Mower County transcript. [volume] (Lansing, Minn.) 1868-1915, 1886-03-17
How is your father, Cousin DianaP''
l asked, for the sake of making re-

How is your father, Cousin Dianal''
asked, for the sake of making q re-
mark. q = . Fl s.
HE is well. What is new to-dayl.'
Nothing unless letter from Owen
is news. We had one to-day. Did you
hear from him too?'' -E.-''
Il received few lines" she replied
carelessly. "By-the-way. Edith, can
you give me the pattern of the mantle
you have on?'
Eyes, indeed; you can cut one now.
l have come to stay awhile.''
Not word of welcome. Instead, &
furtive look toward Mr.. Davis, which
was returned by one l could not ex-
plain. A mischievous impulse struck
ME.
didn't Owen mention that he was
coming home in the next steamer,
Cousin Diana?''
The work dropped from her hand; a
a wild look came into her eyes, like an
animals when at bay. He isn't?
How glad am! And he never said a
word of it in his letters.'' And she
gave little unaccountable laugh.
''What if he has already arrived-at
the door?" cried, with dramatic
voice, and craning my neck out as if
saw him down the road.
''Oh!' Cousin Diana groaned, rising
as if she meant to go to the window.
She fell, and tainted dead away.
Nov yOn have done it, with your
JOKE said MIR. Davis calmly lifting
her in his arms and putting her on the
sofa. Il hope You are satisfied"
''On the contrary, Mr.. DavIs.''
swell, get some water to fetch her
to. Diana,' and he shook her slight
~; "open your eyes; you are more
scared than hurt, joy is too much for
YOU"
She heard his last words, for as
sprinkled water in her face q crimson
flush dyed it. She looked beautiful tor
a moment, and my friend was quite
alive to the fact. He made a move
ment toward her, but she sat up.
Il don feel right lately, Edith;
my cold makes me weak. Here comes
father.--Edith Talbot, father.'
1t was al agreeable diversion. A
few moments chat from him set us at
our ease.
Mr.. Davis announced his departure
by saying: 1T is about time tackled
up, as I've got ten miles to ride be-
tween this and dark. Good-day, all.
l wish you much joy on your brother's
arrival Miss Talbot. l reckon he has
been lucky
Very unfortunate-entirely so; he
has lost ALL
Cousin Diana and I sat facing each
other after the fashion of two cats, for
John We're had followed Mr. Davis.
She was first to be mistress of the
situation.
els it true that Owen has been so
unlucky, Edith?''
''Dont you think sop
Il am not able to follow your va
carries. and don't see why you want to
torment me. have trouble enough. -
And her lips quivered; tears came into
her eyes. | feel badly about Owen s
being from home and all his family. !
wish he had not gone. I wish-''
John We're re-appeared, and she
stopped.
went home with a vague discom.
fort in my mind; but said nothing.
Strange enough, l did find a letter
from Owen complaining of homesick.
ness and ill lrck. "There is fool
round here,' he wrote, ''who has
made himself mighty familiar; he took
the liberty of looking at Diana picture.
'Gosh!' he beloved. One of my
friends is acquainted with this young
woman. Amt she deep?' Sis, how
iu the world could the fellow know
her? / wish she would write me let
tiers. If it were not for weeping
should laugh over her timid. forced
scraps, as if she feared the comments
of a school-teacher. Heigho! the
mines smelt man 8 illusions from the
ore of the commonplace, and they are
gone; there are one.'
made no reply 20 this. The Idea
of MIR. Davis, as all idea, was not
pleasant. But why dwell on that?
Owen was a good match, and this
country bovine pumpkin could not in
tertere with him-handsome, good,
bright Owen. Only l wished Cousin
Diana had taken up with young lady
friend to relieve the tedium she must
endure,
Some time after my visit, to our sur
prise, Cousin Diana returned it..
Mothers heart quite warmed to her,
for she was more demonstrative than
usual, more attractive. She asked
various questions about Owen, praised
him. and followed mother from room
to room, offering to assist her. But she
was silent before father; when he spoke
she merely answered him, and her eyes
wandered. She remained till evening,
and, when ready to 60, l proposed
walking toward her house with her.
My proposal was declined on account
of the dampness of that particular
road which led by the fields; but in
sisted. 1t was brilliant moonlight,
a pleasant autumn night. She was
cheerful till we neared TIE fields, and
were between thicket, which cut off
the view ahead; then she complained
of the cold, stopped, and said / must
go no further. A stone rolled in the
path beyond us, which somebody had
bad kicked, coming our way.
"Good-nigh she said, turned and
actually fled.
l waited a little; then walked on by
the hedge, and saw two persons in the
distance walking rapidly, Cousin Diana
and man. l turned home with the
determine ion that Cousin Dina should
remain my cousin only. But what
course should l pursue? Owen was
really pig-headed in obstinacy, and
blind as a mule where his affection
were concerned, and he was naturally
disposed TO combat my opinions. And
was not Cousin Diana deep? l kept
my own counsel. She still walked
serene, quiet, and sensible in all her
ways-an example quoted to naughty,
willful girls. Providence averted any
action on my part, Thornbury was
cursed with notorious gossip-a wom-
an who loved to- spread all kinds of
tidings, impart all suspicious. No beet
lie ever burrowed into carrion with
more avidity than she bulrowed into
the intentions. prospects, and circum-
stances of all human beings within
her ken. In all Weathers and at