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

P@Asy sAuSC'
"He seems to find it rather dull /"
/ remarked.
"Do you think so? Oh, no,
assure You he is delighted with the
place." fluttered my companion,
with a painful blush. "He doesn't
care much for exertion, perhaps;
but he says it is enough for him
simply to live in a place like this" "
"He is rather young to talk like
that" / hazarded. "He can't be
more than twenty-five or six?"
"Oh." cried Miss Cynthia, she
ID much older than that, | am sure
he is much older; but then" she
went on, twisting the corner of her
shawl in her nervous fingers, "I
think it is so difficult really to tell
age. Some people look so much
older than they are, and some so
much younger. Don't you think
so? Mr.. Houston says that years
have really very little to do with
age, and it is only experience and
knowledge that really signify"
Poor Miss Cynthia! According
to that maxim she was certainly no
more than eighteen.
"For example," she said hastily,
with the curious boldness Of BASH
full people, who often make conf
dences that stronger souls would
shrink from-"for example, l am
sure you would never guess my
real age. Now, | wish You would
tell me how old should you think |
really amp
This was rather sudden. l gasp
ed There was nothing for it but
prevarication; and with that an
xious, faded waiting eagerly upon
my words, l said:
"Well, it is really hard to tell;
but are you thirty yeti"
"There!" cried Miss Cynthia,
beaming with sudden delight. 81
was right; it is impossible to guess
quite correctly. Ireally am little
more than that; butappearances are
sometimes deceptive, are they not:
IL JnaT you, MAUI! asa Uaii-as~ru-
approached through the twilight.
"Do you want me, my love?"
"It is too damp for you to be out,
dear" said the girl. "Do come in
now"
She spoke in soft, pleasant
voice; but | noticed q scrutinizing
glance at me as she came near, as
if to see who it was that kept Miss
Cynthia out so late. She acknow-
lodged her aunt's nervous introduc-
ton with a very slight bow, and
passed her arm through hers to lead
her indoors.
l remained on my seat little
longer, meditating. Poor Miss Gym
thia! Her secret was easily read,
and l scarcely knew whether to
laugh or cry over her; but | could
not get her out of my head. From
where l sat | could see the masts of
the vessels that were lying by the
dock, ready to 60 out with the next
tide; the broad downs rose on the
other side of the harbor. and /
could see the constant flash of the
white breakers at the edge of the
grayness of the ocean. The air was
full of the sound of the sea; it form
ed a sort of background to all the
other sounds of the summer even
ing: the distant voices of children,
the steps and greetings of passers-
by, and the thin twang of the church
clock that struck the half-hours
and quarters high above the scat
tered little town.
Miss Cynthia's affairs seemed
fantastic and rather ridiculous to
me while sat there in the twilight.
As / unused, the scent of a cigar
floated upon the air, and | heard a
step down the road by the church.
l recognized Mr.. Houston as he
lounged past the garden where l
sat, with his hands in his packets
and his cap slouched over his hand
some eyes. | was sitting with my
back towards the hotel, but as
gathered up my shawls and rose to
go IN, saw that some one else had
been watching the young man. A
girl stood at the drawing-room win
dow, a dark, handsome, sulky-look-
ing girl, who was watching intent
ly the lounging figure from under
her straight-drawn brows. 1t was
Maud Treleven.
had not very much to do Just