The times., 1891-04-17

he stood within tnree feet or them
and stared as if petrified. "What does
this meang" he asked in a deep voice of
ominous calm.
"It means that love your daughter,
Col. Thorne," John Fletcher said, en-
treatingly.
Wmifred stood up. "And love him" :"
she said, in low but distinct tone. She
met her fathers angry eyes unflinch-
ingly, though the color surged over
cheeks and brow at the boldness of her
confession.
The colonel regarded her an instant
with a stony stare. "You are a fool!
You are childp he exclaimed, furiously.
''No, my father" said Winifred; 81
am not fool; am not child"
The colonel softened. "My little daugh-
ter" he said, with a tremulous smile,
"this is all nonsense; a passing fancy; l
am not angry with YOU"
"It is no passing fancy" said Wini-
fred.
John Fletcher essayed to speak, but
the colonel would not hear him.
"Ingrater he stormed. "Would to
God you had died with a rebel bullet
in your traitorous heart, or perished out
there on the roadside, before you came
under my roof to rob me of my child"
Winifred threw herself upon her fa-
theirs breast and he folded his arms
around her.
"Oh, no! mol" she cried. "Bless him!
Bless him, oh, my father! You know not
what you owe to him; for it was in car
ing so much for him that l learned how
well love you, my father!'
"Do not tell me that, Winifred. Let
him leave my sight-my house,"
"But hear me first, Col. Thorne," John
Fletcher entreated. II have a right to
be heard"
81 will not hear you, sir! Nothing you
can say will atone. Winifred, l order
you to tell him to go"
"No," said Winifred, in low but
steady voice. IF you send him away
you will be sorry-forever."
"What? You threaten mel" said the
colonel, angrily.
too well to threaten him." Winifred an
swered, and the tears rose to her eyes.
"But'-
"Wheedling is worse!" the colone
burst forth, with unabated anger He
still held his arms around her, but this
was rather to assert his right against
John Fletchers.
"But if you send him away Wini-
fred repeated.
"You would dare to follow him?" the
colonel interrupted fercely, as he loos-
ened his clasp of her slight form.
This was near being word too much
for spirit as keen and unyielding as his
own. Winifred's face was deadly white,
but not from fear, when she replied, in a
voice that did not falter, and with look
that did not waver-
"Whether l would follow him or not
there would be difference, and you
would feel it. You would be sorry"
Don't reiterate this sentimental trash
to me, Winifred" cried the colonel, and
in his angry impatience he threw her
from him. He did not mean to be rough,
but he forgot, for the moment, that she
was lame; but John Fletcher did not
forget it, and SO it came to pass that
Col. Thorne threw his daughter straight
into her lovers arms!
There was an instant's pause, and in
that instant Winifred's angry father saw
that his cause was lost.
For Winifred's beautiful head rested
against John Fletcher's heart; its tumult-
uous throbs half frightened her, but his
strong arms held her. She was very
pale and her eyes were closed, but she
smiled with supreme content.
sis she hurt" the colonel asked, in a
tone of horror.
Winifred opened her eyes and laughed.
"No, not hurt" she said, and the color
came again to her face. She stretched
out her arms as her father bent over
her, and clasped him around the neck.
Nothing can make me love you less,
dear father" she wispered. "The more
I love him, the more must love you."
The colonel sighed and turned away.
He could not bring himself, all at once,
to yield consent.
swell! well! tubbe shot" moralized old
Gilbert. "When we gifts ole hit amt no
use wrastlin' beginst de readiness O.
young folkses. Mawster, he tried hit,
en- he wrastled pow'ful. He had less O.
de grace O. givin' in den aire man ever
see; yit he is gwan bout now wild one chile
married ter dem ez he amt choosened,
en- Missy done promised ter a Yankee
what fit beginst the souf. En- de Curl
ousest part is, hit rarely doan seem ter
mex no speshul diffunce; de is all settled
down ter be satisfied wild one 'n'oder.
De mo- studies de mo- hit do pear ter me
de worp is mostly made fur dem what
comes after we is dade en- GAVIN. What
you rekin, Glory-AnnY' he asked, affa-
bly,.
81 doan rekin nothin'," returned Glory
Ann, ungraciously; 81 keeps my thoughts
ter myself. OATS my notion O. man.
ners."
"Well! welll" the old man said, with q
subdued chuckle. 81 gwan ak Missy.
Her manners amt so-puppendiklar."
THE END.
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