The Indianapolis journal. [volume] (Indianapolis [Ind.]) 1867-1904, 1884-06-28

only easy-chair-I was at my writing table, and
meant to stay there. However, here they are,
all safe, with a few marginal notes. You do
really leave beautifully broad, clean margins
they are quite tempting By the way, why
haven't you sent me that stOry!'
II haven't written it yet, ! replied longed
to add, "and never mean to-" but somehow
could not.
''Well you must; prose pays best. What
other editors have you been interviewing lately2n
''None! never want to see another in all my
life"
He leaned back in his chair and laughed heart
lily; them with mock gravity:
I'm glad to hear that for you're really quite
dangerous. By the way, why did you say your
name was Jones! You might have known
should find you out Editors do find out every
thing in time You are Miss Madeline Meredith,
of Garth, and your brother JEFF and l were
chums at Eton and Oxford"
"Oh," sad somewhat surprised, II didn't
know"
'Of course not How could you?"
And I'm not Miss Meredith, Of Garth any
longer" said with effort at proud composure.
Papa lost all his money, and our house was
sold; then papa died. ana Jeff is with his ship at
the Cape, and aunt Adelaide didn't want me any
longer; so came to London to Mrs Kent
she's my old nurse--and earn my bread by my
pen"
could not help telling him all that-he seem
ed TO make me, in spite of myself: but uttered
the last words proudly, and he did not smile at
all, but looked very grave.
81 wonder, Miss Meredith, if you ever heard
jeff speak of Harold Casheltonl"
"Oh, yes often!'-and then paused in some
confusion. Mr.. Harold Cashelton had been my
brothers guide, philosopher and friend, and in
one way and another l had heard more than
enough of him all my life, though, through my
having no mother | had never been at Garth
when Jeff s friends visited him. In fact, | had
worshiped him secretly and afar off-from
Jeffs descriptions and made him the hero of
more than one romance; and now there he was
sitting in my easy chair and chatting to me as If
he had known me all my life-as, indeed, sup
pose he had in a way, for jeff surely must have
mentioned me to him.
After asking all sorts of questions about my
brother, he stood up to go, and desired me not to
forget the story; but then more than ever re-
solved not to write, as no doubt he would accept
it from mere pity.
Three months passed away, and was on
terms of almost civility with my hated editor;
but had written nothing for the Arlington-on
that point was obstinate-nor had told Mr.
Cashleton very much about myself or my own
affairs beyond the first sudden burst of conf
dence, which seemed inevitable. What wrote
and how | succeeded l never would talk about
in spite of several very insinuating questions.
But about JEFF 1 would talk for hours, and he
did not seem to weary of the subject either.
Sometimes | accompanied him to an afternoon
concert at st. James's Hall or matinee at the
Lyceum and he was always very kind and at
tentive; but l never could get over the fact that
he had laughed at my poetry. Had he laughed
only at myself I should have forgiven and for
gotten it.
One evening he called after having absented
himself for fortnight, and l was wondering in
spite of myself what could have happened to
gas, though it was really quite bright, when he
stopped me.
Don't ring for lights" he said, in his lazy
way; Il want to talk to you have something
Nd I 10
say it to you alone. Madeline"-and somehow
he got possession of both my hands-'I love
you; want you for my wife, want to take care
of you, dear, if you will let me-"
Il can't help it," L returned feebly and
vaguely.
mo, of course not, and I don't want you to-
Darling, you must have seen that l love YOU
and you must, you surely must care for me lit
tie in return!h
81 don't know" said more feebly still; and
the golden opportunity for revenge and retalia-
ton was gone by forever l might have been cool
and proud, naughty and defiant, laughed in his
face and told him [ scorned his love as he had
scorned my poetry; instead of which / stood
trembling and blushing in his arms, while he
kissed my face and called me all sorts Of pretty
names; and, in spite of myself, confess liked
it. 1t is humiliatng, it shorrid, but it is true
l did love the handsome hateful editor.
Darling" he cried, holding me from HIM at
arms length, you're Vixen-youre too fond
of that vagrant poet-you detest me cordially;
still, Madeline, love YOU and 1 believe have
loved you from that day when your presence
made spot of sunshine in my very shady edi-
toral den; Some day perhaps you will learn to
care little about me-"
Six months afterward we were married at st.
Georges, Bloomsbury; and, when jeff came
home and heard all about it, 1 thought he would
have gone out of his mind with joy. Now l
write what l please for the Arlington; and,
though the editor goes over it, he does not dare
gained gain my point 1 have con Conquered my first
editor.