Juniata sentinel and Republican. [volume] (Mifflintown, Juniata County, Pa.) 1873-1955, 1884-08-20

mer air.
Anything between us?" she saws.
In the old mocking voice that brings
the blood to the roots of his hair. "Yes,
there were the table and the strawber-
ries and cream, and-I think that was
al" Her voice falters at the last and
her smiling eyes suddenly grow serious.
"1 gu shall not treat me Like that u
he says tiercely, and lays sudden strong
grasp on her slender wrist.
a little flushed, she looks up at him
calmly.
Don't talk nonsense, Paul Please
release my hand; you are crushing my
roses"
lie drops it at her bidding, and stands
with cloudy, moody brow. A bell
clangs out on the evening air.
"Dinner is ready" she says. 'Come
-grandmamma does not like to be kept
waiting"
But he does not STIR.
Come l'' she reiterates imperiously.
II am going away" he says, suIky
and unsmiling still.
The blue eyes look up into his face
and the man is not born yet that can
resist the pleading glance of Dorothy
Verschoyle s eyes.
Come" she says, and the black
thunder-cloud vanishes partially from
his face-'please, Paul"
At that he gives in, if he ever in
| tended to hold out eyes and voice alter
his determination and he follows her
back through the rosery, past the foun-
tain, and up TO the house, the old, old
| house, the inhabitants of which are
getting poorer and poorer every gener-
ation-the poverty of the ancient aris-
toeracy, who suffer and make no sign
| till decay begins to be visible. And all
the world knows that the race of Ver-
schOyle have seen their best DAYS but
they are grander and nobler in their
poverty than the wealthy pdrUenu who
holds the golden key to fortune.
The ivy trailing from the gray mas
sive doorway brushes Paul Tempest's
head as he passes into the house, fol-
lowing the white glittering figure that
leads the way through the oak-girt
shadowy hall, with smiling face turned
backward over its shoulder.
They have dinner in the long dim
/ dining-room the walls OF which used to
echo to the sounds of mirth and revelry;
but tonight it looks gloomy in the ex-
| treme with the quantity of white
damask and only three at the long table
meant for so many more. But, had
there been thirty sitting around and a
| Babel of conversation substituted for
the almost absolute silence, there would
have been only one face and one voice
for Paul Tempest.
He would give good deal to know
what passed between Dorothy and Sir
| Percival to-day. She sits, fair and
lovely, with blue dreaming eyes.
"Would she were dreaming of me J"
he thinks, and turns to speak TO old
Mrs. Verschoyle, silver-haired, placid
old lady who lets Dorothy do as she
chooses from morning till night,
''Our regiment Is ordered away" he
says and then slowly, ~ am going to-
night; l have business in town"
But We shall see you again, Paul?"
the old lady's voice is very quiet.
NO." he answers 81 shall not be
able to come back again"
Dorothy says never a word. Paul
Tempest turns suddenly and looks at
her. She is white as the lace at her
throat, and a great joy comes into his
eyes at sight of tbs moInentary anguish
in hers. But In an instant she is her
self again, so quickly as to leave him
in doubt as to whether he for one sec
ond looked night into her heart. For
she is gay and smiling, tossing biscuits
to the great solemn-looking st. Ber-
nard.
Dinner is over. They had fingered
over the dessert till the glory had we'll
nigh died out in the west, and Dorothy
has talked as gaily as though there were
not such things in the world as part
ings, Paul Tempest's eyes have rested
on her face for many seconds at a
time; but, If he hoped to elicit any
thing thereby, he must have been mis-
taken, fer her color neither came nor
went, and Bran was never once defraud-
ed of the anxiously-looked-for biscuit
tossed so deftly by the small white
hand, though possibly the throwing OF
macaroons broadcast might have been
sign of some mental disturbance or
excitement, for Mrs. Verschoyle inter-
poses at length
Dorothy dear, surely Bran has had
sufficient ?''
There are two macaroons left in the
dish. Dorothy tOsSeS them one after
the other to Bran, laughs a gay little
laugh. and, rising, fits away out at the
open window and towards the garden.
Paul looks after her for a moment, and
then follows. Mrs. Verschoyle, in
turn. looks after him, but remains
where she is in the dim light at the
head of the long table.
"My poor little Dorothy 70 she says
aloud and Bran TapS his tail on the
floor-it is the only answer he can
give.
Paul Tempest overtakes Dorothy at
the marble fountain. She is cooling
her fingers in the splashing water. and
he stands for few minutes contemplat-
ing the white dropping figure. Dorothy
turns with "a start as Paul comes up ana
stands beside her. He has picked a
white rosebud, and holds it In his
hand.
Dorothy"
His voice is very low and solemn
but Dorothy laughs gaily, and shakes
the sparkling drops off her fingers
paul l' She says, in mock and ex-
aggerated imitation of his sober tones
81 have come to say goodbye" " he
answers, reproach in his strong young
voice. Dorothy, thought you would
have been little sorry because am
going away.
$50 am. ! shall have no one to
tease when you are gone'-smiling up
at him.
"You will have Sir Percival," )" he
saws, with sort of grim fury.
ssYes,n she answers quietly, u shall
have Sir Perciyal."
At her words he looks as if he would
like to clasp his fingers round the sim
milk-white throat and crush the mock
ing maddening light out Of the blue
eyes for ever.
"How long will you be away ~ she
asks.
"For ever % comes shortly and STERN
ly from his unsmIling lips; and then
his voice suddenly breaks and trembles,
as he holds out the poor little rose In his
hand. dorothy, will you have this