The Superior times. [volume] (Superior, Wis.) 1870-1912, 1899-10-14
CHAPTER XII.

den wall, stops as she reaches the sum-
mer house, a favorite resort of Vera's.
Notwithstanding the father unpleasant
associations connected with it, and pokes
in her head to find Vera there.
1--WE come back" she cries. breath
lessly, sinking into a seat and looking at
Vera with despair in her eyes. 81 have
done as you desired me, have said good
by to him forever
what did he say? Was he very much
upset?" with burning interest.
He said he'd manage to see me in
some way or other" says Griselda, with
a heavy sigh.
ooh, welcome now. that's not so
bad" says Vera. cheerfully, forgetful of
prudence at sight Of her sisters grief.
He seems from all have heard from
you IA sort Of person who would be
difficult to battle. / think l should put
faith in that declaration of his if l were
you"
ooh, he said more than that" cries
Griselda. why, it appears that Tom
Mr.. Peyton-knows Seaton quite well,
and likes him, too. Mr.. Peyton says
that he, Seaton, is engaged to be married
to Miss Butler, friend of Lady Riv
crdale's."
For moment there is dead silence,
during which the pretty crimson on
Vera's cheek dies out, leaving her singu-
larry pale. No doubt the surprise is
great.
rs that true?" she says. Il should
not be surprised, though | confess / am;
it is only what l might have expected
from my first judgment of him. And
one should not condemn him, either; it is
not his fault that he calls Uncle Gregory
father"
footstep upon the gravel outside
makes them both turn their heads.
What is it, Grunch?' Vera calmly
asks as the housekeeper appears on the
threshold
The master wishes to see you, Miss
Dysart, in the library" There is an ex-
preston of malignant amusement in the
woman's eyes as she says this.
Vera had gone into the library with
pale face, but it was with one paler still
she came out Of it half an hour later,
white as death, and with strained look
of passion on every feature not to be sub
dued. She might perhaps have given way
to the blessed relief of tears if she had
finds herself looking at Seaton Dysart,
who has at this moment entered the in
ner hall leading to the room she has just
left, all her being seems to stiffen into a
cold horror Of contempt.
She stops short and fixes her heavy
eyes on his.
$50 you betrayed me!' she says, in a
low tone that vibrates with scorn.
Betrayed your echoes he, starting.
There is that in her face not to be mis-
taken. and n presentiment of coming
evil sends a hot flush to his brow.
You are a bad actor" says she, with
a palesmle; you change color, at a
crisis; you have still last grain of hon
esty left in you. You should see to that;
kill it quickly, it spoils your otherwise
perfect role
You are pleased to be enigmatical,"
says he, with Il frown. Il am, however
at a loss to know what you mean
"Oh, are you ashamed to keep it up
the deception?' cries she with a sud
den outbreak Of wrath. "Oh, how could
you do it?'
Great heaven. how can | convince you
that l have done nothing?" exclaims he,
growing pale as herself
There was no one else awake, there
was no one to see me" says she, trying
to stiBe her agitation. What, then, must
| think but that you were the one to tell
your father of that unlucky night when
| was locked out in the garden:"
He has heard that?" Seaton. as if
thunderstruck, looks blankly at her.
why do you compel me to tell YOU
oil CHI -;+l,
a little irrepressible stamp of her foot.
If you will listen to what is already no
news to you, learn that your father sent
for me just nova long time ago. hours
ago, | think" putting her hand to her
head il little, confused, miserable way,
land accused me of having spent the
whole night alone with you, purposely, in
the garden
And you think that i
Il don't think" with a condemnatory
glance. ''As | told you before | know.
Your father has insolently accused me
Of an impossible thing; but even if had
stayed in the garden with you that night,
of my own free will, | cannot see where
would lie the disgrace he connects with
it
You are right. no one could see dis
grace where you We're" says Seaton
calmly My father is an old man, he
rs old enough to know how to insult
a woman" coldly, when" with terri
BILE glance at him, shown the way. Oh, {"
laying her hand upon her breast in a
paroxysm of grief, lit was abomnable of
you and you said-twice you said it,
coming closer to him, and lifting accus-
ing eyes to his. Trust me- l remember
it as though you uttered it but now, and
believed you. Trust me- you said"
Il should say it again. says Dysart.
"a hundred times again. Come" he says.
and leads her back again to the library
she has just quilted.
Gregory Dysart still sits in his usual
chair. his arms on the elbows of it, his
face is set, as though death had laid its
seal on it. save for the marvelousiy.
horribly youthful eyes, so full of fire and
life.
You will be so good as to explain to
Vera at once" begins Seaton, in a dan
gerous tone, "how il was you learned of
her being in the garden the other night y
What night? She may have been out
every night, for aught | know: she tells
me she is fond of moonlight" replies the
old man, impassively.
You understand perfectly the night of
which | speak" says Seaton. his face
now livid. ''Who?" he repeats, in a low
but terrible voice.
Crunch" replies Mr.. Dysart. shortly
something in his sons face warned him
not to 60 further.
You hear?" says Seaton. turning TO
Vera. 1T was Crunch who betrayed
you. You are satisfied now:'
'on that point. yes. suppose should
offer you an apology" says she, icily
But with a swift glance at his father,
how can | be satisfied when"
Her voice breaks.
Sir" cries Seaton, addressing his
father with sudden passion, why did
you speak to her OF this? Why have
YOU deliberately lnsulted your brothers
.hiid:"
There was no insult. l may have told
her that if she chooses to do such things
rs society disapproves of, she must only
submit 10 the consequences and consider
herself oStraCiSal.