The weekly register. [volume] (Point Pleasant, Va. [W. Va.]) 1862-1909, 1882-09-20

ouSlneSs oIteher tnah.the prescribed
times. The thing she dreaded was to
ask of him such delay; but she
knew her power and used it to this
end.
Stephen had never seen her among
her proper surroundings. A matter
of course to her, she forgot that the
luxury and elegance in which she
lived would astonish, perhaps dis.
may him. And, indeed, it did.
"How can ! ask you to leave all
this for my little home Phema2" said
he, looking about him, the first time
he came to see her
81 didn't expect to leave it all, sirl"
she laughed 81 hope you won't re.
fuse to marry me because | happen
to have a little money!"
"That isn't any NATTER said. Ste
phen, with superb simplicity. "It's
all these appliances | am thinking
about. We have not even room for
them. should like it better if you
had been poor. Phema, I'm afraid
you will miss something"
Her answer was too lover.like to
record. After its earnest devotion
there could be no more talk of money.
With him there was no more thought
Of it; and she said to herself it was
good he would not have to work so
hard. Poor, ignorant soulsl Would
either of them stand the test when ii
Gamer ~
All this time Mrs. Bayard refused
to recognize any engagement. She
chose to consider that Phema's decis-
ion was delayed, that no ques-
tion of marriage had arisen yet; and
she hurried her daughter from one
scene of gayety to another, spared
herself fnery, (Which was not SO
hard since she was yet in deep black)
in order TO buy Phema all sorts of
adornment. Her own jewels she had
reset for her and her personal ward
robe was laviShly supplied.
But nothing beguiled Phema.-
She went everywhere and saw every
body; drank so o'deeply Of admiration
and ilattery that the monotony and
insincerity of the draughts at last
disgusted her; but her mother wasin-
exorable. She had one crushing
blow in reserve that must succeed,
she thought. Surely, when Phemn
knew she was entirely penniless, she
would not dare marry q poor mani
So, just before she went to Newport,
earlier this year than last, Mrs. Bay
ard told Euphemia all about her Of
fairs, with a pungent distinctness
that left no room for mistake or pal
liation. A cold hand seemed for d
moment to clutch poor Phema's
heart. She turned pale, but her eyes
flashed. The Bayard blood came TO
the rescue and she gave no other sign
of emotion. Her voice was hard and
ringing, as she asked:
"But what did you think would
become Of me, mamma, in case of
your death?"
81 expected, and I still expect, Eu-
phemia, that you would marry we'll"
"Sell myself" retorted the girl
"Don't be coarse, my dear. A gill
owes something to herself who has
been brought up as you have BEEN"
Euphemia said no more. She set
her red lips tight, to shut in the tor
rent of disgust and dismay that
threatened to pour itself on her moth
er's head, and locked herself into her
room, to think it out and write To
Stephen.
She faced the questioned Of her life
courageously. Had she the power to
accept such a situation and endure
it? Could she be poor, calmly and
happily? Or, would the absence of
these lifelong appliances of comfort
and luxury weaken her strength,
chafe her temper, and make her and
Stephen wretChed when their love
should be time-worn2 She blushed
to think SO meanly of herself. Her
courage rose at the sight of difficult
ties. She sat down at once and wrote
a calm letter to her lover, stating
the new aspect of affairs as curtly us
possible, without an expression Of
feeling on her own part, or even hint
| I1,Fr nt ~ Il n