The morning news. [volume] (Savannah, Ga.) 1887-1900, 1893-10-29

"Then it was from Mrs. Bristow the
! boxes camel"
Have let out something that was Sc
I cret? l am not very good at secrets, he
/ said with laugh.
She might be an aunt as YOU say-an
auut would be a good thing for her, poor
( child-or she might be-but it is Dora
/ only she wants TO see!'
Dora only; and only Dora if it is Ger
tain that she would entertain no prejudice
/ sgainst a relation of her mother"
How could there be preiudices Of such
a kind!"
That is too much to say, but l know
from my own case that there are the
young man said.
II would like to hear your own case"
He laughed again. You are very kind
to be so much interested in a stranger,
but must settle matters for my kind
guardian. She has not been a happy
woman, don't know why,-though he
was as good man as ever lived, and
now she is in very poor health-oh, really
| i'll. ] scarcely thought ] could have got
her TO ENGLAND alive. To see Dora is all
she seems to wish for. Help me, oh,
help me to get her that qualification !"
he cried.
Miss Bcthune smiled upon him in reply,
with an in oiuntary movement of her
hands towards him. She was pale and a
strange light was on her face
IL will do that if can" she said, ~
will do it if it is possible If help you
what will you give me in Feturn!"
The youth looked at her in mild sur
prise. He did not understand what she
could mean. Give you in returnH' he
asked, with establishment
"Ay, my young man, for my hire; every
body has their price as l daresay you
have heard said, which is a great lie, and
yet true enough. Mine is not just a
common price, as you will believe I'm
full of fancies, a-whimsical kind of a
being. You will have to pay me for my
goodwill"
He rose up from the seat under the
tree, and, taking OF his hat again, made
her solemn bow. Anything that is
within my power | will gladly give to Sc
cure my good guardian what she wishes.
owe everything to her"
Miss Bethune sat looking up at him
with that light on her face which made
il unlike everything that had been seen
before. She was scarcely recognizable.
or would have been to those who already
knew her. To the stranger standing
somewhat stifiy before her, surprised and
mand, IL seemed that this, as he had
thought, plain middle-aged woman had
suddenly become beautiful.
He had liked her face at the first It
had seemed to him friends face, as he
had said. But now it was something
more. The surprise, the involuntary
start of repugnance from a woman. a
lady, who boldly asked something in re-
turn for the help she promised, mingled
with strange attraction towards her,
and eXtraOr mary curiosity as to what
she could mean. To pay for her good
will! Such thing is, perhaps implied in
every prayer for help; gratitude at the
least. if nothing more, is the pay which
all the world is supposed to give for good
ices, bnt one does not ask even for graf
itude in words. And she was in no hurry
TO explain. She sat in the warm shade,
with all the greenness behind, and looked
at him as if she found somehow a su-
preme satisfaction in the sight-as if she
desired to prOlong the moment, and even
his curiosity and surprise. He on
his part was stiff, disturbed, not happy
at all. He did not like a woman to let
herself down, to show any wrong side of
her, any acquisitiveness or equivOcal SEN
timent What did she want OF him?
What had he to givc3 The thought
seemed to lessen himself by reason of
lessening her in his eyes.
Il tell you l am a very whimsical
woman" she said at length: "above all
things / am fond of hearing every mans
story, and tracing out the different
any other. If bring this lady to speech
Of Dora, and show her how she could be
OF real advantage to both the girl and her
father will you promise me to come to
me not Ter time, and tell me, as far as
you know, everything that has happened
to you since the day you were born"
Young GordOn's stiffness melted away
| The surprise on his face, which had been
mingled with annoyance, turned into
mirth and pleasure. "You don't know
what you are bringing on YOURSELF he
said, nothing very amusing. l have lit
tie in my own record. | never had any
adventures. But if that is your fancy,
surely l will, wheneverfyou like, tell you
everything that l know about myself"
She rose up with the light fading a lit
| tie, but yet leaving behind it a sweetness
which was not generally in Miss Be
| thune'S face. Let your friend come in
the afternoon at 3 any day-it is then her
father takes his sleep-and ask for Miss
Mannering l will see that it is made all
| right, and as for you. you will leave me
| your address, she said, going with him
towards the gate. You said you be-
! lieved your mother was liying-is your
| father living tOo!"
He died long time ago." said the
| young man, and then added May | not
| know VINO it is that is standing our
| friend?n
| Perhaps Miss Bethune did not hear
! him. certainly she let him out and turned
| to lock the gate without making any re-
| ply.
| To BE CONTINUED.