The Bowbells tribune., 1900-08-17
CHAPTER I.

''Harry!"
Only a word-only name, yet its
bare utterance held an unwritten story
"a story of hope deferred, of weary
waiting, Of sudden, unexpected glad
ness, suspense ended and crowned by
happiness, unlooked-for and complete.
It was even more than this. It was
a little pean Of praise. It burst, too,
from young, red lips. half-parted in
smile. 1t sent it's light into two dark
.shadowed, azure eyes, and famed Its
signal into two rounded, dimpled
cheeks. as eager, expectant Grace
Hawthorne sprang from the great arm
chair in whose recesses she had been
idly dreaming, and stood confronting
the owner of the name. whose presence
son the threshold of the room had thus
interrupted her reverie.
A lovely picture she would have made
to most mems eyes at any time: but
with this light and gladness in her
young, fair face, more than lovely, one
would think, to him who had inspired
it.
Yet, if so, Harry Reynolds gave OF
his admiring thought no sign, as, leis-
urely advancing toward her, he out
stretched his hand in quiet greeting.
"Grace, am glad to see you first,
was all he said.
And, stopping, let his lips an instant
rest on the little chestnut-crowned
head, then sank, with sigh of utter
WEAKNESS, in the chair from which she
had sprung to meet him.
Some Of the gladness died out of her
own face, and tiny frown Of anxiety
puckered her brow, as she drew
footstool beside him and seated her.
self at his knee.
Twelve years before our story opens
Grace Hawthorne, at her fathers
death (Which made her an orphan-he1
mother dying at her birth had been
brought to her guardians home. Shy
and fearful among strange faces, all
sought in vain to comfort her, until
Harry, then a tall, handsome boy OF
thirteen, came whistling into the house,
and stopped short, amazed at sight OF
the dainty little doll, whose sobs he
had heard as he was ascending the
stairs.
They hushed at his entrance, and the
child, giving one scrutinizing glance
from beneath the long, wet lashes, ran
toward him and slipped her tiny fingers
into his.
From that moment the two were
sworn friends. She was his pet, his
plaything. He her hero. Time had
wrought in neither no change.
- l,o,, r G
she was pet and plaything still. Had
any one termed her woman he would
have laughed the idea to scorn. And
he, at twenty-five, was still the hero OF
her dreams.
Nor was he an unlikely hero. in his
young strength and vigorous man
hood; but the child's eyes noted thai
his cheek is paler than its wont, and
shadows Of pain darken the clear
brown eyes which seem to look beyond
the familiar objects which fill the
room-beyond the graceful, girlish fig.
ure at his feet-beyond this calm and
peace, into a troubled sea, whose wa
ters have so lashed him that he yet
feels the movement born of their fury
It is the first time in three months
he, Harry Reynolds. has entered his
fathers house. Three months before
there had been, in the library, short
and stormy scene, but the cause Of the
dissension between father and son was
known only to themselves.
1.-TWO paths open before you," had
been his fathers last words. "Choose
one, and disinherit you forever. Fol.
low the other, and your old place and
welcome await you. Only, in the form
er case, never let me see your face
again.
The young man had listened silently
to the stern fiat, and silently had gone
from the presence of him who uttered
It.
From that hour to the present
naught was known concerning him
His return augured obedience to his
fathers wishes, but how brought about
remained locked a secret in his own
breast.
Half-absently he rested his hand on
the girls bright hair, while she,
through some mute chord of sympa-
thy, OWNED some cloud had fallen
athwart his pathway.
It seemed to darken the sunlight OF
her own, and strike sudden chill into
her heart.
Harry, Sne Salu, SldHcluS up llto
his face with anxious eyes, "you are in
trouble? What is it, dear-money?
You know"
She could not finish the sentence. He
stopped and laid his hand across her
lips.
"Hush, my child! know what YOU
would say. No, no, little Grace! Mon
ey, this time, is all powerless to serve
me. Besides, dear, father is rich. Why
should you imagine that could trouble
me?"
3, st thought, perhaps, you and un-
cle"-so Grace called her guardian,
though connected by no tie Of blood
chad been angry. I knew once he was
angry, Harry, about some of your col
lege debts, and that you would not
want to ask him for anything; and
have so much money, Harry, and ev-
cry year it grows more and more, until
it frightens me to think how much
ought to do with it. L often wish there
was some way Of dividing my fortune
with you-of giving you one-half.
When am Of age, and it is mine to do
= as please with, that is what Intend
So