Los Angeles daily herald., 1886-12-19

instructed" replied Mr.. Brooke, who
had been gazing vacantly down the road,
and now turned abruptly, looked at
Mary earnestly, and she thought inquir-
ingly, then again down the road, twisted
his pleasant mouth all awry, and, finally
loosing Bayard, leaped into the saddle.
waved his haud, lifted his hat aud was
gone.
Always careful of the beast he rode,
he seemed now to be doubly SO, assdu
ously choosing out the softest and green.
est track for Bayard's iron shoe. Nor
did he abate an iota of his care for his
horse, patting his shiny neck, stroking
the glossy SHIN that Mary had SO fondled
minute before, when rather languid
voice hailed him in drawing accents
from the back Of thin-limbed nag,
more suited to lady than the athletic
looking young parson who bestrode it. a
| few PAGES distant.
"Charming day this, squire"
Not look did the squire of Ashleigh
grant in answer to this remark, which
| was repeated little more vigorously.
Charming day, say, squire"
Mr.. Brooke rode on steadily until he
was abreast of the young man, never
raising his eyes until they were almost
side by side, then, with a glance of the
most perfect indifference, he looked
Hugo Fortescue over, calmly turned his
gaze before him again and rode slowly
on at the same pace.
"The cut direct, by Jove!' muttered
the clergyman, slashing at his guiltless
steed, who, having second previously
been ordered to halt, was now hidden to
''go on, you BRUTE" Not another word
did the young man utter till he asked
old Margaret at the school cottage if her
mistress was at home.
"Deed, yes sir, for she never stirs
out, replied she. "but the mistress sees
no strangers, sir.
All, to be sure--yes; but l fanced I
might venture to call, as l saw the
squire's horse here just now," said Mr..
| Fortescue.
$50 you did, sir, but Mr.. Brooke's a
friend of the family"
Margaret put on her most dignitied air
to accompany this little rebuff, and sue
ceeded in overawing the young clergy
man.
"Will you kindly take my card to Miss
Bartlemy, and say that II beg she will
grant me few words with her,"
Margaret received the card not very
graciously and departed
"The young mistress is obliged, but
she sees no strangers" she returned to
say.
''Beg her to grant me one moment"
he entreated, and as he spoke Mary
ha tittla oitf;pf,
in Margaret's quickly vacated position.
and said quietly, with only very slight
additional color:
II cannot ask you to come in, Mr..
Fortescue; my mother is an invalid, we
have only one sitting room, and we do
not receive visitors.
Nevertheless, Miss Bartlemy, l have
just passed Mr.. Brooke, who has been
calling here"
"Mr. Brooke is our one exception.
returned Mary, reddening, though she
kept her voice steady; "he is very old
friend"
Then you do not consider me
friend ?" said the young curate in cha.
grined voice. "You have put the past
behind you--you .discard--you dismiss
me?"
81 think, Mr.. Fortescue," Mary an.
swered with stiff smile on her lips,
"that, with all due regard for facts, you
may be said to have dismissed your
SELF
"Oh! Miss Bartlemv," Mr.. Fortescue
said, in low, impassioned whispering
voice, for he was not sure that Mrs.
Bartlemy was too complete wreck to
be able to overhear their conversation,
and he suspected that old Margaret
might not be devoid of the failing u.s.
ually laid upon her sex. ''Oh, Miss
Bartlemy, cannot you, who know me SO
well, who know my dependence upon
my mother-my honored, but peculiar
mother-you do, you must know, how
prejudiced she is in some things-how
especially prejudiced in favor of rich
marriage for her only son. Surely, oh!
surely you could understand-you could
feel for my difficulties; oh! surely"
81 am not at all sure that l under
stand you as you wish to be understood,
MIR. Fortescue," said Mary. Then, as
he again began to protest vehemently,
she stopped him with little eager
gesture of her hand, peremptory, too:
"Let me speak, Mr.. Fortescue. think
do understand your meaning-at least,
what you meant to say just now, or you
would not have come at all. You say
Mrs. Fortescue is prejudiced in favor of
rich marriage for her only son. As
you are that only son, and / am only
poor schoolmistress, there is no need
to go any further into the matter
should not fulfill your mothers expecta-
tions; aud, pardon me, if as a concession
to my pride. tell you that under no
circumstances would | condescend to-
TO-
She struggled bravely, but she could
not finish her sentenced the thoughts
more than the words choked her; she
grew scarlet, and was obliged to look
down to hide the tears of vexation that
stood in her eyes.
He thought she was relenting.
"And you will not listen to ,me?" he
asked, in SO tragiGally despairing voice,
that it comically struck her and restored |
her to calmness.
NO." she answered, 'I will not-de. |
cidedly not, and, bowling coldly, she
retreated into the little sitting room,
leaving her rejected suitor to ride away,
only half sorry at this untoward result |
of his visit to the school cottage.
Two or three days after, as Mary was
watering the geraniums and other plants
with which the squire's gardener had
filled her little garden, the smart page
from the rectory put his face just above
the garden gate and asked if this was
the schOolmistress' cottage.
''It is, i" answered she, "and l am the
schoolmistress. Do you wish to be en-.
tered ON the registers, my little lad?"
This was a gratuitous insult on Mary's
part, but she felt angry, and she vented
her anger on this poor little fiedgling
footman, who became respectful directly
she snubbed him.
"If you please, IN, I've brought a
note from Mistress" and, opening the
gate, he took an envelope from his tight
little pocket and handed it over with
one hand, while with the forefnger of