Juniata sentinel and Republican. [volume] (Mifflintown, Juniata County, Pa.) 1873-1955, 1900-01-31
CHAPTER XII.

On meeting with Tom Peyton on the gar
Ian wall. stops as she reaches the sum-
mer house. n favorite resort of Vera's.
Notwithstanding the father unpleasant
associations connected with it. and pokes
in her head to find Vera there.
I've come back" she cries, breath
lesSly. sinking into a seat and looking at
Vera with despair in her eyes. Il have
Ioue you desired me. have said good
py TO him forever
What did he say? Was he very much
upset?" with burning interest.
He said he'd manage to see me in
some way or other says Griselda, with
heavy sigh.
'Oh, welcome now, that's not so
bad" says Vera, cheerfully, forgetful of
prudence at sight of her sisters grief
He seems from all | have heard from
you "a sort of a person who would be
difficult to battle. | think | should put
faith in that declaration of his if l were
You"
"Oh. he said more than that" cries
Griseda why, it appears that Tom
Mr.. PeytOn-knows Seaton quite well,
and likes him, too. Mr.. Peyton says
that he. Seaton, is engaged to be married
to a Miss Butler. friend of Lady Riv-
eTdales."
For a moment there is dead silence,
during which the pretty crimson on
Nera's cheek dies out. leaving her singu-
larly pale. No doubt the surprise is
great.
"Is that true?" she says II should
not be surprised, though l confess l am
Il Is only what l might have expected
from my first judgment of him. And
one should not condemn him, either: it is
not his fault that he calls Uncle Gregory
father"
A footstep upon the gravel outside
makes them both turn their heads.
What is 1t, Grunch?' Vera calmly
asks as the housekeeper appears on the
threshold.
The master wishes to see you, Miss
Dysart, in the library" There is an ex-
preston Of malignant amusement in the
woman's eyes as she says this.
Vera had gone into the library with a
pale face, but it was with one paler still
she came out of it half an hour later,
white as death, and with a strained look
Of passion on every feature not to be sub
, dued She might perhaps have given way
to the blessed relief of tears If she had
had time to escape Griselda ;':but as she
finds herself looking at Seaton Dysart,
who has at this moment entered the in
ner hall leading to the room she has just
left, all her being seems to stiffen into a
cold horror of contempt
She stops short and fixes her heavy
eyes on his.
so you betrayed me"' she says, in a
low tone that vibrates with scorn.
Betrayed your echoes he, starting.
There is that in her face not to be mis-
Of q
evil sends hot flush to his brow.
You are a bad actor" says she. with
a palesmile; you change color, at a
crisis: you have still a last grain Of hon
esty left in you. You should see to that;
kill it quickly, it spoils your otherwise
perfect role"
"You are pleased to be enigmatical,"
says he, with a frown. Il am, however
at loss to know what you mean"
"Oh, are you ashamed to keep it up
the deception?" cries she with a sud
den outbreak Of wrath. "Oh, how could
you do it?''
Great heaven! how can convince you
that l have done nothingT exclaims he,
growing pale as herself.
There was no one else awake, there
was no one to see me" says she, trying
to sti1e her agitation. What, then, must
| think but that you were the one to tell
your father of that unlucky night when
l was locked out in the garden?'
He has heard that?' Seaton, A. II
thunderstruck, looks blankly at her.
Why do you compel me to tell you
what you already know?" says she, with
a little irrepressible stamp Of her foot.
IF YOU will listen to what Is already no
news to you, learn that your father sent
i'm hnnra
ago. think" putting her hand to her
head in a little, confused, miserable way.
and accused me of having spent the
whole night alone with you, purposely. in
the garden"
And you think that u
81 don't think" with a condemnatory
glance "As l told you before, l know.
Your father has insolently accused me
Of en- impossible thing; but even IL l had
stayed in the garden with you that night.
Of my own free will, l cannot see where
would lie the disgrace he connects with
IT,"
You are right, no one could see dis
grace where you WERE" says Seaton.
calmly. MY father Is an old man, he"
is old enough to know how to insult
a woman" coldly, when" with terri
be glance at him, shown the way. oh,
laying her hand upon her breast In
paroxysm of grief, lit was abominable of
you. and you said-twice you said it,
coming closer to him, and lifting accus-
ing eyes to his, Trust me-, remember
II as though you uttered it but now, and
| believed you. Trust me- you said.
Il should say it again." says Dysart'
"A hundred times again. Come" he says,
and leads her back again to the library
she has just Quilted.
Gregory Dysart still sits in his usual
chair, his arms on the elbows of it, his
face is set, as though death had laid Its
seal on il, save for the marvelously.
horribly youthful eyes, SO full Of fire and
life.
You will be so good as to explain to
Vera at once" begins Seaton, in dan
gerous tone, how it was you learned OF
her being in the garden the other night
What night? She may have been out
every night, for aught l know; she tells
me she is fond of moonlight" replies the
old man. impassively.
You understand perfectly the night OF
which i speak," says Seaton. his face
now livid. "Who?' he repeats, in low
but terrible voice
Crunch" replies Mr.. Dysart. shortly
something in his sons face warned him
not to go further.
You hear?' says Seaton, turning tc
Vera. 1T was Crunch who betrayed
you You are satisfied now?"
On that point. yes. suppose l should