The Jasper weekly courier. [volume] (Jasper, Ind.) 1858-1922, 1879-03-14

made ner run against late. Ana now
there was only one month left before
her twenty-first birthday and the be-
trothal. Often she told Gertrude she
wished he would go home and stay
there; and Gertrude would only laugh,
with . deeper tingc Of color on her fair
face.
The girls went out but little, an ar
rangement against which Madge often
rebelled, believing il was in some way
connected with the safe management Of
tho marriage with her cousin. But
there were two pleasures in prospect
now, IN afternoons boating with Jack
and q friend of his and Gertrude, and q
party that the Ponsoby-Joneses were
going 70 give TO which the Selwyn family
were sure TO be invited. First came
boating. All! that ever-memorable day
how many years il would take to make
Madge forget il! There were four in
the boat that passed. with the measured
beat and ripple Of Jacks pair OF sculls,
along by the reedy shadows and green
wooded banks Of the upper Thames.
The two girls shared the cushioned seat
at tine stern, their white wooden shawls
guarding them from the chill Of the
autumn wind. Gertrude was watching
the shores and the running ripples,
thinking in her quiet, easy-going way.
Madge, bright with excitement. was
talking-not with Jack, but with the
dark-bearded. ravel-bronzcd man who
wa resting from his turn at the SOULS.
He was charmed with the way she chat
ted and listened to his tales Of half the
world, with a refreshing absence Of self
consciousness. What would he have said
if he had known the thought that stroye
for entrance into her heart? On, If
Jack 49, awkward, laundering, good
natured Jack-could be changed into
this stranger that she called timidly Mr..
Fitzallan, and Jack and her guardian
had greeted at the house as HERBERT
At last there was a pause in the talk.
She gave a deep sigh, prompted BY a sad
longing to do right, a vague fear, a first
suspicion Of the change that was coming
over her impetuous heart.
ssAre you cold, Madge?" asked Jack,
pulling away and bending TO his strong
stroke. "keep your shawl well about
your shoulders. And, my dear girl,
look to your steering. You have been
sending the boat into curves like cork
screw--only l did not want to disturb
your tctc.a-tcte.-
Poor Cousin Jackl She drew the
white shawl closely round her, chilled
not by the wind but by a sudden pang
Of remorse, the foundation of which was
very small, but enough to trouble her
peace
What need 20 tell the inner history OF
Madge's lifesduring the mex few weeks?
More and Or she longed for freedom.
Fitzalian was staying in the neighb0r-
hood and was frequently at the house,
and in the thousand little incidents of
everyday life she knew he cared for her,
and honest Jack grew yet more distaste-
full in her sight.
In due time came the second promised
pleasure. The family that distinguish
ed the name Of Jones by the prefix Of
P~onsonby gave their party Madge was
ia her glory that night. One looker-on
called her charming another, the moth
er OF fair daughters, admitted her ex-
preston was charming, but voted her
FEATURES plain. Mrs Ponsonby-Jones,
weighed down with bright-colored
silk and jewelrT, said in her
finest tone that Mr.. Selwyn's
ward would be quite a femme
d'esPrit. Madge had no lack Of society,
but she kept a place in the conversation
for Jack Hawkesbury, and her love Of
mischief was gratified to the full by his
making OF it what be called ga hawible
muddle.r But the trivial triumphs and
pleasures az the night we're long forgot
ten by Madge before she lost one
remembrance Of scene that passed in
the conservatory, where the music was
hushed by heavy curtains. and there was
only the soft light Of q few dim lamps
among the masses Of blossoms and dark
green leaves. She had lost the flower
from her hair-one Of her iavorite camel
Iias-as she said "wiih q darling bud.-
and Fitzallan had promisee, with Pon-
sonby-Jones's permission, 70 get her
another with a darling bud too. She
had placed his gift in her hair, and she
sat near the dewy glass, saying IL was
cool there and she would rest. Fitzallan
stood at a little distance, penknife in
hand still, swinging carelessly the fan
like leaf OF a dwarf palm.
"If this were neaser, I could fan
you,'' he said.
THANK you; I am tired rather than
hot"
Never in her life before had Madge
been so serious or so troubled as she
was now, in the seft light among the
cool plants, within sound Of the half
hushed music.
"Will you do me a favor?" she in
quired, raising the gray eyes that shone
for a moment with liquid brightness.
"You have only to name It'll am at
your service"
His manner, unromautic to a studied
degree, made her feel oil the more safe