Pittsburg dispatch. [volume] (Pittsburg [Pa.]) 1880-1923, 1890-08-31

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the world to find grandfather and grand.
daughter separated.
oh, yes, yes" the old man said. "Shs
has some household matters to attend to-
dress-making, I think. Poor lass, she hai
to be economical; indeed, think she car.
ries il to an extreme; but it's no use argu.
ing with Maisrie; I let her have her own
way"
81 wanted to speak to you-about her,
| Vincent said, and he turned and walked
with the old man across the street into Hyde
Park. 81 have often wished to speak to
you-and-and, of course, there was no
chance when she herself was present"
He hesitated, casting about for begin
ming; then he pulled himself together, and
boldly flung himself into it.
II hope you won't take 1t for imperti-
nenee," said he. 81 don't mean it that way
very different from that. But you your
self, sir, you may remember, you spoke to
me about Maisrie when we were down at
Henley together-about what her future
might be, if anything happened to you-and
you seemed concerned. Well, it is easy to
understand how you should be troubled-it
is terrible to think Of young girl like that
so sensitive, ,too-being alone in the world,
and not over well provided for, as you have
limited to me. 1t would be so strange and
unusual position for young girl to be in
without relations-without friends-and
having no one to advise her or protect her
in any way. or course you will say it is
none of my business"
"But you would like to have it made
your business" said old George Bethune,
with bland and good-natured. frankness
that considerably astounded his stammerinp
companion. "My dear young friend,
know perfectly what you would say. Do
you think have been blind to the friendly
and even affectionate regsrd you have
shown toward my granddaughter all this
while, or to the pleasure she has enjoyed in
having you take part in our small amuse-
ments? No, / have not been blind. I have
looked on and approved. 1t has been an
added interest to our lives; between You
and her have observed the natural sym.
pathy of similar age; and have been glad
to see her enjoying the society of one nearer
her own years. But now-now, if I guess
Alright, yon wish for some more definite tie"
would it not be better?" the young man
said, breathlessly. eff there were some
clear understanding, would not great deal
of the uncertainty with regard to the future
be removed? You see, Mr.. Bethune, I
haven't spoken q word to Msisrie-not
word. have been afraid. Perhaps have
been mistaken in imagining that she might
in time-in time-be inclined to listen to
me-"
He stopped; then he proceeded more slow
ly-and it might have been noticed that his
cheek was little paler than usual. "Yes,
it may be as You say. Perhaps it is only
that she likes the compsnionship of one Of
her own age. That is natural. And then
she is very kind and generous; may have
been mistaken in thinking there was possi-
billty of something more"
He was silent now and abstracted; as he
walked on he saw nothing of what was
around him.
"Come, come, my friendP' George Bethune
exclaimed, with much benignity. "Do not
vex yourself with useless speculations; you
are looking too far ahead; you and she are
both too young to burden yourselves with
grave responsibilities. A boyish and girlish
attachment is a very pretty and engaging
thing; but it must not be taken too seri-
ously-"
And here for q second flash Of resent
ment fred through Vincent's heart. Was
it we'll of this old man to speak SO patron
izingly of Maisrie as but q child, when it
was he himself who had thrust upon her
more than the responsibilities and an1ieties
Of grown woman?
"Take things as they arei Do you con-
slider that yoI have much cause to complain,
either the one or the other of you?" old
George Bethune resumed, in still lighter
strain. "You have youth and strength,
good health and a constant interest in the
life going on around you; is not that suffi-
cient? Why, here am I, nearing my three
score years and ten, and every morning
that awake 1 know that there lies before
me another beautiful, interesting, satisfac-
kor do hat dota 90
the very utmost of my power. Look at
those elm-trees-at the water down there
at the moving clouds; isn't it wonderful to
think that in the Unreasonable life of the
world this should happen to be the one mo-
ment when these things are made visible to |
you?'
Vincent perceived in kind o! way what |
the old man meant; but he did not UNDER |
stand why this should make him less con- |
cerned about Maisrie's position or less wist- !
fully covetous OF winning her tender re-
gard.
''Well, well," said old George Bethune,
"perhaps it is but natural that youth should |
be impatient and eager to anticipate; while
old age may well be content with such small
and placid comforts and enjoyments as may
be met with. should haYe thought there
was not much to complain of in our present
manner of life-if you will allow me to in
clude you in our tiny microcosm. It is not
exciting; it is simple, and wholesome; and
hope not altogether base and gross. And
rs regards Maisrie, surely you and she have
enough of each others society even as
matters stand. Let well alone, my young
friend; let well alone; that is my advice to
you. And may say there are especial and
important reasons why i should not wish
1er to be bound by any pledge. You know
hat do not care to waste much thought on
what may lie ahead OF us; but still, at the
iame time, there might at any moment
happen certain things which would make
great difference in MaIsrie's circumstances.
Vincent had been listening in kind of
lbsent and hopeless way; but these few words
aroused his attention; perhaps this
vas the real reason why the old man wished
Maisrie to remain free?
"a great and marvellous change indeed"
,e continued. with some increase Of dignity
n his manner and in his mode of speech.
"A change which wenld affect me also,
hough that would be of little avail now.
But as regards my granddaughter, she
night be called upon to. fill position very
lifferent from that she occupies at present;
md should not wish her to be hampered
" anything pertaining to her former man
Ter of life. Not that she would ever prove
orgelful of past kindness, that is not in her
Iature, but in these new circumstances she
night fndherself confronted by other duties.
enough said, / hope, on that point. And
rell I know" he added, with something of
grand air, ''that in whatever sphere
daisrie Betbune may be placed, she will act
Toythily of her name and of the obligations
t entails"
BE suddenly paused There was poorly
\ L IL 1 4
aby, while with the other hand she halt
ragged along a small bov of 3 or 6. She