Eagle River review. [volume] (Eagle River, Wis.) 1890-1927, 1892-03-31


wise observing her.
Miss Willard, he said at last, so sud-
! denly as to almost make her start, II
! have been telling your grandfather what
q beautiful place Weston is. dare say,
| however, you are more familiar with it's
/ charms, as no doubt you go there quite
/ frequently"
L haven't lately" she responded.
THAT is, not until the other day. IL
went there then"
Ali" he questioned, observing her
! nervous manner. Il dare say you have
| friends there?"
"Only one very humble one-Mrs.
Thomson. You know her-that is, you
| have spoken to her, maybe. She told
me about Weston and about"
She paused in helpless embarrass-
ment
L suppose I'm making fool of my
SELF" was her inward comment, "but
cannot help it. I'll die if don't know.
/ shall have to ask him outright present
| ly. Why won't he say something? How
can grandpa sit here and talk SO coolly
of other things? If / only had chance?"
She made her own chance after din
ner. She was sitting alone with Bever-
ly, her grandfather having left them, to
find a book from which he had been quot
ing, when, without apparent reason, she
dropped the subject they had been dis
cussing, and, turning to him, asked,
with noticeable eaEerness:
DO you know Miss Ellis? You have
been staying in South Weston, she
went on in explanation Of her question,
"and l dare say you have met her"
Il have, he answered" with pecul-
lar CLEAN in his eye. "She is Mr.. Mil
lard s-my Mr. Millard," he added, with
| have had unusual opportunities to cult
vate her acquaintance. We are, am
happy to say, very excellent friends"
And MORE" added Mary, in a low
voice. II beg your pardon. I thought
So"
With which ambiguous remark Mary
gave him questioning glance, and,
reading her answer in his face, left her
chair with the abrupt words:
Grandpa is coming. Please excuse
me-"
Going, Mary?" asked Mr.. Millard
meeting her at the door.
please don't speak to me-" she cried,
darling by him.
The old gentleman looked surprised.
Turning to Beverly he said, in some
anxiety:
Pray excuse me a moment sir. My
granddaughter does not seem we'll"
In her own room he found Mary on
her knees, and her face buried in the
/ bed.
Lifting her with gentle hand, he drew
her toward him. Since when have I
lost the right to Jour confidence" he
asked, stroking her hair with a caressing
touch. you have something to tell me,
dearest"
Mary buried her face on his breast
with the passionate cry:
1t is no use to hide it, grandpa.
cannot hide it from myself. I have ru-
ined my own happiness. Three days
ago." she continued, with half sob, Il
was as happy as it is possible for anyone
to be- and now"
Well?" he interrupted, with gentle
intonation, as seating himself in chair,
he drew her to his knee. Tell me all
that has happened since, Mary"
Then in low and self-reproachful
voice, Mary repeated all that had passed
between Jack and herself from the mo-
ment he had asked her to be his wife to
the time he left Robins Rest.
Tt was hard thing tobelieve Of him,
a very hard thing" was Mr.. Millard's
answer, when Mary finished her recital.
yet I must confess, you had great
reason. If you had told me this before,
we might have discover d the true state
of affairs without all this heartache. I
believe should have had better faith in
him."
THAT is hard on me, grandpa. You
cannot think of my feelings when you
say it. I could not look at it coolly, or
stop to consider possible mistake.
felt myself wronged and outraged. I
thought he had made sport of my affec
tons. For I had confessed my love for
him. I had allowed him to kiss me, and,
grandpa it was humiliating, so bitterly
humiliating, to remember that"
Mary covered her face with her hands
as she uttered these words.
Il understand that, Mary" said her
grandfather, kindly.
II don't think you can quite UNDER
stand, grandpa. No man could. And
you don't know how hard it was for me
to believe him guilty. My whole heart
rebelled against it. But what could
Think"
You could have told me, Mary"
She sighed.
II don't think I wanted even you to
know how weak and foolish 1 had been;
and I was afraid you might think I cared
more than I did. OF course, while be-
Heved what did, hated him."
"Of course, my dear, was the quiet
answer.
"Now I hate myself for having been
unjust. Still, I had rather thousand
times suffer through my own injustice
than through his dishonor. Don't scold
me any more, grandpa. I've been pun
ished enough"
My dearest" he cried, pressing her
to his heart. L only wish to help YOU"
at is too late for that.
No." was the decisive answer. you
must not allow pride to interfere with
the reparation you owe Jack, and the
duty you owe yourself. This misunder-
standing has not changed your feelings
| for him?"
Her face dropped
He cannot have forgotten what I said
to him." she replied in a low voice. He
may even have grown to hate me. /
can't ack him t0 cOma hack tn mo