Waterbury evening Democrat., 1888-04-21

gotten that the consequences of such folly on your part will mean deathi My dear Nadine, really, though, what is it that you object to?''
 II shouldn't do at all as your compan- ion,--
 tWhy not, you ridiculous mousei We'll, thereLlet us say no more about it just low. I never think myself, but I am always sure it is an excellent thing for other people to do when a little per plexed. However, before you begin to think, tell me one reason for refusing to be my guide and mentor"
 A quick flash rising to Nadine's brow dyes her face crimson.
 "You are going to be marriedi" says Millicent quickly, noting the eignal of distress
 "It is true-yes."
 "And you never told mep' There is a strong reproach in her tone. Then-see- ing the pallor on the face before her (the strange, sorrowful whitening of the beau tiful face), that has chased from it the unwilling roses of moment since-and as she marks the mournful dropping of the lips, and the look of terrible depres- sion, nay, fear, that betrays itself in the shrinking form-pity overcomes her sense of ill usage, and some sharp inner sense conveys to her the truth of it all. "You are afraid of somethingI You do not love himr' she cries impulsively, slipping down on the ground beside the lounge on which her friend has sunk as though unnerved and exhausted. "Come, you shall tell it all to me now, I am de- termined-late in the day as it is for your confidence. Is he old, ugN-a veritable Bluebeard, with coffers lined with gold; and are your people compelling you to l,,y for hoe lv ~f l,s
 Her tone is half playful, half serious wholly winning.
 Nadine gives up to it.
 ''No. It is not that" she says. "My mother would be the last to urge me to such O marriage. And-and-he is not old, or ugly, or overburdened with wealth.
 "Am I to think, then, that he is young, and handsome, and poor, and that you are still blind to his attractionss'
 ''That is it,' returns Nadine faintly. "I-when he is with me, talking to me, looking so kindly at me Che is very knd) Il tell myself that I do love him! But when he is away from Ahr" with 8 quick shudder, "I know then that my thought is vain.''
 Romance is deadp' declares Miss Grey. Handsome as an Apollo, and poor, and yet you cannot be touched with the eternal fire. Fie upon you, then, you degenerate grill After all"-with sud den change of tone from the melo- dramatic into the distinctly common p1ace-'you are just like me. My young man (phrase borrowed from Mary Jane, you will perceive) is quite all you have described yours to be-barring the pow erty-and yet like him quite as little as you do yours."
 "My dear Millicentl And I always understood that''-
 'It was to be a true love matchi 4 very ideal marriage! A veritable cooing affair! Disabuse your mind of that at once, my good girl. It is a match loved, indeed, by my aunt and my other aunt; but by nobody else, so far as I can see. He is to have me and auntie's money; ] am to have him and his mammy's s money. That's the arrangement. Fancy being flung upon a season with such a stone around one's neck, and expected to en- joy one's selfr'
 "It is your cousini''
 "Yes; Granit Boyle. You have never seen him; so I may as well say he is as good looking as any girl could desire save me. I am bent on an ugly man he is handsome, dislike him SO much And yet'-she breaks off, and 8 little angry laugh widens her ips-'when you said a moment since that SO long as your lover was with you you liked him, but that when he was gone you felt the full weight of his disagreeability press upon you, you said exactly what I should have said, had been the first to explain. VI
 "That is strange-a coincidence. But but why marry him, if you feel so to MT. Boyle9'
 Captain, an it please you, madame. He is one of her majesty's men. am not so sure that shall marry him. Blu, I have been pressed into the matter be- cause of auntie's desire to see me Mrs Boyle there is a remote title somewhere in the family, that she believes will some day descend upon me, and make me 'my ladyO So I am supposed to be willing to barter my present for the sake of my future. But am notI So theren' She somewhat angrily rattles the poker against the bars of the grate as she speaks. Then she looks up sharply at her companion. "Why sne you marrying MT. -? You did not mention his name, by the by."
 "Paul Annerley."
 GA masterful name-nearly as bad as Granit Boyle-that sounds like the resist less rock as the wave beats hopelessly against it." She pauses as though sunk in light reverie. "I am not a hopeless wave, however" she continues presently, her pause being so slight as to be almost imperceptible. "A rock myself, rather. Yet look so frail-so fragilep' She gets up and turns to a mirror, and pushing back the soft silky hair from her low brow examines her face critically. "Yes "a rockp' she says decisively. ''So, if my dear cousin does not improve on ac- quaintance, I warn him shall not be dragged to the altar to suit his whim I'd cut off my hair firsti It was by the hair the medieval parent dragged his child, ehf' she asks, turning to Nadine with sudden smile.
 ''I believe you like your cousin, under it afl," says Nadine, laughing.
 "Well, I do, and I don't, as have al- ready said. Just now, I don't. But there are few men in town so handsome So much I know, though I have not as yet come out"
 "Describe him to me.n
 "He is tall, dark, earne st in expression. That is disappointing, I know; the mod ern villain being always tall, fair, insou- ciant. But-variety is charming. My villain is as have said."
 "Paul is dark too," says Nadine, arch inp her brOwS