Mower County transcript. [volume] (Lansing, Minn.) 1868-1915, 1886-11-10
TIE BASIIISK.
A STORY OF TODAY.
CHAPTER VIII.
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Wdos uuOOuDtoulyS IuGoEo6Sou III 1Ale
gentle girl. who seemed 80 ill-placed
with her proud and, I feared,
tyrannical cousin. The way in which
Miss Beaufoy seemed to claim me was
more humiliating than fattering. or
would have been SO, but for the strange
malignity of her last remark, which
gave an air of mysterious romance to
what would otherwise have seemed
rather insolent forwardness.
Out in the balmy September SUM-
shine, however, not merely breathing
the delicious air and imagining, as in
the dreary past, the visible splendor
that Knocked me with its warmth and
its fragrance, but actually beholding
once again the beds and banks of
flowers, the green grass flooded with
sunshine, and the sharp black line Of
shade; seeing the Pickering tracery of
the shadows under big elms, and look
ing up through translucent leaves at
fretted visions Of deepest blue above;
seeing clearly enough now the sweet
face and shining hair of the fair
guardian by my side, I soon felt such
glow of exultation and rapture,
that l forgot for q moment the
sombre surroundings of Hanover
Lodge, and felt strong inclination to
take my companion into my conf
dence, and let my pent-up delight find
some sort of outward expression.
But, gazing at her again, the look of
constraint and sorrow which was plain
ly perceptible in her face brought back
to my mind, in all it's vividness, the
idea that she was in some way the VIC
tim Of oppression, and revived the i'm
pulse I had already felt to devote some
of my restored power to her service.
I contented myself. therefore, with the
silent enjoyment of that most beautiful
union of nature and art, an old garden,
and attempted to improve the occasion
by conversation with Mary Fortescue.
: "This is very large place, is it
not 81 asked.
"Yes," she said. lit is part of an old
park which was broken up many years
ago.
ut must be delightful to live in such
place." said l thrilled with the de-
light of velvety turf and huge quiet
trees, which seemed to remain utterly
independent of the vulgarizing influ-
ences of modern bricks and mortar.
'It is a beautiful garden she said,
in rather sad tone.
care you not fond of flowers ?" I
asked.
"Oh yes. love this garden.''
She spoke still with the reserve OF
one who could have said much to OK
plain why she did not say more.
Il could be perfectly happy in a
place like this,'' remarked, turning
away from her to survey the peaceful
beauty of the scene, lest she should
catch too much of the tell.tale INTEL
igence of my opened eyes.
She stopped to pluck flower, and
1t was some little time before she
answered.
"lt is very sweet out here" she said
at last. ''but it is very lonely in the
house,
Ibid not know her we'll, and under
more ordinary conditions might not
have read so quickly in her voice the
tone of appeal. the assurance that she
would not resent nor misunderstood.
Besides, I was accustomed to the fat
tering handicap of affection. People
used to be only too ready to treat me
on more intimate footing because I
was blind, and it had been one of the
sorest trials of my pride that it was so.
But if Mary Fortescue were, as she
seemed to imply, suffering, in . way,
from isolation such as mine had been,
/ could tighten her lot perhaps, and
find friend as well. l came to the
point without more ado.
"Are you not happy here ?"
looked at her as asked the ques-
ton. She would not suspect that I
could see, and she did not even meet
the gaze of the eyes that she thought
blind. She turned half away from me-.
bush, as she answered with very sad
little smile:
Mot very" she said.
1t sounded 30 sad, the way in which
she said it.
Are they not kind to you p I
asked. 80
NO" she said dreamily; then, quick.
ly correcting herself: :. oh yes, they
are-very. I owe everything to them
home, and friends, and all l have.
Have you many friends, Miss For
tescuep" i Z
mo. They are my only friends
They are relations, are they not?'
I asked. To-, z.~.z'=-.... -. 49,, =. =
Twas curious to find out, If possible,
why she lived here, as she was evident
" not an object Of much affection to
her imperious cousin, at least. e.
Yes, she answered, .'Mr. Beaufoy
is my uncle, and he is my guardian,
too. I have no one but them,' she
added, in ohoked voice. t=@ ...-
BY ''them, understood her uncle
and her cousin. Strictly it ought to
have meant the dual character Of the
hard Beaufoy.
We went wandering on down tho
shaded garden paths, gathering a0w-
ers IS we went; Mary gathering them,
4 n. ~