The McCook tribune. (McCook, Neb.) 1886-1936, 1900-05-18

49, S.> o'f @SS@C
ately. And / think you are cruel
and cowardly."
Cruel and cowardly? You shall
unsay those words" he breathes out
fiercely, his face close to her scarlet
cheek. Barbara, your beauty mad
dens me! l have looked upon you as
mine for so long, and your father
wishes you to marry me-. He wrote to
me himself"
She lifts her dark head with pride,
And am ! to have no voice in the
matter? Sebastian, you need not say
any more; | have made my choice"
And Sc have T." he says, with a
ring of suppressed passion in his voice
as he rises to his feet. Don't think
for one moment, Barbara, that l will
give you up"-moving away across the
room.
The days that follow are unhappy
enough. Barbara finds her engage
ment ignored, and she herself under
goes a sort Of domestic b%oycotting.
George arrives at the Court one aft
ernoon and holds a short interview
with Mrs. Saville. That lady gives
him to understand pretty plainly that,
without the consent of Barbara's faith
er, the name even of engagement is
not to be mentioned.
Barbara is under my charge, Mr..
Bouverie, and her father would never
forgive me if she made an undesirable
marriage. may as we'll tell you at
once he has other views for his daugh-
teri"
George is furious; but what is the
use OF being angry? He and Barbara
are treated as a pair of children, al
lowed to play at being engaged if they
choose, with the distinct understand
ing that it can never come to any
thing.
"Of course | cannot prevent my
niece promising to marry you" Mrs.
Saville says, with great frankness,
turning her heavy, eX~pressionless face
On George. She is quite at liberty
to engage herself to any one She
chooses; but | feel sure, Mr.. Bouverie,
you will have the good sense and
taste to agree with me that, under the
circumstances. it would be better for
you not to visit at the Court until
Barbara can hear from her father.
You have written to him, l presume?"
Yes, George has written, and colors
up as he thinks of his letter, which he
had found so hard to write, for he
had so little to offer Barbara but his
love.
A kind of smile passes over Mrs.
Saville's face.
Il suppose you have explained to
Mr.. Saville how you intend to sup
port a wife?" she asks, with a degree
of sarcasm.
Il have two hundred a year." says
poor George, "and in course of time
the Grange comes to me-"
"Ah, yes, but I fear Mr.. Saville may
not take quite such a hopeful view as
you do"
Which is undeniable. and Gerge
feels that he can say nothing in re-
ply.
Mrs. Saville writes herself to Tas-
mania by the next mail. Barbara
watches her aunt as she sits at her
writing table, her pen racing yer the
foreign notepaper, covering page after
page abusing George, thinks Barbara
Indignantly. The letter is posted, and,
greatest trial of all, Barbara's love af-
fair is quietly ignored.
George does not come any more to
the Court. In honor he feels bound
not to do so. And Mrs. Buverie,
coached by Mrs. Saville, also thinks
it better not to ask Barbara to the
Grange; so the lovers are forced to
meet each other how and where they
can.
These stolen interviews are truly de-
lightful, and the young people build
lovely castles in the air, and count the
days till the letter can come from Tas-
| mania, never doubling that the answer
will be anything but favorable.
ITO no continued