The Indianapolis journal. [volume] (Indianapolis [Ind.]) 1867-1904, 1883-09-15

town? Some one who is coming here"
81 don't know, I am sure; some one nice,
l hope" [ say with a smile, going on with
my work. though 1 am really thinking to
myself What graceful figure he has!"
ooh, of course he's NICE It's your cousin
James,"
1 try to look as if I thought him very nice,
for is he not my cousin? And | think sue
coed, for Ainslee, who is watching my face,
kicks the turf savagely, and points to man
in a riding dress and spurs, who is coming
down the street. 1t is James.
81 expect he is coming to say my grand
father wants me-"
Ainslie grumbles out something very like
"Why doesn't Sir Martin do his own mes
sages? which is unreasonable, as my grand
father is nearly ninety; but l discreetly pre-
tend not to hear, and we both have to get up
and greet the newcomer. James is not look
ing well, | notice, rs soon as he enters the
gate. His face is paler than is usual with
him. and he looks caTeworn and haggard
much as if my steady cousin had been keep
ing late hours, ami keeping them unprofita-
bly,. But he readily accepts the invitation
to stay to dinner which Ainslie gives him as
earnestly-hospitable as he ls-as if his COM
pany at that meal were the one thing he de-
sired. And James's usual courtesy and
suavity, which sometimes make me feel so
clumsy and hoydenish, do not fail him.
Picture to yourself man below the middle
HcIShti pane duu Will u ldLl
dropping moustache which hides his mouth,
and small white haI9ls always on the move;
good-humored man withal, a man OF endless
conversation-not only endless, but of rare
power TO charm, one VINO will amuse You in
spite of yourself and so you have my cousin
James Stuart McMichael as he sits upon the
little lawn at Ludford. l ask him how my
grandfather is, and for a moment as he
quickly turns from me and caresSes his mus
tache, fear that he has come with bad news.
But it is not so. He assures me that Sir
Martin is tolerably well, and does not ex-
pect me before the end of the week. And
then we talk about indifferent things until
my mother comes out to us and greets James
warmly. He is somewhat of a favorte withs
her.
Although the day is inc, the river is full
for the time of year, running past the garden
with strong stream towards the weir hun
bred yards below. A group of children on
the other side, whose laughter floats pleas
antly over, are sending in a retriever after
sticks. Near them wall bounds the stream
but they are standing where an opening
made for watering horses, breaks the line of
the little embankment Lazily | watch the
dog enjoying the sport as much as any one,
until the biggest of the dren
throws one farther from the BAN han
before. Neptune springs in merrily, aud
swims quickly toward the morsel, which, on
our side of the river, is invisible. Has it
sunk? No, the current has caught it. and
the dog, following it boldly, is carried down
full forty yards before he seizes it. He turns
and breasts the stream but tired by his pre-
vious exertions soon makes for the bank.
The sheer wall rising six feet from the water
gives him no chace OF landing. Again and
again he tries, and each time falling falls
heavily back under water Then the poor
fellow loses his presence OF mind, and in
stead of steadily swimming back to the open
in, in tl1a vol ha tO fro
to Chamber up and wasting all his strength
In these useless efforts. Even at this distance
| can fancy his big patient eyes looking up
piteously, and l jump up. but without an
idea what to do.
"Oh, Ainsie he will be drowned"
Yes, Amber, | think that dog has had his
day" says my cousin, without rising. Oh if
he could know how l hate himl AuGibly.
Pm afraid, | mutter "Brute!" and l turn to
Aiuslie, who is leaning with one baud on the
grass and the other shading his eyes, which
are.fixed upon the struggle.
I'm afraid there is nothing else for it,"
says he quickly, and l hear the gate clash to
behind him. and l see his tall, straight figure
speeding over tine bridge And we can only
stand there and look on. l can not see how
the dog is faring I have only eyes for Aims
lie coming to the rescue. He reaches the
spot filings off his coat and shoes and plunges
in. A moments struggle. and with one hand
ward the opening in the wall. Very slowly
it seems to two of us; but his touch gives new
courage to the dog, the steady strokes con-
quer, and both are helped out by the dozen
hands ready to receive them and to attend to
the poor dog have no thought of him now;
l can only watch the drenched figure that so
quickly tears itself from the cheering crowd
and comes running back looking a little
ashamed OF his enthusiasm, AS have noticed
men will look when they have done any
thing to be proud of,
l do not wait for him, but have fled into
the house. And | am so proud ., so proud
of him, that | cry little bit, and have to
wash my face before l go down stairs and if
| came down woman and wiser, with
knowledge of myself and of others gained
from those tears which had not possessed
before, that knowledge is very far from
making me sadder. BUTT does in some way
make me more shy; l think myself clumsy
and awkward and ill at ease, and it is not my
cousins superabundance of blaudness which
makes me so now. Yet, through my own
reserve and consciousness | gain a glorious
glimpse that makes me see as later | go to
bed, into the feelings that may lie behind
those signs in another.
1t was uniucky that the episode of the dog
which | have set down at length should have
occurred on that particular day. This is an
after thought for, at the time, | had no idea
of concealing my feelings toward James. or
the opinion OF him which tins unucky Incl
dent had led the to form. As things were TO
be, it was unlucky for it made me reject the
suit, which it appeared ne came to proffer, in
a way should not otherwise have adopted.
1t was in the garden that he spoke, after din
ner when the lights in the town were begin
ming to sparkle in the dusk He spoke well
james never failed to do that-but the
earnestness was not all feisned-my woman's
vanity angry as l was, FORBADE me to believe
that: and now l have better means of know
ing what mind lay behind that pale face and
those shifting hands that seemed in the mo-
ment OF pleading to have cast aside disguise.
mo, James. it cannot be" | said at last,
tired of his protestations. My answer would
have been just the same yesterday; but |
could never like in that way a man who
could let a dog die with a cynical sneer.n