Eagle River review. [volume] (Eagle River, Wis.) 1890-1927, 1900-01-11

| door. "Eustace, / beg that you will de-
eide who is to be in authority in this
house-your mother or this young lady.
1t is insufferable that every time send
the children into the corner Vera should
call them out and give them cakes and
JAM"
Eustace Daintree looks helplessly from
one to the other.
My dear mother-my dear girls-what
is it all about? l am sure Vera does not
mean
No, Vera only means to be kind,
grandmamma," cries Marion, nervously;
"she is so fond of the children
Hold your tongue, Marion, and don't
take your sisters part so shamelessly."
Judge between us, Eustace!' the old
lady is crying; "am [ to be defied and
set at naught? are we all to bow down
and worship Miss Vera, the most useless,
lazy person in the house, who turns IN
her nose at honest men and prefers to
live on charity, a burden to her rela-
| tions?"
Vera is no burden, only great pleas
ure to me, my dear MOTHER" said the
clergyman, holding out his hand to the
girl.
"Oh, grandmamma, how unkind you
are!' says Marion, bursting into tears.
But Vera only laughs lazily and amused
ly, she is so used to it all! 1t does not
disturb her.
''Is she to be mistress here, l ask, or
am Z" continues Mrs. Daintree, furi-
ously.
Marion is mistress here" says Vera,
boldly; neither you nor I have any au-
thority in her house or over her chill
dren." And then the old lady gathers
up her work and sails majestically from
the room, followed by her weak, trem-
bling daughter-in-law, bent on reconcila-
ton.
The clergyman stands by the hearth
with his head bent and his hands behind
him. He signs YEARLY. Vera creeps up
to him and lays her hand softly upon his
coat sleeve.
81 am a firebrand, am not, Eustace?"
'My dear, no, not that; but if you
could try little to keep the peace!" He
stayed the caressing hand with his own
and looked at her tenderly. His face is
good one but not handsome one; and,
as he looks at his wife's young sister, it
is softened into it's best and kindest.
Who can resist Vera, when she looks
gentle and humble. with that rare light
in her dark eyes?
"Vera, why don't you look like that at
Mr.. Gisburne?' he says, smiling.
II don't like good men who are poor"
says Vera, with a little grimace.
Her brother-in-law looks shocked.
''Why do you say such hard, worldly
things, Vera? You do not really mean
them"
Don't I? Eustace, look at me; do
| al -, 20
holds herself at arms length from him,
and looks comically up and down the
| length of her gray skirts. "Think of the
yards and yards Of stuff it takes to clothe
me: and should not woman as tall as
am be always in velvet and point lace,
Eustace? What is the good Of condemn
ing myself to workhouse sheeting for the
rest Of my days?"
Mr.. Daintree looks at her admiringly;
he has learned to love her; this beautiful
Southern flower that has come to bios
som in his home. Women will be hard
enough on Vera through her life-men,
never.
81 like one good man, and his name Is
Eustace Daintree" she says, softly; "is
not that hopeful sign?"
"You are a little fatterer, Vera" he
says, kissing her; but, though he is a
middle aged clergyman and her brother
in-law, he is by no means impervious to
| the flattery.
CHAPTER II.
1t seemed to be generally acknowledge
ed by the Daintree family that if Vera
would consent to yield to the solicitations
Of the Rev. Albert Gisburne, and trans
fer herself to Tripton rectory for life,
it would be the simplest and easiest solu-
ton of a good many difficult problems.
Vera Nevill was an incongruous ele-
ment in the Daintree household. In that
quiet, humdrum country clergyman's life
| she was as much out of her proper place
as a bird Of paradise in a chicken yard,
or a GIoire de Dion rose in field Of
turnips.
On the day after the scene we have
described she was walking dreamily along
under the trees in the lane beyond the
garden; she swung her hat idly in her
hand, for it was warm for the time of
year, and the gold brown leaves futtered
down about her head and rustled under
the dark, trailing skirts.
About half a mile up the lane, beyond
the vicarage, stood an old iron gateway
leading into park. 1t was danked by
square red-brick columns, upon whose
SUBMITS two stone griffins had looked
each other in the face for the space of
some two hundred years or so, peering
grimly over the tops of the shields upon
which all the family arms and quarter
ings of the Kynastons had become softly
coated over by an indistinct veil of gray
green moss.
Vera turned in at this gate, nodding to
the woman at the lodge within. 1t was
her daily walk, for Kynaston was unin-
habited and empty, and anyone was free
to wander unreproved among It's chest
nut glades. Vera did so often. The
SQUARE. red-brick building, with its stone
copings, the terrace walk before the win
dows. the peacocks summing themselves
before the front door, the fountain plash-
ing sleepily in the stone pasin, the stat,
nos down the square Italian garden all
had a certain fascination for her dreamy
poetical nature Then turning in at the
high. narrow doorway, whose threshold
4 L. I-.~-