The morning call., 1891-08-18
OWEN VELLORE.
BY ANNABEL DWIGHT.


There was only one little cloud to mar
our pleasure, and that was the presence of
Owen VellOre, Mrs. Sheffield's half-brother.
A stranger might have thought him not an
unpleasant addition to our party, as he
Joined easily and gracefully in the table
talk, or thrilled the hearts of his listeners
with his divine singing and mastery finger
Ing OF his sisters pianoforte, or planned de-
lightful excursions down the bay and up
the mountain, sparing no trouble or labor
to put them into execution. No one could
deny the fact that Owen Vellore was fas-
cinating, well-bred gentleman, as well as
uncOmmOnly fine looking, with his supple,
sinewy figure, handsome head, and dark,
sorrOwful gray eyes under long black lasbeS
A pointed brown beard covered lips and
chin; the soft brown hair waved carelesSly
over the handsome white brow and the
head was gracefully set upon firm, strong
neck.
He was not much above the medium size.
yet he gave one the impression OF being a
tall man and strong enc; he carried HIM
self like king.
However, in spite Of his accomplishments.
in spite of his handsome physique, there
was that In Owen Vellore's life that would
brand him forever.
The story was whispered about in the
faintest possible breath, but nearly every
one knew it. Beatrice was one of the ex-
ceptiOns.
Beatrice and Charles were children of my
dead brother. The young people were all
that were left 10 me in the wide world,
and they were loving ana faithful 10 their
old maid aunt, who half wOrshiped them in
return.
Little Bee was our pride and darling; just
turned 10. tall and slender, stately and
giriish, grave and gay, merry, willful and
tender by turns.
But one shadow had ever darkened those
clear, sweet hazel eyes-the death of her
father; for the little, fair-faced mother had
died at ths girls birth. 1t was left to
Charlie and ME to keep all future pain or
sorrow from our darling. Alas! how una
yailing all our anxious solcitude
Charlie was noble and manly fellow of
24-as proud and as jealous of Beatrice as if
she had been his sweetheart.
remember, as if ii were but yesterday,
how troubled and anxious he looked as he
entered my room one day on his return from
boat ride with the others.
"Auntie," he said, throwing himself
down on the lounge beside me, docs Bee
know the story of Yellore's life?"
Il think not; !, at least, have never re-
peated it to her."
Then don't you think it will be we'll to
do so? think Vellore means to be hon
Orable. | can see that be is trying his best
| TO treat Beatrice with Indifference; and the
| witch is trying and tempting him fearfuly
| in her girllsh, innocent way. / don't think
| Bee has any idea of how lovely and bewitch-
| ing she really Is, and to-day my heart has
| fairly ached for Vellore. She has coaxed
| him, and leased him, and sung with him,
and laughed at him, looking all the while
loVelier than have ever seen her; and
| once or twice ] caught Vellore's eyes fixed
! upon her face with such an expression in
them as lost angel might have turned to-
ward heaven. You must tell Bee, auntie,
and warn her to be more conside ate of the
poor fellows feelings - because the
possibility of our baby returning owen Vel
iore's affection is simply not to be thought
Of"
Just then call for Charlie rang through
the lower hall, and he left me much dis
turbed by his words. That night Beatrice,
whose chamber opened from mine, came in
| in her long white nght-drcss to talk over
| the events of the day, while she brushed out
| her shining hair before braiding it NJ for
| the night
at once decided to improve so favorable
an opportunity, and proceeded, after some
| desultury conversation, to enlighten my girl
regarding Owen Vellore's past
Beatrice sat quite silent upon low
| cushion before me, with her slender hands
clasped about her knees, her great eyes
| fixed thoughtfully upon the gay Turkish
rug, and the delicate color coming and going
| in her fair face while l told her how, ten
| years DelOTb, WItu owen htlIOTt was IN
| the army, brother soldier, rather the worse
| for liquor, made some insulting speech to
| Vellore-tben a bot-headed youth of ia
| speech which he had resented with sud
den fierce blow of his fist The man re-
| ceived the blow full upon his temple. and
| it killed him.
Vellore's counsel worked so yalIantly in
his behalf that the lad was only sentenced
to five years Imprisonment, but of course
that sufticed to leave lasting stain upon his
name. 1t was not likely that VellOre would
marry. and did not my knd-hearted little
| girl hope with me, that no woman would be
cruel enough to endeavor to win the love OF
this man whose lips feeling of honor would
| forever seal.
Beatrice agreed with me quietly without
| comment, but her sweet face was quite
| pale and there was n look of divine pity in
| her lovely eyes that would have thrilled tn c
| soul of Owen Vellore had he seen IT..
My darling did not stay with me as Ion G
| as usual that night, she was silent and
thoughtful, and l fell as if my words had
| been spoken advisedly.
1t was curious to watch her treatment oil
| Owen Vellore after that. She TESTED and
| fiirted with him no more. She was grave
and rather shy in his company; and when
the man fanced himself unobserved he
would watch her with such heartache in his
| eyes that it was enough to make one cry
| only to look at him. He kept himself out OF
her way as much as possible, and presently
l began to notice change in Bee She
| grew pale and languid and listless; hel
| fresh young cheeks lost their curving out
lines, and her round little chin began tc
| grow into a sharp point.
| l thought that the salt breeze was mo-
beneficial to Bee, and decided to take hel
| away.
One day, week before the time set fol
| our departure from CULTS Nest, was sitting
| in the shade Of my big sun umbrella down
! II dnara -
| travel sketches, when l became aware of the
| proximity of others. Looking up l behelG
| Beatrice and Owen Vellore standing upon {
cliff which ran precipitously up from tn,
| shore at distance from my resting place.
sat too far within the shadow for them to
see me; and as glanced up, Bee, taking a
| careless backward step, would have falle n
| over had not Vellore caught her swiftly il
| his arms.
Even from there l could see the rosy fust
sweep to the young girls waving hair a:
| Vel0re for one instant bent over her low
ingly. And then he had pushed her almost
rudely from him, and had thrown him sell
| face downward upon tho rock.
The air was very clear and calm, and hi:
words came down TO me distinctly.
go away at once. little girl" he groaned
Ego away and leave me!'
'No-do not send me away" responded
Bee, in her dear girlish tones. why should
YOU treat me SO, Mr.. Vellore? If you have
trouble, why not let your good friend share
it with you?"
She had knelt beside him now, with he
face turned from me, but knew how shs
was smiling down at the poor fellow, and 6
sudden mist came into my eyes. l hat
sense enough to know. however, that the in
terview must be interrupted, as hurried
around the Cliff and came up on the othel
side, and by that time Owen Vellore wa,
standing with folded arms, and face like
dead mans, looking down at Beatrice; ant
she, With her face in her hands, and hel
head leaning upon his arms. was sobbinl
passionately.
He looked at me with positive relief.
Take her away, Miss Beverly" he said
hoarsely. God knows l have tried to bt
honorable. and would have given my lif,
to have kept her from sorrow. / am goins
away tonight. My poor. sweet little love 2
he said with infinite tenderness, as Il,
touched his lips to her bright waves OF hair
Then, as drew Beatrice away from him
he swung himself over the cliff, droppin.
lightly from one iutting point to another
until lie reached the shore below.
| hurried Bee up to the house and into ,