The Portland daily press., 1881-11-14
The ILady-Ki iller-in Chief.
lI.ondon Society,"

lcJ NE give YOU SOWu, Two SOWuS,
pleaded Jack Sinclair, blushing little under
some and soldierly in the brilliant June sun
shine.
"My good jack" returned Miss st.
George quietly, "haye you sufficient money
to pay your debts"
s'No,' he admitted unwillingly.
''Then how can you afford to buy me
gowns? and how can you imagine for one
moment that should take them, if you
could?"
s'If you loved me''-he began.
my good jack" said the girl again,
gravely lifting her azure eyes leisurely to
his, sit seems to me that you are great
deal too well assured of the state of my feel
ings. Some people, you know, have habit
of counting their chickens before they are
hatched."
80, Dolly, you do love mep' he cried.
"Perhape just little'' half indifferently
certainly not enough to let you buy me
-clothesr' with sudden shamed flush at
the bare idea of it.
Jack Sinclair sighed impatiently. He had
no such pride himself; but then, to be sure,
no cavalry officers ever have, except they are
rank men. He. that very morning shaved
himself in Broughton's room because
Broughton had just had his razors
ground; he had passed on to the next
room to sponge the remains of the lather off
his face, because Broughton was using his
sponge and basin for like purpose; he had
borrowed collar-stud on his way back to
his own quarters, because his laundress had
sent his shirt home minus button at the
throat; and before he had finished dressing
he had lent his last clean cotton tie to Dick
son, who had got two days leave; he had
surrendered his hair brushes to Squints who
had walked in for no apparent reason-per-
haps because some one was using his-and
had helped Ponto out of difficulty by the
loan of . she'll jacket. Thus Jack Sinclair,
accustomed to regards his belongings and
those of his brother officers as public prop
erty, could not understand why the sugges-
tion that he should buy his .fdncee gown
which, goodness knows, she stood sorely in
need of--need bring that shame flush to her
proud face.
"Then how will you do?' he asked at
length, rather ruefully.
''Stay at home," she laughed; then sang
in rich, mellow voice,
Stay stav ar home my heart and rest,
Housekeeping hearts are happiest!
80, dare sayT Jack put in, very rueful-
ly indeed. But the girl laughed and sang
on,
For those that wander, they know not where,
Are full of trouble and full of care;
To stay at home is best.
"But, Dolly, my darling" he interrupted,
couldn't Mrs. st. George lend you dress?'
''Mrs. st. George" answered Dorothy,
regarding him gravely, yet with laughter in
her brilliant eyes, sis possessed of one pre-
sentable gown beside the one you see her in
every day."
"fm sure she would lend it to you," cried
Jack.
"It is moire antique" said Dorothy, as
if there need be nothing more said upon the
subject.
swell, what of that?" I remember
time the last time was at
home, my mother was wearing one, bright
green one, it was, with white-pot-buttons-
she said they were porcelain, but I knew
better"
"Ahw remarked Dorothy, without much
interest.
''Then you'll come to the sports to-mor-
row, darling2"
''The moire," returned Dorothy, ''is of
the most startling rose-color you ever saw.
Why, Jack, all the women would be laugh
ing at usr'
'Let them," he rejoined fercely; "who
caresr'
1. 81 DO. for one. No, Jack; some day when
we are rich, will go to the sports; and Pll
give cup. and you shall run for it.'
81 don't see why you can't come in the
gown you've got on,' he grumbled sit
looks awfully jolly;' but, all the same, he
was very well aware that the garment in
question was very, very shabby. 1t wrs so
entirely out of keeping with its wearer.
Jack thought, as he watched her that lovely
June day, that he had never seen a more
peafect picture than she made as she sat
upon the rivers bank, the willows and the
turf making background against which
her radiant loveliness shene out more like
gem in dark setting THAI anything else he
could think of. She had taken off her hat,
and the sunshine streamed down upon her
golden head, giving the heavy braids the
appearance of diadem. Jack wished pas
sionately that he could have given her a
caown of rubies and diamonds, and yet he
knew that no gold would ever become her
as did those imperial coils of lustrous hair,
no sapphires would ever equal the beauty of
her azure eyes.
her brown-stnff gown was positively thread
bare-"bright as sixpence," she said.
One little foot was visible beneath the frill
of her gown, and an inch or two of slender
ankle; they. the foot and the ankle, were all
right; Jack had admired them dozens of
times; but the boot which covered the foot
o. made me absolutely shiverl Seven and
sixpence pair, with square toes that SEEM
ed to be of an inquiring turn! Ughl Jack
looked from them to his own patient-leather
and canvas boots at thirty-ive shillings a
pair, and thought of the dozen or two of
others which stood all in neat row in the
lowest compartment of his cupboard, and
he had the grace to feel ashamed of himself.
If Dorothy st. George could case her little
slender feet in such boots as those and keep
out of debt. why need he, great hulking
brute, with feet like potatoes, have boot
makers bill as long as his arm?
He looked, too, at her little hahds
folded idly before her, such pretty hands,
with pink-tinted filbert nails; then his eyes
fell upon certain mark along the forefinger
of the one which lay uppermost, and bend
ing down he kissed it, as if he would fain
kiss that 1isfguring seam away. 0 why
should she have to work so hard, while his
sisters, not half SO fair, dawdled their time
away, and gave dresses to their maid such
as Dorothy could never afford to buy? o,
why should it be? Asfush mounted to the
young mans brow, and his eyes sank before
the glory of hers; the question was easy to
answer. He had "sown the wind" in long
course of reckless extravaganza, in the rails
ing his 1ather's just anger; now he was
"reaping the whirlwind'' in banishment
from home, and in the pain of knowing of
that between liorothy st. George aud him
lay a long array of debts which he had no
money to pay.
And there are people who say our sins do
not find us out in this world!
80, my darling" he cried, with a sudden
burst of passion, Show will make up to
you for all this some dayp'
"Some day." she repeated wistfully sif,
by the time you come into your kingdom,
You have not repented, Jack?n
'.Repented! Why?'
'You will be rich i, L still poor,''
"Supposing remained always poor and
you became very rich, would you desert me,
Doly%
II can not say, am sure" she laughed.
81 have al ways been so awfully poor, you see
that If were suddenly lifted up in the world
l might tiptilt my nose, even at you"
"Ah, you don't mean that" he said coolly.
There's many true word spoken in
JEST" she gravely quoted.
Then, thank God, there is no chance of
itm he cried vehemently.
mo, indeed" with smile half bitter,
half sad. do you know, Jack, that don't
know who l am? l never shall know it."
''Yes, yes; you told me Don't talk about
it."
"But l must talk about it; you ought to
know" she answered. "To begin at the
beginning, must tell you my mothers
name as Meredith. AT sixteen she was
left 10 The care of her uncle, a clergyman