The Democratic advocate. [volume] (Westminster, Md.) 1865-1972, 1884-12-06

'The Bishop has ether objections.
'Oh, | know all apout that, said she,
with superb disdain Il know he has been
meanly trying to spy out some trumpery
little peccadilloes belonging to poor Gerald S
Oxford days. 1t is my belief the Bishop
did worse himself when he was at Oxford.
hate a spy"
"But, my dear"
"And if Gerald was little bit wild at
collcge-I-I-think it was delightful of
him. l can't bear goody -goody young
men. should quite despise him if [
thought he had never done anything he
oughtn't to do"
"Dulcinea, this is horrible said ythe
Doctor. eff your guardian"
II know my guardian, y with contemp-
tuous shrug of her pretty little shoulders,
"and you would, too, only you are too good
to fathom his schemes. Do you think a
real Christian would forbid two people to
be happy? No, you don't. A real Chris
tan would help them to be happy. And"
turning to him suddenly, with a quick,
gadiant smile, "you will help us2 She
spoke with an amount of assurance she was
far from feeling, but determined to play
her last card with high courage. "You
will go to the Bishop yourself and plead for
us. He respects you Ct is the only sign
of grace about him); he will listen to you,
and you will bring us back word that you
have succeeded You will give us that bad
old mans blessing; we shall fall on your
neck and embrace you, and then you will
marry us.
''Stop-stop," said the Doctor. "I
daren't do this thing. The Bishops face
is set against Gerald, and"
"Then you are to set your face against
the Bishops and turn his in favor of Ger
aid. Yes, you must indeed, Oh, my dear
godfather you have never refused me
anything in all my life-do not begin to do
so now. Tell him l am sick, dying"
"But, my dear girl, | never saw you
looking better"
"Never mind, l shall get sick; tell him,
too, that Gerald is such a regular attendant
at church, and that"
81 can't, Dulcinea All last spring,
Sunday after Sunday, missed his head in
the rectory pew, where he was supposed to
sit"
All the pews in the church at Inchina-
bagga were so built that only the heads of
the parishioners could be seen, staring over
them as if impaled,
perhaps he was there, but sitting low"
said Dulcinea, mendaciously.
"No; he wasn't sitting there at all, said
the Curate, sorrowfully "He was up the
South stream, at Owens farm, fishing for
trout.
"Well, even if he was," said Gerald's
sweetheart, boldly, "surely there was some
excuse for him. Sundays should not be
good fishing days, and on every one of
those you mention the trout were literally
jumping out of the water and crying to be
caught He told me so. Why, the Bishop
himself would have gone fishing on such
days"
II must request, Dulcinea-"
I pWell, if he wouldn't he would have
been dying to go-it is all the same, said
Miss Vane, airily, HCome, you will go to
the Bishop-you will do what you can for
ds, won't you ?"
"Wbat, nervously, tam [ to say if do
go? Mind, have not promised.
"Say that Gerald is worthier of me than
1 am of Gerald. That will be good be
ginning; be sure you say that. Make me
out most perverse girl, of whom you can
get no good"
'Dulcinea, said the doctor, with mourn.
full reproach, Sin all these years have |
failed to show you the graciousness of
truth ?"
''Oh, but what is the truth in comparison
to Gerald?" said Miss Vane, with an i'm
patient gesture of the right hand
Quite overwhelmed by this last proof of
the uselessness of his ministry, DR.. Ball
maintained a crushed silence.
"You will say just what have told you
won't you" asked Dulcinea, apxiously.
II shall say you haye certain faults !
would gladly see amended said the Gu
rate, sadly; "but I cannot bring myself to
malign you, Dulcinea, and of course, the
Bishop knowing you-though slightly
must have formed an opinion of his own
about you"
"He is such an old bore, said Miss
Vane, irreverently, "that don't be lieve he
could form an opinion on any subject"
In which she wronged the Bishop.
~ must beg you won't speak Of your
Bishop like that, " said the Curate, ca rnestly.
ale has been of much service to the
Church. He is great and good man.
Well" he continued, with a sigh, hfter a
pause, 81 will go to him and interc4 4de for
you. shall write and ask him for an in
terview-but doubt if good will come of
it. And what shall do there, in strange
place, among strange faces, after al. these
years?"
In truth, it seemed a terrible thing to
him, this undertaking. He would have to
leave his home, for the first time these ten
years, and go beyond his beloved boundary
and launch himself, as it were, upon the
world
But he wrote to the Bishop, nevertheless,
asking for an interview, without stating the
object he had in view, and received a very
friendly letter from that dignitary il re-
turn, who, indeed, was a very kindly man,
an fond, and most wilfully misunderstood
by Dulcinea. The Bishop granted DR..
Ball the desired interview with Measure,
and begged he would come to he place
early in the ensuing week, not on business
alone, but as a guest for day Or two.
On the Monday following d. Ball rose
betimes, and having shaved himself with
extra care and donned his bgst clothes ooh,
that he should have to call them SO y he
started for the cathedral toyn in the heav
lest snow-storm they had known that year
CHAPTER II.
On entering t'5ss Episcopal drawing-room
he found md theE @ Only the Bishop and his
wife, Mrs; Cr but goodly company of
guests He s at first bewildered by the
lights, and t& fine small chatter, and the
frou-frou q the silken gowns, and in his
!. :. ! J: J: : ! ! !; !" :
nG6iIG the room fell over several chairs
But presently he came to his
I Hspmfortable ottoman close to
handsome woman with great
XII delicious voice.
she was pouring out tea,
and ryone was drinking it. He
saw, there was good deal of cake
1 como -. al, byooJ n II h,,tfo,- o,,I