Condon globe. (Condon, Gilliam Co., Or.) 189?-1919, 1902-01-23
CHAPTER I.

calm as death, slumberlng placidly be.
meath the SUMS hot rays; above. a sky OF
palest azure, hecked here and there by
dainty masses Of soft. Heeey clouds: aud.
far inland, a background OF high hills,
clothed with tender foliage, a very baby
leafdom. just bursting into the fuller life.
Toward the west the trees give way a
little. letting a road be seen, that like a
straight paln ribbon runs between the
grcenery for the space OF quite mile or
so, aud then reaches the small fishing VII
lage whore the simple folk OF Glowring
Destley toll from Que years end 10 the
other, some In careless JOY, some In cease
less labor. some. alnsl In cruel weeping.
because of those "who will never come
back 10 the town"
Along the white road, that CLEANS
thlrstily In the burning sunshine OF this
hot midday In June. carriage Is crawl
ing with quite an aggravating slownesS--
an anilquated vehicle OF type now al
most unknown, hut which once beyond
doubt ''cnst meh "" The carriage. being
aa open one. pnahles the people aa II
passes through the village to see without
undue trouble that the occupants Of Il are
two girls; both very yonng, both singular
ly alike, though IN distinctly different
styles.
1T Is charmlngw says the younger girl.
with n little quick motion OF the hand
toward the sweeping bay, and the awak.
ening trees. and the other glorles OF the
landscape. IAN charming. far better
than | ever dared hope for; aud yet my
mind misgiycs me. Vera"
&ha furua a hRitiiaRF tfianaa nu haR at
ter. full of terrible InSInuatlona, aud then
laughs n little. Thus animated, she Is u
very pretty girl, half child. half woman,
as fresh as the morning, and with eyes
like stars. She lifts one slender black
gloycd hand. aud placing Il beneath her
sisters chin. turns her face gently TO her.
Such Il beautiful facet Very like the
rlontc one beside IT, yet unlike, too, There
is touch Of sadness round the lovely
lips. mournful curve: indeed, thought
fuuess too great for her years is stamped
on every feature. A tender. loving. yet
strong soul shines through the earnest
eyes. and when she smiles ID Is RELUCTANT
ly, as II smiles all her life had been for.
hidden 10 her.
"Oh! that reminds me-" said Miss ny.
sart, II quite forgot TO tell you. of II.
but the day before we left Nice. Nell
Stewart said that this cousin you speak
of, II he does exist at all. at all events
does not do Il here"
which mennsg"
''That either he won't, or can't, life
with his father. Can't, Nell rather led
me to believe"
Can't It Is. you may be sure" says the
younger girl. resticssly. Fancy a father
whose son cant live with himl And yet,
after all, virtuous astonishment on that
score Is rather out OF place with us. /
can imagine just such father"
We'll, never mind that" says Miss by
sart hastily.
"Yes. Very good; let us then go from
sire to uncle" says her sister with lit
tie shrug. DO you think we shall gain
much by the change? This old relative of
ours IL, perhaps, as delightful as We could
wish him, and yet wish father had not
left US to his lender mercies."
"DO not dwell on that" says Vera,
with nervous haste; do not seek for
faults In the inevitable. lie Is all that Is
left US. You know the sudden decision
arose out Of letter received by father
from Uncle Gregory about year ago.
When father was-was-dying---" She
pauses abruptly, and a tremor shakes her
last words.
The younger girl turns quickly to look
at her. There Is infinite love and COM
passion In her glance, but perhaps a little
contempt, and certainly little impa.
tience.
"Do you know" she says, ut may seem
heartless-positively coarse, II you will
but do not think our father was a man
to excite respect. much less love or regret.
Or" ttt+ t.,ts ES
"0h! II is better not to speak like that
interrupts Miss Dysart, in a low, shocked
toni, Don't do it, darling. l know
what you mean, but"
"And know that shall never forgive
or forget the life he led you," says Grisel-
da, with certain angry excitement.
well, that is overt" says Miss Dysart,
with quick sigh, heavily indrawn.
what was this vendetta, this terrible
lifelong quarrel that was kept up be-
tween him and father with such monoton-
GUS persistencyT"
THAT had to do with our grandfather's
will. Papa was the eldest son, yet the
property was left to Uncle Gregory; and
that for no reason at ALL Naturally, papa
was very angry about 1t, and accused
Gregory Of using undue influence"
Just so, and Of course there Is good
deal behind that You don't know. There
always is; nobody ever tells quite every
thing. And besides Oh! oh, Vera!
Oh! what has happenedT
Griselda clutches in an agonized fashion
at the leather side of the crazy old
chariot which has toppled over to the
left side and stands in decidedly dissi-
pated position. The ancient driver, pre-
sumaby asleep had let the horses wan
der at their own sweet will, and they be-
ing old and sleepy, too, the result was
that they had dragged two of the wheels
UP on a steep bank and nearly capsized
the carriage.
tt"0h, thank you," says Miss Dysart
leaning forward and addressing with earn
est glance and heightened color the young
man who had risen--descended perhaps,
sounds pleasanter and more orthodox
like good angel from somewhere--the
wood on their right, no doubt A fishing
rod, lying on the road where he had flung
It when preparing for his ignoble battle
with those poor old horses, proclaims the
fact that he has been whipping the stream
that CLEANS here and there brilliantly
through the interstlces of the trees.
"Oh, no. says he, lifting his hat "you
mustn't thank me. 1t was really nothing.
Poor brutes, think they were asleep;