The Abbeville press and banner. [volume] (Abbeville, S.C.) 1869-1924, 1896-04-15

| find NV experience both novel and de-
| lirhtful. l mean to do just as please.
| Take another name and forget Margaret
| Leigh entirely. I'm tired of her"
Poor Margaret Leigh. I fear you
don't appreciate her; and since you are
| ouite determined to 60 to that land s.
end of creation suppose the best thing
for me to do is to hope you won't re-
Cret it.
Margaret laughed at this view Of the
matter.
aYou see, I am not looking for beaux,"
| she said, with mock gravity. i've al
WAYS liked old men better than young
ones. I'm sure those delightful old fish
| ermen will suit me immensely. Besides,
| I'm tired Of civilized life and shams
| generally, 80 I welcome something gen.
] uine for change. l suppose you think
I have very carping disposition, but I
| do so want to air my grievances. II 1t
were not too undignified l should like to
lie on the floor and scream"
Don't do so, my dear. The doctor is
right. You do need change. I don't
recognize my old Margaret.
a fattering way of expressing an un-
fattering opinion" laughed Margaret,
giving Miss Hilton's hand rebuking
little pat. Il am growing degenerate,
am not? I feel outrageously reckless
to-day. I have q most overpowering
desire to shock this prim and severely
proper neighborhood. Don't look so re-
proving, Miss Hilton. You couldn't
scold il you tried, and IN afraid take
advantage of that knowledge. Your
expression reminds me Of Mr.. Webs.
He was dilating on my grandfather's
virtues this morning-to me, Of all peo-
pie, mind you!-when 1 stopped his elo-
quence, and horr.fied him in the bar
gain by saying If my grandfather was a
specimen Of the good men, preferred
the bad. do, too. don't believe that
because a man goes to church every
Sunday and occasionally puts his name
| TO O subscription list, where it can be
seen and read by the neighborhood, that
| he is entitled to any admiration on that
account. There are other varieties OF
| charity which admire more, and these
my grandfather did not possess, dare
say he belonged to the class OF abnor-
mally good people who are perfectly
| content in their own self-righteousness.
They are precisely the kind Of individ-
uals detest. Give me an out-and-out
sinner any day. I'm certainly glad ]
| didn't know him, because I'm afraid
| should dislike him even moro than I do
| now.
Don't scold me, please, Miss Hilton.
| I know such feelings are neither kind
nor just. try so hard not to have them,
| but when think Of papa /"
She paused abruptly, her face and
| voice filed with emotion.
Miss Hilton stroked the bowed head
with an infinitely tender caress. "Iwould
oe the last TO blame your loyalty to your
Sather," she said gently, but wish you
could forget"
How can I forget2" was the fearful
answer. How can forget the poverty
and want that embittered my fathers
| life and caused my mothers death? If
you had known papa as I did, she con-
tinued, more quietly; if you had under
| stood his hopes and ambitions; If you
| had seen how his sensitive nature shrank
| from his uncongenial surroundings, or
guessed how his heart longed for the
sweet peace and restful influence of
home, you would be unforgiving too.
His father deprived him of all that
made life worth living. 1 can never
forget that The time has been when I
| felt hard and bitter to all the world, be-
cause one man had been so cruel to him.
| The money I enjoy now would have
made his life 80 different. 1t is so hard
| Cor me to think Of this. know shall
| regret all my life that uncle found US too
| late. All these thoughts rush over me
when I think Of my grandfather, and
then / feel inclined to express M oPi2-
ion strongly.
You can't understand my bitterness
! because you are always easy and gentle.
| I don't believe you could be angry If
| you tried; but have very fire OF pas
sion in me, and it flares up on occasion.
Let US talk Of something else. Did
| I tell you of my letter from Cousin
Brian? No? I intended to. 1t came
| after luncheon. I wonder he cares to
| write to me. Yes, know I wrote to
him first, but I felt called upon to do
that. was so unhappy over the will
| that I wanted him to know how I re-
belled against it with all my soul. You
remember what a candid, generous let
| ter he wrote in answer. This letter is
| equally characteristic. He tells me he
Is coming to America soon. Do you
know, I am really anxious to see him."
Il am sure you will like him, put in
Miss Hilton, with suspicious haste. !
confess I always had tender place in
my heart for Brian. He has some eX-
cellent traits, despite his shortcomings.
He lost his mother when he was very
young, poor boy, and his after training
was left in the hands Of servants, and
was not very judicious, as you may
imagine"
He and uncle quarreled great deal,
didn't they?" asked Margaret, after
thoughtful pause.
"Yes, quite often," was the answer.
Brian spent money more freely than
his father approved. Your uncle once
remarked to me: If Brian were not
sure that would pay his bills he would
be less industrious in making them.'
think he was rather anxious for him to
marry and settle down to the practice
of his profession. He could not tolerate
a man with no occupation"
Il agree with him there" returned
Margaret quickly. Il perfectly abomi-
nate man without ambition. If had
husband Of that disposition I'd make
him do something or wouldn't have
him around me"
"Still," she added more thoughtfully,
uncle need not have disinherited him
on that account. Such.a course seems
to be popularity in this family. 1t
humiliates mo to fe,l that my coming
here had anything to do with it,
| 10 4