The Hood River glacier. (Hood River, Or.) 1889-1933, 1902-02-07

In this barren wilderness even mamma
mag be regarded With rapture-eyen Sea
ton! Better any man than no man,
say l."
so say not |, then" with great spirit.
She has leaned forward upon her elbow,
and her eyes are brilliant with a little
suspicion Of anger. Give me desert
Island rather than the society of man
whom | know it will require only time to
teach me to detest And how you can
call him so familiarly 'Seaton, passes
my"
A pause! An awful pause. Who is 1t
that has turned the corner of the summer
house, and is looking in at them with
curious expression round his mouth? Gri-
selda is the first to recover.
Isn't it absurdY she says, smiling
rather lamely. But assure you, Sea-
ton, your sudden appearance quite took
away my breath You should stamp when
you come to a house like this, The grass
all round is so thick"
TOO thickr' says Dysart, with swift
glance at Vera, who has lost all her color.
For the future shall try to remember.
| am very sorry | startled YOU He has
addressed himself entirely to Griselda,
unless that one lightning glance Of con-
temptuous reproach cast at Vera could
be counted. But | was on my way to
one Of the farms, and this is the lowest,
the nearest path to it. shall never cease
to regret''-here he stops dead short, and
turns his eyes unreservedly on Vera
that | did not take the upper one"
Il hnt ,sirl ,ts h. hor
walks swiftly onward on the unucky
path he had chosen.
"Oh, Vera, do somethingw cries Grisel-
da, in a small agony Of CONSERVATION.
clasping her hands. Vera, thus admon-
ished. springs to her feet, and, driven
half by honest shame and half by inn
pulse, rushes out Of the summer house
and runs after Dysart as he IS fast dis.
appearing through the shrubs. Reaching
him, painting and pale with agitation, she
lays her hand timidly upon his arm.
II am so grieved, she says, her charm.
ing face very panied, her lips white
There are moments when one hardly
| knows what one says, and"
'There are such moments, certainly"
says he, interrupting her remorselessly.
But they can hardly be classed with
those in which the calm condolences of
one sister are exchanged with the other.
And why should you apologizeI / assure
you, you need not. do not seek for or
desire anything Of the kind"
1t almost seems to her that he has
shaken her hand from his arm. Draw.
ing back, she sees him proceed upon his
way, and then returns to GriseIda.
Il really think hate him." says Vera,
vehemently. The recollection of his con-
temptuous glance, the way in which he
had dsdained her apology-above all,
that slight he had offered her when he
had displaced her hand from his arm-all
rankle in her breast, and hot flow of
shame renders her usually pale face bril-
liant. There never mind him." she saws,
with little fFown. "He is not staying
long, fortunately, and this episode will
bear good fruit Of one sort at least. He
will not trouble me with his society while
you are away. Now hurry, Griselda, do"
Griselda, with a light laugh, drawn ir-
resistibly by the gorgeous loveliness OF
the lights and shadows of the land below,
runs down the pathway and is soon lost
to view.
When she returns over an hour later
she discovers to her amazement, that
Vera is still in it.
"You are miserable about that wretch
ed affair of the morning." cries Griselda.
Never mind it. If you will come to din
ner | promise you to do all the talking,
and as it has to be endured do entreat
you to keep up your spirits"
"Oh, yes. There isn't decent chance
of escape" says Vera, wearily.
"'ShI' cries Griselda, softly, putting
up her hand; the sound of coming foot
steps, slow, deliberate footsteps purpose
ly made heavier, smites upon their ears.
"oGod heavensl Here he is," says
Griselda, and indeed they have barely
time to put on carefully unconscious
demeanor, when Seaton Dysart darkens
the door of the summer house, and looks
coldly down on them,
"They told me should find you here, y
he says, speaking to Vera. II have come
to say good-by."
But surely you are not going so soon
not before dinner, not to-nightw cries
Griselda, thunderstruck by this solution
of their difficulty, and little sorry, too.
IL am going now. Good by" holding
out his hand to her with determination
not to be changed. Griseda takes it and
shakes it genially, nay, warmly. His hui
NOR is decidedly hostile, and if he ac-
quaints the old father of their incivility-
, Anything to propitiate him, she tells her
self, will be the correct thing. and she
grows positively friendly toward him,
|, and beams upon him with gentle entreaty
, in her eye.
"If you must go, do us one service
first" she says. do you see that rOseT
"a rather unkempt and struggling speci'
men of its kind that trails in unadmired
disorder just outside the door, "lt has
/ bafIied me many time, but you are tall
oh, taller than most; will you lift these
J awkward tendrils, and press them back
into shapeW
She Is smiling divinely at him, smile
; that Tom Peyton would have given sew
; eral years Of his life TO possess; but by.
: sart is disgracefully unmoved by it, and
= refusing to return it, steps outside, and
with a decidedly unwilling air, proceeds
to lift the dropping tendrils and reduce
them to order.
Griselda, naturally a girl of great re-
source, seizes the opportunity she has
herself provided. Catching .Vera's arm
she draws her back out of sight,
"Now's your timer' she says. "Say
something. Do something. 1t doesn't
matter what, but for heavens SAX,
I, smooth him down one way or another! II
you don't you'll have the old man dowr
upon us like"
u can't" gasps Vera. fearfully.
You must" insists Griseda, sternly
ITS impossible to know what sort Of
man he is. IL revengeful, be can play
! old Harry with usr'
Without waiting to explain what par
ticular game this may mean, or the full
significance thereof, she steps lightly out
> side and gazes with undisguised rapture
= upon Dysart's work.
Dysart returns to the summer housi
with all the manner Of one in mad hast,
4 to be gone. 1t is merely a part of an un
pleasant whole he tells himself, that b,
must first say a chillingly courteous wore
or two Of farewell to the girl who hai
r openly declared toward him such an un
dying animosity.
Il am afraid" says Vera. speaking
with cold precision, as one delivering her
self Of an unloved lesson. that you ar
9 going away thus abruptly because O
J. what you heard me say this morning."
!. you are right. That is why | am go
ing" replies Dysart. calmly.
Z "NesF In a chilling tone. and witt
y family lifted brows. Il regret exceed
. ingly that | should have so unfortunatel!
$ offend you, but to 90 for that-it al
2 sounds q little trivial. don't You think z