Watertown republican. [volume] (Watertown, Wis.) 1860-1906, 1881-07-27
Vane stared; his companion smiled.

Vane stared; his companion smiled.
"Well, it saves me the trouble of tell
ing you, and you the bore of listening.
You're good fellow, Langton, and
you've been very kind to me. What
would you advise me to do. Lady
Matilda knows it, swear. She cut me
dead this afternoon, and Elise came into
dinner looking like ghost; so I suppose
she has been having bad quarter of an
hour, too. You see, I'm only younger
son. The Governor won't stand penny
more than three hundred year, and
get another three from the office. I
can't marry Elise on that. Her mother
wouldn't hear to it. I suppose she's
right. It's hard to ask girl to give up
a life OF ease and comfort to live, and
perhaps rear family, on six hundred a
year. If Lady Matilda were another
sort OF woman, she might make things
straight for us. But that's past hoping
for. [ must give her up, old man, and
get out of this. I've got coin enough to
buy an ak and get passage to Canada;
and I'll go there and live it down. But
it's hard lines, he said, with break in
his voice. "It's hard lines"
"Keep up your heart, my boy,'' re-
turned Langton, touched by the young
mans artless expressions of grief. "It's
bad, but might be worse. II the girl
loves you, it won't matter to her if you
have six hundred a year or sixty thou
sand. And if she doesn't mind, why
should you? There are better chances
Hang on and watch, that's my advice,
since you ask it.
One by one the guests wandered back
to the hall and distributed themselves
over the carpeted desert of the great
| drawing-room, while the ladies officiated
at the piano. Miss Elsie, being warmly
pressed to sing, begged to be excused;
and Roderick, after several vain en-
deavors to get within conversation dis
lance of his inamorata-each attempt
being cleverly frustrated by Lady Ma
tilda-wandered off to smoke a sadly
contemplative cigar, and muse upon her
manifold projections and his own unwor-
| thiness.
Lady Matilda, buried in the downy
depths of an armchair, her eyes appar-
emily exploring vacancy, but in reality
keenly watching the movements Of Lang-
ton, waited with feline patience. She
was too wise woman to NEEDLE actively
in the matter and court another rebuff;
but Langton's affectation of Indifference
had by no means blinded her to the true
state of the case, and she hoped still
Elsie sat apart beside the window, half
in and half out of the food of moonlight
which partially Lit the drawing room.
But LangtOn, with the exception of a few
| x,1,. % Iox,
with his conversation, and presently
retired quietly, leaving Bertha at the
piano.
He sat at the window of his room and
looked out over the moon-hooded park,
past the thin ribbon of silver which
marked the course of the river, past the
rich-leaved trees that stood like islands
of shadow in sea of light. He was
looking beyond them into his own future.
He was calmer now, and could look at it
quietly in spite of the terrible gusts of
passion that still shook him for mo-
ment, and passed, leaving the calm
deeper. So far he had done we'll, and
was satisfied with himself upon the
whole, as he had right to be. The
prime temptation of his life was over
come, and bis passion had made him
false neither to love nor friendship.
The calm beauty of the night seemed
to draw him from the house out into the
alley in which he had heard the conf
dences of the lovelorn Roderic. He
could not pass the spot without some
thing of tremor. His hopes lay buried
under that grassy mound, and great
wave of some nameless emotion, made up
of love and sorrow and hopeless hope,
rose in his soul. And before it sank
again he saw before him something that
sent the blood from his face-Roderic
and Elsie, dimly visible il the shade at
the turning of the alley. He slipped
back into the darkness with curse on
his lips, and something very like o prayer
in his heart. Some blind feeling that
his trial was being made unnecessarily
bitter crossed his mind. The voices
reached him where he stood, too low for
the words they uttered to be understood:
and then another sound, unmistakable In
the silence of the night, faint as it was;
a white figure futtered by him, lost in
the shadow, and Vane's step went slow
ly crunching the grass in the distance.
Langton left the spot with hurried un-
equal strides, and walked rapidly across
the park in the direction of the river.
When he came to it's banks he turned
and walked with it's current. Before he
had gone mile the sound of the falling
of distant waters met his ears, and pres
emily he came to the spot at which the
bed of the river suddenly made sheer
descent of some twenty feet. He stood
at the brink, looking down at the foam
ing cauldron into which the water rush
ed with a roar and clang like the shout
ing of whole army. Some vague
thought that in that furious hell Of war
ring waters he might find the peace de-
MED to him elsewhere crossed him as he
gazed. But Stephen Langton was not
of the stuff whereof suicides are made.
"The coward's remedy" he muttered,
as he turned away. ''Not that not
! that I"
He continued his stroll along the edge
Of the basin until further progress was
barred by the trees which ran along the
| oJ~ 1x,4o L