Sacramento daily record-union. [volume] (Sacramento [Calif.]) 1875-1891, 1881-03-26

fact. that would not have refused for my
daughter, if the man had been suitable.
But. as YOU know, he is good natured,
harum-scarum sort of fellow, and such
man would never do for Agnes, and she
would never do for him."
g But might there not be some change,
sir ?" pleaded Arnold, hopelessly.
"Changel What change could there
be. unless one of you runs away-and that
is exactly what l advise you to do. Go to
your books, work hard, and you will soon
forget this passing fancy"
The Squire looked earnestly in Arnold's
face that he meant to be kindly was
clear and that he would not alter his
decision was also clear. He was a man of
very warm feelings in friendship; but once
resolved upon certain course, he could
not be turned away from it by any thought
for his friend, however much he desired
his happiness. He was a tall man, with
long white hair, clean shaver face, the ex-
preston of which was one of benevolence !;
but there was something in the expression,
too. which indicated that he could be
stern when occasion required him to be 50.
It was said that he had never been seen in
a passion but he had the power of accom-
plishing his ends without making an enemy
of the person against whom he had to give
Judgment.
So it was with Arnold. The whole mat
ter had been discussed between them so
quietly that, although he felt bitterly
panied, he was still impressed with the
sense that the Squire was acting as sim
cere and discreet friend. He stood for a
few moments gazing upon the ground, the
Sources hand still resting upon his Shout
der. Then, raising his head suddenly, he
said calmly enough, although his lip
quivered little
$50 be it, sir. promise You nothing,
but l shall try to take your advice. l
shall start for London tomorrow.
The Squire patted him on the shoulder.
s'That is right it does me good TO see
how brayely you can bear this disappoint-
ment I like a fellow who can take his
knock-down and Immediately prepare to
get up again. Well done, lad"
81 hope 1 may deserve your praise.
g have no doubt you will But if you
have really to start tomorrow, you must
dine with US tonight.
g l fear that is impossible"
"There is nothing impossible to stout
heart You must come, Arnold, because |
shall regard your coming as the first proof
that you really mean to fight your way out
of this trouble"
Arnold pressed the kindly Squire's hand
warmly.
Elf feel able, 1 shall come. But re-
member, sir, that l promise nothing"
He walked up the path and turned into
the avenue, the Squire watching him till
he disappeared. Then, shaking his head,
he muttered, 81 wish | could have helped
the poor chap, for it is bad case, evil
IDENTIFY"
Then he turned leisurely to examine the
growth of new range of evergreens which
he planted to form screen path.
As Arnold went down the avenue his
feet seemed to fall upon the earth without
any sensation that he touched it. The trees
watch formed an arch overhead, beeches,
elms and gnarled oaks, the leaves of which
showed the first delicate tints of autumn,
seemed to tremble in gentle sympathy with
the mans disturbed mind. The thick long
grass waving in the slight breeze, and
showing silvery spikes where the sunlight
fell upon them, seemed to bow before his
sorrow.
This was what he expected. Why,
then, should he quail before the truth,
when it was made known TO him Why
should he not accept it in the matter-of-
fact way in which the Squire put it? Hun
dreds of fellows had loved and lost and
had been capable of loving again. There
was no reason why his fate should be diff
ferent from that of others. Yes, he would
do that-he would submit and obey.
But his feet stamped upon the ground,
his teeth grated, and there was wild cry
of pain in his heart.
It was brave resolution, and he prayed
fervently, with al the enthusiasm of a no.
bic nature, that he might be able to carry it
out faithfully.
When he stepped upon the gray, wind
ing road which led to the village OF Dun
thorpe there were green hedges upon either
side of him, and at intervals belts of trees,
the leaves of which trembled before the
soft south wind. Beyond was rolling
country spangled with green fields and
yellow stubble fields like an irregular
chess board. To his right were low-lying
reaching toward the river, the
greenness of which refreshed the weary
eye But Arnold was unconscious of all
the beauty that surrounded him. He
passed through the gate of the vicarage
and entered at the French window of the
His father was seated, alb.
sorbed in one Of his favorite books. The
sudden entrance of his son disturbed him,
and putting up his spectacles he stared at
the excited face before him.
Is there anything wrong, William ?"
ne inquired in his gentle voice. Ut was
one of the Wears peculiarities that he
never addressed any one in pet nomencla-
5ure. The only exception to this rule was
mis- daughter Milly.) "You look very pale,
although you seem to have been walking
last.
The son drew a chair close to his father,
and sat down. He was too breathless to
speak Immediately, but he placed his hand
IN that of the Vicar, and the latterfelt that
ne was trembling.
&C l will tell you presently, sir. There is
wrong, and l wish you had not
called me home just now for might have
escaped this pain if you had only allowed
ne to make that journey proposed"
William, what is it you are blaming
ne for?" said the Vicar, turning his mild
ayes upon his son.
No, no, do not blame you-forgive
ne. l spoke in haste. Give me few
and l will be able to speak
quietly"
He rose, walked slowly toward the other
end of the room, and, with his hands
slasped behind him, gazed earnestly upon
the portrait of his dead mother. The
calm expression upon her face seemed in
n some mysterious way to influence him
and he became calm.
The Vicar dropped his book, took off his
spectacles, and with much deliberation
began to wipe the glasses with his hand
kerchief. He was agitated by the strange
conduct of his son, and still more agitated
BY the memories which were called up by
hat evident appeal to the portrait.
Arnold resumed his seat beside his father.
Now, sir, can tell you something of
what has troubled me. l must leave you
morning"
"To-morrow Surely something par