Waterbury evening Democrat., 1888-04-26

"when, marry you, my sweet Min erva."
 'sThat will be never, then, greatly doubt me-"
 ''Still, there is doubt, you see.''
 "To talk like this to me is waste of time"
 ''To talk to you could never be waste of timen
 "Not if you talk sensibly."
 "And sure what can be moro sensible than to tell you that love you?" says the Irishman; "unless it would be your saying that you will take me for your husband?''
 "That would mean throwing up friends and fortune''
 'tJust so! Then do it,' says he. What is to be done with a man like this? Millicent sighs. He is nearer vic tory at this moment than he knows him. self to be. Miss Grey, glancing involun- tarily at Granit, and then back again at him, mentally comes to the conclusion that any hope of happiness for her lies in an immediate surrender of all ties that bind her to the former. But auntie, and Uncle Timothy, and the world in gen. eral?
 "Dear Geraldl I wish you would not speak to me like this,'' she says softly. 'You must know how useless it is."
 1T never knew had a nice name until heard you say it," says the irrepressible Gerald, taking no notice of the substance I'm awfully glad my mother christened me Gerald"
 "Why9 Do you think could not pro- nounce any other name musically?" asks she, laughing in spite of herself.
 ''That's right. Hike to hear you laugh, !" says he. "They say in my country that when woman smiles the battle is won. And sometimes think''-
 'I will not listen to you," declares Miss Grey, beating her foot impatiently upon the carpet. ''It is not kind-it is not right. You forget I am engaged to Capt. Boyle"
 "Bahl He doesn't count at an," says Massareene. "You can't marry such 8 fellow as that.''
 "What have you to say against himp" surmountable obstacle could be shown. "On1y he is such a''-he checks himself just in time-"such an uncomfortable sort of fellow," he concludes rather lamely.
 t'Ten me-" says Miss Grey, in a very low tone, ''you are member of his club? And I-have heard-that is, they say he-gambles good deal. Is this true?"
 MT. Massareene grows crimson.
 "OhI by love, you know! You can't expect me to answer questions about another man, and that man my rival, |" he says. CT didn't expect you would do that, you know"
 "You won't tell me, then?' says she.
 1T know nothing of his gambling. I 0f ipr ofo oil fo hic VIC Massareene, slowly, his eyes on the ground.
 ''Then you woul6 let me marry him to be made emiserable-rather than sacri- flee a certain sense of honor?'' asks she sorrowfully.
 "You shouldn't tempt me like thist' exclaims he, with a sudden touch of pas sion. 'The very knowledge that he is your accepted lover-at least, your future husband"-he makes his correction be- cause of 8 little deprecatory gesture on her part-''and that I-even apart from that fact-hate him, compels me to si- lence. And-and even suppose he does gamble a bit heavily now and then, why he may give that up when-when he is married,'' says Massareene, stumbling over the hateful sentence, and trying to be as just to his rival as nature will permit him.
 sI see," says Millicent. She is silent for quite two minutes-a long time when one is waiting anxious1y for the next word. ''I have heard," she says, now very seriously, ''that he plays for such high stakes that he is often at his wits end to know how to meet his debts of honor-so-called. Hearing this has led me to the belief that he is marrying me more as means of gaining money to carry on his play than from any higher mo- tive.''
 ''There you wrong him." says Massa- reene eagerly. "He is no defaulter, whatever else he may be. He lost Q tremendous sum to Black, of the Blues, about two months ago; but he paid up And he has given an O U to Burnaby to pay him next month, and''- He stops short. ''Lots of fellows play pretty high before they settle down." he says, a great generosity compelling him to say an exculpatory word for the man who is, perhaps, the only living thing he detests.
 "I quite understand" returns Milli- cent slowly. "It is very good of you; but only what expected. There is, how ever, one thing that puzzles me-where my cousin got the money to pay that tre- mendous sum to Col Black.''
 "You probably know more of his pri- vate concerns than l dc" /" says MaSsareene carelessly. "He always appears to me to have plenty of money. Enough of him, however. There is something that con cerns me that would tell you. You know my uncle Lord Ballymore2 We'll, last night he said he would allow me e300 year in addition to my present income, which is five, you know, fiji you would have me. He admires you very much"
 "And hates Granit good deal more! I know all about that old story, and do not blame Lord Ballymore for his dislike of my excellent cousin"
 "You don't think you could do it on the eight hundred?' asks the young man wistfully.
 Miss Grey's ears are well trained, and now she hears step approaching-oh! so softly!
 "One never thinks nowadays-there is no time,' she says, in a clear, distinct tope. "Tea, Granit? Thanks. No; nothing else, thank you; unless, indeed, it be one of those little waters that auntie seems so meanly determined to keep all