The Sunday morning news. [volume] (Jersey City [N.J.]) 1886-1891, 1890-08-31
CHAPTER II.
a RED LETTER DAY.

CHAPTER IL.
a RED LETTER DAY.
A month flew quickly by. Harold
Darlington had almost bEome one Of
the family at HiIlcote, as Mrs. Trevyl-
ian's pretty cottage was called.
The widow liked him, for he was quiet,
gentlemanly and unassuming, and gave
little trouble.
Nothing would have induced her to
break in on the privacy of her home by
taking ledger or, rather, boarder-but
that she was, at the time of Harold's ap-
pearance in Trevarroclk, in sore need OF
money. She had but hundred year,
and though, with rigid economy, she
always put by a tiny sum each year, her
small hoard had been lately quite con-
su1ned, and, worse, she was in debt.
Madge--her darling, the apple of her
eye-had been severely i'll with lung
attack the year before, and Mrs. Trevyl-
ian's slender purse was drained.
She had an overwhelming horror Of
debt, and day and night had worn her
self to a shadow, thinking how the doc
tor was to be paid--and the wine mer-
chants bill, for the generous port he had
prescribed
And now, as a solution to the diff
Guilty, Harold Darlington had come. IT
seemed almost like an answer to her
prayer, He had insisted, in the most
delicate manner, in paying his months
board in advance, and had doubled the
very moderate terms Mrs. Trevylian had
asked.
Indeed you must let me" he said ear
nestly, in answer to her circumstances.
Remember, too can be proud The
change and rest in this lovely place are
worth any money to me; and am not
content to enjoy them at less than their
value"
But was there no other reason? All,
Harold Darlington, beware! Life is
short; but art is long, says the proverb.
Sketch book and colors had been laid
aside. He spent most of his time stroll
ing on the sands with the girls; helping
Madge garden, or Olive attend to her
numerous flock of poultry An idyllic,
halcyon existence. But was it the best,
the most wholesome for him? His heart
told him-no.
He, Harold Darlington, who had been
courted, caressed by fortune, who might
have chosen his wife from among the
noblest and most beautiful women in
England, was for the first time in his
ife-in love.
Madge Trevylian's soft, innocent love-
illness, her flower like young face, with
its timid, questioning expression and
clear truthful eyes, had won upon him as
the wiles of many society Gree had
utterly failed to do. And not this alone.
Her gentle goodness and unselfshness,
and, above all, perfect natural freshness,
had for him charm and fascination I'M
speakable
With her cotisin Olive it was differ
emit. True, he admired her still; but
with growing intimacy he felt that the
somber depths of her great dark eyes,
black and soft as velvet, and the some
what set lines of her chiseled lips, con-
cealed things little dreamed of by those
about her.
She reminded him of some beautiful,
fierce wild animal-a panther or tigress
that had been from birth tanned, and
might remain SO, unless any occasion
should arise to call forth its natural in
stincts.
THAT girl has latent powers, of which
she is herself ignorant; and intense
capacity for love or hatred should be
sorry to make an enemy of her." Harold
thought one day, as he watched her. I'M
observed.
Mrs Trevylian had spoken sharply to
her about something. Olive did not re-
ply, but turned hastily away. her face
pale and lips set.
What a splendid actress she would
make, especially for tragic parts" Then
an odd smile played round his mouth.
Il mean an artists model. A Jael or a
Judith. must ask her to sit to me"
But could he but have looked for a
moment into Olive st. Maur's heart, bold
man as he was, he would have hesitated
before he told Mrs. Trevylian, as he did
the day following, that he had deter
mined to stay for another month at
Treyarrock.