The clarion. [volume] (Jackson, Miss.) 1883-1888, 1886-09-01
CHAPTER XVII.

ran down the rocks, and soon leapt down
upon the beach, close to the spot where
Anita was lying. She uttered a merry cry
in Spanish, which caused her mistress to look
in my direction. Madeline exhibited no sur
prise, but after a momentary glance, contin-
ued her occupation, that of writing or draw
ing something on the sand with the point of
her parasol.
walked toward her, and greeted her by
name. She smiled and nodded, but still con
tinued intent upon the sand beneath her. /
followed the direction of her eyes and to my
astonishment read my name, thus:
HUGH TRELAwNEY, ST. GURLoTT's.
The hot blood rushed to my cheek: but fed
again almost Immediately, as l read close by
the words:
GEORGE REDRUTH, ESQ.
Both the masters name and my own were
printed large and bold. Close by them,
smaller in SIZE and in running writing, were
the incomplete letters ON which she was then
busy
MADELINE GR--
But no sooner had she reached the 'r' than
she glanced up at me. laughed merrily, and
obiiterated 1t all with her little, daintily
booted foot.
"What brought you here, Mr.. Trelawney?'
she said. II thought that you would have
been at church,
81 thought the same of you," replied,
smiling.
Then you did not follow us?'
Certainly not; though had / known,
might very possibly have done so. But who
could have dreamed of finding you in this
solitary place, so far away from homer
MY true home is far away indeed" she
answered; and raising her hand, she pointed
right ont to sea. ''Yonderi Sometime /
wish that as the Scripture says, | lad wings
like bird that l might fly back r
And | saw that her beautiful eyes were
dim with tears.
Have you relations there?o asked. ''Ol
friends whom you love?"
Neither friends nor relations. When my
dear father died | was left quite solitary.
But lived so long there. and was SO happy
And South America is so beautiful, so diHer
ent from this dreary iandr'
watched her nervously.
''Some day, perhaps you viii retumY'
s'Perhaps-I cannot tell,' she replied, sad
ly, and turning on her heel, she walked slow
ly toward the spot where Anita was lying.
The girl looked up and showed her white
teeth, smiling; the smile broadened as her
mistress spoke to her rapidly in Portuguese.
Anita is of my opinion" said Madeline;
''she thinks this English climate detestable,
and she longs for the palms and temples of
the West suppose shall have TO send
her back The people think her wild saw
age because she does not understand their
barbarous dialect and she will never settle
In England"
had my own suspicion that Madeline was
laughing az me. and that Anita's smile had
quite different meaning; but was too hap
py in the mere presence of my darling to
trouble myself on that head. Merely to stand
by her side, and look into her face, and hear
her musical voice, was Joy sufficient; for
never had she seemed more bright and beau
tiful. She wore rich sealskin cloak, tightly
fitting, and descending to her knees; pretty
sealskin hat To match; and the parasol she
carried was more for use as waking-stick
than for safeguard against the sun. The
sea breeze had brought the color to her deli
cate cheek, and her dark eyes were unusual
~ light and happy.
For the time being forget the social gulf
between us, between her wealth and my
poverty, and talked freely and unrestrained-
| iy of many things. The old constraint left
me. suppose to the improvement OF M
manners, for Madeline seemed to look at me
and listen to me with unusual interest
"And youY' she said, presently. ''Shall
| you remain In this lonely Cornwall all your
| lifeg'
The question took me By surprise, and was
| difficult to answer.
WHO can teIl?' I said. "I have often
| thought OF trying my fortune across the
| ocean, but habit has kept me chained to a
| dull place and cherries occupation. Some
| times, do you know, Miss Graham. think it
| Is all fatality. 1t seems SO strange, for ex-
| ample, that should have been brought here
at all, and that. even in so unlikely place,
| we should have been once more thrown to-
| gether."
''It Is fortunate for me, at any rate, that
you became Cornishman.D
| How sog'
/ because, otherwise. might not have sur
| vived-to thank you for my lifer'
| Was it gratitude. or an even rendered SEN
timent that filed her eyes with such tender
meaning. and after one long look. made her
| blush and turn her head awayy / cannot
| tell, but the look made my heart leap. while
new thrill of rapturous hope trembled
| through my veins. glanced at Anita: she
| was basking again, with closed eyes Car
ried beyond myself By the Inspiration of the
moment / took my dariing's hand
| Miss Graham" said; ..Madeline-- may
| call you again by that dear name?-ever
since we parted. years ago, you have been
ttle one meh1ofs VI NY iitr, anu WHICH VIC
met again
would have continued impetuously; but
| gently disengaging her hand. she cried:
Anita come, it Is time to go home-v
The girl seemed to understand, for she
sprung to her feet and pointed eagerly up
the rocks For myself. stood stupefied and
ashamed; but turning again 10 me with .
light smile, Madeline continued:
/ Are you returning to the village, Mr..
TreIawney? II 50. let Us walk together"
i Something IN her manner convinced me
i That had better encr0ach no further, but
| make the best Of my i1nmediate chance OF
I happiness 80 answered eagerly that was
1 1t her service, and the next minute Ha1
plotting her up She rocks Tho WY VA
j11uub1es0u14 and1Ge of1eu neodod and -
cepted ~ help of NJ hand tnfIlllnG ~
1kEuuGn ond thxUQEh With hcr WARM tp1c1.