Mineral Point tribune. (Mineral Point, Wis.) 1869-1938, 1888-04-12

Ihey LOOK little peaked, poor things
themselves" she said Il have been
promising them picnic all summer down
on Briery Beach. Suppose you all bundle
off together in the donkey cart and spend
the day there. will have nice lunch
put mp for you. The road for most of
the way lies through shady lanes. You
will be tho better off for it, my dear, yoar-
SELF
They had gone about a mile, and we're
slowly climbing sandy hill Grace driv
ing, and the two little girls and their
brother chattering away IL the highest
spirits, when uddenly pedestrian came
out from thewoods on the right, and,
springipg nimbly down the bank, was
going in the opposite direction wheR lit
tie May called aloud:
Don't you know ne, Mr.-Mr. Stran-
ger! I'm the little girl who lost her
penny yesterday, in the village, and you
were the kind gentleman. to find it cor
me?"
Grace would have given the world if the
child had not spoken, for she had reoog-
nized again, only too well, that tall, 1.-THE
form and that free, swinging step. She
said 20 herself: 'He saw me; he was
hurrying away, aud now this vexatious
child has called him back again; he will
think ! whispered to her to do it, and he
and his bride will jeer at me all the
more"
Stuy vesant Mortimer turned at Mays
call and coming up to the cart with quick
mpulsiveness, cried, holding out his
hand to the child:
"Why, SO it is, absolutely my little
fairy, but now discousolate no longer.
We are going on quite an expedition, too,
aren't wer picnic, or something like
itg"
Grace's whole body was a culver of
nerves. She sat with her eyes downcast
and her face half ayerted, apparently
absorbed in studing her right hand, which
held the reins.
"Oh, yes" answered May, "on picnic.
And we're going to bave such jolly
time. Don you wish you we're coming,
too?n
"Of course | do" with n hearty sym
pathetic laugh. Jolly times are not so
frequent with me, assure you, that /
can afford to miss a chance of one. But
will Miss-Miss-I beg pardon for not
knowing 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
vague idea that there was a governess
sitting next to her; ont 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 Wis
aged, middle-aged spinster, he beheld the,
downcast profile of the only woman who
had ever touched his heart, and who was
looking all the more lovely because of her
halfmourning dress and the traces of sor-
row and suffering on her face. Hence the
broker calculations with which he checked
the request he had been about half sport
lively to proffer.
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 at first was
herself astonished, and--shall we say it,?
stirred also TO her Utmost heart.
miss Courtenay," said Mortimer, OBJ
serving her agitation, and mastering his
own emotion with great effort, 81 have
been seeking you for months--ever since
my return from Europe, indeed. May
l." and the pleading tones of his
nest what proposed just now issjestH
May join your little party? see that
you think hardly of me. Perhaps | de-
serve it. But oh! give me chance at
least to explain. Tha vilest criminal is
allowed that. Afterwards, if you say so,
l will go away-forever--"
He did not wait for reply in words.
He had always been mastertul, and Grace
felt the old spell on her. She had no OBJ
lection, therefore. when he went to the
donkey's head, and, muttering something
about "helping it to the HILL took it by
the bride and led it to the top of the as
cent. Her heart was in such flut.er that
she could not have spoken if she had
tried. OF course he found his opportuni-
ty and that before long. The beach was
only a quarter of mile off, on the decliv-
ity of the hill below, and when the chill
dren shoeless and stockingless, and with
many shout, were dabbling in the water,
he drew Grace's arm within his own, and
told his story, as he paced to and fro on
the sands, with her by his side.
At first she had been cold even haugh-
ty; for, after her surprise was over, she
told herself that there could have been no
mistake, Inhb he WIS ldst W tuo COtb-
that he was only, even now, seeking to
amuse himself. Bot when he drew her
arm within his own, when he looked into
her eyes with his fearless look of limo
cenoe, and when he told his story in his
frank manly, yet impessioned way, she
broke utterly down, and would have fallen
into his arms if it had not been for the
children playing so near. AZ it was, the
tears rolled along her cheeks, and hel
eyes emphasized the low whisper in which
she begged forgiveness for having wrong
ed him, even when things seemed so pro
nounced against him.
"When Your father failed and died,
he said, for We tell his story in his owl
words, though less disiointedly 10y fal
my impulse was to fly at once. But a.
/ was not an accepted lover-as l did no
know, indeed whether | ever would be-
your manner now makes me fear | hay'
and ever have had, but little to hope fol
Il had to wait the customary conven
tional period before calling on you
Meantime thought it my duty to tell N!
| father that loved you and that intend
| ed to tell you 81 the first moment l saw
/ you. | had expec ed some opposition