Daily globe., 1880-07-18
muttered Madge, with frowning brow.
"He shall never come back to her never
-neyer!n

-neverp
The summer days slipped by. The
lilacs, bending over the old sea-wall,
shook all their purple petals on the wa
ter, and foated dying, out to sea, bearing
who knows what memories of native land
aud dear hill-country homes, to meet
tired wanderers hastened from foreign
ports. The blue-fowered vines, hang
ing in long tangled skeins of swaying
beauty from porch and window ledge,
grew dry and scentless In the scorching
sun. The lilies stood in ghostly sheaves
in the dim garden corners, and there,
gathering the dew and sunshine of
brief lovely life within their slender
throats, they, too, dropped, and fading
died.
Juliet was alone now with Madame
Schuyler in the dull old house Night
after night she sat and listened to the
lonly signing of the water past the gar
den wall. She listened for the sound of
oars-for the sound of voice and foot
step which never came. Only once an
envelope, holding slip of printed mat
ter-a paragraph cut out of a society pa
per, and telling of a masked ball at one
of the great watering places, where Har-
ry Templeton, as "Rizzio," pursuing
| 'tMary Queen of Scots" was observed of
all observers.
The lovely "Queen of Scots was Madge.
Juliet read It, but made no sign or
wound of sorrow.
But, by-and-by, came letter from
Madge herself -Madge at Newport.
"What do you thinks" Madge writes.
"Who do you think is the lion of the
place now-the much sought-after
petted favorite? Why our artist Harry
Templeton, of course. He has the dain-
tiest studio-all light and flowers and
ric-a-6rac, old china and tapestry-and
all the ladies are dying with envy to be
painted now. I am giving HIM sittings.
You shall see this picture when 1t is fin
ished. I tell Harry it is an artists dream
of roses, for I am literally covered with
| them" =
That nj ght, going to her grandmother S
room Juliet found ner standing before that
picture of the dead Harry Templeton. A
stately, black-veiled figure, the aged wo-
man stood, her face, set IN sad stern
ness, looking into the eyes which had
once given back such bright glances to
her own in their far-away youth.
She did not start nor look around as
the young girl entered; with her hands
clasped on her stick she stood motionless
and absorbed.
"Grandmamma! Juliet, said creeping
softly up, laid her pale cheek On Madame
Schuyler's shoulder ''Tell me whea he
did you wrong; did you forgive him2.'
"How can 1 tells" answered that cold
sad voice. st was so long ago!"
She paused a moment the light seemed
to grow pale about these two solitary fig
ures.
II thought 1 forgave him, but the
wound hurts yet. I feel it, tonight,
through you," she whispered loudly.
The girls arms tightened IN their soft
clasp round her grandmother's neck.
"Did you torget-forget for a little
while, grandmama, just to get strong
enough to bear it?''
| Juliet's voice ended in sob, stifed
ere it had hardly touched the air, but
| the quick O1u CARS Caught IL.
| Child! child! I thought had forgot
ten the worst; but see your pale cheeks
and it all comes back to me-"
The old lady struck her hand ieIcelY
against the picture.
s'Do you see its" The bad blood of
that man is in your Harry Templeton's
veins. Do you see that careless smile9
1t was always so. He could smile a
life away. Come, come away. Let US
forget and take what happiness we Can
together-an old woman and a younggirl
God help US and keep us in His care"
"H1sh, grandmamma! cne question
more" The whisper, like loves last
weary sigh. swept coldly past Madame
,Schuyler's wrinkled cheek.
"Then, at that time, was you patient
with him? Were you gentle-kind?''
"Ah, no, no; am afraid not! Who
knows what might have come had 1 been
so2 But was proud-proud!'
AS she spoke the grandmother felt the
young girls weight on her shoulder
grow heavier. She turned, and then,
| greatly frightened, lifted up the white
face.
juliet had tainted.
Sadder and more chill the days and
nights grew. On the heights along the
Hudson the autumnal foliage per1shed in
a blaze of glory the leafless boughs rust
led outside the windows; means of wind
and lonely sounds by night, filled the
empty rooms and the long wooden cor
ridors of the silent house. Dim and faded
the life was that was in 1.-TWO women,
one old and one young, and both with
the divine music Of loves sweetness upon
their lips.
Day and night, now, Juliet lay in her
grandmother room, hearing ever the
river that ran below, listening and start
ing in her feeble dreams for voice that
now never would come again.
She knew it, she told herself; it never
would come again.
One Gay, Madame Schuyler, after sit
ting by her granddaughter for long
time and noting a change which startled
he1, rose and went softly out of the room.
She found writing-desk and scrawled a
few hasty lines; then, as if afraid Of her
work or doubtful of her strength of mind,
she sealed and directed them, and tossed
the letter to servant, with sharp word
of command.