The Superior times. [volume] (Superior, Wis.) 1870-1912, 1899-09-09

ly alike. though in distinctly different
styles.
1T is charmingv' says the younger girl.
with a little quick motion of the hand
toward the weeping bay, and the awak-
enins trees, and the other glories of the
landscape. "All charming, far better
than | ever dared hope for; and yet my
mind misgives me, Vera"
She turns a brilliant glance on her sis
ter, full of terrible insinuations. and then
laughs little. Thus animated, she is a
very pretty girl, half child, half woman,
as fresh as the morning, and with eyes
| like stars. She lifts one slender black
gloved hand, and placing it beneath her
sisters chin, turns her face gently TO her.
Such beautiful face. Very like the
rlante one beside it, yet unlike, too. There
Is touch of sadness round the lovely
| lips, a mournful curve; indeed, thought
! fulness too great for her years is stamped
on every feature. \ tender, loving, yet
strong soul shines through the earnest
| eyes, and when she smiles it is reluctant
| ~. as if smiles all her life had been for
hidden to her
ION! that reminds me-" said Miss Dy-
| sart. Il quite forgot to tell you of it,
| but the day before we left Nice, Nell
| Stewart said that this cousin you speak
Of, if he does exist at all. at all events
does not do it here
(which meansT'
That either he won't, or can't, life
with his father. Can't, Nell rather led
me to believe" 49,.
Cant it is, you may be sure saws the
Younger girl, restlessly. Fancy a father
whose son can't live with him. And yet,
after all, virtuous establishment on that
score is rather out of place with us.
can imagine just such a father
We'll, never mind that" says Miss by
sart, hastily
Yes. Very good; let us then so from
sire to uncle" says her sister with a lit
tie shrus. DO you think we shall gain
much by the change? This old relative of
ours is, perhaps, as delightful as we could
wish him, and yet l wish father had not
left us TO his tender mcrcies."
DO not dwell on that" SAYS Vera,
with nervous haste; do not seek for
faults IN the inevitable lie is all that is
left Us. You know the sudden decision
arose ont Of a letter received by father
from Uncle Gregory about year ago
When father s-was-dying-" She
pauses abruptly, and tremor shakes her
| last words
The younger girl turns quickly to look
| 1T her. There is infinite love and com
passion in her glance. but perhaps little
contempt, and certainly q little impa.
| tiCncc.
! DO you KNOW" she says, sit may seem
heartless-positively coarse, if you will
but l do not think our father was a man
10 excite respect, much less love or regret
| Or"
oh, ii is better not to speak like that ,
interrupts Miss Dysart, in a low, shocked
tone. Don't do it, darling | know
what you mean, but
And | know that | shall never forgive
or forget the life he led YOU says Grisel
| ia, with certain angry excitement.
Well, that is over!' says Miss Dysart
with quick sigh, heavily indrawn.
What was this vendetta, this terribl,
lifelong quarrel that was kept up be
tween him and father with such monoton
Gus persistency?"
That had to do with our grandfather.
| will. Papa was the eldest son, yet RI.
property was left to Uncle Gregory; ana
ihat for no reason at all. Naturally. papc
was very angry about it, and accused
Gregory of using undue influence
lust so, and of course there is n cooc
deal behind that you don't know. Their,
always is; nobody ever tells quite every
thing. And besides Oh. Oh, Vera
oh, what has happened:'
Griselda clutches in an agonized fashion
at the leather side of the crazy OLE
chariot, which has toppled over to tn,
left side and stands in a decidedly dissi
patcd position. The ancient driver, pre
sumably asleep, had let the horses wan
der ut their own sweet will, and they he
ing old and sleepy, too, the result wa.
that they had dragged two of the wheels
up on Il steep bank and nearly capsize,
the carriage.
"Oh, thank YOU" says Miss Dysart
leaning forward and addressing with earn
est glance and heightened color the youn.
man who had riScG-des"cnded, perhaps
sounds plcasanter and more orthodox
like Il good angel from somevhere-th
wood on their right. no doubt. \ fshin,
rod, lying on the road where he had fun;
! II when preparing for his isnoble battl
with those poor old horses, proclains thi
fact that he has been whipping the stream
that CLEANS here and there brilliantly
through the interstices of the trees
"Oh. mo- says he. lifting his hat, ''yol
mustn't thank me. Ii was really nothing
Poor hrutes, | think they were asleep
they 1t is hot. isn't it, This last n
says hastily. as il ashamed of his ami
madveTsion on the age of the sorry cattl
, IN qucStion-their horses, no doubt; an
there il something wonderfully chsrmin
, En- the faint apolosetic color that spring
Z INFO his cheeks. As be finishes speakin
I he looks at GriSelda so hard that she feel
Eit incumbent on her 70 return his slanc
and TO say something.
We thought our last hour had come.
She says. laughing softly. and looking a
MIN little shyly, but so prettily. Blu
for you, one cannot say where we shout
De now
She bows 70 him. and SO does her sis
ter quite as graciously, and then tn
horses once more commence their snail
| Ike progress. grinding through the dust
road at the rate of three miles an hour
The little episode is over; the young ma
settles his soft hat more firmly on hi
head, picks mp his rod, regards il anS
!ou>iy TO see that no harm has come I
II, and disappears once more into tn
shelter OF the cool wood.
, Half an hour later they are at the en-
trance gate OF Greycourt, and PRACTICAL
at their journeys end Both girls. Wit
an involuntary movement, crane thei
necks oct of the carriage to get frs
, glimpse ri their future home and the
turn djsmaycd glance on each other
Anything more dreary, more unfriendly
yet withal grand N its desolation. coul
| hardly se seen.
. How dark is Is. says GriseIda,
osrvous thrill rzrn!ny through her, q