The Press., 1894-03-29
dearest. 1 could die happy could but

dearest. l could die happy could I but see vo1 welded to d duke. And Vic torine -lasped her hands.
 A duke! How can you say such dreadful things. What have ever done to yon, Victorine? l remonstlat- ed. She did not laugh.
 II feel as though my soul were pro- phetic,' she went on; "as though were clairvoyant or had Scotch second sight. 1 can picture the scene. sup pose you would be married in Vest minister abbey.
 At least am sure will not be bur jed there." murmured,
 ''Ever so many bishops--perhaps the queen would be present Is that court etiquette? forget. And he would be feet 3. They always are. And his mother, the dowager duchess, and his sisters, plain but aristocratic, and all eyes fixed on you. An American bride is she not beautifully 1 fancy 1 hear one say. From the south, some one answers Northern ladies never have such eyes.
 ''Oh, what triumph I should like to see him when he hears the news-the false wretch! Why, 1 can hardly wait to start. I'm so sure you'll come back, Persis, duchess of-what's it's name?"
 Really, Victorine, said, II should prefer q prince, if all the princes are not married off, and you don t mind. '
 Dem Princes! Ike Prince de las lief in town, an he done got put in de pen nytenshary yes day." said Emily. her turban arising above the floor as she ascended the well staircase. "No count, poor white trash hull ob dat Prince fam 'ly. Gamblin an goin on, an shoot in folks an kitin about, seekin who dey kin devour.
 Then we both laughed-one can sometimes
 CHAPTER VII.
 Sister and l went to work at our preparations with will and were soon ready.
 One evening joyfully put away my needle, conscious of having taken the last necessary stitch, and went out for walk. Lest 1 should see one of the Summers at their door, 1 avoided the road and went out by the kitchen way into a green lane that ran between our place and the next plantatiCn-as good place to pace up and down in as any other As 1 came to the melon patch l paused and looked over the fence. There was the spot where MT. Summers. in his pursuit of me, had fal- len flat. What strange, weird mem- o1y it was! Why did 1 run? Why did he run? It was so unlike him to do so. Why-before 1 could ask myself anoth- CT question the sound of feet smote my ear. looked up. A gentleman with a tall hat on, eyeglasses and a neat gray vandyke beard was coming up the lane at great pace-Mr. Summers himself and no other. Again terror oi an interview possessed me. Again turned and ran. He ran after me- The race was swift and rapid. This time did not double, but kept straight on. Away went my hat, as | did John Gilpin's in his famous ride Had l worn wig, it must have fol pin came out, and my hair, of which | udO quantity, SIIcdIuGu uOWu Hly back. Still kept on until, in duckine under low bough, 1 met with A bsa lom s fate and was held fast by my floating locks. To free myself was i'm possible, and perforce stood still. II moment more MT. Summers faced me His first speech was fiendish.
 II never was so glad of anything il | rnU 1ifa D ba said
 scornfully regarded him in silence
 Miss Persis,'' he went on, 'some time ago 1 made you an offer of mar. riage, and you, without answering, rushed away. Am to understand that you intend to accept or reject my offer?'
 "Of course l reject it," said fierce ly. He breathed great sigh, apparent 1 ly of relief.
 ''It was my duty to ask that" he said. "I should have held to my offel if you had accepted it, of course, but now want to tell you that 1 made ii