Pittsburg dispatch. [volume] (Pittsburg [Pa.]) 1880-1923, 1891-02-07

acter, Sinclair showed his state of mind and
heart quite plainly to his friend and all the
world, while Latham yearned over his in
secret. His was a hard case. He was a
poor man; but his brains were his capital,
and having made a good start and achieved
slight reputation as an intelligent
junior, he knew that with the family
influence he could command, 4 few
years would see him on the high road to
fortune.
Tom, on the other hand, had an income,
but no power or will to increase it; 700
year might do as a beginner for the young
people; but after? And then Tom cheered
himself with the idea that, given an i'm
petus, be would be able to "stick" as well
as anyone. Something rather more than
mere sticking power" is required at the
English bar.
Latham saw their positions clearly, and
felt very keeDly on the subject. If he pro-
posed, and was accepted, he would have to
ask the girl to wait at least three
years; while Tom could come proud
ly forward with his immediate compe-
tence, and no one, in this out-of-the-way
corner, would know enough of the worlds
ways to distinguish between the ultimate
prospects of the two. Still, Latham would
not put himself forward till Tom had
spoken, and though he would have been
rather glad than otherwise had it crossed
Sinclair's mind that he had a rival in his
friend, he himself could give no hint of his
feelings, and the time wore on till the end
of their tenancy of Pennygowan was reached.
On the last afternoon, Tom had driven
over to Ardmuir to learn his fate; he had
made felnt of asking his friend to come
too; but the latter had steadily refused.
Deeply disappointed as he was to think he
should not say Goodbye to Margaret
Latham yet confronted himself with the
thought that he wonld write-would run up
for week at Christmas, if Sinclair's unsuc-
cess left MIN hope and an opening.
The afternoon went slowly with him; he
was restless and uneasy. Sometimes he
cheered up at the memory of look of
Margaret's; surely, she loved him? Then,
again, he would recollect some little pass
age of words between her and Tom, and tell
himself he had no chancel
himself grave, and often silent. Tha
she was shy in his company because
she had learned to love him, and
he had never shown her his heart to let her
know it was all hers-he never guessed. He
was only a man, and he had no intuitions.
A scrap of the easy chat at the Ardmuir
dinner table had afforded him some food for
reflection. Margaret had mentioned the
moonwort, the smallest, almost the rarest of
the three British Towering FERNS; every
shooting-daY the gentlemen had promised to
find some for her, no matter what precipices
it led to their scaling-and every day she
had been disappointed. Was it, Captain
Sawles drswingly inquired, Scotch edition
of the Edelweiss, Swiss swains lost their
liues in searching after for their LADY loves.
and if so, what was to be the fyte of the sue
cessful finder? Then Margaret had shaken
her head and flashed back laughing look.
There wasn't the slightest resemblance
between the two, she said. Latham
had been very quiet, but-he had found
the fern; and that very day Tom had car
ried the tiny parcel to put into Miss Bruce's
hands.
In the long evening, after solitary din
ner, to escape the torture of useless thoughts,
be took his gun and wandered by the loch-
side with some half'intention of starting q
stray duck. The night was besutiful; the
moon already glowed with q touch of the
ripe corn color; later, when darkness came
down, she would catch more light from q
sunken sun and faunt her ruddy orange.
Latham with his water-spaniel strolled to
the little hill where stood the frs; he fred
both barrels at waterfowl already out of
range, and was so uninterested in the matter
that he never put another cartridge in his
gun, but leaned with it at his side against
one rough red ochre trunk and watched the
cloud-play in great space of sky that lay,
unbroken by hills, before him.
He had been there some time, when the
sound Of gig wheels warned him Of
Toms return. Latham raised his voice
in shout; and Tom got out and
tied the reigns to a tree; then he walked
swiftly toward the hill on which his friend
stood, the latter making no effort to come
and meet him. For Latham was too ex-
cited, in his unseen way, to move. His
pale face cut out against the dark tree
trunk, he stood Watching, in passion Of ex-
peetancy, Tom Sinclair's approach toward