Pittsburg dispatch. [volume] (Pittsburg [Pa.]) 1880-1923, 1890-07-20

tags of vapor were intertwisting with each
other or melting away into nothingness. Those
two clouds were not of the usual cloud form
at all-they were rather like two enormous
torpedoes lying horizontally one above the
other; and there was a somber deadness OF
hue about them that looked ominous. Sud-
denly, as she was thus vaguely regarding
those long purple swathes, there ran across
them - springipg vertically upward - a
quivering line of yellow fame-so thin it
was, it appeared like thread of golden
wire-and when that had vanished, there
was a second or two of silence, followed by a
Gull, low, rumbling noise that seemed to
come from a considerable distance. She
was not much alarmed. There were no
signs of terrific thunderstorm; probably
few more flashes would serve to loosen and
disperse those lowering clouds, and allow
| the day to clear.
came up and addressed Mr.. Bethune-wlth
a certain courteous hesitation, and yet in
frank and ingenious tones.
81 beg your pardon, SIR" said he, "but
may claim the privilege of a neighbor to
| offer YOU this umbrella-I'm afraid there's a
shower coming-and the young lady may
get wet"
1t was pleasant voice; George Bethune
looked up wefl-disposedto ward the stranger,
whoever he might be. And the face of the
young man was also prepossessing; it was
something more than handsome; it was in
| telligent and refined; and the honest and
straightforward eyes had a certain conf
dence in them, as if they were not used to
having their friendly advances repulsed.
81 thank you-I thank you," said
| George Bethune, with much dignity. 81
had not observed. But you will want the
umbrella for yourself-we can get shelter
under one of the trees"
"Wouid that be wise, sir, in a thunder
storm?" said the young man. "Oh, no, let
me give you the umbrella. 1 don't mind q
shower-and it won't be more than that,
fancy"
George Bethune accepted the profered
courtesy.
Here, Maisrie; since this young gentle
man is so kind, you'd better be prepared.
A neighbor, did you say, sir?" he con-
tinued
ga very near neighbor," answered the
young man, with a smile, and he seated
himself by the side of Mr.. Bethune without
more ado. 81 have often thought of speak
ing to you and asking to be allowed to make
your acquaintance; for you seem to have
very few visitors-you will pardon my Gu
riosity-while have none at al"
"Oh, really, really" the old man said,
somewhat vaguely; perhaps he was wonder
ing how so faultlessly-attired young gen.
tleman (his patent-leather boots, for ex-
ample. were of the most approved pattern)
should have chosen lodgings in SO humble
a thoroughfare.
'It is a very quiet little corner, is it not?"
the young man said-almost as if answer
ing that unspoken question. "That is why
it suits me so well; can get on with my
books without interruption. The street is
IL
grinders while to waste time in it.
emusic is sad thing for interrupting
study; know that" the old gentleman OBJ
served. "By the way, I hope we do not
disturb you-my granddaughter plays the
violin sometimes"
81 could listen to that kind of music all
day long" was the response. 81 never
heard such violin playing-most beautiful
most beautifulP'
"Then you are not far away from us?"
Fright opposite, - was the straightforward
answer.
George Bethune glanced at the young
was thinking of the pale music-mstress-
the solitary widow of his Imagination.
"And you-you also play little in the
evenings sometimes?"
81 hope you don't think it rude, sir, the
young man said, humbly. 81 thought it
permissible, as between neighbors."
"Oh, they were pretty little concerts"
said George Bethune, good-naturedfy-
"very pretty little concerts. 1 don't know
why they were stopped. suppose Maisrie
had some fancy about them-my grand
daughter Maisrie"-
It was kind of introduction. The Young |
man, modestly yelling the quick fash of de- |
light in his eyes at this unexpected happi- |
ness, respectfully bowed. Maisrie, with her |
beautiful pale face sufused with unusual |
color. made some brief inclination also; then |
she seemed to retire again from this CONVEX |
sation-though she could not but over
hear.
"My name is Harris" the young man
said, as though these condolences were all as
a matter OF course between neighbors. "It |
isn't very distinguished name, but one has
to take what is given one. 1t is not OF much |
consequence"
81 am not so sure about that" the older
man rejoined somewhat sententiously, ga
good name is good thing; 1t is an honor
not to be purchased. 1t may be the only
one of your possessions remaining to you;
but OF that they cannot rob you"
"Oh, OF course, of course" Vim Harris
said quickly, for he perceived the mistake
he had made. can old historic name is
certainly something to be proud of. By the
way, slIs ulO YOUR IdmllH originally lake
their name from Bethon on the Sarthe or
from Bethune in the Department of Calais?"
''Bethune-Bethune," said the old man,
who appeared to bepleased by this question,
which spoke of previous inquiries; and then
he added, with a lofty air: "The Due de
Sully, Marquis de Rosny. Sovereign Prince
of Enrichemont and,Bois- bel, Grand Master
of the Artillery and Marshal of France,
was Maximllien de Bethune-Maximilien
de Bethune."
"Oh, really" said the young man, who
seemed so much impressed.
"The name," continued old George
Bethune in the same oracular vein, twas
often spelt Beaton and Beton-especially in
Scotland-as everybody knows. Whether
james, Archbishop of Glasgow, and his
nephew David, Archbishop OF st. Andrews,
had any immediate relationship with France
beyond that David was consecrated
Bishop of Mirepoix when he was negotIat-
ing the marriage of james V. at the French
Court-I cannot at the moment precisely
say; but of this there can be no doubt, that
from Bethune in the North came the origin
al territorial designation of the family, not
from Bethon in the West. Maximilien de
in the Department of the
Straits of Calais"
"oh, really" the young man said again,
quite humbly.
Now by this time it had become manifest
that there was to be no thunderstorm at ALL
There had been few more of those, quiver-
ing strokes of yellow fire (that dwelt longer
On the retina than in the clouds accom-
panied by some distant mutterings and rum
blings, and at enc point it seemed as if the