The Vancouver independent. (Vancouver, W.T. [Wash.]) 1875-1910, 1877-02-09

est heiress in the country. the daughter
of one of the proudest women in Eng
land. was as hopeless an aim as an at
tempt to grasp an ignis fatuus.
He heard her step-perhaps the thrill
at his heart told him who was coming.
He rose and turned towards her, walt
ing her pleasure. She might recognize
him or not just as she chose.
She passed him with naughty
glance. He did not finch, but stood
with folded arms-his tall, manly figure
outlined against the purple sky, his face
lit up by the young moon. A faint flush
rose to her white forehead.
els it Duke Rutherford ?"
"Miss Delamere! Will you not well
come me homer" :,
She gave him her hand. After all.
old memories held still their sway In
her heart.
Some secret audacity moved him to
say it. He bent over her and whispered
-"I have the heilotrope yet, Lucy"
Her eyes blazed; she snatched her
hand from him as if his touch stung
her. Remember to whom you are
speaking" she said, sharply. II have
other business than listening to the silly
talk of love-sick boy! Goodnight to
you Mr.. Duke Rutherford"
"The time may come, he muttered,
Eyes. it may happen that she will be
glad to unsay those words! l can
wait"
Six years passed again. Duke Ruth
erford was making name in the land.
On his graduation he had studied law,
and been admitted to the bar in due
time; and after two years was In sue
cessful practice, one of the most rising
men in the profession.
Wealth came to him slowly, but fame
was not chary. He had turned his at
tention and leisure moments to litera-
ture, and already ranked high as poet.
His father was dead. There was no tie,
save memory, to bind him to the old
place at Romney. So he travelled when
he could do so with benefit.
He frequently met Lucy Delamere In
the gay world. Their old familiar foot
ing of early days had given place to a
colder and more distant acquaintance
ship. He could not forget the hint he
had whispered to her respecting the
heilotrope that hot July night. Her
pride had taken alarm, yet to him she
was and ever would be the one woman
the world contained. His heart never
for one moment swerved from its pas
sionate allegiance. And she? What
meant that frequent absence of mind
that dreamy look in the beautiful eyes,
that constant look of sadness on the
exquisite face? What meant that sud-
den flush, that lighting up of the fea-
lures at the first moment that his name
was announced on entering room
Were love and pride having a battle
It would seem So for on his approach
ing her, the light and the flush would
die away, and cold, proud word would
be his greeting.
Suddenly it was announced that Mrs.
and Miss Delamere were going to Amer
lea. An illness had attacked the elder
lady, and sea voyage was recommend
ed by her physicians as her only chance
of recovery. They had advised Aus
tralia, but to this she would not listen
so long q voyage seemed to her like bid
ding farewell to earth. She resolved
to try the efficacy of trip to New
York.
The news reached Mr.. Rutherford
amongst others, and it startled him.
Could he make use of this opportunity
For some time past certain matter of
business had demanded his attention in
America, but he had been unwilling to
devote the time to the journey. 1t was
now the commencement of the long va
cation, and so far circumstances were
in his favor AS he thought of long
and close proximity to Lucy Delamere
this voyage would give him, and what
it might bring about, his heart leaped
with hope and his face flushed as the
blood coursed more rapidly through his
veins; for the Duke of Rutherford of by
gone days and the Duke of Rutherfold
honors of his profession were possible
of attainment, were two different men.
So it came to pass that one day he
found himself on board steamer bound
for New York, and Mrs. and Miss Della
mere were among the passengers.
The second day of the voyage they
were all on deck at sunset, promenad-
ing, laughing, chatting, enjoying the
fresh breezes. More than ever, Mr..
Rutherford gazed from a dis ance at
Lucy Delamere; he confessed that her
youth had not made false prophecies of
the glory of her womanhood. Her
wealth of dark hair rippled away from
her broad white forehead; her eyes
were deep and fathomless AS some wood
land spring, into which the sunshine
never looks; her lips red, ripe, perfect;
her whole air and bearing were full of
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