Corvallis gazette. [volume] (Corvallis, Benton County, Or.) 1900-1909, 1902-02-11

"T am going now. Goodb holding
out his hand to her with determination
not to be changed. Griselda takes it and
: shakes it genially, nay, warmly. His hui
NOR is decidedly hostile, and if he ac-
Quaints the old father of their incivihty-
Anything to propitiate him, she tells her
| self, viii be the correct thing, and she
grows positively friendly toward him,
and beams upon him with gentle entreaty
In her eye.
first" she says. "Do you see that rosep
"a rather unkempt and struggling speei-
| men Of it's kind that trails in unadmired
disorder just outside the door. 1T has
bafied me many a time, but you are tall,
oh, taller than most; will you lift these
awkward tendrils, and press them back
into shape?'
She is smiling divinely at him, smile
that Tom Peyton would have given sew
eral years Of his life to possess; but Dy-
, 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 reducs
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 hack out OF sight.
"Now's your time!' she says. "Say
| something. Do something. 1t doesn't
matter what, but for heavens sake
smooth him down one way or another! II
you don't you'll have the old man down
| upon Us like"
Il can't" gasps Vera, fearfully.
you must" insists Griselda, sternly.
Its impossible to know what sort of
| man he is If revengeful, he can play
| old Harry with us!'
Without waiting to explain what par
tieular 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 house
with all the manner Of one in mad haste
to be gone. 1t is merely a part Of an un-
pleasant whole, he tells himself, that he
must first say chiIlingly courteous word
or two Of farewell to the girl who has
| openly declared toward him such an un-
| dying animosity.
81 am afraid" says Vera, speaking
with cold precision, as one delivering her.
self of an unloved lesson, that you are
| going away thus abruptly because of
what you heard me say this morning.
"You are right. That is why l am 60
ing" replies Dysart, calmly.
"Yes? in a chilling tone, and with
family lifted brows. Il regret exceed
| ingly that should have so unfortunately
| offend you, but to go for that-it all
sounds a little trivial, don't you think?"
'Not by going, think. don't see how
1 can do otherwise. Why should make
you uncomfortable? But you may call
it trivial if you like, to talk Of detesting
a man you have only seen for an hour
or two, and who in those hours" He
pauses. "Did make myself so specially
| Objectionable demands he,~ abruptly,
turning to her with something that is
| surely anger. but as surely entreaty, in
his eyes.
"As told you BEFORE" indiferently,
zone says foolish things now and then"
Would you have me believe you did
not really mean what you saidT'
II would not have you believe any
thing" returns she, haughtily. Il only
think it pity that you should curtail
your visit to your father because
| chance remark of mine that cannot pos
sibly affect you in any way"
rs that how you look at it?"
"1s there any other way? Why should
| you care whether or not detest you'll,
whom you saw for the first time yester-
| day?"
why, indeed"' He regards her alb
| sently, as if trying to work out in his
| own mind the answer to this question,
| and then, suddenly:
Nevertheless, do care" he says,
with a touch Of yehemence. "It Is the
| injustice of it to which I object. You
| had evidently determined beforehand to
| show me no grace. l defy you to deny
| it! Come, can your
| Miss Dysart is silent. The very i'm.
| petuosity of his accusation has deadened
| her power to reply, and besides. is there
| not truth in it? Had she not prejudgedY
by the bye" he says, Il am afraid
you will have to put up with me for a
few hours every week. shall promise
to make them as short as possibly can
But my father likes to see me every sew
| en- days or so, and like to see him. Do
you think" slight smile crossing his
| face, .you will be able to live through
| it?"
st have lived through a good many
things" says Vera, her dark eyes atlame.
| THAT gives you a chance here; prac-
| tice makes perfect. l am sorry to be
obliged to inconvenience you so far, but
| if l stayed away, 1 am afraid my father
might want to know why. He might
| even be so absurd as to miss me.''
| "Why should you take it for granted
that desire your absence?" cries Vera,
her voice vibrating with anger. "Come,
| remain, or stay away forever-what is it
to me?''
And it was thus that they parted.