The Cincinnati daily star. [volume] ([Cincinnati, Ohio]) 1875-1880, 1878-09-02
Out Of tbe Seasoq.

man, Charlotte. Why isn't he bishop, or
somethimg? Why aren't you settled?
Why is your father always coming to
me for money? Because he is weak,
and you-"
There was unutterable scorn in the
infection of the old lady's voice.
isn't this twice-told tale, aunt ?"
replied Charlotte, in wearied tone that
had become habitual to her.
"He wants to go to town this season.
for what? To pore over old trash in the
libraries all day, and dawdle at his club
in the evening. And as for you, how
much do you suppose your three seasons
cost me, Miss Delamere There was the
carriage and your lady's-maid (you
haven't got one now, have you Z? and
your dresses--goodness, why two thou
sand would not cover it - and
here you are still-Mariana in the
Moated Grange, seven-and-twenty if
you're a day. You'll not go to town
with my money!"
81 do not particularly desire to-"
"No; l know it. It's that which irri-
tates me. There's no spirit in you. You
look as white as milk. That lazy Brian
is at the Court again -dawdling-l do
hate dawdlers." And out she swept.
Though use had made Charlotte calm
and Indifferent under these oft-repeated
jeers, she would have been less than a
woman if the recollection of three un-
successful seasons had not been little
bitter. Had she not been "fast" enough,
or was it simply her lack Of dowry?
The Rev. Lord Talbot Delamere, her fa-
ther, was indeed brother to peer; but as
eight healthy children intervened be-
tween him and the estate there was no
prospect of an improvement in the weak
mans fortune. Charlotte had seen less
handsome women than herself marry
with eclat. Her mind was perhaps lit
tie too we'll stored for social success.
"Lazy Brian" a clerk in well-known
Crown office, lifted his hat negligently
to Aunt Delamere as she drove past,
while he leant over a gate with his friend
Mr.. Martin, tenant of the Court Farm.
He had run down for few days at Easter.
as he said, ''to give the dogs an airing;"
two settlers and spaniel were playing
about at their feet.
You seem rather dull, Martini" said
Brian, offering his cigar-case.
They were examples of two most op-
posite types of men-one tall, swarthy,
and obviously weary; the farmer short,
stouter, and though very little older in
years, showing his age more.
81 am" he replied. Il am dull. l
have something on my mind. Come
home. Will you write letter for
me p
"Of course" said Brian, smiling.
But he did not smile when he found
what the farmer, with the strange disin-
clination to use pen and ink often char
acteristic of his class, wished him to
write. 1t was an offer Of his hand to
Charlotte Delamere.
Il know I'm beneath her." said Martin;
"but, you see, she has had three seasons,
and is not-well, not quite so young now
and-and-w love her, and l have
money"
The letter was written.
Neither did Charlotte smile when she
read it.
"How strange it should be in his hand
writing y she thought. poor Martin
he is a gentleman in heart and manner;
though not by descent. l am sorry TO,
him."
Size wrote, and broke her refusal as
gently as possible. Martin was not
satisfied. He begged Brian to obtain an
interview for him, knowing tina. he was
on visiting terms at the Rectory.
With some reluctance Brian went.
Strange that he could not look Charlotte
in the face while he delivered his mes
sage-strange that his voice should falteI
a little.
81 will meet him at four o'clock" she
said, Sin the lane by the copse.'
The east wind blew cold and keen; but
the sky was clear and blue, and the sun,
though low. was bright. Between the
hedgerows of the lanes it was warmer.
She gathered a few anemones-they
withered quickly in her hands.
'Like all l have to do with," she
thought bitterly.
Martin met her. His tone at first re-
spectful, soon grew earnest.
at is in vain," said Charlotte, think
highly Of you; but l do not love you,