The Democratic advocate. [volume] (Westminster, Md.) 1865-1972, 1884-04-05

the gentlemen, especially the younger ones,
wine, When they entered the drawing
room, was sitting, almost hidden from
sight, in recess near the window. | no
ticed, as l came through the door, that Mr..
Hope looked round, as if in search of some
one, and as, when at last he discovered my
retreat, his search seemed at an end, |
could only think its object was myself.
However, we had little more to say to each
other this evening All the children of the
house were his friends, and had many ques-
lions to ask him. We had music and sing
ing as usual but | made some convention
al excuse, and did not take my share In
them Before we parted for the night Vim
cent Hope came to my side.
Surely you sing, Miss Rivers he
said
"a little. But I'm not in the mood to
sing tonight
He pressed me to make the attempt, but
l refused. Thinking l had done quite
enough for the first evening, l kept my
voice in reserve But talked to him for
/ a short time about music, and found him
well versed in the art, and, of course, an
unsparing critic. He was very hard on
the ordinary drawing-room playing and
singing, and by no means complimentary
to the performers of the evening. laugh
ed, and told him how thankful | felt that
something had warned me not to show my
poor skill to such an able but severe judge.
My words led him to believe that my talent
| q 81 .,J
was exactly what l wished him to think.
He was soon drawn away from my side,
and we spoke no more until the general
good night took place, and the men went
off to the billiard room, and my own sex
to their touches. Once more | courtesied
to Miss Rivers in the cheval glass, and told
her she had surpassed my most sanguine
expectations Then, in very happy
frame of mind, | went to bed.
CHAPTER III.
Very promising, too, were the events of
the next day. felt that the man hated
was paying me attention above my fellows.
OF course, it was not marked enough to
attract notice, but attention it was I'M
doubtedly. He walked with me, and told
me, among other things, great deal about
his early life and struggles for success.
He was quite interesting, so much so that
l wished 1 could check these condolences.
| feared that his talk might awaken sus-
picion of sympathy in my mind, which
would grievously interfere with my still
nursed revenge.
That evening he repeated his request
that | would sing; but after the way in
which | had misled him, | knew he only
, urged me for the sake of politeness. |
commenced with one of those little ballads
+ which he so much disliked, an easy, simple
little thing, which could only be borne out
, of the commonplace by feeling on the part
! of the singer. l glanced at him as l fin
> ished the song, He thanked me quietly,
, but | saw he looked puzzled, Then |
, placed Beethoven's Adelaide before me,
. and sang it as | had seldom or never be-
: fore sang it-entirely to my own satisfac-
ton. | rose from the piano, and our eyes
! met. He did not join in the chorus of
thanks, but l knew he was more than
{ pay~1, and as he followed me to my chair
in my armory had struck well home.
"Miss Rivers" he said, n thought no
). amateur in England could sing that song
to her own accompaniment as you sing it.
I can only congratulate you, whilst blaming
q you for deceiving me so last night"
+ | thanked him for his compliment, and
J for the rest of the evening Mr.. Hope talked
| little except to me.
There will write no more about it.
Now am utterly ashamed of it all Had
it not been for my resolve to reject it when
offered, would have stopped to win no
mans love-not even Vincent Hopes
But in five days l knew that my work was
, done and fully done-so fully that dread
ed the result of it, and began to wish had
not been so vindictive Worse than ALL
friends-as friends will-were exchanging
, knowing glances, and commenting on the
relations which appeared to exist between
my foe and myself Could l have con-
quered my nature, and decided to forego
my revenge, it was now impossible to do so.
For my own sake, matters must come to
climax, that all might see how little 1 cared
for the man.
One night, as [ sat in my dressing gown
over the fire, trying to make up my mind
to tear myself from the pleasant glow and
get into bed, Mabel LEIGHTON entered my
room. She was true, good girl, who
spoke her mind freely, and at times lectured
even me, "Heritage,' she said abruptly,
what do you mean to do with Vincent
Hope?"
could not for the life of me help
changing color, and was compelled to shield
the cheek nearest Mabel with the fan which
had been protecting my eyes from the fire.
light
'"po with him. I don't know what you
mean"
ayes, you d." retorted my mentor
''Had it been any one but you, Heritage,
l should have called her a firt. But you
are not fiirt, we know"
"What have l done, Mabe?" I asked.
The screen was still between us.
Mabel quietly pushed it aside; then,
placing her hands on my shoulders, scru-
tinized my face in most uncomfortable
manner. "You have done this, and who
can wonder at it? You have gained this
mans love entirely, But, although 1t
seems so unlike you, | believe you have
brought him to your feet for vanity's sake.
Heritage he is good mana proud man.
IF you mean to give him nothing in return,
l should say his life will be wrecked. Do
youlove him, or are my fears well founded"
In some fashion | was bound to reply.
| sought refuge in levity. "When I am
moved to confess my SINS Mabel, it will
not be to you, but to some nice, ascetic
high-church curate."
@Don't talk nonsense. I am in bitter
earnest. Vincent Hope will surely ask
you to be his wife. You are rich, and he
is comparatively poor; but know that will
not influence you Only | say again, if
you refuse you are to blame for all that