The National tribune., 1882-07-01

mer sun scarcely penetTateS. 1t Is an en-
chanted ride, that Sir Walter never forgets.
"Are you tired? 1 hope not" Sir Walter
says, as he assists her to dismount. Re-
member, we are to have great many such
rides l will bring over my Belle as
said, and then hope you will ride with me
every day." He half whispers this au-
dacious request; but his eyes seek hers,
boldly.
"Oh, don't know! Perhaps if-if Lady
Shelton will let me-" Jean replies with a
pretty blush, and then she runs away
upstairs, the happiest girl in the world.
Sir Walter strols into the drawing-room,
which is full of ladies, and Mrs. Fanshawe
asks, with half sneer: a hope you found
Miss WardOm able to ride, without holding
on by the pommel?"
"She doesn't lack confidence in other
things" interposes Miss Fanshawe, with a
sneer she does not attempt to hide.
"What do you mean?" says Sir Walter,
bluntly.
ooh, it is her manner" says Blanche, in
nocently. 1T is not fast, you know, but
well, she speaks her mind with such terrible
plainness, sometimes"
Has she much mind to speak of? She
strikes me as silly little thing" Miss Har-
ringtOn remarks, carelessly.
"She lacks culture, poor dear child" Mrs.
Barton chimes in.
"Shockingly under-bred," Mrs. Fanshawe
utters, with portent0us shake of the head
No girl should be allowed to"
"1o speak the truth?" breaks out Sir
Walter, with rather dangerous look.
+ Mrs. Fanshawe glares at him, and does not
answer.
Don't you think her-a kind-hearted,
obliging sort of girl, though ?" ventures Ella
Spencer, in a timid voice
Mrs. Fanshawe looks at her, and shakes
her head again.
'Ah, indeed" she says, coldIy. "Isn't it
rather pity, my dear, that You should copy
such very defiant and Objectionable manners
as hers ?"
Sir Walter feels that he can endure no
more, and so walks off into the library.
Lady Wynne is writing there.
"What is the matter, Wat?" she asks,
looking up as he enters.
"Th0se women!" be exclaims, vehemently.
"Why can't they let Miss Wardom alone :?
She has done nothing TO them"
Oh, yes she has" Lady Wynne replies,
TRANQUILITY. "She dares to be pretty and
pleasing; and she shames them, too, by her
truth and honesty. Do you know what she
makes me think Of? She always brings to
my mind that line of Keats's: oh, what a
power has white simplicity!'"
Two more weeks of glorious summer
weather drift by. Jean has half a dozen
delicious rides, On Sir Walters pretty bay,
Belle" which he has had brought over
from his place, twenty miles away, as he had
promised.
Can she ever forget that last ride of all,
when they draw rein on the summit of the
highest hill in the county, and watch the
sun going down in splendor behind the
western hills? Jean leans forward to rest
her cheek ON her hand, and they are both
silent.
In that lost land, in that soft cline,
In the crimson evening weather"
She quotes this in an absent. tone, scarcely
above her breath.
"What are you thinking off" Sir Walter
asks, bending to see her face. "There is no
lost land surely, in your memory"
She rouses herself, and looks up with o
smile. "No-I was only saying it over, be-
cause it is so pretty: the crimson evening
weather. Did you imagine" with an arch
look, that l was thinking of my first love,
like Owen, Meredith ?"
"I-rather hoped you might be-and that
your thoughts had not very far to go either,'
he says, daringly, bending his dark eyes on
her.
Jean turns and looks at him, laughing.
81 won't pretend not to understand you,"
she cries, gayly. 81 can only admire your
sublime assurance"
"Do you think l am iesting?" he e1-
claims, pressing nearer to her, and laying
his hand on hers. Don't you know would
rather have place in your thoughts, than
have anything else this world can give me 2"
"Why, you have place there-a very
high one, t0o," she replies, blushing and
smiling yet drawing her hand gently away
from him.
"Ah, butt cannot be content without the
first the dearest place there" he says,
quickly and passiOnately.
Jean shakes her head smilingly. Isn't
it a little too soon to expect me TO give you
that 2" she says, and then she adds, quickly:
"See, the sun is going down! We will be
late for dinner, if we do not hurry" And
with word and touch to Belle, she is Oft.
Sir Walter acknowledges TO himself that it
is " too soon to dare hope that she loves
him. and he determines to be patient. He
will not speak again yet. But is there no
love-making without words? His eyes,
his voice, his manner, say so plainly u" I love
| you" that Jean hears it, feels it, during all
that long, delicious ride home in the twilight,
and during all the evening that follows. She
does not talk much to him; for Lord Eller-
by manages to get his innings now, and
makes love to her himself in u way that
leaves her very angry and indignant; but
now and then she meets a glance of those
earnest dark eyes of Sir Walters that sets
her heart beating and there is moment at
good night" time, when her hand rests in