St. Paul daily globe. [volume] (Saint Paul, Minn.) 1884-1896, 1890-02-24
CHAPTER III.
THE GILMAN ArLAsT.-

=
knew that the awful moment had act
ually arrived. Kitty had come to tell
him that she wanted to marry Lindsay.
She came in very slowly, with some
thing shy and reluctant about her every
movement.
She shut the door with elaborate care,
keeping her face turned from him as
long as she possibly could.
When she could no longer pretend 10
be in doubt as to the security of the
fastening, she came towards him very
slowly, with her pretty head bent down,
evidently conscious of the gaze-amoSt
herrified-with which he was regarding
her, growing pinker and pinker with
| every moment.
She came right up to him, and going
behind his chair, she began to play with
his hair. He could feel that the little
| fingers were shaking.
He did not speak, because he had no
notion what to say to her, and there was
momemnt'S silence.
| Then very little voice said:
| "Jack.'
Eyes, Kitty" he responded with
sinking heart.
Jack, dear"
| "Well, Kitty"
| A long pause.
"Pve got something to tell YOU"
l auOlilCI pause.
sits about-it's about-Mr. Lindsay
| 81 know you will be reasonable.
| dearr' How he knew it is mystery
certainly not by experience. Ppm
| quite sure you will believe that your old
brother would not give you pain for the
world, if he could help it: but-but in
short--you see" Then with sud-
den desperation, "Kltty, it's quite i'm
| possible" he said.
| Kitty lifted her head with start that
nearly sent her altogether off his knee,
| and stared at him as if she thought he
had suddenly taken leave of his senses.
| "JackP' she gasped. 'Impossiblei
Jack, what do you mean? WhyP'
| Her voice had become SO very tiny
| that the last word was hardly audible,
| and, turning his head that he might
| more easily hear her, he caught
| glimpse of a sweet little face all flushed
and quivering, and pair of blue eyes
| very suspiciously bright.
| The next moment the face was
pressed down on the top of his head;
and. If ever man was overwhelmed
| with trouble and perpleXity of spirit,
| John Faulkner, as he felt something
moistening his hair, was that unhappy
| man.
"You-you don't-you don't want to
| marry him, Of-Of sOurse?" he sug-
| gested. with desperate and entirely
| unsuccessful attempt at a confident,
matter,of-fact tone of voice. How de-
| veutly he wished she would say that she
didn't, and how vain and futile he left
his words to be even as he spoke themi
| III knew you'd be surprised" mur-
INJURED the small, tremulouS voice to the
| top of his head. $50 am I-dreadfully.
| But-yes, please, Jack. !"
| Then John Faulkner knew that there
| was no escape for him, that he must I'M
mediately nerve himself for the fray.
He blew his nose with much ceremony,
and opened the proceedings somewhat
falteringly.
''Kitty. my DEAR" he said, ''let US
talk about this"
| He drew her round on to his knee,
| still with her face hidden, and went on:
! Like most tender-hearted men, when
they find themselves obliged to inflict
pain, John Faulkner tried to take
refuge in passion.
''Kitty. thought you were more SEN
| sible.' he exclaimed, with much wrath.
| "Why? Because the whole thing is
utterly prepOsterous and absurd. In
| the first place he Is mere boy, not old
| enough to know his own mind: in the
second, he is not all the kind of a
| young man should like to see you
| marry; and, in the third, he is entirely
dependent on his brother. And how
am to answer for it to Andrew Lind
say if this affair does the boy perma-
| nent harm is more than l can say.
| Kitty, Pm ashamed of your'
| During this harangue, which poor
| John Faulkner had delivered, with his
eyes fixed on anything rather tran
| Kitty, but with an energy and fire which
| were very much to his credit, Kitty had
slipped from his knee.
She was now standing before him,
! looking straight in his averted face;
| and if he had glanced at her he would
| have been slightly astoniShed. The look
| of startled CONSERVATION with which she
had received his first words had grad
ually changed to look of perpleXity,
which, in its turn. had given way to an
lndescribable expression in which
| little shame and a great deal Of mis-
| chief, amusement and relief were mex
tricably mixed.
He did not look at her, however; In
| fact, he was inwardly congratulating
| himself on his firmneSS In not doing so;
and, when he came to the end of his
| oratorial resources. she said, in the lit
tie pitiful voice that went to his very
| heart, and with a little twist of heT
| mouth, which, unfortunately he did not
| see.
''Really, Jack?'
ayes, Kitty, really"
II mustn't marry Mr.. Lindsay"
Certainly not"
"It'S quite impOSslble?"
Its quite impossible, Kitty"
A pause. He dared not trust himself
| to look at her, and she watched him for
| minute or two, with the mischief in
her face gaining ground with every sec
| ond that passed.
very WE'LL" she said at last, in a
| very Subdued and Shaky voice, and with
| little sob. VERY well, Jack; then.
! perhaps, you'll tell him"-sob-"te
him yourself, lr'-sob-'send him to
| you now"
John Faulkner could hardly believe
| his senses.
Was it possibleP
She had accepted his decision with
out the falntest protestant had actually
| gone there and then to send the victim
| to him. He could hear his stepin the hall
even then. Well, it would be compare
lively easy to deal with him. How much
there was in good, sound reasoning,
after all.
'Now, Norman, my boy"
But there John Faulkner stopped ab-
ruptly. 1t was not Norman. Was he
| asleep and dreaming? Andrew Lind
say-Andrew was coming towards him
with face and manner so utterly un-
| like himself that John Faulkner could
hardly believe the evidence of his own
eyes-and they were staring pretty
hard, too.
''Sne will say nothing but that you
require to see me-" Andrew Lindsay
said, eagerly; yes, eagerly and abso-
| lutely rapidly. ''She insisted on speak
! ing to you herself. John, my dear old
friend. will you trust her to me?"
John Faulkner sat in his chair, abso-
| lutely petrified with astonishmert. For
| the moment not only his senses, but his
| very voice, seemed to have deserted
| him,
At last he managed to gasp out, with
| feeble iIhbecility not to be described: