The Opelousas courier., 1892-07-16

bert yehemently. ~ cannot understand
your prejudice against Mildred"
AZ have nc prejudice against the young
lady. I do not know her." answered the
Colonel. Then, after d pause, he con-
tinued, II am the last person to oppose a
true love match, Herbert; besides I
know that opposition only adds fuel to
the flame. But this much ! ask of you
leave things as they are for awhile.
You are both young, and a wait. Go
back to the city and your work, and if
in the end I find that ! can give my full
and free consent | will send for you."
"Yes-but-" beggan Herbert.
Colonel Overton smiled rather sadly as
he laid a hand on his nephew's shoulder.
az know what you would say, Herbert.
You are of age and quite your w mas
ter, fully capable of controlling your own
affairs; but I deserve from you some
slight consideration after years of faithful
guardianship. The same hot blood
flowed in my veins onc that now courses
through yours, and | will not have its
warmth chilled if l can help it. Can you
trust me Tor aWhllef
There was a short struggle, then Her
bert held out his hand.
81 owe you too much, uncle, to refuse
such a request he said, in a trembling
voice.
Colonel 0Verton grasped the preferred
hand, then went slowly aud thoughtfully
from the room.
Just at sunset the following day an
Their figure made its way across the
moorland toward Briar Lodge-a taller,
s~tatelier figure than Herbert's. 1t was the
Colonel himself. It was over twenty
years since he had taken that walk, and
he hesitated~ now-almoss afraid to stir
the slumbering passion Of his youth. He
had fought a long, hard battle, and il he
had not been victorious, he had at least
retreated with flying coiors. Why should
he jeopardize the little that remained of
his future for the sake OF Herbert's hap
pinessa The thoughtless boy might be
grateful to him for an hour, and then he
woul6 live his life alone; for Madeline's
daughter should not haunt him always
with her presence. That would be too
much. At fifty, when the sun of youth
is forever set, and the twilight shadows
creep on apace, he should have peace,
undisturoed by the gnawing of a pain
which he thought dead.
But as he strobe along, his fine figure
alert with graceful. easy motion, and in
eager look in his dark eyes, one might
almosthave fancied that the years which
had silvered his hair had done no further
damage. And he was himself surprised
TO find his heart beating with the old
impatient throb, as he traversed the well
remembered path.
The sun had vanished behind the hill,
leaving a misty pink trail, when at last
Colonel Overton passed up the pretty
walk which led to Briar Lodge.
How strangely familiar everything
looked without. The garden still pre-.
served the same trim aspect, but as b
was admitted he noticed at once the
subtle change that pervaded each nook
and corner.
A blazing log fire cast g~rotesque
lights over the roo n into which Colonel
Overton was ushered, and he stood on
the hearth preparing himself for an in
terview which would surely be q painful
one to both.
How would she meet him2 With the
same unembarrassed GOODNESS that had SO
often wounded him? His con .ctures
came to a sudden halt, for Madeline had
entered quietly, and nov stood before
him with outstretched baud and a faint
smile lowering on lips which trembled
IN spite of all her efforts.
ttYou are welcome, GreyilIe," she
said. using unconsciously the familiar
name, and as the Colonel tooS her hand
aud looked into the sweet, unaltered
face, he fell a strange, wild impulse to
take here IN his arms and forges the in.
~tervening years.
~Somehowat the sigat Of him i crowd
of tender memories swept over the |
sieeping heart OF Madeline Wears. a
feeling deeper than friendship made TIE |
blood mount slowly into her cheek. She
withdrew her hand from his grasp, and
said in d low, hugied voice. I'll will |
for lights. It is very gloomy here
a0h, no, answered the Colonel
81 will not dctain ycu long.
after all these years, you cannot
deny me d few moments
II have neyer done that
aTrue, he interrupted. sit was
voluntary Punishment. I was afraid to
come here, Madeline. lam afraid to be
here now, but that necessity forces me-"
ssYou speak of the children?n she
questioned.
uI speak Of your daughter and nv
nephew, who have most unfortunately
'ormed an attachment for each other. 4
"Unfortunatelyan
"Yes, ! say unfortunately, for you
from experience how it may end.
cannot allow Herbert's life TO be wasted
: mime was. He Is young. ambitious
no clever. / have great hopeso Of him.
The tears slowly filed Mrs. Vickers's
~eautiful eyes. sYou are hard she
lurmured. 81 thought] thought,
be paused. ssMildreds happiness is
ven deareg 10 ME. She loves your
epheW truly, and perhaps, GreviIle,
marriage snay-may bridge over
@ gulf between Us. We may be friends