Pittsburg dispatch. [volume] (Pittsburg [Pa.]) 1880-1923, 1890-10-12

be going their several ways home. he made
bold stroke.
"Come, Mr.. Bethune," said he % they
were successfully passing through the turn
stile. "I want you and Miss Bsthuns 70 take
pity Oh poor solitary bachelor, and come
along and have bit Of lunch with me at
the Old Ship. It will be little change for
you, won't itf-and We can have . private
room II you prefer that"
The old gentleman seemed inclined 70
close with this offer; but he glanced toward
Msisrie for her scquiesoence first.
"Oh, thank you, Mr.. Glover" said she.
at our lodgings; and we must not disapPoint
our landlady. Some other time, perhaps,
thank youi Good morningp'
Then the moment he was gone, she turned
to her companion.
Vincent, have you any engagement?
No? Then, will you be very courageous
aud come with us and take your chanceI
can promise you a biscuit at least"
"And I'm sure don't want anything
more" said he, most gratefully; for surely
she was trying her best to show him that
she distinguished between old and new
friends.
And then again, when they reached the
rooms, and when the three of them were
seated at table, she waited upon him with
gentle care and as>iduity that were almost
embarrassing. lie wished the wretched
things at the bottom of the sea: why should
commonplace food and drink interfere with
his answering Maisrie's eyes, or thinking OF
her overwhelming kindness? As for old
George Bethune, the sharp air and the SUM-
light had given him an admirable appetite;
and he allowed the young people to amuse
themselves with little courtesies and atten-
tions, and protests just as they pleased.
Cheese and celery were solid and substsn-
tial things: he had no concern about
drooping eyelash, or some pretty. persuasive
turn of speech. '.
And yet he was not unfriendly towards
the young man.
Wouldn't you like to go to the theater
this evening, Maisrie?' asked Vincent. "It
is the 'Squire's Daughter know you've
seen it already; but 1 could 60 a dozen
times-20 times-the music is SO delightful.
And the travelling company is said to be
quite as good as the London one; Miss Kate
Burgoyne has changed into it, you know,
and shouldn't wonder if she sung all the
better because of the e3, 900 damages that
Sir Percival Miles has had to pay her.
Shall go along and see if can get "a box?"
What do you say. grandfather" the
girl asked.
"Oh, yes-very well, very WELL" said he,
in his lofty way. ga little idlenes; more or
less is not of much account. But we must
begin to work soon, Maisrie; fresh air and
sunlight are all very we'll; but we must be-
gin to Worthwhile the day is with US,
though luckily one has not to say to you as
yet-jam te premet nox, fabuleaue Names
ct domus exilis Plutonia."
''Then if We 60 to the theater," said
Maisrie, "Vincent must come in here for a
~l.,la
he will have smoke together; and it will be
quite like old times. And Vincent looked
at her as much as to say, sMaisrie, don't
make me too ashamed. haven't you forgiven
me yet for that foolish phrase?'
The afternoon passed quickly enough; to
Vincent every moment was golden. Then
in the evening they went to the theater; and
the young people were abundantly charmed
with the gay costumes, the pretty music.
When they reached their lodgings the
servant girl, who opened the door to them,
paused TOR second and looked up and down
the street.
"Yes, sir, there be is" said she.
"Who?" George Bethune demanded
ga man who has been asking for you, sir
and said he would wait"
At the same moment there came out of the
gloom a rather shabby-looking person.
"Mr. George Bethune?" he said,
"Yes, that is my name, " the old man
answered, impatiently; probably he sus-
pected.
Something for you, siF," said the
stranger, handing folded piece of paper
and Herewith he left. --a
1t was all the work of q second; and the
next instant they were indoors, and in the
little parlor; but in that brief space of time
a great change had taken place. Indeed,
Maisrie's modification was a piteous thing
to see; it seemed so hard she should have
had to endure this humiliation under the
very eyes of her lover; she would not look
his way at all; she busted herself putting
things on the table; her downcast face was
overwhelmed with confusion and shame,
For surely Vincent would know what that
paper was? The appearance of the man
his hanging about-her grandfather's angry
frown-all pointed plainly enough. And
that it should happen at the end OF this
long and happy-this day of reconcilia-
tion-when she had tried SO assiduously to
be kind to him-wben he had spoken SO
confidently of the future that lay before
theml 1t was il some cruel fate had inter-
posed to say to him: ''Now you see the sur
roundings in which this girl has lived; and
do you still dream of making her your
wife?''
And perhaps old George Bethune noticed
this shame and vexation on the part of his
granddaughter, and may have wished to
divert attention from it; at all events, when
he had brewed his toddy, and Int his pipe,
and drawn his chair toward the fire, he pro-
ceeded to deliver sort of discursive lecture
"a lecture on the happy case of the poor
man. This was no rhythmic chant in praise
of la bonne deesse, la deesse de Ia pauvrete;
but a rambling, shrewd, good-natured, par
adoxical discourse on the Possessions of
John Smith-or rather, what might be the
Possessions of John Smith, if John Smith
had only the wit to reflect.
And so he went ambling on; while Mais-
rie sat silent and abashed; and Vincent,
listening vaguely, thought it was all very
fine to have sanguine and happy-go-lucky
temperament, but that he-that is, the
younger man-would be glad to have this
beautiful and pensive creature of girl re-
moved into altogether different circum-
stances. He knew why she was ashamed
and Unconstitutional. to be sure, he sa id
to himself that the serving of a writ was no
tremendous cataclysm. Such little Incl
dents must necessarily occur in the career
of any one who had such an arrogant dis
dain of pounds and pence. But that Mais-
re should have to suffer humiliation: that
was what touched him to the quick. He
looked at her-at her beautiful and wist ul
eyes, and at the sensitive lines of her profile
aud under-lip; and his heart bled for her.
And all this following upon her outspoken
avowal of that morning seemed to demand
some more definite and immediate action on
his part-when once the quiet of the night
had enabled him to consider his position.
When he rose to leave, he asked them
what they meant to do next day. But Mais-
rie was listless, careless, indisposed. She
har