The Rock Island Argus. (Rock Island, Ill.) 1877-1885, 1883-09-19


marriage, into which she had entered
on the generous impulse of an impetu-
Gus nature that has never learned to re
press emotion.
Is she happy Can this cold esteem,
this calm respect which she feels for the
man chosen for her by another, satisfy
the ardent heart of the romantic girl?
She has been already married six
weeks. and she has not seen Horace
MargFaye, the only friend she has in
England, except, of course, her hus.
band, since her wedding-day. Not
since that sunny May morning on which
he took her icy hand in his and gave
her, as her guardian and the represent
alive of her dead father. into her hus-
band arms. She remembered that on
that day when his hand touched hers, it
was cold and powerless as her own, and
that his istless face was even paler than
usual under the spring sunshine stream
ing in at the church windows; but, in
spite of this, he had done the henors
OF the breakfast table, toasted the bride
and bridegroom, eomplimented the
bridesmaids, and fascinated everybody,
with all the finished grace and marvel
Gus ease of the all-aecomplished Horace
Margrave And if Ellinor had ever
thought that she had a right, for aud
lang syne, for her dear fathers sake,
for her own lovely face, to be anything
more or dearer to MIR. Margrave than
the most indifferent of his clients; that
thought was dispelled by the gentle
manly saag trotd Of his adieu, as the
four paving bays started off on the first
stage to Windermere. a g
1t is the end of June. and she is seat
ed in the small drawing room, awaiting
the advent of morning visitors. They
have been a week in town, and .Horaes
Margraye has not yet called upon them.
She has weary air this morning. and
she seems to seek in vain for something
to occupy her. Now she strolls to the
open piano, and plays few chords, or
brilliant run. or softly touches the
notes of some pensive air, and sings
some Italian words; now she takes up
an uncut novel from the table, and reads
page or two here and there, wherever
the book opens; she walks to. an en-
broidery frame, and takes great deal
of trouble in selecting and comparing
woods, and threading needles, but when
this is accomplished, she, does not do
three stitches; then she loiters listlessiy
about the room, looking at the pict-
ures. chiefly valuable engravings. which
adorn the pale silver gray walls; but al
last she is so utterly weary. that she
filings herself into a deep easy-chair
close a. to the open window, and
sits idly looking down, across
lilliputian forest Of heliotropes and ge-
raniums, into the hot, sunny street
She is looking very lovely; but she is
not looking at all happy. The rich
masses of her dark brown hair are
swept away from her broad, low brow,
| and secured in coil of superb plaits at
the back of her head; her simple white
| morning dress is only ornamented by
large knots of broad violet ribbon, and
she wears no jewelry whatever, except
tiny, slender gold chain, which she
twists perpetually in and out of her white
fingers.
She sits for about half an hour, always
| looking down across the plants in the
balcony at the pavement opposite, when
she suddenly starts, and wrenches the
thin chain off her fingers in eragitation.
She has seen the person for whom she
has been waiting. A gentleman, who
| lounges azily along the other side of
the street, crosses the road beneath the
window, and knocks at the door
AT last!'h she says; NOW. perhaps.
this mystery will be explained.
A servant Announces: Mr.. Mar
grave EHF
"At lastr' she says again rising, as
he enters the room. 80, Mr.. Mar
! grave, | have been SO anxious to see
| your
He looks about on the crowded table
TO find anon st its fashionable litter, a
place for his hat, fails in doing so, and
puts it down on chair, and only then
looks listlessly up at her and says:
Anxious to see me, my dear Ellinor;
why anxious?' E
Because there are two or three
| questions which must ask-which you
must answer" st.-
That peculiar expression in Horace
Margrave's eyes, which was as it were
shiver of the eyelids, passed over them
now; but it was too brief to be perceived
by Ellinor Dalton. He sank lazilY into a
chair; near her own, but not opposite to
it, He paused TO place this chair with
| its back TO the light, and then said:
"Mys dear Ellinor, my dear Mrs.
Dalton, what questions can you have to
ask me. but questions of purely bust
ness character; and even those, i'm
agine, your husband, who is quite as
practical a man as myself, could answer
J as well as Ie''
" Mr.. Dalton is the very last person
to whom can apply for an answer to
the questions which have to askr'
.'And why the last person?''
. Because those questions relate &c
himselfp'
80, r see! Ny dear Mrs. Dalton, is
not this rather bad beginning? You
appeal from your husband to your
SOLICITOR
=" No, Mr. MargraYe. I appeal to my
guardian
= Pardon me, my dear Ellinor, there
is no such person. He is defunet; he is
extinct. From the moment | placed
your hand in that Of your husband on
, the altar steps Of St George 5. Hanover
Square, my duties, my right to advise
: you, and your right to consult me, ex.
/ pired. Henceforth you have but one
guardian, one adviser, one friend, and
his name is Henry Dalton
A sad shade fell over Ellinor Dalton
| handsome face, and her eyes half filed
with tears as She said.
Mr.. Margrave, Heaven forbid that !
/ should say word which could be con.
strued into a reproach to you. You
duties of guardianship, undertaken al
the prayer Of my dying father, have
been as truly and conscientiously dis
] charged as such duties should be dis
charged by man of your high position
: and unblemished character; but viii
: own that sometimes, with a woman
| folly, have wished that, for the mem.
orr of my dead father, who loved and
5 trusted you. for the memory of the de.
: parted childhood, in which we were
companions and friends, some feeling q
little, warmer, a little kinder, a. little
more affectionate. something of the ten.
dprnaec af ar aldnr b,ofha,. .r.;rsl,f I,..,.-,