The Superior times. [volume] (Superior, Wis.) 1870-1912, 1899-03-04

from the nesting woods. the sweet, wild
coo Of the pigeons, the chirping of innum-
erable songsters, and now and then the
dull hooting Of some blinking owl.
Through all, the sad tolling Of a chapel
bell away, away in the distance. where
the tiny village hangs over the brow of
the rocks that grid the sea.
Joyce picks branch or two rs she goes
on her way, and thrusts them into the
bosom of her gown. And now she has
reached the outskirts of the wood where
the river runs crossed by Il rustic bridge,
on which she has ever loved to rest and
dream, leaning rounded arms upon the
wooden ratings and seeing strange but
sweet things in the bright, hurrying water
beneath her eyes.
She has gained the bridge now, and
leaning languidly upon its frail ramparts
lets her gaze wander atield. The little
stream. full of conversation as ever, flows
on unnOticed by her Its charm seems
dead. That belonged to the old life-the
life she will never know again. 1t seems
to her quite a long time since she felt
young. She has learned that life is a fail
ure after all. 1t takes some people life
time to discover that great fact; it has
taken her quite a short time.
A step upon the bridge behind her, She
starts into more upright position and
looks round her without much interest.
A dark figure is advancing toward her
Through the growing twilight it seems
abnormally large aud black. and Joyce
stares at it anxi0usly. Not Freddy-not
one of the laborcrs-thcy would he ali
clad in flannel Jackets of a light color.
''Oh, is it you:" says Dysart, coming
closer to her. He had. however, known it
was her from the first moment his eyes
rested on her. No mist no twilight could
have deceived him.
Yes" says she, advancing a little to-
ward him and giving him her hand. A
cold little hand. and reluctant.
Il was coming down to Mrs. Monkton
with a message-a letter-from Lady Bal
tmore."
This is a very long way round from
the Court. isn't it," says She
Yes. But like this calm little corner.
have come often to it lately
Miss Kavanagh lets her eyes wander to
the stream down below. To this little
spot of all places, Her favorite nook a..
Had he hoped to meet her there? Oh. no,
imposshIe. And besides, she had given it
II seems weeks TO her now since last she
was here.
You will find Barbara says she, gent
ly.
Il don't suppose it is of very much CON
sequence" says he, aludinG to the mes
sage. He is looking at her, though her
avcrted face leaves him little to study.
You are cold,'' says he, abruptly.
Am L" turning to him with a little
smile Il don't feel cold | feel dull, per
haps. but nothing else"
There is a pause; it threatens to be an
everlasting one, as Miss Kavanagh plain
" doesn't know what to say. He can see
this; what he cannot see is that she is
afraid of her own voice. Those trouble
some tears that all day have been so close
to her seem closer than ever now.
"Rcauclerk came down to see you to-
day" says he. presently. This remark is
so unexpected that it steades her.
Yes" she says, calmly enough, but
raising her telltae eyes.
you expected himF'
"No."
"He asked you TO marry him. how
everE' There is something almost threat
ening in his tone now. as if he is defying
her to deny his assertion. 1t overwhelms
her.
Yes" she says again, and for the first
time is struck by the meagerness Of her
replies.
"Well?' says Dysart. roughly.
Il refused him." says she, at last, in n
low tone, and in a dull sort of way, as if
tho matter is one of Indifference to her
"Ah" He draws long breath. 1T is
true he says, laying his hand on hers
| as it lies on the top Of the woodwork.
Quite true
And yet-you have been crying"
"1 on can see that says she, petulantly.
"1o on have taken pains TO see and to tell
me of il. DO You think 1t IS Il pleasant
| thing to be told: Most people, glanCing
| angrily toward him-'cyery one, | think.
makes it a point nowadays not to see
when one has been making Il fool Of ones
self: but you seem to take Il delight in tor
turing me-
Did IL says be, bitterly, ignoring, per
haps not even hearing her outburst-"d did
II cost you 50 much to refuse him.:
IT cost me nothing. with n sudden eff
: fort. and flash from her beautiful eyes.
Nothing"
i have said so. Nothing at all. 1t was
mere nervousness ana because-it remind
| eu me OF othcr Things.
DId he see you cry: asks Dysart,
! tightening unconsclousIy his grasp upon
/ her hand.
/ NO. lie was gone a long time. quito a
long time, before 1t occurred to me that
| should like to cry. !, with frugal
smile, INDUCED myself very freely then.
/ pysart draws a long breath of relief. 1t
/ would have been intolerahle to him that
( ReaucIork should have known Of her
tears. He would take taken possession of
them, rs it were. They would have mere
|ly helped TO pamper his seif-conceit and
smooth down his ruffied pride. He would