The Dickinson press. (Dickinson, Stark County, D.T. [i.e. N.D.]) 1883-1927, 1889-10-12
MoonShine and MargQ9ites
By the Author Of Molly Bawn," Etc

By the Author Of "Molly Bavn," Etc
voices near compels him to lift his head
As he does so, he starts, and turns deadly
pale. There, In her clinging white gown,
scarcely less fair than the moonbeams
that riot round her, stands the girl he
loves, freshly plucked marguerite in
her hand, and beside her Sir George
Grande.
Is it ray from her high born kins-
woman, or what is it. that makes her
appear 80 pale? She is plucking the
flower petal by petal, and once again the
old world refrain comes to Ponsonby
across the fragrant sward, borne upon
the wings of the night wind, "She loves
you neutrality-suspicious.
"Ah! cruel fowerl why will it not
stop there?' says Sir George sentimen-
tally.
AT this moment the hand that holds
the flower droops, and the girl, raising
her head, looks calmly and defiantly into
Ponsonby's eyes. There is no surprise
in her glance, no shrinking; it is as if
she had known he was there even before
she looked
Thus for an indetiablo period they
gaze at each other and then lie lowers his
eyes, and, turning. walks slowly away.
THAT was Ponsonby," says Sir George,
screwing his glass into his best eye the
better to discern tho retreating figure.
II know it."
"Ah! you saw him before l did?"
II saw him rs he came"
"Yes" - airily -"you would, you
know; there's such a lot Of him. Modern
Hercules. and all that sort Of thing.
Good fellow, Ponsonby, though. Capital
fellow, don't you think-eh? but trifie
dreary. Looks rs if he has the toothache
just now, don't hc:''
"No. lie don't!" said Miss Disney, an
swering him in his own sweet English,
but with sudden and unexpected
change Of tone-from lively to severe. =.
Very good, then; he don't" replies
Sir George. totally unabashed. Lets
forget him. I've set my heart on hear
ing my fortune told me tonight by you,
and beneath these mystic moonbeams,
and as yet you have only got half way.
Try again"
mo, never again!" cries she passion
ately, crushing the poor flower in her
slender grasp and hinging 1t far from
her. There is such startling vehemence
in both her tone and gesture that Sir
George loses his glass and his self pos
session simultaneously. Before he can
recover either she has run away from
him, and is lost among the shadows that
lie lurking in the secret places of the lau-
rels.
"By Jove! what small tornado!" says
the baronet, staring after her with up
lifted brows. ga good deal Of temper.
no doubt, but all round-charming!"
Panting-hopelessly out of breath
Miss Disney gains her chamber and
locks her door, Whilst running in she
has made up her mind she will not ap-
pear below again tonight. She is tired
yes. yes; she will go to bed. With hur-
ried fingers (as though action is neces-
sary to her in her frame of min6 she
undresscs herself, says her prayers, looks
into her Bible IA very little look to-
night, am afraid>, and finally, finding
herself standing in her dainty night
gown, goes up to Il tall cheval glass in
the corner of the room and gazcs at her
own lovely image therein.
Her cheeks are still flushed by her
run; her lips are red and parted, her
soft eyes full Of defiance that is most
foreign to them.
"At last have shown him / am not
mere baby, to be nodded as he wills,
and thatsa rival is not an actual i'm
possibility" says this silly child to her
self; all tho while her heart is breaking
with suppressed pain, and wild desire
to run to "him" and throw herself into
his arms and confess to him how eagerly
she longs to be friends with him again.
Yet bravely she keeps back tho emo
ton that threatens to overpower her
and, still encouraging vengeful thoughts,
slips into her lavender scented sheets-a
thing as white as they.
~.
But calm sleep and morning bring a
more heavenly frame Of mind. The
extreme nervousness she feels at the
thought Of being obliged to meet him
soon again face to face, and the painful
ly distant greeting accorded to her by
him when they do meet at breakfast
time, both combined, reduce Miss Disney
to a state bordering on tears and peni-
tence.
Yet luncheon and dinner hours arrive
without action of any sort having been
taken, and it is only when the first entree
has gono round (whicl,, though excellent,
has been discovered by her to be utterly
tasteless) that way Of escape occurs to
her.
To tell him in simple English that she
is sorry has long been found to be out of
the question; but there is another very
graceful little plan that suggests itself to
her, and is carried nem. con-, and passes
from thought into resolution.
That little episode last night he will
surely forgive her. He must have felt
she only did it through childish spleen.
She will send him a carefully selected
marguerite that will finish with "she
loves you"
Going to her room directly she gets
out of the dining room, she selects from
among large bunch of flowers upon her
table a giant daisy, and counts it eagerly.
Plucking off those that mar her design,
she leaves it with the desired reading for
the last petal, and then goes slowly down
stairs again. But at the last step her
courage fails her. he has looked so
cold, SO unloving all day, that she dares
not give it to him herself. Even as she
hesitates with this new trouble at her
heart, Katherine Nugent crosses the hall
below her.
In flash it occurs to her that here is
a way out Of her difficulty. "Kathe-
rine!" she calls softly. "Katherine!"
"Well:" says Miss Nugent, pausing.
II want"-hurriedly-"to tell you
something-to ask you to do me great
favor. You are his cousin and my
friend, are you not? And-and I must
speak to somebody: and auntie is so i'm
possible"
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