Saint Mary's beacon. [volume] (Leonard Town, Md.) 1867-1983, 1895-02-21

SN'-s ShN sas OoNu again uOuUt-
fully.
| "Don't You understand that /
will not bear to see her so deceived:"
said an indignant, girlish voice.
"How can you do it: 1t is shame
fal. disgracefui: | wonder YOU
have the face to speak to her at all
before me-knowing you as | do"
And what do you know, then2''
II know tina. you chose to make
love to me sace. thinking was the
heiress of my grand-mother's
money" replied Maud Treleven,
with q scornful laugh. al know
that ] found ont the reason of yoar
devotion, and threw you over as
you call it, before you had time TO
lind ont yoar mistake and throw
me over instead. And know that,
still anxious to get the money. you
have made my dear old aunt
Miss Cynthia drew in her breath
quickly)-"believe that you care
for her, and you are going to marry
her for the sake OF it. But you
shall not. | will tell her every
thing myself sooner than see it,"
You may tell her what you like.
She will believe me. not you, said
Mr.. Houston sallenly.
That's the cruelty of it. Oh.
You villain. you mean, treachcr-
Gus villain =
Come, Maud said he. with
roughened voice, that's enough of
calling names. Now listen to me.
I'll tell you the truth. did ask
you to marry me because | thought
you had money. But / got to care
about you so much that would
never have given you up, even il |
knew you hadn't penny, only you
never gave me the chance to tell
you so. You would not hear M.
L don't know why you threw me
over. Well, then | heard it was
your aunt who had all the money.
Why shouldn't | marry her? /
thought. She isn't bad old thing.
l don't dislike her Mt all, But
care a hang for all her money if
you would only have me-
How dare you insult me p she
cried. could hear her quick, an
cry breathing. DO you think |
would take you--now
You could make better fellow
of me, Maud.
'And she-oh, it is cruel She
thinks you love her. She is SO hap
py.'
Never mind her. Think of your
self. You did care for me at first,
Maud The young mans voice
had sunk to pleading tone which
poor Miss Cynthia had never heard
before. | think she had forgotten
| was there. She sat rigidly quiet,
still looking out to sea beyond me.
| never saw anything like the dread
full despair of her eyes, and she still
held her little bunch OF flowers,
tightly claspea in her thin, tremb-
ling hand. They were dropping
already. | did not dare to move or
speak; and the sunlight fell all
around US, and the murmur Of the
sea filled the air, and the voices
went on still behind the rocks.
Il will not hear you, said the girl.
| could hear her hasty rising, and
the clatter of the loose stones that
fell as she moved. Her voice sounded
as if she was crying. And you
shall not make Aunt Cynthia mis-
erable--poor old darling
Take me yourself then, said the
young man. Il tell you it's either
you or her.
They were moving away. We
could no longer hear the words dis
tinctly, and soon sven the sound OF
them died away. And then Miss
Cynthia moved. She looked away
from the sea at last, and down at
the dropping flowers in her hand.
Then suddenly she let them fall,
buried her face IL her hands, and
burst into dreadful weeping. Her
thin, lank figure shook with the
violence Of her sobs; her poor, silly
little sailor hat got pushed all on
one side; and got up softly and
went away, for one should not look
on breaking heart, and / could do
nothing to comfort her. looked
back once, and she was still sitting
there-a very pitiful figure in the
bright sunlight.