The record-union., 1892-04-23

was pasty-faced, and she was q sneak.
something was discovered, and she
promptly gave up all my letters and
verses to her father, and peached on
7 betsy. Her father was a dry, unap-
proacnable man, as tough and unsynpa-
| thetlc as Sanskrit root. He sent Tor me
to his study. l had pictured to myself
! dlflcultles In my interview with him,
/ but then 1t was not TO come off for about
ten years, and by that time L expected to
be IN command OF a regiment at least,
having made my name famous in mouths
/ of men, for was going into the army in
/ those days. On entering his study | rap
idly prepared an appropriate and digni-
! fed address. / can remember rehears-
ing 1t in the passage. However, there
was no opportunity for me to deliver it.
My father-In-law that was to have been
gave me short harangue, in which |
remember my verses We're designated
"impertinent trash,n and the remainder
of the interview was of an entirely prac-
teal nature, in which played a wholly
| subsidiary part; and in consequence of
! her fathers conduct on that memorable
Gay considered my engagement with his
daughter at an end.
| These old memories and dreams were
! scattered into thin air by rap at my
outer door. l knew the knock-it was
Harold Etheridge's. / saw good deal of
| Harold at that time.
IL,
| just dropped in"
| You don't intrude,' said, for was
always pleased to see him in those days.
i've only been dreaming over the fire.
Sit down and have last pipe; 1 must
turn in in half an hour"
Harold sat down opposite TO me on the
| other side of the fireplace He was ten
or may be fifteen, years younger than 1
was, and good-looking, dashing,
straightforward man, both in face and
/ manner. There never was such an open
hearted, honest-looking fellow as Harold,
/ to all appearance. / had nicknamed him
the SaXon," and the name stuck to him,
for 1t was appropriate. He lived a gay,
reckless kind of life, and was always
talking of marrying money, or going out
to the Cape, as the only alternatives to
the Bankruptcy Court; but / believed he
was comfortably off. [ liked him. 1
thought him one of my few friends. I
like to remember him as l thought he
was, even now, for l believe he was my
friend in those days, as far as such man
could be anybody's friend
do not know what there is about the
small hours of the morning. or whether
sympathy is an absolute necessity to
lover, but within five minutes we were
! talking of Kate Winterton.
"A fine woman? 1 should think she
is" cried Harold enthusiastically; land
| fine fortune, too"
''Bright, witty, ood-tempered and
pleasing, if not pretty" I added, contin-
ulng my description.
why, you might be in love with her,
! Penrose, to hear you talk.'
1t was very foolish of me, 1 know; but
lovers are foolish and it was early in the
morning, and Of course I did not know
| then that Harold was my rival. Had
suspected it / should have entered noLle
ProSequa and dropped my suit, leaving
him clear field. After all, it was per-
hapS only natural effect of my ailment
that | should long to tell someone my Sc
cret. The glory of secret lies in inn
| parting it. Keeping secret is very poor
fun, and have no secrets at 2 O'Clock in
the mornlng-itis is sympathetic hour. l
rose and stood by the fire.
Harold, old boy, I've something to
tell you. am in love with Kate Win
tertOn!''
The Saxon nearly dropped his pipe
he gave long whistle and said nothing.
| was disappointed; l expected congratu-
lations, pleasant laughter, good wishes
| something.
hesitation: You have actually proposed.
Ell? Have you?''
"No, no of course not. No one knows
| but you, and why the devil / told you |
don't know" I added testify. His cool
ness irritated me.
! Dy oeoISe, oli lelIoW, L III sure WISH
you joy. Benedict Rediviyusw He
laughed heartily, and shook me by the
hand. The Saxon was himself again, and
so was /.
"Ah Harold said, 81 hardly know
now whether / shall Lever tell her. Let
me see, this is Monday night"
Tuesday morning. you mean"
''Yes, yes. | shall not see her until
| Sunday; have a week before me yet.
! All, my boy, give me your good wishes
on sunday. The better the day you
know.n | shook him by the hand again.
! He was not very enthusiastic. but lie lis
/ tened to my garrulous rawlings, and that
was all that | wanted then. 81 feel
! young again. / continued, land when /
think of her loving face and sweet gray
| eyes,
Gug! gug! gug! 1t was that con-
| founded lamp; out it went, and put
| period to my rhapsody.
| LET US take it as q gentle hint to me.
and not as a loyer's omen," laughed
! Harold pleasantly. | groped about,
found candle, and bade him good night
! Then L sought repose and dreamed real
dreams, haunted with Ilate's bright eyes
and silver treble laugh.
think / have said that / reviewed for
| the SIasher in those days. 1t was poor
stuff, and had long ceased to be proud
of it; but it provided my daily bread, or
rather my daily outlet and pint of claret,
and was at least honest about it. I GER
tainly worked very hard at my learned
reviews, and crammed my subjects
| thoroughly. / was always at work
| Etheridge used to say Il worked like
the devil, but without his intelligence;
| the truth is, they were all a little en-
vious ofmy position. For was the ''we''
who taught Darwin science, instructed
| Tennyson in the laws of meter, and
| patronized George Eliot. 1t was admitted.
| a I
at turning out those readable reviews that
| the public enjoys, and that used to drive
weak-minded authors to early graves in
my time. Nowadays weak-minded au-
| thors are difficult to drive; more's the
pity. / was writing something the next
evening for Saturdays 3SIasHer,' when
Harold came in with merry smile on
| his face. / saw no deyiltry in it then.
"Do you want subject for one of your
real good things?'' he asked. "Here is
a new volume of poems just out; they are
screamingly funny"
"Where did you get them ?" asked.
81 found them in fellows rooms and
! borrowed them for few days. No one
you know, he added hastily.
! He handed me thin volume, daintily
| got up in white and gold boudoir bind
| ing, 1ettered in scarlet on the cover,
| 'Modest young lady, isn't she?n sug-
gested the Saxon, quizzically.
IF she is a lady" | replied. senten-
| tiously, with the air of one who was too
old hand to jump at obvious con-
! clusions.
Listen to this, then" cried Harold,
snatching the book from my hand, and
reading with very comic effect poem ad-
dressed "To my Hero" each verse of
which ended thus:
His locks are gold,
His looks are bold,
My Hero!