Crawford avalanche. (Grayling, Mich.) 1879-19??, 1894-10-04
aDaUGHTER OF THE CAVALIERS.
BY MARION v. DORSEY.

winter in Munich, so that Burt
might go on to Heidelberg and Ethel
pursue her musical studies under
good masters.
There was another reason, too.
Their income was not what it used to
be, and having decided that sojourn
in this German city was the most
economical plan, they were soon busy
settling themselves in quaint old
house on the Carlinen-Plata. Mar
garet found it quite possible to make
the room look familiar and home
like. The same pictures. books and
bric-a-brac were placed as they had
been in the colonial mansion on
Mount Vernon place, in far-away Bal
timore, and it is the household gods,
after all, that reconcile us to the in
evitable changes.
1t was for her own room that she
kept her fathers portrait, the un-
opened brass box hequeathed to
her in his will, and the musty
books, which she alone found inter-
esting.
Here everything showed age but
the reflection in the toilet mir
TOR. The windows were draped
in the tapestry brought from En-
gland by Sir Lionel Copley, the
first Governor of the Province of Ma
ryland. Over the fireplace, immedi-
ately under her fathers aristocratic
profile, her revolutionary ancestor s
sword was crossed on it's scabbard
A valance Of much-mended Cluny
lace, the gift of Queen Anne to q
maid of honor, who was Of Marga-
rets name and lineage, festooned
the mantel edge, and on the wall,
framed in relics Of charter oak, :"
hung the original grant for Bonny
Venture, their homestead in Cecil
bearing Lord Baltimore seal and sig
nature.
Only in such fitting environment
was this fair descendant of the cava-
Tiers content to dream her dreams and
see her visions, and now they were
not always glorified by vanished
greatness; youth and love were striv-
ing for mastery over the hereditary
tendency to sacrifice the living pres
ent to an Grant veneration for the
past.
People invariably called Margaret
Copley distinguished looking girl,
and yet her beauty was far from be-
ing that assertive type which
usually wins this expression of admit
ration. She was as fine, fragile and
polished as one of her grandame' s
Sevres teacups, but an analytical
observer would find himself baffied
by the resisting power that some
times shone in her soft, brown eyes
and was indicated by her delicately
firm chin. Her full, curved lips, like
those of a bas-relief, would have
laughed to scorn the idea that she
was "classifable. She held herself
to be something distinctly different
from all other young women, in that
she was self styled, progressive, con-
sentative, and that rara avis, q femi-
nine antiquarian.
The months passed pleasantly and
quickly while the Copleys were max
ing acquaintance with the city Of
cathedrals and palaces, and their
daily mail left them nothing to COM
plain of in their friends across the
sea.
Paul Harcourt, the good comrade
Of Margaret childhood and girlhood,
had begun by writing her letters
filled with enthusiasm for the work
he had planned to do as scientific
specialist at the John Hopkins Hos
pital, where he had already won dis
tinguished recognition for the sue
cessful operation of his advanced
ideas in the department of clinics.
He was intensely, eagerly modern,
and held precedent in veneration
only in so far as it gave the clearest
reasons for the infallibility of it's why
and wherefore.
AS Margaret Copley's absence
heightened he no longer tried to re-
strain his pen from gliding into per-
sonal illusions which should convey
some intimation of the hope he now
held dearer than fame.
One day she had been many hours
at the Pinacotheca, drinking in the
beauties of Rafaelle, Rembrandt and
Fra Bartolomeo, and threw herself,
tired and aimless. upon the lounge in
her mothers sitting room, and lay
there in calm enjoyment OF EthePs
skilfully executed fantasy, when
her rosy checked maid brought in
the letters.
There were two for Margaret and
several for her mother, who was re-
turning calls.
lone from Paul." she said to
herself, with delightful anticipation,
land one from Bert" with much
less interest.
From the next room the melody
still rippled forth, and on the table
close beside the couch a bunch of
Parma violets breathed an exquisite
fragrance which, with the music and
the words of overmastering love on
the written page, blended togetherin
soul subduing minor trio.
He loves mel he loves me! Oh,
dream of my lifel she cried, bury
ing her face upon, her folded arms
as IL to hide from unseeing eyes its
supreme exaltation. A new glory
had come upon the earth, the glory
that crowns but the one moment OF
hopes fruition.
She knew now that the rich prom
ise, all the possibilities OF Paul Har-