The Cecil Whig. [volume] (Elkton, Md.) 1841-current, 1894-04-21

she be one, too2 If men were like
sheep where was the leader to come
from! She knew no one except the
village shopkeeper who sold her
paints, and who was old and gray
and a grandfather, but she was deter
mined.
Every night she asked Nanny
to light the lamp that hung from the
high ceiling and for hours Elizabeth
would play on the yellow keys Of the
old piano, sing the simple ballads
she had known since she was child
and try to imagine that some one
was listening. Whenever she heard
the rumble OF carriage wheels the
music would grow louder. Some
times her father would come in, lay
his wrinkled hand upon her head
and say gently:
That is right my daughter; be
gay and happy if you can; and then
retrace his steps to the studio and
paint until bedtime, while Elizabeth
would put a music book in one of
the most comfortable armchairs, and
hold animated conversation with it
with it until she was exhausted; then
flinging herself on the three legged
sofa she would cry at her own
toulishness and loneliness.
The studio was growing hateful
to Elizabeth, the ruined picture
was so symbolic Of her hopes she
descended to the drawing room
sat down at the piano and poured
forth her soul in a wailine lullaby
that sounded like a funeral dirge;
she did not hear a knock on the
front door nor Nam Choles footsteps
in the hallway, but when she struck
the last low minor chord she heard
voice behind her say:
Pray, Miss Bolenbroke, do not let
me interrupt you; that music is
beautiful.
Miss Bolenbroke grasped the
piano tor support as a young man
arose from the identical armchair in
which the music book had been
placed the night before.
How do vcu do, she gasped, ex-
tending hand which visibly tremb-
led.
Very much out of spirits, he
answered, to think OF never having
met you before. She had never
imagined the music book saying
anything like this. | have passed
down the road very often. he went
on. l have seen the lights and
heard the music, though the house
is hidden by trees. You seem to be
having gay times here.
Gay times she echoed. Oh, yes
we do have very gay times. Gentle
men come from the village, and We
sing at night and dance.
What humbugs we mortals are!
| have been TO every fellow l know
in the village and begged him to
take me to call on you. l happened
to see you in Sols paint shop one
afternoon. What liars lovers be.
come! III get even with them for
this.
Oh please don't fight any duels
she pleaded earnestly. The gentle
l mean come from the other village
one was killed in railroad accident
and one fell off his horse and one
was shot" She stopped suddenly
remembering that the war was
over.
| wanted to enter the lists, he said
smiling. Pie sse don't frighten me
away.
! Please don't be frightened away,
Oh! I've done it all wrong. I've
done it all wrong, and she buried
her face in her hands and cried con-
vulsively. Oh! why did you come
here? why did you come.
To see a deed in your fathers
possession, he answered, quietly.
I'll tell him, she said, brushing
away the tears; III tell him you are
here.
She ran out of the room, and he
heard her retreating footsteps up the
stairs This, then, was the hermits
daughter, who formed the subject
of so many curious conversations
This was the mysterious character
whom no one knew and rumor
rumbled was insane. He admitted
her actions was queer but fascinating
he would sec more of her She was
too impulsive TO be shy. Hel
father appeared at the drawing room
door, and said:
Mr.. Harcourt | once knew youl
father. Your business is urgent
Come into the library; the deed il
there.
Elizabeth, from the stairway, hac
heard the greeting. As they crossed
the hall she began to consider wha
they should do next. She supposed
he would leave as soon as the busi
ness with her father was completed
How could she secure him for th'
leader of the sheep? Taking an ole
white cotton umbrella, she turnec
the quaint brass door knob, and wen
out on the front doorstep, ralSe(
the umbrella and stood, like som
rare botanical speciman OF mush