grandma Peverill failed
him. She walked suddenly from q
doze, and asked /: "Is it really love2"
| glancing after the two, peltiug each
other with roses in the garden.
1t looks like it," gasped Harold.
"Tine will prove-time, that unlocks
all secrets and discloses all impostures.
Miles is of the earth, earthly. He