Centre Democrat. [volume] (Bellefonte, Pa.) 1848-1989, 1881-09-15

seat OF twtBteu pouBnsi "hoh eho paho
was silent, and DIR. Birmingham had
gone TO bring her glass Of iced lem
onade.
"Gilbert why do you look so cross p
"Because I have reason. / am sorry
you pay 10 little attention to my wishes,
Miss Penroy."
She drew herself up haughtily.
"You arc beginning to dictate early,
P'
"Have I not the right2"
"No, Mr.. Evering."
"Be it so, Blanche" he said, in 4
voice that betrayed how deep the arrow
rankled in his bosom. "I give up the
right now and henceforward."
Blanche was startled. She would have
said more, but Walter Birmingham was
advancing toward her, and when next
she had leisure to look round Gilbert
was gone from her side.
"What have I done" she thought,
in dismay. "Tll see him this evening
and coax him into good humor once
more. Ho surely can't be vexed with
me for an idle word like that"
All, little Blanche, it is not the we'll
considered sentence that does all the
harm in this world-it is the idle word |
"Such charming day we have had,
Mrs. Traine," said Blanche, as she came
in, smiling and radiant, as il the worm,
remorse, was not gnawing at her heart.
EYES," said the blooming matron, who
was reading in an easy-chair under tho
shadow OF the vines. But what sent
Mr.. Evering away in such a hurry p
"Sent him away?"
"Yes-by the evening train. He
came home, packed his things and drove
away as if there was not moment to
lose. am very sorry; we shall miss
him 80 much"
Blanche went slowly upstairs and sat
down by her window, looking out at the
purple glow of the evening landscape as
if it were q featureless blank. So he
was really gone away; and by her own
folly she had lost the priceless treasure
Of Gilbert Evenings love.
"And l cannot even write 70 him, for
I do not know his address," she thought,
with clasped hands and fearless eyes.
"Well, it is my own fault, and must
abide the consequences as best l may
SO Blanche Penroy went home from
the gay, fashionable place q sadder and
wiser woman. and the November mists
dropping DER the brick and mortar
wilderness of her city home had never
seemed half so dreary to her as they did
now.
al suppose shall be an old maid"
thought Blanche, walking up and down
in the fire-lit darkness of her room,
her dimpled hands clasped behind her
waist. 81 never cared for any one as
cared for-for Gilbert; and dare say l
shall keep a cat and grow fond of green
tea. All, well-a-dayl life cannot last
forever"
A dreary comfort that for girl of
nineteen summers.
She rang the bell with an impatient
jerk.
care there any letters, Sanderson 2"
zone ma'am; it came by the evening
post, about five minutes ago."
Light the gas, then, and give it to
me-"
Blanche sat down by the fire and
opened the letter, suppressing yawn.
Black-edged and black-sealed So
poor Mrs. Marchmont is gone at last !"
1t was from the executors of Miss
Penroy's distant cousin, formally and
briefly announcing her death, which
had taken place in one OF the West
India islands some months since; but
OF which the melancholy news" as the
letter ran, had only Just been received.
1t was not entirely unexpected, Is Mrs.
Marchmont had been for some years
slowly fading ont Of the world, vic
tim to hereditary consumption.
Leaving one child, son." slowly
repeated Blanche, leaning her cheek on
her hand and looking down into the
fiery quiver of the whitening Goals.
"Po0r little feilowl he must feel
nearly as desolate as l do Only have
one advantage-I have at least suffi-
cheney of this worlds goods; and this
orphan child must be thrown penniless
and alone on his own resources, for, il I
remember Alright, Mrs. Marchmont for
feited all the wealth OF her first mar
rage by her second alliance with the
poverty stricken lawyer whose death
plunged her into such bitter mourning.
That was a genuine love match, yet how