Mineral Point tribune. (Mineral Point, Wis.) 1869-1938, 1885-02-05


We are not allowed to remain in I'M
disturbed possession of our first-class
compartment long, for just as the train
moves out of the next station, gentle
man Jumps in at the risk of breaking
mis- neck.
am nearest the window, and as he
sits down opposite me, ne gives me a
quick glance of admiration.
One can see by his dress that he is
clergyman; but he is not bit like the
eurate of St. AIMS, our old rector at
home, who, by the way, must be seven
ty at least.
What girl does not like to be admir-
ed-no matter if the eyes that gaze at
her are handsome or otherwise? But
my a,ts-a-CtS happens to have the bright
est ewes have ever seen, and they tell
me as plainly as eyes can, that | have
made favorable impression on their
owner.
He does not stare obtrusively, and
vet feel embarrassed, and color How
stupio it is, and especially in me, for
| have always prided myself on my
self-possession. If it were Lefty, now,
it would be excusable, FOR she changes
color on the slightest provocation; but
], Gertrude Helmsley, ought to know
better.
He makes some remark to mamma
about the weather, who, glancing at his
clerical dress, responds graeiously; and
they gradually drift into quiet and ami
mated conversation, while | listen in
silence, and Lefty turns over the pages
of magazine.
When we reach our station, to our
surprise the stranger gathers up his
books and papers and alights also He
lifts his hat to mamma, and gives me
another admiring glance as he walks
away.
"Why, Gertrude says mamma, 81
believe he is the new curate | am glad
of it, for indeed have never had the
pleasure of meeting more agreeable
young man. All, here are your papa
and Mr.. Dacre," she adds quickly, and
in another moment / am shaking hands
with my future husband.
didn't like him. 1t is foolish to let
such feeling take possession of me;
but the instant our eyes meet, | feel
that it will be impossible for Reginald
Dacre to make me happy. We could
never agree.
He is fair, and hate fair men. He
is big and stout, and | admire above
everything, a man with slight fig
IRE.
Besides, his voice is so rough, and
when he laughs, people look round in
surprise.
There is no restraint about him, no
lavish attention to the c0RrcHdnccS OF
life.
And this is the husband my parents
have chosen for me.
Isn't he splendid" says Lefty tim
idly, when our long drive from the
railway station is over, and we are
comfortably seated in the room we are
to share together during her stay.
"Who, the curate?h | ask abruptly,
and then color to the eyes. "What in
the world have | been thinking about?"
1.-The curate," repeats Lefty. "the
curate, Gertrude? He is a very pleas
ant young man, / dare say; but no one
would think of comparing him with
Mr. Dacre
II suppose not!" rather drily. $50
you admire Mr. Dacre, LettyP'
"He is very nice, #" returns Lefty, and
she signs. ''You are lucky girl, Ger
trude, to have such a home, such par
ents, and such prospects. "
"Oh, my dear!" l say lightly, 81
thought you pitied me. Do you re-
member how you cried over me yester-
day?n
II was a fool, Lefty cries encrget-
ically. "Since have seen Mr. Dacre,
have come TO the conclusion that you
will be very happy
'And since / have seen Mr.. Dacre, /
have come to the conclusion that
shall be very, very miserable" This
is what / feel inclined to say; but |
don't say it, because | know that such
confession would make my little
friend feel unhappy.
A week glides away. The more l
see of Reginald Dacre, the less like
him. Not that he is a bad man, or an
ill-natured one; but there is no affinity
between us. | am sure he feels this
himself, for he seems far happier in
Letty's society than in mine.
Poor Reginald! He is almost as
much afraid of me as he is OF George
Gardiner, the new curate. cannot
help laughing to myself when | see
them together, for loud, outspOken
Reginald grows quite nervous and awk-
wark in Mr.. Gardeners presence.
He likes the parson better in the pull
pit than he does out of it, he tells
Lefty.
My little friend would shed more
tears over me than she ever did
over her novels if she could know of
the trouble am in, for, alasl before
we have been at Drimlea n month, |
know that | have fallen in love with
the wrong man.
Does she guess, / wosder-that she
looks so grave at times? Is it possible
that am wearing my heart on my
sleevep l hope not, for | would not
have any one know the truth for the
world.
Mamma has told George of the fami-
" compact, and he never speaks to me
of love. Never? Well, his eyes say
great deal. but his voice is silent. He
is master of his tongue, If his truant