The Democratic advocate. [volume] (Westminster, Md.) 1865-1972, 1889-09-21

ton my most saw me, LOT he enleIeu Ill
studio at the very moment, and having a
( certained that | was unhurt seemed to d
rive considerable amusement from the inc
t dent
, | did not rush at the empty frame agai
nor did l call up any vision in it. [ though
it could not be a healthy condition Of min
| had been cultivating. was, moreove
of opinion that if | could see my shepherd
ess so plainly ON one occasion where sh
could not be it might be that my imagina
ton had but played similar part in tn
pine wood.
However, dream or no dream, it ha
taken such possession Of me that the loss q
it gave me real pain. | grew gloomy an
looked out of health My host piled m
with champagne and begged me not t
work so hard. | assured him | was well
But for days l lost my appetite and worke'
alphabetically, never raising my eyes to lool
toward the empty frame. | smoked innu
merable cigarettes Once | abstractedl,
inserted the lighted end of my cigarette il
my mouth-a circumstance calculated t.
bring even love sick swain momentarily
to his senses. In the start gave ehaneeC
10 glance down the gallery Good heavens
there was face in that frame again.
Involuntarily | touched my burned lip'
with my finger-tips and waited my usua
salute My eyes Were watery from the
effect of the sudden burn. | passed my
hand across them and then saw clearly; but
what did see and with what horror and
confusion | saw it no words can tell. Il
was not the face of my phantom shepherd
ess that occupied the frame this time, but
/ that of Miss Heath-MiSs Heath with a
flushed and indignant countenance In a
moment the truth dawned upon me. This
was Miss Heath in the flesh; the frame was
an aperture leading into an ante-ehamber
! Why had not thought of this before
I What fool | had been and what scrape
my folly had brought me into must at
once follow Miss Heath and render my
abjeet apologies and an explanation which
knew no sane person could be expected
to believe 1t was not an cnviable position.
| made my way the ante chamber, and
there. instead Of Miss Heath, | found
yes, incredible as it may appear found
my Dresden shcpherdess smothering her
laughter in a little lace handkerchief. At
sight of my bewilderment she only laughed
the more. spoke no word; | stood and
looked at her stupidity enough, | dare say.
"You will prettily catch it, said the
saucv little lady at length when she had
Il L., e u ..
speak. My aunt has gone to tell papa,
and she broke into another peal of childish
laughter.
please don't laugh, said reprovingly.
sIt i no laughing matter for me, | can tell
you. Il Is all your fault, too, and you ought
to help me out. Aud do explain this mys-
terry. You spoke of your aunt and your
papa Are you, then, Miss Heath 2
"Yes; that Is, | am Margaret Heath and
my aunt is Miss Heath But how can it
be my fault that You were rude to my
aunt p
She spoke just as naturally as if she had
always known me.
IL will let you know how il is your fault, -
said |, quite forgetting that had no right
TO be talking 10 her so, but | was 50 happy
to be near her again. But first tell me
where and wherefore they have hidden you
from me all this time,
They were afrlid-'and my little lady
broke of and looked at me with that whim-
steal expression that comes Of intense
amusement combined with shyness
What were they afraid Of, Madge p
they call you Madge, don't they They
ought, you know.
They do. How did you find out 2
Never mind that; tell me what they
we're afraid Of.
She still smiled aud hesitated
Tell me, Madge-do, or | shall guess.
II think | will tell you, said Madge,
because it will tease Aunt Isabel. They
we're afraid you would-you would-want
to marry me.
The last words came with rush, and
Madre bounded away when she uttered
them. | stepped in front and barred her
passage. ~Madse, haven't told you what
YOU asked me vet. II had forgotten all
about Aunt Isabels wrath and her present
errand.
What should you think if really did
want to marry your
@Oh. they would be so cross, cried
Madge: they would say you wanted the
pictures, and was a way to get them.
but what would you say, Madge? ?
Their opinion is of no consequence; and as
to the pictures, | wouldn't have them as
gift.
| had advanced so far as TO touch
Madge's hand, she had drawn it away, but
she had not rcseuted it. She was about to
say something, when in walked her father
and aunt
1t was an awful moment, | looked
guiltily from one TO the other. Mr..
Heath's face wore an expression of anger,
such as | had never seen on it before.
Miss Isabel looked at me reproachfully.
Was ever man in such position? | had
thrown kisses to the aunt; | was nova
few minutes after-discovered iu the act Of
making love to the niece. 1t was on Madge
that the wrathful father bent his gaze, If
he so looked at her what might | expect :?
uaI-dItt- Ht utEsth cbSAhi1' 4 NVuAhN
not have had this happen for hundred
pounds" =.
Indeed, sir, | interrupted, sit was all
my fault. | alone am to blame.
Then, Mr. Compton, think you ought
to be ashamed to own it, answered the
irate gentleman.
begged him to allow me to explain,
and while | was doing so | observed Miss
Isabel Heath motioning me to be silent.
What could she mean
'sNo explanation can give me back my
pictures, said Mr. Heath, hotly. 'If you
saw the goats, why, in the name of human
ity, didn't you drive them out 2
Pictures Goats Then it was not a
question of Madge and me and the spinster
aunt at all.
aThose goats, went on the father of my
divinity, "have butted holes in two of my
pictures, which were by i'll chance within
their reach
II will put them right, said !, reassur-
ingly. lie seemed Modified, for his next
words were uttered without anger.
"But the goats ought to go away he
said. Tears came into Madge's eyes; he
saw them and added with smile Don't
cry, Madge; you may keep them, if only
YOU won't let them come into the house. v
He then turned to me with his old gra-