The Portland daily press. [volume] (Portland, Me.) 1862-1921, 1883-06-08
Love in Chicago.
lChicago Tribune.l
aIVhera il Mulcahavp

"Whers is Mulcaheyr'
As Lord Wyvern spoke these words he
stepped lightly from the broad veranda that
encireled Brierton villa and stood beside his
daughter. Beryl MeCloskey, whose 1.-the,
graceful form, sharply outlined against the
rustic woodshed that dotted the landscape 10
the westward, was shown to advantage nv
| The dress she wore-a simple garment of
soft white peignoir, caught up at the shout
ders with little knots Of blue ribbon. and
| through which the warm flesh tints and
beautiful curves of a snowy arm were to be
seen. The kissing winds Of perfect June
eyenng-bright, joyous June, that Yields so
| gracefully her sceptre as rose-crowned queen
of months-were signing through the larches
that stood like sentinels around the close
trimmed lawn, and seemed to keep over the
| bright patches of flowers, whose vivid coIors
were in pretty contrast to the yelvety green
of the grass around them, kindly but cease
| less vigil.
~ am not happy, papa" said the Girl
turning as the words with which this chan,
| ter opens nere spoken, aud laying sbapely.
| dinpled hand in the broad, pie plate palm of
| her father. Il SRow full well that II is moi
/ tl1J iJi iir ~ AFF4 AHitS3 BECdUSf i nave v
| erything thar should make my life a BRIGHT
| and joyous one. With kind, wing parents.
| beautiful home, health, doughnuts. and
every luxury that taste can suggest or money
purchase, should indeed be unerateful-
nay, even wicked-were | to complain: but
in spite of all this, In spite Of the fact that
try, 0 so hard, TO be bright and CAV. there
seems to be always before me some great
sorrow''-and bursting into storm of soils
Raryf iaf.l 10 baod ar, Ior fa4l
and wept so long and so bitterly that Lord
Wyvern began to wish that he was a sponge
1T Is your liver, my darling,n he said ten
derby when the violence If the girls grief
had in some measure abated, and only the
convusive shudder that passed like the dv-
ing throb OF a broken pump through the lis
some form that he held in bis arms told of
the mighty sorrow that was racking Beryl's
heart. you are off your feed.u
mo, papa" replied the girl, looking up 70
him with her beautiful brown eyes, from
which cleaned the soft light of a holy. ten
der affection, II have thought of that, but ii
cannot be. Surely, you must have noticed
the cake-jar?'
Lord Wyvern turned away his head TO
conceal from his daughter the tears That
suffused his eyes as she spoke "God help
me- he murmured, 81 should say that /
hadp' and then turning TO Beryl and kissing
the dropping lips that we're quiverine with
grief, he spoke to her in low, kindly, I-have-
three-aces tones that went to her very heart:
"You must not try to deceive me. my
darling" he said. "TeIl me truly, do YOU
not love Reginald Mulcahey?''
The girl gave quick, convulsive move
menf, like the fawn of the forest when the
crack of the hunters rife breaks upon the
midday silence, or man who sinks Ian
guidy to rest on a tack, and then, realizing
that her secret was known, she looked at her
father in shy, hesitatiDg, boy-fouDd-by-the-
Oldham playing billiards when he-ought-to-
haye-been saving wood fashion, and let the
rosy bushes of maiden modesty which |
chased each other across her cheeks make |
answer.
'But was SO afraid, papa" she said, see
ing the kindly smile that fitted across Lord |
Wyvern's face, "that you would oppose our |
love because Regy is not rich, and it would |
break my heart to lose him now"
"Wealth is not everything, my child" he |
said, "and / will help Reginald TO acquire 1t, |
so that by this time next week he may be In |
a position to place you forever beyond the
reach Of want"
"Will you?'' exclaimed Beryl, her face
lighting up with glad, joyous, I-haye-found-
the -bairbrush smile.
Eyes, my darling" answers the father.
"But how?"
81 will, replies Lord Wyvern, '"buy him
a pool-ticket on the first club that plays
against the White Stockings of Chicago or
the Orioles Of Baltimore"