The Cecil Whig. [volume] (Elkton, Md.) 1841-current, 1884-07-19
"Of course not. How could you? ?"

all his money and our house was sold
then papa died, and 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 I earn my bread by my
pen"
l could not help telling him all that
he seemed to make me, in spite OF
myself; but I 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 Cash
elton2"
ooh, yes, often !''-and then
paused in some confusion. Mr.. Har-
old Cashelton had been my brothers
"guide, philosopher and friend" and
in one way and another | had heard
more than enough of him all my life,
though, through my having no mother,
| had never been at Garth when Jeh's
friends visited him. In fact, | had
worshipped him secretly and afar off
from Jef's descripsion-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 his life-as, indeed,
| suppose he had in way, for Jeff
surely must have mentionedme 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 | resolved not
to write, as no doubt he would accept
it from mere pity.
Three months passed away, and l
was on terms of almost civility with
nv hated editor, but l had written
nothing for the ARLINGroN-on that
point | was obstinate-nor had | told
Mr.. Cashelton very much about my
self or my own affairs beyond the first
sudden burst of confidence, which
seemed inevitable. What 1 wrote and
how | succeeded | never would talk
about, in spite of several very insinuat-
ing questions. But about Jeff | would
talk for hours, and he did not seem to
weary of the subject, either.
Sometimes l accompanied him to an
afternoon concert at St. James Hall,
or matinee at the Lyceum, and he
was always very kind and attentive, but
never could got over the fact that he
had laughed at my poetry. Had he
laughed only at myself | should have
forgiven and forgotten it.
One evening he called, after having
absented himself for fortnight, and |
was wondering in spite of myself, what
could have happened to him. | was
about to call Mrs. Kent to light the
gas, though it was really quite bright,
when he stopped me.
"Don't ring for lights" he said, i'll
his lazy way II want to talk to you.
l have something very particular to
say, Madeline, and l want to say it to
you alone, Madeline" and somehow
he got possession of both my hands
II love you l want you for my wife: |
want to take care of you, dear, if you
will let me-"
81 can't help it." returned feebly
and vaguely.
"No, of course not, and don't want
you to. Darling, you must have seen
that | love you, and you must, you
surely must care for me little in re-
turn %
81 don't know" | said, more feebly
still ; and the golden opportunity for
revenge and retaliation 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; in
stead of which l 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,
l confess liked it. 1t is humiliating
it is horrid, but it is true-I did love
the handsome, hateful editor.
Darling" he cried, holding me
from him at arms length, 'you're {
vixen-you're too fond Of that vagrant
poet-you detest me cordially; still
Madeline, l love you, and l believe
have loved you from that day whel
your presence made spot of sunshine
in my very shady editorial den. Some
day perhaps you will learn to care ;
little about me.
| r
Six months afterwards we were mar
ried at St. Georges, Bloomsbury and
whel Jeff came home and heard al
about it, l thought he would have gone
out of his mind with JOY. Now
write what l please for the ARLINGTON
and, though the editor goes over it
he does not dare alter a syllable, SO il
that respect have gained my point
l have conquered my first editor
TINsLEY's MAGAZINE.
The Diff. .ce to the Barkeeper
| st. Louis Globe Democrat.