The Iola register. [volume] (Iola, Allen County, Kansas) 1875-1902, 1892-05-20

|
at is to Miss Nellie that his atten-
with a selfish chuclzle.
mo, they bean't. an they never will
be as long as her has father to keep
her out o. harms way. 1 didn't know
as it was safe for me to go to market
to-day, but I'm at peace about that
now, for 1 seen him in Chertsey just
afore started this evening"
''Chertsey! Whatwas he doing there?"
slow should I know? Mayhappen
getting his hair curled."
Thus for an hour they chatted to-
gether, the yeoman getting more and
more respondent over his household
troubles.
Suddenly a bright thought struck
Arthur Dunbar. 1t was evident that
Miss Grahame was unhappy and needed
friends sympathy. Who more proper
to play the part of a consider than him
self? The difficulty was In securing an
interview, for his pride would hardly
permit him to face Nine. Campignon
after her ungracious manner towards
him, and he felt assured that if he were
to present himself boldly at the farm
house a tete-a-tete with the young lady
would never be accorded him. Why
not make a confdant of the good
natured farmer2 He would do so.
''Mr. Barlow" he began, in hesitat-
ing, diffident way, II am bad hand at
asking favors; but your kindness to me,
total stranger, emboldens me to be-
lieve that | should not ask one of you
in vain"
"You are right, lad" was the hearty
response. 81 know what thee mean, so
dunnot blush to thy ears in telling me-"
81 never thought you guessed ="
Dunbar cried.
"Of course thee didn't. Poor chap,
so many miles away from his kith an
kinl' Mayhap thee hast a mother?"
Quite mystified by the farmers singu-
lar remarks, Arthur replied: Yes,
have n mother"
AN love her dearly? Aye, thought
so. Mayhap, too, thy father be dead?"
YES, he died when was boy"
81 guessed as much. Now hea1ken,
lad. 1t wasn't always as me an Sarah
had only one chick to comfort us. Years
ago we had little boy, but He who
gave took him away from us. Poor
little chap, he fell from tree an broke
his back, for he was aye a daring lad
to climb, an we laid him to rest in the
God's-acre of Sunbury church. Now,
see here, that little lad might a growed
to be man like you-might a travelled
to foreign parts like you-might fell
into difficulties like you-well, if he
had, an your good father had been
alive, do you think he'd given him
helping hand?"
81 am sure of it. He was a generous
man"
can that's just what I'm a going to
do by thee. So dunnot beat about the
bush, but just open thy mouth wide an
say how much!"
As Barlow spoke he drew from his
breeches pocket long lcathcrn bag
and began to tumble with a roll of
notes and gold. 81 sold a stack of
wheat to-day" he added, 80 thee
needn't be afeard to speak out"
Arthur grasped the yeoman's hand
''My dear kind friend" he said, you
quite mistake my need. am not in
want of money; in fact 1 have more of
it than have occasion for; but shall
never forget your open-hearted kind
ness"
mot want money! Then what the
devil dost thee vant?" John Barlow
burst forth in q maze of surprise.
81 want to secure an interview with
Miss Grahame when your French friends
are not present"
Johns reply was long low whistle.
''Can it be done?" Arthur demanded.
Poor Mr.. Barlow was at q loss how to
answer. He had an honest liking for the
man who made the request. Kate Ora
hame was particular favorite of his and
it would afford him the highest satisfac-
ton to circumvent nademoiselle and
her obnoxious nephew, but-and the
''but" was very prominent in his mind
was it fair to Miss Balderstone?
"You hesitate" Arthur said, his brow
clouding.
81 doan't quite see my way, young
fellow"
"And you refuse?"
mo, don't, but I'm going to sleep
on it. You walk out tomorrow morn
ing down the lane by the big cow-pas-
ture, an may-happen I'll meet thee, or,
some one else may chance to walk that
way"
With this comforting assurance, Mr..
Barlow took his departure, and Arthur
was left once more to his solitary medi-
tations.
1t was beautiful night, the moon
shone on the placid waters of the
sleepy stream, and. tempted by the
fair scene, he carried his chair on to the
balcony, that he might sit and revel in
the lovely landscape.
He was lost in thought. The past,
the present and the future trippcd like
figures in dream through his brain.
Suddenly, he became alive to the fact
that others besides himself were enjoy
ing the peaceful prospect On the
wooden bench of the porch beneath |
him. were seated persons, whose noisy
discussion disturbed the flow of his |
thoughts. There were two voices; one
a deep bass. the other pitched ina higher
key-surely the volublc tones of Leon
d'Estreville. By degrees they were |
less guarded in their remarks. and he |
could not but hear their conversation. |
He would have given some sign to in
dictate his presence, but the mention of |
his own name made him hesitate to do /
so.
CHAPTER IL