Evening star., 1902-02-22

OF great mouse, were to marry me. the
church You were to be minister OF that
church also. They considered your fitness
for the ONCE as they did whether you and
should they? Your father would present
You to the living at present held by a
warming pan Of the name OF Aiblins He
your fathers money and my fathers influ
ence. All would be for the best. Your
father would give you some additional al
iowance. and mine would advance your in
terests in quarters high and ecclesiastic.
So the good children would marry and live
happily ever after"
You have it well by rote. Vera said
1t also by heart!"
'Of course 1 know 1t by rote'' cried the
girl DO | not have 1t served to me for
breakfast, dinner and supper? MY mother
| distracts me with eternal yatter about my
| prospects. All. John, she does not know
| how small chance there is of her expecta-
| was even saying. oh. if only that eldest
| son who (they tell mel Is coming home
would die-you, Vera. would be the lady of
| Castle Cover And she has even arranged
which rooms she Is to have when she
comes to live with US
God forbid!' cried John. devoutly
All there again." cried the girl "you
guard yourself, you see. You do not pity
| me the humiliation of having such things
| cast up to me-"
And what would you have me do. veron-
| va JOIlu Sfl0nOOnWyn. 1t IS easy
| to say that this and that should be righted
but If 1 tell my father that our engage
ment IS at an end for no reason save that
we do not suit each other, he will certainly
IeIuse TO present me to the parish. even
| II he does not turn me forever from his
door. He likes me little enough as it is
even less than you do.
| Nay. John. that was unkindly said
| cried the girl: land quite unworthy of YOU,
l ike you more than any one in the world
| after my own father. Aye. and would do
more ore, 1or you1everything. indeed, except
| marry you-which would be the greatest
unkindness l could do to you, not loving
YOU"
| But I love- you, Vera" said the youth,
| such as it ISL
"Ah: no. John: you do not love me-" re-
poa,eu poanm " vera after him. sadly: you are too
am older than you by a good year and
half cried John, Indignantly
That may be-bv the calendar" she said
out dare You to deny that am not ten
| umes the man you are. I could go out and
| earn my living tomorrow. Why when I
was with my Aunt Fisher at Kenmore 1 did
| an the laundry work during the three weeks
she was laid up And the folk at the great
| mouse said the things were never better
| done. Do you think that would be afraid
| to face my father and tell him the truth
lest he should turn me out of the house or
put another man into church living he had
promised me-"
But" objected John Glendonwyn, some
| thing less philosophically than before, Il
| cannot do clear starchng, and l have no
| Aunt tlsher Dlg,- l cannot. and to beg l
! am ashamed
| Furthermore, there are two things for
you to consider. First. would your father
| really think the less of you for asserting
yourself like a man? / am sure in his heart
| he would not. And again. are you fit to be
| minister of the church and explain the
| way Of life to other men. when You have
| shown 50 little skill i'll ordering your own?"
| Your father thinks that l am fit enough"
! retorted the student of divinity. "Only yes
| terday he complimented me on my college
| exercises
| college exercises indeedr' cried We
| ronica. DO you really think that you can
feed parish of hungry. ignorant souls
! upon college exercises? And as to my
| father, he is everything that is good and
| kind - but too deeply concerned for the
union he has planned between your fortune
| and my-my-"
| Your cleycrness-say the word. Vera
cried John. with somewhat constrained
| lhugh: you know you mean it,
| We'll, my faculty for carrying things
| through if you will You are a dear. good
| fellow, John; but to tell you the truth, you
| have never walked up TO seriousness Yet.
| You are no more fiji to be the minister Of a
| parish than to be admiral of the feet!
| Then for the first time John Glendonwyn
| lost his temper.
| Il am not fit to be a minister of my
| fathers parish, am not?' he cried, finish
| ing with swift anger. Il am not fit to kiss
your hand, madam. Well. at any rate,
| there remains year CT so in which need
| not trouble my head about either you or
| the kirk of Scotland. My brother and I are
! pretty good friends at present, and-well-
| with his help can try to climb the Tree of
/ the knowledge of Good and Evil from the
| other side / am too young and l presume
| too innocent for you, my lady Veronica! !!
Eth bien a year or two with Rupert will
! mend both particulars. Perhaps SO deeply
experienced a lady as Miss Veronica Cross
| raguel Caesar will like her friend the bet
| ter for that"
II will always like him better for appear
ing to be what he is said the girl. ''If
] YOU think that your brother will help you
| to career for which you are better fitted
| | shall rejoice. For l am your true friend,
| though you do not think so today. John.
| More than that. I do believe that some day
| YOU will awake and cast away your idle
| ness and selfishness as Samson tore off
| the Philistine withes.
"Ah. but Vera you forget" said John,
| smiling again, 1.-The Philtstines got Sam
son in the long rum
Yes" retorted the girl, because a wo-
man cropped the locks of his strength when
! he was asleep.
"Ah," said John Glendonwyn subtly, you
| mean Farlie Glendenning!'
| The girls cheek flushed swift. fiery
| red, and her proud lips quivered angrily.
$50 little do 1 mean Fairlie.' she an
swered. that think 1t would be the best
thing YOU could do tO-Dut II IS useless TO
| tell YOU now what / think would be best
! for you. You were little likely to take my
! advise as things were. Now you have told
| me that you dispise both 1T and me. More
| than that you spoke bitter word about
! Fairlie Giendenning. In return, for 1 am
no turn-the- -other-cheek damsel. l will
| speak one to you. I said that like Samson
| YOU were asleep and bade you beware
| need not have troubled myself. For. how
! ever sound you may be asleep. you have no
| locks of strength to be cut. When you be-
| come a minister let your first text be. I'm
stable as water, thou shalt not excel.' .
| John GIendOnwyn turned pale to the lips
| He seized his hat from where it lay among
| the flower pots.
..You have hit the mark at last, Yer
onica" he said, "your reproach has gone
home Some day I, John Glendonwyn
| whom you disptse, will make you unsay
| those words"
And without any leave-taking he went
| out.
The girl stood still where he had left
her, and looked after him striding savagely
down the gravel, as If he would grind every
stone to powder under his heel. God
send that day soon"' she said softly.
tTo be continued.)
Wanted No Frills.
From the Chicago Tribune.