The times., 1897-03-29
kaEGI0EGylElsS 10 EIsllGEIll
M A ARGIE-
BY THE DUCHESS.


III you love me say something for me-
he whispers to the child.
.'Sone somefin2''
Yes
'.Thank God for my good dinner" says
Margie, promptly. il slightly irreleyantly.
1t is her last lesson and she is very proud
OF il.
| HOunt laughs M mOuTnfully, kisses the
I child and, IOosening her arms, she runs
I 70 her mother, filings all her daisies into
/ her lap, pulls down her head, and kisses
} her, too, and darts out Of the window into
the glowing garden beyond.
! ''YoB see! even she cannot help yOu,"
I says Margaret, with a faint smile, but
/ ina heaTtbrokent tone
I IF she cannot he breaks off alb
I TUptly, and for a moment they gaze into
| each other eyes, scarce seeing each other
| for the mist that lies bewteen them.
-.Oh, my Iove!" cries she at last, tremu-
| IoUsly. II am sorry. Not even you can
| know how sorry am or how I suffer
II is death to me-death But to suIy
| your good name! All! 1 have endured a
| great deal, but I have not the strength
| for that
You would honor my good namel''
Go says she, in a suffOcatiDg tone.
ut is good-by, them hoarseIy
1t is-but--'' bursting into tedTs-
'I cannot sayit Go-go-in mercy
He catches her in his arms, and for the
| ffTst-perhaps the last time he kisses her.
There shall be no good-by between US
two lie whispers, passi Onately. II
am going now. But L shall come back,
Margaret
He has turned, has passed into the gar
dan yuh f.Ct 4rs1r rff~f1 nd
has turned the corner leading 60 the side
path, when suddenly NJ finds himself face
t. face with a tall and very pretty woman
She has Margie's hands in hers, aud see
ing BlOunt, she comes to a standstin, re-
gartEng him with the frankest surprise
We must go back thirty minutes or so.
Margie had run into the Sunlit garden, as
has heeu said. and the chasing OF butter
flies brings her presently 20 the clipped
beech hedge that hides the cottage from
the road OutSide-and presently, a we'll
known hole in that hedge that gives a
glimpse of the world outside At the mo-
meat that Narge pushes her head through
the opening. very charming lady very
CharmingIy dressed, is Just coming down
the sidewalk next the cottage She Is
looking little sad. a little fOriuTn. Dis
appointment is written large upon her ex-
pTessive face, ana, indeed, she has the
air Of one who had expected all things
and found nothing.
she is now on her way back to the train
that had brought her here w0 hours ago.
50 full Of hope. Hope OF finding some ons
lost for many months. but always mex
pressibIy dear. But all her inquiries in
the small village below had led 20 nothing
but the knowledge that she had been hope
lessly miSinformed, when told % search
for Margaret there. The principal inhabit-
ant had suggested that another village q
few miles further on as place likely TO
find her, but she had lost all heart It
seemed ftnpossible that If Margaret Del
awarr lived only a few miles Off they
should not have heard of her.
-Oh, no, no: II : quite plain that poor,
dear. headstroug Margaret is anywherB
but here
She is looking not only sad, this pretty
lady. as Margie peers at her through the
hedge. but very tired. One can see she IS
uHaccuSt0med 70 long walks over rough
places, and, indeed, the little, patent. high
heeled shoe she is wearing were never
made to fight a country road.
SO dire is her distress Of mind and body
that now, seeing a big stone upright by
the side Of the hedge, she suddenly sinks
upon it, and with a heavy sign, lets her
face fall into her hands.
Suddenly she becomes conscious, as We
all do. that some living thing is near her.
aud looking up sees a little wondering.
beautiful face. staring at her through
the opening in the green hedge
That face, She rises to Ter feet Good
e NrsT4
walk has been to much for her. But yet
if that is not Mar2aret's child
rs you s!ckie?'' SAYS AIargie. with one
thumb in her mouth.
Il am am. my dear-sick at heart
says the pretty lady, tears yelling into
her eyes.
.-Margie give YOU a tiss,' say the small
svmpathRer, very swectlv. Kisses have
often healed her mothers wounds
is your name MargIe2'' cries the tail
lady, with excitement. ''Nlargie, don't
you rem ember u.e?''
No says lIaTgie.
'-Margie. where is your mother? In
there? VIII you take me to herr
Mustn't tum on road" says Margfe,
with pious expression
But can come to yOu," and in no.
rnent the tall lady has opened the iron gate
and has caught the child's hand and. run
ming up the small avenue, has. as already
related, run almost into Sir Johns arms.
Il beg your pardon" cries she. almOs5
but I have come here TO
find my cousin, Margaret Delawarr! Is
shec-Is she-g'' She stops, Stammering.
Who is this man?
Blount regards her steadily Margaret
lad not called herself 'DeldwaTr' 10 him.
Il think you VIII find yOuT cousin Mar
garet in there, says he, pointing towards
the window OF the ICON where he had last
seen Margaret, Crouched upon sofa, in
saddest. diIest grief Il think if you were
to leave Margie with me"
But Margie had decided that question
long ago by flying to him and thrusting
her hand into his.
Five thirtyl A year TO
Sir John What does IL all mean, and
by what right is he staying here? VIII
she resent his aying later on And yet,
he stays some strange inward sense tells
him that the coming Of this tall. strange
woman means emancipation for Margaret.
And il sO-he- but il all difficulties are
sIu0othed away, may she not prefer some
PIE else? Oh. no! He filings the thought
from him She loves him. She does love
him.
And now the tail young lady is coming
toward him again. Her eyes show eyi-
lence OF late tears. and her manner is fun
1f subdUeG JOY.
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