Savannah morning news. [volume] (Savannah) 1868-1887, 1884-02-17
MARGARET THORN.

Arc2stle, as he stood outside the low cot
rage gate IN the autumn twilight. DO
you believe that, Daisy =
The girl, who stood just inside IL. her
clasped hands resting light on his arm as
be bent over her. laughed low, content
ed, childish laugh, which told tale Of
quiet happiness.
Il don'T know whether l believe it or
not" she answered. But" tmidly. i
believe in you"
Was II her fancy, or did a cloud pass
over the handsome face above her: she
thought 20 al first. but the smile which
came close upon it made her doubt.
What dear little girl it is" he ex-
claimed, touching her pink cheek softly.
W hat dear little innocent hearth
she looked at him shyly, a sidewise,
birdlike look, which made her pet name
seem most aptly given. for he often called
her Birdie.
Don't laugh at me-" she pleaded.
fought l not TO believe in yOu:"
He bent 10 kiss her. Yes. yes. believe
IN me, little one. 1 would not make a Jest
Of you for the world. I must not keep
you longer; the dew is falling and your
dress is damp already. Good night"
80 soon" If the lips did not express
the words, the sweet face showed her dis
appointment. ''Shal l see YOU tO-mOr-
row. George:" she asked.
Probably. III not promise, 50 don't
be disappointed if fail"
But why should you fail:" she asked
wondering how he could like TO tantalZe
her.
would you know. my dear one: It Is
because 1 shall have to be away to-mOr-
rOw-tO see some people staying at the
great fashionable seaside place, two miles
OF. Good night, again.
Daisy stood for a few minutes, looking
at the sea in front Of her, still tonight,
and then went into the cottage with a
happy heart.
so Mr.. Arcastle has gone" said her
father, laying his paper aside with little
sigh Of satisfaction; 1--WE can have quiet
evening together. you and l. By the way.
Daisy, this sea air is going to do wonders
FOR YOU; you are actually growing rosy.
am glad We came, and 1t was lucky, our
getting these cheap, pretty lodgings,
wasn't ito
yes" answered Daisy. Everything
has come about very happily for US. papa.
very happily indeed"
''One thing troubles me, Daisy" he said.
A little anXIOusly; latter the pure air Of
the country you will not ike London
Never fear for me, papa; / am not
going u dislike anything. And, besides,
We have two weeks yet TO enjoy Of these
lovely seaside breeZes, 90 we need not
think Of any worry that is TO come. Papa,
l will play for you if you like-music
sounds best in the tWilight-and you shall
lie and listen and 20 TO sleep if you will"
There was an old piano in the room BY
the window; il was not much now, but il
lad a sweet tone. And Daisy, sitting to
it in the darkness, translated the language
Of her happy heart into music.
Two weeks mCre,' she had said. Two
weeks Of love and happiness. But those
two weeks passed all too quickly, and at
last, before she fairly realized It, the last
night Of her stay in Fairsea came.
Nearly every day Of that two weeks had
brought George Arcastle TO the little white
cottage that stood nearly a mile from the
village; sometimes but for a few short
minutes Oftener for a longer stay.
Mr. George Arcastle, gentleman and
man Of the world, was fighting a battle
with himself-and il was d very rare thing
for Mr.. Arcastle TO do.
CosmO Thorn, Daisy's father, was al
ways glad to see the handsome, cheerful
Young fellow; and Daisy was shy and
quiet always, and the welcome that shone
in her eyes was not seen by the elder
man.
on this the last afternoon, the clear
brown eyes had a shadow in them; but
the red lips smiled the while, and Daisy
seemed very bright and cheerful. 80
much 50 that her father, stTOking her soft
hair, said, with a pleased look on his worn
face. My little girl is glad 70 20 back
again, after all. The prospect Of living
amid bricks and mortar is not so gloomy
as ! thought But the younger man.
seeing the shadow, understood.
just eight weeks before, in a solitary
ramble he was taking along the shore,
George Arcastle deserted, far on on high
rock, cut of from land by the advancing
tide, a slender, glrlsh figure, standing
erect and gazing straight out to sea.
1T is almost up % my waist already
aud | can hardly 20 on" she answered in
response to his cali, and then she turned
her face sea ward again and said no more.
Halt an hour later MT. Thorn, sitting in
the shady porch Of the little cottage, with
his newspapers, was hOrrihed, nay. al
most paralyZed, by the sudden appearance
Of an excited and very wet young man,
hatless and cOatless, bearing in his arms
a half-drOWned figure, which proved TO be
his daughter, Dsisy-a yeritable Undine
in appearance, but, for the time, uncon-
sciOus Of it all.
The people directed me here, sir. They
said the young lady lived here"
"Heaven bless me, yes.' cried the agi-
tated father. 1T Is my child and you
have saved herD
That was the way the acquaintance
commenced, but it did not end. Daisy,
when attired to dry raiment, proved to be
so charming q girl that George Arcastle
could not resist the temptation Of calling
again and again to inquire whether the
adventure bad been productive Of harm
full consequences, and, after that, Of call
ing without any excuse whatever. For
eight weeks this mad gone ON, and now the
end Of the summer had come. and all too
soon for Daisy.
1T must be good night and goodbye,
this time" said George Arcastle, as they
stood by the gate il the twilight, for she
had strolled down the garden with him.
st has been pleasant season here, has
it not, DaisyW
"Oh. so pleasant The sigh arrested
told how much the words meant. "Shall
we ever see you againW she asked tim
idly.
lie paused before he spoke, knowing
quite well that he wished to see her again,
but that he ought not.
Il shall be in London during the winter
and Will look you up" he said presently.
II have the address: Chelsea, or some
such Out-of-the-way"-- Arcastle
cOughed TO drown the words-'sOme such
rural suburb Of the great metropolis, is it
noty Yes, / will certainly call upon you,
if YOU Will allow me-"
''I-papa will be very glad. Goodbye"
His own goodbye was whispered as he
stopped to kiss her. And then she stood
alone, her heart aching; for a separation,
though it may be a short one, is hard to
bear from one we lOye-and Margaret
Thorn had learned TO love him with her
whole soul.
Cosmo Thorn was an artist. He had
owned a small rural patrimony in Nor
cumberland, which brought him in next
to nothing, save that there was a house to
live in upon it; and he painted pictures
for the rest. The patrimony had to
be sold piecemeal, the house the last; and
then he and his daughter, who did not
seem strong, went for a few weeks to
Fairsea before settling in London. In
that great metropolitan town he hoped to
obtain patronage. But his health had
failed him strangely Of late, and the fu-
ture presented but an uncertain vista.
lie hoped to live; TO live and work yet for
Daisy's sake; two years ago he had buried
her mother.
Their Chelsea lodgings were in Amity
Place. For a few weeks they were busy
in settling themselves in them; and the
excitement, together with the qualification
Of looking at the picture galleries, did
Mr. Thorn good. The landlady, Mrs.
Wilson, a g00d-hearted, mOtherly woman,
always busy, took genialiy to the pale,
gentle artist and to the no less gentle
daughter, who had such pleasant, honest,
sweet brown eyes and rather sad face.
But ere Mr.. Thorn had well begun to
IL A., 4. -.