The Universalist. [volume] (Chicago [Ill.]) 1884-1897, 1888-04-28

dead man before 6uccor could arrive.
The medical evidence showed that he
was the victim of heart disease, to which
the excitement of the day and the hour
had administered a fatal impetus. So
grevious shock would abundantly &C.
count for the gravity which seems q
marked feature of Mrs. Bristowe's char
acter. Not that she is gloomy; her age
forbids that, for she is Young still-not
five and twenty, Mre. Hildreth says-and
youth has recuperate power which will
struggle back to the sunshine, however
crushed by sorrow. Yet there is serious
ness in her mirth. at least, think so,
and it suits we'll with her stately beauty.
The current of an emotion which rec
ognize as love hurries me on. Will Mrs.
Bristowe consent to be my wife l pro-
pose to put the question to the test this
very evening. 1t may be that shall end
the present narrative with Msrgaret's re-
ply.
| "Now for my third reverie picture
The scene is metropolitan railway sta
ton. The place is thronged with very
various sorts and conditions OF men, for
detachments of the brave fellows who
marched to relieve Gordon-snd, alas
] marched in vain-are arriving and the
London crowd is there to welcome them.
I am ten minutes early for the train I
wish to catch and the platform departure
GEMS almost deserted by comparison with
| the stir and hustle elsewhere. stand idly
by and watch body of the bronze he.
roes file past on the opposite side of the
narrow cutting. Those round me set up
cheer, in which hesitate to join, for
do not belong to those who are the SUBJ
iect of the ovation ? Their dangers and
privations I have shared. 1 am not quite
alone in my silence. There is at my left
hand an old man who stands rigid as a
statue, but with eyes blazing with a
strange, fiery eagerness as the men gather
into military order and tramp away
through the station gates In the track of
their earlier comrades, and hanging upon
his arm is woman in black, thickly
| yelled.
"Perhaps it was mistake, and it was
| some one like John at little distance
but not John himself" says the father
as instantly elect to believe him. The
tones have in them such depth OF sad
ness and vain regret that unconsciously
fall to studying the speakers face. 1t is
a striking and noble one, though there
are signs that both pride and passion
have done work thereupon with their
ruthless craving tools. AS watch there
comes to me the conviction that these lin
cam ents are not wholly strange; yet am
bafied to discover any basis for the cur
ious fancy of familiarity.
His companion murmurs something
which the shrek of whistle causes me
to lose (as if had the remotest right to
play the eavesdropper)
"Ah, John. Can he not trust me to
forgive him everything ?" the old man
answers.
'TThis is your train, sir. Any luggageY
I saunter leisurely off in the rear of
the porter have tipped, and the episode
scarce worthy of such designation
is at an erd. But that fragment of con-
versation comes back at this hour as il it
were even now ringing in my ears, and I
am trying to account for the enduring
nature of these recollections as I weave
them together.
I paused at the preceding paragraph
three hours ago, and took my hat and
overcoat-for it is stormy highland
went to Mostyn, as the Hildreth home is
called. Mrs Bristowe's visit draws to
close. She had father staying with
friends in southern cathedral city, and
she has but fulfilled an old promise by
thus invading the fen country. Parent
and daughter return simultaneously, or
as nearly as they can contrive it, to their
London residence. Further delay on
my part might have been disastrous. By
which hint have perhaps revealed that
I do not now write as disappointed
man. Yet there was hazard and uncer-
tainty.
Mrs. Hildreth had more than suspic-
ion of my errand, and contrived, with
womanly dexterity, to leave Margaret
and me to a tete-a-tete, service for
which shall ever owe my partners wife
a debt of gratitude. Hildreth was at
tending old Sir Lucas Gannithorn at
Gamble Manor for govt. had counted
on this; though he had been at home,
my friend and colleague, make no
doubt, would have caught peculiar
twinkle in his wife's eyes-or have prac-
ticed the art of divination for himself
and have remembered neglected call.
am not going to enter into details.
Let it suffice that L offered my hand to
Mrs. Bristowe-my heart was hers al
ready-and was refused. But she ad-
mitted that to some extent she recipro
Gated my feelings of regard and affection;
whereupon 1 plucked up courage to in.
quire into the reasons of her decision.
During the course of the conversation
that ensued between us it was borne in
upon me more and more that Margaret
was the girl who had suffered such
crushing discontinue in the jewelers.
shop at Renford. 1 was determined in
some way to have this question resolved
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