The Yale expositor. (Yale, St. Clair County, Mich.) 1894-current, 1900-05-25
By AMY BRAZIER

ana gambler VINO cannot meet his
engagements! No Bouverie ever dis
graced himself like that before. You
had better cay good-by to me. Bar
bara. Your aunt was right am not
fit match for you!"
Barbara's cheeks are pale enough
now.
George leans the bicycle against a
tree, and leads her across the grass to
a wood, where the green moss grows
in feathery tufts like sofa pillows, and
where here and there the celandine is
lifting its sparkling, spring-like face,
the birds filing the air with song. All
the world appears full of hope and
promise; hope seems everywhere but
in the heart of George Bouverie.
Barbara's eyes are slowly filling
with tears, but what is that in wom-
ans love that makes her then more
tender to the erring and more lenient
to the failures, SO ready to forgive?
She and George nave seated them
selves on fallen tree, and she is the
comforter. His hand is held to her
bosom, her face, full of love and pity,
is upturned, with the tears quiverlng
on her lashes.
81 feel as if I could shoot myself"
George cries passionately. Sweet
heart, l have only brought sorrow on
you"
Barbara looks at him bravely.
George, when l promised to marry
you, it was to be for better, for worse.
1t is the same as if we were married
now. | am glad you have told me
your trouble. 1t is very dreadful;
hardly understand what it means; but,
my dearest, l will help you to bear
it,"
How sweet are her words, how earn
est the pure and lovely face!
George only groans.
Barbara does not know of the mire
of difficulties that so nearly submerge
him.
He turns his haggard gaze on her.
Nothing can help me. unless | get
hundred pounds; and what l feel most
is what this will mean to my poor
mother"
He might have thought of this be-
fore, but Barbara does not say so; on
ly leans her cheek against his Shout
der, and looks away at the golden sea
of daffodils that futter so gaily in the
March sunshine.
Il would rather release you" George
says huskily. Il shall have to go
abroad or somewhere"
Il will go with you" Barbara says,
in sweet, unsteady voice. You
cannot give me up, George, for I won't
be given up unless you do not care for
me any longer"
Il must love you till I die" cries
poor George love and remorse making
him well-nigh desperate.
But even Barbara cannot raise his
spirits. Nothing can lift the gloom
from his face A trouble like this takes
the life out of man. The girl puts
her ann about his neck and draws
his grave, unhappy face down to hers.
George, after this you will never
bet on those horrid horses again?
| Once this trouble passes away-and it
will pass, deaT-you will be brave. /
think, George Oh, don't know
how to say it! But do you remember
the preacher in the square? He said
God will help people to resist tempta-
ton even in the little things of every
| day life"
THAT is rubbish" George returns,
answering her caress. MY old mother
oil Of
believe she buys a new bonnet with
out asking for guidance as to the
color OF the ribbon" He laughs a
/ mirthless laugh. "It stands to reason.
darling. ! don't look on a mess like
mine as what mother calls a chasten-
! ing of the Lord. / have brought il all
on myself, worse luck! and don't
expect miracle to get me out of the
| hold. My Barbara, my own love,
you've lost your heart to a worthless
sort of chap. Even Sebastian Saville-
but, no! / would hang myself If you
were his wife!"
The misery seems darkening every
moment. That awful promissory note,
given to pay that wretched racing
debt, is ever in his mind. Not even
Barbara's love can help him now
He stands up, tall, splendid figure.
in tweed knickerbockers; so goodly to
look upon, so wretched and unhappy,
as his haggard face shows.
81 have only about a fortnight" he
says, as together they walk back to
where Barbara left her bicycle. after
that. oh, my darling, what am to
| do?"
Barbara's heart echoes the cry. Her
face is as sad as his as she wheels
away in the sunlight; and George,
| thrusting his hands in his pockets and
sinking his head on his chest, walks
slowly back to the house.
CHAPTER w.
Mr.. Saville's answer has come. 1t