The representative. [volume] (St. Paul, Minn.) 1893-1901, 1899-08-31
Che pangbourne
~.>., Glopenent

| ~.e.s 6tope1ment
| Pangbourne was all agog, and every
body was saying 1t was a lovely day for
the wedding. The village was en- fete,
and the Elephant next to the church, al
| ways full In summertime, was doing an un-
| usually roaring trade.
| The wedding was not a popular one The
| bride, Beatrice Grey, however, was much
beloved in Pangbourne. but had her father
| been living-so it was said-the union
| about to be celebrated would never have
been permitted. Mrs. Grey, however. was
satisfied. She was one of those women who
think that the be-all and end-all of life
Is to be rich, which the bridegroom.
! Godfrey Brewster, certainly was. He had
already been sheriff of London and in the
| ordinary course Of city custom he would
| almost become lord mayor.
| He had a rival in John Vaisey of the
Fighting Fifth" a dashing young soldier,
| who had fought like a man In the Tirah
under Lockhart, and whose brave deeds
deserved to be better recompensed. Up
there in the Afghan hills he had been with
in an ace of death time and again, but he
had come home without a scratch to find
Beatrice, whom he loved. pledged to an
|
sey had made every effort to win her for
his own. but Mrs. Grey had persistent1y
opposed him, and the little incidents of life
on which the fate of the men and even of
nations hangs had been against him. It
| was true that Beatrice secretly cherished a
| tender regard for him, but misrepresenta-
| tions, gossip, scandal, and, worse than all
misunderstanding, had kept them apart
| for whole year, and now here was her
wedding day.
Beatrice. with her sister and mother.
lived at Weir House, the pretty villa with
| the terrace below the lock. The front faces
the road, the back commands the river.
| Beatrice overcome by the ordeal through
which she was passing, tried by her moth
| ers attentions, leased by the good natured
badinage of her bridemaids, and almost in
| tears at the sacrifice of her happiness,
| which at the eleventh hour she inwardly
knew this marriage meant, sat in the draw
ing room in her bridal dress-though not
yet gloved or veiled-staring drearly at her
wedding presents, but wearing wedding
day smile, when the old gardener came in
a flustered sort of way and stood, hat in
hand, at the French windows He carried
small boquet of roses
| she went toward him and took the flow
ers, when, with the familiar but respectful
freedom OF an old servant, he motioned her
aside. AS she stepped out on to the ter
race he slipped into her hand note
The Cap'n told me to gle We the roses,
Miss. and particularly the note. He be
yonder L the punt.
1t was the merest crap of paper torn from
a note book. and not even in an envelope.
she unfolded and hastily read the brief
pencil scrawl:
| "Roforo Won oro ;r,-ra..L,
to me, implore you. Jack
The gardener stood by her side and
pointed to Capt. Vaisey He was on the
lawn under willow, and his punt was
moored by the steps of the river terrace
| close by.
| FOR moment or two she hesitated, then
crunching the note in one hand and gath
| erlng up the train of her dress In the
other, she hurried across the lawn. AS soon
| as she advanced towards him he stroye
| to meet her eagerly.
There was no time for long speech or
argument. and that John Vaisey knew WELL
| His was desperate effort, and it was a
time not for words but for action
| This marriage must not be-" he said.
She was as white as her own gown She
| looked about her, shuddering
you will be unhappy for your whole
|
not love this man. 1 know you love me-"
1T is too late" she faltered.
She looked back at the open French win
| dows of the house. paused doubtfully, and
| stepped a pace or two towards the river
| Her hesitation encouraged him. He put
his arm through hers and led her away,
| talking persuasively, rapidly, till she stood
by the punt.
There is no time for consideration" he
said, drawing her into the punt.
Almost before she knew it he had I'M
loosed the chain and pushed OF from the
| terrace.
But where how-what is this?" she ex-
claimed. in sudden apprehension.
| Well it's an elopement,' he replied
That's the plain English of it. Instead Of
marrying Mr.. Brewster at Pangbourne, you
marry me at Mapledurham. 1 love you
Beatrice, and that's the truth Why should
you be miserable forever"
She covered her face with her hands; she
clinched her fists; she implored him to re-
turn, but he only punted steadily down
the stream, pausing but once to throw a
! wrap over her bridal dress. At first she
was in tears, but as they got toward Maple
durham she had fit of hysterical laughter
| Then she grew pale.
! II expect they're looking for me every
| WneTe. Imagine mOtner. y, Jack, this iS
dreadful. Take me back, Put me ashore"
But Jack quietly punted on. When they
came to the old mill Jack helped her out
of the punt, and, holding her hand, covered
| it with kisses.
| You're ashore, now, Beatrice, and there's
Mapledurham church. I have thought all
| this out. Here's the marriage license, and
| the vicar is expecting us-or, anyhow, he's
waiting for us-unless you'd rather go back
| and become Mrs. Brewster"
LAS though he'd have me now" she
pouted, latter keeping him waiting like
this
Jack laughed whereupon she frowned.
Then she laughed, and as suddenly became
| serious again, turning round to gaze be-
| yond the belt of NAPLES and over the beau
tiful river toward Pangbourne.
| Il know what you're thinking" said
Jack; "but never mind the-the others,
Come along"
When they came to the church gate she
!! chung to him a moment and, lifting her
face up to his, whispered, in sudden burst
| of gratitude, 20, Jack! How you have
saved me! Won't I just be a good wife to
! you for this!"
| And she is.-Illustrated London News.
HULDAH'S LAND SPEC