The Worthington advance. [volume] (Worthington, Minn.) 1874-1908, 1888-01-19

and as her jewels were all 81 ona;nt A..
sign and many OF antique Workman.
snip, she had made arrangements for
adding them eventually to tho art col
lection OF the Pinacothe:a as the Adri.
ahce Jewels, 50 it would be q pity to
accustom Irene to what she would
never have. She had principle "a
TINS. And for the rest, how could
Irene expect to be happy with q man
OF such nature as Gervais'. Sha had
really put it to Irene. What manner
OF man was it who was willing to
take her from her home of luxury.
surrounded by the beauty OF a palace.
waited on by liveried servants, fed on
al but nectar and ambrosia, to live
IN narrow lodgings, to wait on herself
ana MN, to dine on the joint warmed
| over II there was even Joint at all?
ne must be g. person both without
calculation and without heart-with.
out calculation certainly to foresee the
want and work and worry to which he
should bring her-without heart, to
De willing to accept such g sacrifice
from her. What happiness could she
expect in life with so selfish a creature
as that? Or, on the other hand. if he
had calculation-if he thought that.
by securing Irene, he was also putting
himself IN the way OF securing por-
lion OF her Uncle's money-well. then,
he was warned in time. Not a dollar,
under such circumstances. would he
give to Irene; the whole fortune would
be applied to institutional charities:
this was irremovable, and he might
as well understand it now as any time.
tie did understand it perfectly. "You
cant think all that your aunt has
sald," he asked eagerly, "can make
any difference?"
"Oh, no." sighed Irene, ooh, no;
none incur love-
''ln what them" he demanded, his
splendid grey eyes glittering like q
young eagles. "Does happiness de-
pend on velvet carpets and gilt chairs
and Dresden china figures? Upon a
course OF game or sweetmeats, or the
right wines? Upon Paris hats and
dresses?"
Ion, no, no." sighed Irene again.
"Why do you speak so?"
II am sorry to speak so abruptly,
my darling" he said, returning to her
side. But if your happiness lies in
none OF these things, then our life to-
gether can be blessed enough. Ny SAL
ary will provide a home, and its SIM.
"Would be dear to mel" cried Irene.
ooh, it's not that! It's none of these
things! But she has been so good to
me, always so sweet and kind and
anxious for my happiness, as every
one sees, and she needs me so-and I
can not find it in my heart to pain
her"
"But you can pain mel" he cried
starting to his feet again. 1T amounts
to this, then. that you love her more
than me!''
"Oh. no, no." cried Irene again,
breaking down in sobs. "rhat is i'm.
possible! And I can't see-I don't
teel-1 don't know what to do!''
She, too, it was plain, shared the
general worship and absorption. "She
has cast her eyes upon you, the basil
lisk!" exclaimed Gervais. And so
things drifted on, apparently remain
ing much as before. But there are al
ways currents underneath the tide.
My emlnence as portrait painter,
not to put too fine a point on it, al
lowed me to work unouestioned, and
at my own time. And as Mrs. Ad-
Rance knew my idea concerning the
necessity of studying the charac.
ter of my sitter, she revealed
herself on one occasion after this
semi'confdential fashion. Thus I
did not feel called upon to show her
my sketches for her picture, nor the
outlines of Irene that had made fur.
lively, finding 1t not easy to obtain
| the precise transparency Of tint be-
sides which the sea-shelrs pink was
opaque; my pencil fascinated, too.
with the exquisite droop OF eye and
lip where all melancholy seemed to
linger.
But while I was still pursuing my
studies, Mrs. Adriance was involving
new opportunities for them.
| 1T ia really out of the question, "
she said, ito allow things to 20 on
this way any longer Irene. There is
| no state much worse than u prolong.
ed engagement; it would un settle the
mind of a college faculty. One can
attend to no duties properly, with all
ones interest elsewhere. It keeps one
in a condition OF bristlinc electricity.
"You are absorbed and abstracted
III Gervais now, and I feel it. We all
feelit. One must bring the matter to an
end, either by marriage or by dismiss
al. And in this case, Irene, am sure
your good sense will direct you as to
the proper course"
"Oh!" cried Irene, all the pink flush
mounting and deepening and then dy.
ing away in deadly pallor. "You can't
mean"
Eyes, assuredly," said Mrs. Adri.
ance, calmly opening and shutting her
great fan of crimson ostrich feathers.
II mean that your w,sest way is to
tell Gervais to cease to see you OF
care for YOU"
"As if-as if he could" cried Irene,
in burst of passion which was like a
revelation.
my dear! Such vehemencel could
not believe you capable of the shock
ing taste of it. Surely it is best that
Gervais should make the effort. You
who are usually so self.forgetful-it
surprises me that you should fail to
see the injury you are doing Gervais
by the continuance of this hopeless
affair. He is simply wasting his youth
and all his young manhood and
the happiness he might secure else
where by marrying O young woman
in his own station OF life.'
"His own station?" cried Irene,
trembling like an aspen leaf. lis that
not the same as ours?"
"Oblige me, Irene. by not repeating
my words. It strikes mo that there
is difference between your uncle 8
position, with his rank and influence
and social weight-to say nothing
of myself-and that OF a penni-
less clerk on salary! It
might strike another so. There is a
difference. II Gervais married a per-
son accustomed to no more than he
could give he would have q chance for
! happiness, a reason for saving his
salary, a home that would interest
him and OCCUPY him, and prevent his