The Bennington banner. [volume] (Bennington, Vt.) 1858-1894, 1888-01-05

self: Oh, how | despise him! And then:
How despise myself, for being affected
by it at all.
The next day broke more sultIy than
ever. Mrs. Leigh who was kind heart.
ed woman in her way, noticed Grace's
exhausted air. and attributed it to the
heat and confined schOOlroOm. suggested
that the children should take holiday.
They look little peaked, poor things,
themselves. she said | have been prom
| Using them picnic all summer, down
on Briery beach. Suppose you all bun
die off together in the donkey cart, and
spend the day there. 1 will have a nice
lunch put up for you. The road for
most Of the way lies through shady
lanes. You will be the better for it
my dear, yourself.
They had gone about a mile. and were
slowly climbing sandy nil, Grace ,driv.
| ing, and the two little girls with their
brother chatterng away in the highest
| spirits, when suddenly a pedestrian
came out of the woods on the right, and
springing nimbiy down the bank, was
going in the opposite direction, when
little May called aloud
Don't you know me. Mr.-Mr. Stran-
ger? I'm the little girl who lost her
penny yesterday in the village, and you
were the kind gentleman that found it
for me-
Grace would have given the world #
the child had not spoken, for she had
recognized again, only too well, that tall,
1.-THE form and that free swinging step
She said to herself; He saw me-he was
hurrying away, and now this vexatiOus
| child hos rallpd hum hanE. ba will fhink
/ whispered to her to do it. and he and
his bride will jeer at me all the more.
Stuyvesant Mortimer turned at Mays
call and coming up to the cart, with
quick impulsiveness cried, holding out
his hand to the child:
Why, so it is, absolutely nv little
fairy, but now discOnsolate no longer.
We are going on quite an expedition, too
aren't we: A picnic, or something like
it?
Grace's whole body was quiver of
nerves. She sat with her eyes dOwncast
and her face half averted, apparently
absorbed in studying her right hand
which held the reins.
Oh yes, answered May, on a picnic.
And we are going to have such a jolly
time. Don't you wish you were coming
| too
OF course do, with a hearty sympa
thetc laugh. jolly times are not so fire.
quent with me, assure you, that can
afford to miss chance of one. But will
Miss-Miss-l beg pardon for not know
ing her name-allow mcleod God it
is Grace herself !
Up to this moment he had been so en-.
crossed with the child that he had only
a vague idea that there was governess
sitting next to her; but who the COVER
ness was, or even if she were pretty, he
had no thought. But now, as he looked
up, rather expecting to see some sour
visaged, middle aged spinster he beheld
the sweet downca5t profile of the wo-
man who had ever touched his heart,
and who was now looking all the more
lovely because of the half mOurnful
dress and the traces of sorrow and suf-
fering on her face. Hence the broken
calculations with which he checked the
request he bad been about half sportivs
ly to prOifer. .
His hat too, was off in a moment. He
looked so eager, so astonished, so glad
so rapturous, all in succession, that
Grace, who had turned to him coldly al
first, was herself astonshpd, and-obal
we say it?-stirred also to her inmosl
heart.
For what could it mean: Was it pos
sible there had been some terrible mis-
take? Surely that look, the passionate
emotion of the voice, were not counter
felt? Her head swan and she though,
she would faint.
Miss COurtenay, said Mortimer, observ
ing her agitation, and mastering his
own emotion with great effort, Il have
been seeking you for months-ever since
my return from Europe, indeed. May
and the pleading tone of his voice
were eloquence itself-do in earnest
what proposed just now in jest May
join your little party | see that you
think hardly of me. Perhaps | deserve
it. But OH give me chance at least t.
, explain. The vilest criminal is allowed
that. Afterward, if you say so, will
go away-forever-
He did not wait for a reply in words
: He had always been masterful, anC
, Grace felt the old spell upon her. Sht
made no objection. therefore, when hi
went 10 the donkey's head, and mutter-
, ing something about helping it up thu
, hill, took it by the bride and led it Il
the top of the ascent. Her heart was il
such tiutteT that she could not have
I spoken if she had tried. OF course h,
I found his opportunity, and that befor'
long, The beach was Only short quar-
ter of mile off. on the declivity Of tht
2 hill below, and when the children, shoe
= less and stocklngless, and with many
4 merry shout, were dabbling in the waite
A he drew Grace's arm within his own
and told his story as he paced to and fr,
on the sands, with her by his side.
I At first she had been cold, evel
I naughty; for after the surprise was owe
she told herself that there could hav
!. been no mistake, that he was false to tn
] core-that he was only even now, seek
] ing to amuse himself. But when h
T drew her arm within his own, when b.
0 looked into her eyes with his fearles
. look of innocence, and when he told hi
o story with his frank, manly, yet impas
s stoned way, she broke utterly bowman
would have fallen into his arms il it hat
$ not been for the children playing s.
- near. AS il was, the tears rolled aloni
her cheeks, and her eyes emphasized tn
0 low whisper in which she begged for
;. giveness for having wronged him, evel
S when things seemed 80 pronounce,
e against him.
: When your father failed and died, b
u said for we tell his story in his owl
words, though less dIsjointedly by far
q q my impulse was to fly at once. But as
i was not an accepted lover-as l did no
U know. indeed, whether | ever would
u your manner now makes me fear
" have, and ever have had, but little t
hope for-I had to wait the customar
: conventional period, before calling o.
: YOU. Meantime, / thought it my dut
u TO tell my father that loved you an
u that intended to tell you 80 the frs
moment saw you. l had expected I
tell you so the first moment | saw yoU
l had expected some opposition. But
< was surprised at the extent of It. NJ
father, alas! good as he was to me, VOL
. thy as he was in most respects. had tha
excessive love of money which so man
. successful bankers acquire, He was d.
} sirous that | should marry an heiresi
( Rumor had once linked my name wit
y that of Miss Marlton, but had neve
ie seriously thought of her. In fact, afte
| saw you, at the first Patriarchs' ball
y OH shall / ever forget it'll knew tbs
e there was but one woman IN the who
world that | could ever love. Stay, d
l: not shake your head. Hear me out.
- owed something, even you must sdmi
* to my father was bound by duty
some degree. at least. Well, my fathe
, after stormy interview, proposed
er compromise. If l went to you. he SAT-
lie he would never forgive me. He did n,
" believe in my affection; it was only
le youthful fancy, were his words; as Il
N you, he had understood from your fatl
er, that an alliance for you had been Sc