Pittsburg dispatch. [volume] (Pittsburg [Pa.]) 1880-1923, 1890-09-21
lepths of those beautiful, tear-dimmed

Maisre-because YOU dare notF' he said.
"And what do care whether you say it or
not-when 1 know" And Herewith he
kissed her on the mouth-and again-and
again. "Now you are mine. You dare not
deny NV love-And 1 claim you as my
wife"
She struggled backward to be free from
him, and said almost wildly
mo, no-Vincent, you do not understand
Il have not been frank with you-1 can
not ever te your wholesome day I will tell
you"
There was no chance for any further en-
treaty or explanation, for at this moment
there was the sound of footstep outside,
the door was opened, and old George
Bethune appeared, carrying in his hands
some half-dozen books. When he saw those
two standing opposite to each other, the
young man pale and agitated, the girl also
pale and with her eyes streaming over with
tears. he glanced from the one to the other
in silence. Then he walked deliberately
forward to the table, and laid down the
books. Maisrie escaped from the room.
Vincent returned to the fireplace, too be-
wildered by her last words to care much
what construction might be placed upon
this scene by her grandfather. But he had
to recall himself: or the old man. just as if
he had observed nothing, just as it nothing
had happened, but yet with certain
measured precision in his tones, resumed
his discussion of "The Demon Lover" and
proceeded to give his reasons for thinking
that the story had migrated from the far
north to the south.
But presently Mr.. Bethune had turned
from those books. and was staring into the
fire, as he said with u certain slow and sig
nifcant emphasis
at will be an interesting subject; and
yet must guard against being wholly ab-
sorbed by il. And that for my grand
daughters sake. Imagine we have been
living a much too monotonous life for some
time back; and that is not we'll, Tor anyone,
especially FOR a young girl. A Limitation
of interests; that is wholesome. The mind
becomes morbid, and exaggerates trifes.
And in the case of Msisrie, she has been
used to change and travel; I should think
the unvarying routine of our life of late,
both as regards our employments and
amusements, extremely prejudiciai to her
health and spirits"
"Why, she seems very wellP' Vincent
said, anxiously-for he knew not what all
this might mean.
"a change will do her goodwill do all
of us good, perhaps" said the old man.
"Everyone knows that it is not wise for
people to see too much OF each other; it puts
too heavy a strain on friendship Compan-
ionship should be volunteered thing
should be a reward, indeed, for previous
isolation and work"
VIncent's forehead flushed; and the natural
man within him was crying out, "Oh, very
we'll, then; l don't press any further ac-
quaintance on youP' But for Maisrie's sake
he curbed his pride. He said, as quickly as
might be-
'In our case thought that was precisely
how our companionship stood-a little re-
Taxation alter the labors of the day. How
ever, if you think there has been too much
of that"
"I was speaking of general principles"
Mr.. Bethune said, with eouanimity. cat
tine same time 1 confess that, as regards
Maisrie, think thai some alteration in our
mode of existence might be beneficial Her
life of late has been much too monotonous."
Again and again she has told me that
she delights in the quietude of it!' the
young man protested-ior it suddenly oc-
Cured to him that Maisrie was to be dragged
away from England altogether "Surely
she has had enough Of travel?"
"Travel? That is not what 1 have in
mlnd," old George Bethune said. "We
have neither the time nor the means. I |
should merely propose to pack up few
books and things, and take Maisrie down
to some sea side place-Brighton, perhaps,
as being the most convenient"
The young mans face flashed instant re-
liei; Brighton-thas was something differ
ent from what he had been dreading. Brigh-
was not Toronto nor Mon
treal; there was going to be no wide Allan
tic between him and her; trivial matter of
an hours railway journey or something of
the kindl
"Oh, Brighton9" said he, quite gladly.
eyes, that will be very pleasant Tor her.
Brighton is brisk and lively enough at this
time of the year; and if there is any sunlight
going you are sure to get it there. 1 am
afraid you will find the hotels iull -"
I'VE shall not trouble the hotels" Mr.. |
Bethune said, with grave dignity. "Some
very humble lodgings will suffice And
perhaps we might get rooms in a house on
the hill at the back of the town; that would
give me seclusion and quiet for my work;
then, in holiday half hours, Maisrie and I
could go down to the sea front and have a
stroll on the pier. Yes, I think the change
will be wholesome; and the sooner we set
about it the better"
Well, to Vincent it did not seem that this
proposal involved any great alteration in
their mode of life, except that he himself
was obviously and unmistakablv excluded;
nevertheless, he was so glad to find that the |
separation from Maisrie was of mild and !
temporary nature that he affected to give
quite cordial approval. He even offered to
engage the services of his aunt, Mrs Eli
son, in securing them apartments; but Mr..
Bethune answered that Maisrie and he were
old campaigners, and would be able to shi !
for themselves. And when did they pro-
pose to go? Well, tomorrow, if his grand |
daughter were content.
While they were vet talking Maisrie |
made her appearance. She had bathed her |
eyes in water, and there was not much trace |
of her recent agitation, though she was still |
somewhat pale. And Vincent-to show her |
that he refused to be alarmed by her parting |
show her that he was quite conf |
dent as to the future-preserved his placid, |
not to say gay. demeanor.
"Do you know what your grandfather is |
going to do with you, Maisrie?" said he. |
He is going to take you down 10 Brighton !
for time. Yes, and at once-to-morrow, if |
you care to go. |
She glanced quickly from one to the |
other, fearing some conspiracy between |
them.
"And you, Vincent?" she asked, turning
to him.
He did not meet her look.
II? Oh, I must keep to work; can't |
afford to 60 away down and idle among those
fashionable folk. My Mendover lecture |
isn't half sketched out vet. And then,
again, you remember the article I told you |
about?-before beginning it ought really
to run down to Scotland, or at least to York |
shire, and see one of those municipal lodg- |
ing houses in actual operation. They seem |
to me marvellous institutions" continued |
this consummate hypocrite Gas if the chief |
thought in his mind at this moment was the |