The morning call. [volume] (San Francisco [Calif.]) 1878-1895, 1892-09-11

| to talk to YOU"
81 think had better stay here" she re-
! piled demurely; s.Jem doesn't like you, you
know; he might make himself disagree
| able"
"Bother Jem," retorted the young Squire.
''Tve got something to say to you. and I'm
| not going to be put Of.
! This was not how he had imagined
himself speaking: but then Jem had not
| figured in the scene as he had rehearsed it
| to himself. Miss Beliasys felt it was q
| critical moment.
II really haven't time to 90 around to the
! boathouse," she said. Fl was forgetting
| that mother wants me to drive her out at II
| O'clock"
'That's all nonsense" he replied roughly.
''and you know it is. when came up
with you you looked as if you meant to
| stand here all morning"
my Intention" And she moved to go. But
| he planted himself in the path, and she saw
| that he was worsted, at least in the pre-
| limInary struggle.
| possession of her hand. ''you remember
| what said 10 you before you went abroad ?"
| He paused. She did not speak. She was
| seeking words which should make her
| answer emphatically final You remem-
| Der, Lucia?" he repeated. wondering to
| himself why the few words he wanted
/ failed him.
| "Oh, yes, of course I remember" she
| answered unwiliingly. Though had far
| rather not remember, aud lsuppose you have
| not forgotten the answer gave yon then.
| but can only repeat the same answer now.
And now, please let me go home; it is Of no
! use TO discuss such question:
She would have gone past him, but he
| seized her wrists and held her.
"Perhaps it is no use," he said fercely,
| but will say my say for all that. De YOU
understand what you are trifing with? |
| have loved you all your life, aud when
| man has loved girl all her life ne won't
| stand such a meaningless refusal as this.
| Ii there were any other man, but you say
| there isn't"
| He paused interrogatively.
Arthur" said Miss Bellasys, 'ft doe
not matter about other men. I'm sorry
you care for me so much. for 1 can't love
you in the same way. Please let me go;
| you are hurting my wrists"
Hurting your wrstsr' he cried, losing
| all control over his words. And what do
| you suppose you are doing to my heart
my life-my whole life? But must hold
| my tongue and say nothing of what feel.
| And what's the end Of 1t all TO be?"
| His face was close to hers; she felt his hot
| breath on her cheek. His eyes looked so
| fierce that she felt quite afraid of him, and
| the grip of his hands was growing intoler-
| able. She gave faint little cry.
Arthur, please let me 60. You ought not
| to be angry with me-"
| Then suddenly somebody seized her i'm
| Fortunate wooer by the collar. and twisting
| him round left her free. while peremp-
| tory voice cried:
"You cowardly eur! what do you mean by
| behaving that way to a lady?"
| Miss Beliasys could hardly believe she
| was not dreaming when she saw that her
| champion was no one more knightly than
| the under keeper. The young Squire fired
| off a rafting volIey of oaths. and ordered
| Roger Cherrington to go about his business,
uniaSS ba wiSlau tn he h0rspwhInnnH within
! an inch of his life.
| 1T is every mans business to stand be-
tween woman and man who insults her,"
| replied the keeper coolly. "As to horse
| at. Shall we allow the lady to pass before
| we try which has the stronger arm?"
| As he spoke he placed himself between
! Lucia and her cousin.
"You shall pay heavier than you think
| for your insolenee, my fine fellow" said the
| young Squire. with an attempt at dignity,
! which went quite wrong. Now, Lucia,
| shall we continue our walk@
| Thank you. Cousin Arthur" said Miss
| Beliasys. 81 prefer to return home at once,
and Roger Cherrington. if / might trouble
| you so far, / should feel obliged by your
| seeing me TO the lodge gate"
| She spoke with perfect equanimity, though
| she was very pale; then she set her face
homeward, Cherringtoa humbly following
| her, and Jem caperiDg joyfuliy round the
tld,tCts VIM okil PVSoSool Ills cutito Ill
| legiance.
Lucia did not speak again until she
reached the wicket which led into the shrub
berry Of Park Lodge. Then she stood still,
and looking round at her companion, said
| 81 am extremely obliged to you and
want you to bear in mind that do not wish
| what has Just passed to be spoken of again
can trust you. can l not?"
| She held out her hand as she spoke.
| Trust me-" repeated Cherrington. taking
| II firmly in his. should think you could
You must forget 1 know anything about
it-in fact you will soon forget, for shall.
| of course, leave Dollington."
He looked into her eyes as he spoke
! Il am itshould cost you your place."
| she said.
She did not seem to notice that her hand
still lay in his.
Perhaps if spoke to the Squire" she
| went on.
IL think you had better not" he replied.
Then Lucia was conscious of nasty hard
| lump in her throat, which, when she tried to
ask why she should not speak for him. broke,
TO her dismay. into short, choking sobs. The
! next moment she found to her astonishment,
that she was hiding her fearful face against
the velveteen sleeve of her uDcle's under
| keeper. II only lasted few seconds. Then
she turned aud fled preciptately; the shrub
berry gate closed behind her with bang and
| Roger Cherrington went on his way in such
a tumult OF joy and pain that he did not
| notice that Jem was trotting, as Of old,
| sedately at his heels.
He never could quite recall what plans
| more or less wild he formed. conned over
and dismissed from his mind that day be-
tween the time that Lucia Beliasys disap-
Feared in the shrubbery and the moment
| when, quite late in the evening, she walked
| up TO John Matthleson's back door. There
was only one Idea quite clear to his puzzled
| brain; that was that She with capital S
| blazoned in gold had laid her head for
! moment on his shoulder. and that he had
held her hand In his. and looked into the
| very depths OF her eyes, and that 1t was all
the maddest dream that ever man had
| dreamed, sleeping or waking
Here you are at last" cried Mrs Mat
thieson; you'd been here an hour ago il
| you hadn't been wanted; there's man
been waitD' for you ever since s o'clock.
fdgetin' all over the place after you"
/ who is hep" asked Cherrington: sand
! what does he want?"
81 don't know " hat he wants; maybe he's
your father; he called himself Cherringtoe,
| and he's got on yelveteens. And here he is
back again to speak for hisself."
| Then the stranger, to Mrs. Matthieson's
surprise. touched his cap very respectfully
to her lodger
"Cberrington," began Squire Verschoyle's
under Keeper, In a stern voice, this is
breach Of contract"
Not azackly, sir" replied the stranger,
touching his cap again, "seen' the con-
tracks broke itself and become of no vally."
What do you mean. man? Come inside
il you have anything important to tell
me-" He led the way as he spoke into the
little front parlor. John Mathieson sat
on bis accustomed seat outside and heard
all that passed, but that did not
matter, for the news which his sub
ordinate's visitor told became public
property Immediately afterward. Now.
| Cherrington," began the man whom the
head keeper had always regarded with lit
tie suspicion, ''let me hear why you have
come here against my express orders Why
couldn't you write?
"Twern't worth while. sir" replied the
| other. 'If I'd "a wrote, you might "A read
1t In the papers before my letter came: be-
sides, why shouldn't l be the one to bring