El Paso daily herald. (El Paso, Tex.) 1881-1901, 1899-06-24
Continued from last Saturday.
CHAPTER VII


thawed, and with f1attering affability
she gave me to understand that I
could take her beloved grandchild to
wife as soon as ever 1 liked-even
suggested, though somewhat doubt
fully, that 1 should wait to be supplied
with companion tumbler Of negus,
in celebration of the solemn betrothal,
which hospitality 1 CURLY declined /;
and, after a few whispered words with
Helen, who seemed quite dazed or
stupefied, 1 began my long walk home
in turmoil of tenderness, triumph and
irritation that was little in harmony
with the glorious stiffness of the
moonlit ocean and cliffs.
awoke the next morning after a
restless night with the comforting
consciousness that 1 had made an I'M
mitigated fool of myself, tied myself
for life to a girl of no position, edu-
cation, fortune, even beauty, for whom
in cold blood 1 really did not care
straw, while my heart was irretriev-
ably bound to another.
1 wandered about the mountains
alone all day, and in the afternoon
turned towards the farm. but when
it came within view a feeling of inn
patient repulsion made me turn back
at once. That night 1 wrote a short
note to Helen, telling her 1 had 20
go to England on business, and on
the following day 1 crossed the chan
mel.
General Stopford and his niece, I
heard, were occupying their town
house for a few weeks. I did not call
on them, but the day after my arrival
I had the pleasure of meeting Miss
Stopford in the row, looking the pic
ture of blooming health and beauty,
my rival in devoted attendance.
She called me at once to her side
and in an imploring whisper begged
me to come and see her that after
noon, that she would be at home
to no one but me. and had so much
to say to me. 1 refused point blank,
and took my leave almost at once, de-
termined never voluntarily to come
within range of her appealing eyes
again. Yet, somehow, the very next
day found me on the generals door
step, asking If his niece were at home.
I was ushered into a dim boudoir.
and, when my eyes became accustomed
to the light, 1 saw the young lady
sitting beside Lord Sandmouth's son,
and toying with a bunch of roses that
he had evidently just presented.
81 beg your pardon" 1 said, with
q low bow, as the pair started to their
feet. 81 think 1 have made a mis-
take; it was yesterday afternoon you
were to have been Eat home" and
alone to me, Miss Stopford, was it
not?"
I went away, wrote Immediately to
Mrs. Casey urging her to hasten the
preparations for our marriage. Three
weeks later 1 returned to Donegal, and
one lovely August morning, without
settlements, trousseau, presents or the
orthodox breakfast, 1 was married
in the whitewashed par1or where 1 had
first seen my bride less than three
months before with her apron full Of
early potatoes.
The ceremony was uneventful until
the conveyance that was to take us to
the train came numbering and Jolt
ing up the grassy drive, and Helen
rose to say good-by to her grand
mother.
"You-you will write to me, and
let me see you sometimes, granny?'
she said timidly, with a slight break
in her voice.
Certainly, if you earnestly wish it,
dear child" answered Mrs. Casey,
brushing the girls cheek with her
bristly chin; "but at the same time,
Helen, l have been thinking seriously
over this matter, and have come to the
conclusion that it would be better if
you did not return to the humble
scene of your childhood, for reasons
you will understand later. You are
entering into a world of pleasure,
wealth, excitement; am passing away
here, in solemn undisturbed commun-
ion with my Creator. My days are
short on earth, as you know, and
would rather not have them broken
into by intercourse with world 1
have forsaken forever. You must not,
dear child, think this decision harsh
or unnatural, or that it is dictated by
lack of affection for you. No, no, far
from it; 1 will bear you daily in my
thoughts, and pray with all the unc-
ton of my soul that you may be hap
py and prosperous in your new state
Of life and worthy in every way of the |
estimable gentleman in whose keep |
ing L place you with unbounded con-
fidence today"
l bowed low to hide a grim smile. |
for, indeed, I might have been the |
sorriest scamp that ever took a wife,
for aught the old lady knew to the |
contrary; anc my we. with a COM
posed, almost callous countenance,
responded, moving to the door
so be it. granny; let this be good
by forever, then"
On the doorstep Molly was waiting |
to fling her arms around her nurse
child in a noisy embrace; and as we |
numbered down the hill her shri.l |
blessings, mingled with the rattle of |