The Indianapolis journal. [volume] (Indianapolis [Ind.]) 1867-1904, 1902-06-08

You mean" he gasped. "a-rich lady?'
Her fortune is ample"
Does she know what you have asked her
here for?"
Not exactly. 1t would not be quite de-
1 cent to tell her, would it?"
Perhaps she may not accept my offer"
said the boy after a few minutes in low
voice. He had walked away TO the win
dow and stood looking out of 1t gloomily.
/ The beautiful park and its fine clumps of
trees, of which a wide sweep was visible
| from his grandmother's little house. ap
peared TO him suddenly to be ugly and
| hateful. Never had the broad acres of his
inheritance seemed less lovely in his eyes.
| Perhaps she may refuse me-" he said
| again.
LET us hope not" replied his grand
mother. cheerfully. She smiled and nodded
at him and appeared to be in the best of
| spirits at is your business to that she
accepts you, Alan. You are young, good
looking and by no means a fool. You can
make yourself acceptable to her if you
choose. 1t is your duty to do So"
Very we'll. don't let us talk about it. 1
am going to do my duty as you know.
What is the girl-or woman-like? Is she
/
Have you seen herr"
Yes, have seen her. She is young and
not at all unpresentable. More than that
| had rather not say 1t would not be fair
| to prejudice your mind beforehand.
"Ah. then, 1 quite understand cried
Alan, bitterly. but it doesn't really mat
ter in the least. does it. what she is like?
When one marries a woman from the most
| 4
about anything else; besides which, if my
heart is irrevocably given to another wom-
an, it does not signify in the least what she
is like-only. for the sake Of my friends. I
trust she will at least pass muster for
| lady"
"Ske will do that, certainly" said Mrs.
| Henson, quietly.
Alan made as though he were about to
leave the room.
wait. Don't go yet. have another little
bit of news to give you-not so important
as the first, but still 1t may interest YOU"
| "Yes?"
'Muriel Gray is coming to stay with us
to-day"
WHAT he shouted out, and his face
! flushed and his eyes shot fire. ''Muriel!
What for-why?''
Mrs. Henson laughed. do you object?
Shall send telegram to stop her coming :?
There would be just time to put her or"
Mono. OF course not!' he gasped.
But why now, when this other is coming?
They cannot be here together"
mo, that is just why They won't be
here together certainly. And don't you
remember I promised MureI that she
should see Henson Towers? 1 thought she
had better come first-before the other
you know. VIII you not be glad to see
| her?"
Glad! I should think so. But, oh,
granny, this is fearful temptation for
me-the trial will be hard one"
mot at all. 1 am quite sure you will be
equal to it. You always do put duty first,
my dear boy; and you have so firmly and
bravely made your decision that 1 am GER
tain you can be trusted to do what is
right"
Nothing more was said, and Muriel Gray
arrived that night.
There followed two beautiful golden
August days. Alan and Muriel wandered
together all over the park. They took their
lunch out and ate it by the trout stream
| under the willows; then they took out
| tea basket and discussed it's contents high
up on the hills with the house lying in the
| valley below them. AS the tenants were
| away, Alan was able to take Muriel inside
the house and to show her all the family
| portraits and the old furniture. All day
| long they were together-and granny pre-
| tended not to notice. Yet though they
were so happy. and so taken up with one
| another, not one word Of love passed Alan's
| lips during the whole Of those two long
summer days. Only he spoke often of
| Henson, and of his love and his duty to
the home and his ancestors, and Muriel
answered quietly and sadly that she UNI
| derstood it was his duty to sacrifice him
self. The third day came, and Alan did
not know, whilst Mural had utterly for
gotten that it was her twentieth birthday
| But Mrs. Henson both knew and remem-
| bered it.
After breakfast she called her grandson to
her into the morning room.
II have news for you, Alan. The Man
chester heiress will be here to-day"
| He turned very pale. but said nothing
II ought. 1 think. to tell Muriel," con-
tinued the old lady; "in fact. have de-
| cided to do 500
mo. nor cried Alan, in checked voice.
| and then suddenly he fell on his knees by
| her chair and buried his face in the folds
of her dress. "Oh, granny, granny he
| broke out. lifting white and haggard face
to hers. Its no use, / cannot do it! have
striven and struggled to do my duty. but it
is impossible! 1 can't marry this woman
whilst my whole heart belongs to Muriel,
and she-my darling-loves me. That is
what makes ii impossible"
You have asked her, then, If she loves
your
mo, have not spoken a word; 1 have
been tongue-tied. But 1 know that she loves
me by her sweet. shy looks, by her chang
ing color, by her soft. hushed voice. by a
thousand things by which a man can al
ways guess that a maiden loves him. Oh
granny, you must know, or have you for
gotten?"
mo. my dear, 1 have not forgotten,
though am an old woman. Well, what is
to be done?"
81 don't know But 1 think you had bet
ter send that Manchester woman away
Can't you wire to her not to Gomez
mot very we'll. 1 think you will have to
see her, Alan"
But l can't marry her. In fact, 1 won't
marry her. - he cried. springng to his feet