Audubon Republican. [volume] (Audubon, Iowa) 1894-1925, 1900-06-07

unpleasant people, she usually gets her
own way. Her present idea is to mar
ny her only son, Sebastian, to her
niece, Barbara Saville, an arrangement
perfectly agreeable to every one ex-
.cept Barbara herself-Barbara, with
her rare, witching Irish beauty, the
beauty of fair skin and blue eyes,
with very dark lashes and dark hair,
a face at once charming and provok-
ing.
But Barbara's sweet-cut mouth is
little bit too firm for her aunt, and Sc
bastian has felt his cold blood grow
warm beneath the disdainful smile OF
his cousin.
Sebastian is not a pleasant looking
man-tall and dark, with a heavy,
cynical face and eyes that look cruel.
In the whole of Leinster there is not
such pretty girl as Barbara Saville.
She lives at the Court with her aunt,
and has done SO for several years. Lat
terly Mrs. Saville has put on the screw
a little, for Barbara is twenty, and 1t
is time Sebastian married and settled
down; but Barbara tip-tilts her pretty
chin and losses her dusky head, and
says that to live at the Court all her
life would kill her.
1t is, indeed, a gloomy spot, falling
into decay, surrounded by dark, neg
lected woods, and dark, sullen river
running through the park:
Mrs Saville's husband has lived hard
in his day, driven coach with eight
horses, and generally made havoc of
his patrimony. Card playing ended
what his eight horses had begun, and
his only son, Sebastian, is poor man.
Barbara is an only child, too. Her
father has an appointment in Tasma-
mia, and Barbara is supposed to have
fortune. Mr.. Saville had sent her
home to be educated in England, and
then to live at the Court, where the
charming family arrangement OF
marriage between the cousins was an
open secret.
The time is November, when all day
long the trees drip moisture, and the
fields are soaking and sodden, while
the long struggling street of Portraven
is one sea of mud.
1t is worse than usual today, for
cattle fair is going on, and the fair
takes place in the street The foot
paths are crowded with cattle, and
droves of painting, terrified sheep are
huddled into groups. Young horses led
by halters~ are being paraded up and
down, and the footpaths being I'M
available, pedestrians are forced to
fight their way in the middle of the
street, ankle deep in mud, amidst the
confusion of carts and horses, and
animals of all sorts and kinds.
Walking briskly through>the crowd
with an air of being thoroughly used
to it, comes Barbara Saville, dressed
in short skirt of Donegal tweed, with
a Norfolk jacket and tweed cap on
her dark hair. She carries walking
stick, and her bright face wears half
amused, half-contemptuous expression
as she looks at the hurrying crowd.
She has reached the market square,
and here the fair is at it's height, and.
bargains are going on briskly. Bar
bara looks pityingly at the scared, tim
id cattle driven to and fro with such
roughness. And strange contrast, just
beside the drove of cattle, needless of
the turmoil around, stand a little
group, preacher, with uncovered
head, preaching the Gospel of Christ
to the needless multitude. 1t is a
strange scene, and Barbara's face
grows thoughtful. The rough faces of
toil-hardened men and women, the pa
tient cattle standing by, and those
most humble creatures the subdued
donkeys, more used to blows than
kindness.
Then through the crowd comes a
young man, and he is head and Shout
ders over every one. His hair is gold
real gold-and waves in short, crisp
waves His fair moustache covers a
sweet, firm mouth, and the eyes that
look at Barbara's are purple as pam
sizes, and full of light now as they meet
the sudden, glad recognition in hers.
Barbara" says the young giant,
what are you doing in this crowd?"
Barbaras face is a study of pleased
surprise.
II only walked in from the Court
to post my letter to father" she0re-
plies. And her dark eyes smile bright
ly as she holds out her hand to him.
IN take care of you," returns
George Bouverie; "these fellows are
so rough youN might get hurt"
And Barbara has no objection.
Her eyes dance. What does it mat
ter that the November sky is heavy
and gray? There is sunshine in the
two glad young hearts, and they laugh
and they talk together, and make fun
over their little adventures in the fair,
like the pair of children they are.
They leave the town and walk to-
gether along the country road. Sod
den leaves, brown and decaying, lie in
little heaps. 1t is day calculated to
make any one depressed; but Bar
bara's cheeks are softly flushed; her
eyes are like stars.
Barbara, when may speak to your
aunt?"
George Bouverie's tone has grown
serious suddenly, his face takes ten
der expression.
Hers Pushes crimson.
wait till l hear from father.
George" she whispers. "You don't
know Aunt Julia-she would freeze me
with look; but If father says yes,
then she can't say anything"
But, my darling, how can I waltz"
urges the young man.
Barbara signs.
Aunt Julia would write out horrid
things to father" she says. And her
fingers just touch the rough tweed
sleeve beside her.