Waterbury evening Democrat., 1890-07-16
THE ATHELSTONS;
VICTOR AND vANoUIsEED.
BY MARY CECIL HAY.

Jessie said, quite coldly. "He, too, had pale and delicate features high bred. as people used to call them-and he had those grave, gray eyes, which look intensely dark, as Magdalens do. But, however handsome ~Or high-born the Athelstons Are-and they are both beyond all doubt-it is not likeness to I be proud of, as she knows"
 Yes, knew it then, and wished with all my heart that had had & face which should have reminded them of my mother, and not of my father, whom even Gerard, from tonight, must hate so deeply and so honestly.
 "I wonder whether any Athelston will ever redeem the name ?" he unused, only half aloud.
 1T don't think it likely" Aunt Jessic said.
 rard is an Athelston, auntie."
 She smiled sadly as she looked into his face.
 Better be only Gerard Dymocke, as they baptized you, dear" she said. "No Athelston will ever acknowledge you as one of them and-and, as have said it is not a name to be proud of.
 "But can raise ii" Gerard said, so brightly and confidently that there came stupid mist of tears between my eyes and his, as I listened. "Aunt | Jessie" he added after a pause, "I must find that village and tue church where our mother was married" And now the loving, ready confidence with which he spoke was good to hear, "Not that l wish it for myself--I have nothing to proye to myself or Magdalen-but l must find it for grandfather's sake. If we had not been going to London- But it's best so," be broke of, laying gentle hand upon nay shoulder; "we could not part even for that little time, could we, Lima ?" (his old pet name for mel. "No; it is far best so"
 knew it was. I know it now as write in my old room for the last time, spending so the long, wakeful hours which would creep by more slowly still If were to go to bed. Tomorrow we start together out into the new world; and, though I know it may hold great dis appointments and great sorrows for us both, yet can echo Gerard's words, and say it is Best so"
 | No. CONDUIT STREET.
 We are quite settled in our town home now. Being with Gerard makes it really home to me; but at first it seemed very odd, after the old farm. On the floor above us there lodge two people who l A mother and daughter. They are only "simple folk, as Aunt Jessie wouldsay, for the daughter works for her iveli- hood as a dressmaker in the great houses around here, being wonderfully clever with her needle, and thinking it a great pleasure-the greatest pleasure that could begiven her-to earn, for her help less mother, all the comforts she could wish. Yet it seems to mel don't know much about London yet--but it seems to me that may be grateful to have found, in this vast crowd of human hearts and faces all seeming so far away from each other, even as they iostle in the crush, two simple, loving natures who have already learned to like and trust me. They always say it is "good of me-" or "kind of me-" to go up to their quiet, busy room; but think the goodness is for me, not of me; and I would not wish for a truer comforter than Rachel McMullen would be, if 1 were ever in distress, and had not Ger ard. Of course, I Imean if had not Gerard, With him, what other com forter could ever needP
 He seems very fond of his 6fe here, and enjoys his night engagements great ly. Sometimes he takes me with him, but not often, because he either has to leave me alone, or with the one friend who is oftenest with him. and whom I cannot like.
 I wonder why it is? I try with all my might to like him, because my brother does. know he is gentleman ly, clever, agreeable, accomplished and handsome; yet cannot like him. l suppose one has no power over that sort of feeling; at any rate, have none i'll this case. I cannot like MT. Jeffrey, and I cannot explain why. Of course Gerard only laughs at me, in his gay, S pleasant way but he takes care that :. shall not be dependent on Mir. Jeffrey - for my evenings amusement when he himself cannot be with me.
 Gerard's voice improves every day, and is making him quite famous. As he says, it is as good as fortune to him and I think, with MT. Jeffrey, that the pathos of which it is capable is even oi more worth to him than its rich quality. <, Sometimes Eustace Jeffrey says to him, 6 laughingly, when he finds him singing here alone to me, that he ought to hus- band his resources, as they may desert him. But Gerard never needs that advice
 "Pm too strong a man." he says lightly, ito fear my voice failing from k weakness, and too cool a man to feal Ill any great emotion taking it from me So don't let us think of far-hence to morrow"
 Suppose your voice were to leave you, Dymocke," MT. Jeffrey said ont
 day, with unaccountable curiosity
 "what should you do?"
 8 "Go into dressmaking with Lima,
 laughed Gerard. "What else could
 do. man2"
 " "You could do something besid, sing, surelyP" he persisted. "Wha
 does he do all day, Miss Dymocke, whel
 he isn't engaged at his profession, or re
 hearsing, or with me2"
 z And then I told him, suppose fo '' the first time, that what my brother wa
 fondest of doing (sfter singing) va
 drawing; how, from boy, he had de
 lighted in 1t, though he had had no les