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

room Harcourt, coming out Of the
house few moments later, was
startled.
want to ask you to come again.
Will you? she asked. l want you
for particular reason. Perhaps |
will tell you what the reason is when
l know you better.
OF course | will come.
Will you really7 Then please
come tomorrow.
Delighted, he said smiling. At
what hour.
Oh, any time in the morning. We
haven't any clocks in the house that
are not out of order. Come as soon
as you like
Expect me early, and descending
the steps he got into his carriage,
and urged his dripping horse home
ward, while Elizabeth compressed
her umbrella into stem like form and
retreated 10 the drawing room.
Harcourt ordered his horse that
morning, determined to comply with
Miss Bolenbroke's request, more
through curiosity than gallantry; he
flattered himself he understood hu
man nature, and this understanding
made him love as we'll as laugh at it,
and he confessed he was mystifed.
Six years since he had left college con-
vinced of the value of learning for
two years he travelled in Europe, scat
tering his wild oats instead OF sowing
them where the harvest light prove
unpleasantly fruitful. The timely
loss OF his fathers large fortune, and
he settled down to study medicine in
German university. Four years
of untiring energy and he found him
self with more patients than he could
really attend to. His own health
being somewhat impaired, he had
come to America to build up his
hardy constitution and to look after
his mothers remnant of property in
Virginia.
Elizabeth opened the door for
him.
l am so glad you came, she said
| was so afraid you wouldn't.
You have poor opinion of your
own charms, he replied as he hung
his hat on the antique antiers and
followed the quaint figure into the
drawing room.
Do you think | am like the girls
IN books2 she asked, suddenly
stopping before the mirror and care
fully regarding her own reflection.
No. don't, he admitted truth
fully.
I'm sorry Pm not, she sighed. as
she sat down on the three lgged sofa
and motioned him to a chair by her
side.
Why he asked, curiously. Surely
soulful, breathing, thinking realities
are more interesting than the Great
ures conjured up in some poor
authors brain, dependent upon
tragmentary memory and COM
pressed imagination for their exist
enee.
| don't know any of the realities.
she said simply. | only know
people in books. Tell me something
about the world. | never have any
one to talk to but Nam Chloe, and
| have heard her tell the same stories
over and over again. Father-we,l,
father is TOO busy now. Did you
ever go to school?
Six years ago. he replied,
laconically, smile clinging to his
dark mouStache.
And l suppose YOU took all the
medals. l know l would if |
went to school, for l would love
to study,
Well, no, he laughed. l did not
take all the medals. | used to
think and dream in the study time
and never did what was told. did
not possess ambition in those days;
it has been fired since by adversely.
| thought everyone had ambition.
Father is ambitious about his pictures
Nam Chloe wants to excel in pickles
and apple dumplings, and well
am ambitious about everything. 1t
seems mean to want to get ahead oi
everyone else doesn'titr
Oh! mo, he contradicted. What do
you think about?
What l would like to be in the
world. What the world would think
of me. Whether will ever be famous.
How would talk if | had anyone to
talk to and for the last day | nave
been thinking of you.
Of mel he repeated. | hope they
were pleasant thoughts.
Not altogether pleasant, she replied
l was little afraid OF you; | did no
know what you liked to talk about, bu
planned it all out with the music
book.
| With the music bookP
Yes. | have long conversations witt
the music book. I'll show you how
She crossed the room to the old square
piano, seated herself on the wooder
stool, touched the yellow KEYS witt
her small, white fingers, and began tc
sing some strange melody. Song fol
lowed song. She seemed to forge
Harcourt's presence, .whiIe he helc
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