Santa Fe new Mexican. [volume] (Santa Fe, N.M.) 1898-1951, 1899-05-18

scandal and his consent to the marriage he
could see no way open.
"Compromise.'' He hailed the idea with
delight. Why not invite this objection
able young person down to Maddox Hall
his country seat-say, for a month, the
engagement to be made public at the end
of that time, unless Lord Merton
lsmiled.
If the compromise thus effected had
done nothing else, it had educated the
young actress to a fuller appreciation of
the amenities of life than she had before
possessed. She had known but little
brightness hitherto, and poverty, with its
endless shifts and con%trivances, has a mar
rowing influence on the possibilities of a
woman's nature. She realized also for the
first time that Talbot's affection for her
entailed a certain amount of sacrifice on
his part, and that she was by nc means
the only pretty or fascinating woman in
his circle.
She reveled in the unwonted luxury
and refinement Of her surroundings.
81 hate to be poor" she said to Lord
Merton in a foolish burst of confidence.
81 think it's worse than anything"
And Lord Merton smilingly agreed, and
made himself more charming than ever,
taking her over the estate and explaining
at length the working of the coal mines,
from which he derived his wealth. "Mer-
cenary to the backbone" was his mental
ejaculation. "Sell her soul for gold" he
added, noticing the interest she displayed
at the number of tons brought to the sur
face and the royalty due on each.
"My place is nothing, my dear young
lady," he said, in reply to some enthusi-
astic remark. "You should see Sir Harry
Tyler's. It's simply magnificent In fact,
Tyler could buy me up twice over. He's
the coal king Of the country, you know;
whereas I only own two miserable mines"
And he shrugged his shoulders depreciat-
ingly.
Perhaps it was the knowledge that the
young man was the local king that
made Dora SO gracious to him that after
noon. He had been more persistent in his
attentions during her stay than Talbot
quite liked, and Dora, in that spirit of
coquetry which is part of the equipment
Of every actress, had by no means repealed
him. That evening, the last night of her
visit, she was more than usually radiant.
Lady Merton had given a ball in her
honor, and she had been a great success.
Tired with excitement, she readily &C
cepted Sir Harry's invitation to 'sit OUT
for a couple of dances. London, with its
dreary streets and hideous cries, seemed
very far away in the dimly lighted con-
%servatory; the stage, with its endless jeal-
ousies, tiresome rehearsals and rapid tri-
umphs, unspeakably abhorrent. How
wonderfully lucky she was to be able SO
soon to leave it-and forever! She was
reused from her day dreams by her COM
panion's protestations. In a flood of stam-
mering %eloquence he placed his riches, his
title, at her feet, assuring her Of his I'M
changing alteration.
He was so earnest, so passionate, in his
pleading that the girl felt sorry for him,
vexed that he had not known of her en-
gagement. She laid her hand upon his
arm e~ntreatingly, but as she turned to
answer, Lord Merton's voice, grown old
and thin-yet raised to an unwonted pitch
sounded from the hall.
"'Tis true, my boy, tho mines are food
ed, and we are ruined-paupers, not q
penny" She did not catch his sons re-
ply. Stunned and dazed, she strove to
realize what had happened. Gradually,
out of the chaos and confusion Of ideas,
her mind grasped the fact that with her
lay the choice of poverty, with Its mean
surroundings, and wealth, with all that
makes life worth living. Talbot ruined,
poor-she could not go back to it; the
small, stuffy rooms in the suburban street,
the hideous ALTERATION of a life of work,
want and WEAKNESS. Her mother, oh, how
could she tell her that it had all come to
an end-that there was nothing to look
forward to, nothing to hope for? Her
whole soul sickened and revolted.
"Answer me, dear, whispered her COM
panion. "Tell me you will be my wife. "
And then she remembered that when no
one else had noticed or cared for her Tai
bot had thought nothing slight that gave
her pleasure, deemed nothing a sacrifice
for love of her. Could she who had drained
the poisonous cup of poverty to the dregs
could she let him taste the bitterness Of
such a draft alone, should she be the first
to wound him, to treat him with disdain?
The truth, the naked truth, rose up above
the follies, the fripperies, with which she
had surrounded it. Should she buy the
world at the cost of her own soul2
" OuJ NOIN SLO 5ODOOu. NOt AIN WAph
outstretched hands and streaming eyes
she called to him, ineffable tenderness in
her voice.
"Talbot, Talbot, I want you, my dar-
ling! l want you. Poverty doesn't mat
ter If l have you"
The bride looked ''simply lovely, as all
brides do, and Lord Merton, charming as
ever, appeared perfectly satisfied with his
sons choice. The wedding was altogether
q magnificent affair, the report about the
mines having been grossly exaggerated.
His lordship is invariably kind and
courteous to his sons wife, but considers
diplomacy when applied to women to be a
mistake. For the rest he publicly de-
nounce all engineers as robbers, and pri-
vately thinks g2, 900 for flooding % disuscd
mine a pretty stiff price.
All the same, l don't think he'd have
grudged double that il things had been
otherwise. Boston Traveller.
Warwick Lane.
On the right hand side of Newgate
street are various streets and courts lead
| ing into Paternoster row. OF these War
wick and Ivy lanes, Panyer alley and
L.ovel's court merit the attention of the
lover Of literary and historical antiquities.
| Warwick lane, long the abode of butchers
and tallow chambers, but now chiefly oc-
cupied by printers and stationers, took it's
name from the inn or house Of the cele-
brated Warwick, the kingmaker.
Stow mentions his coming to London in
the famous convention Of 1853 with 900
men, all in red jackets, embroidered with
~o~oo.J etn,,c t,nfnr, aud hoLt,,d and <hof