The evening Republican., 1902-06-02
MY LORD \.
AND LADY.

his guns, fact that pleases him
vastly. Sir Rogers collects guns;
he has rooms full OF them, each in
its mahogany case, glinting DULY
along the length of it's polished bar
rel. Tradition says that Sir Rogers
has never used one in all his fifty
years; and l have been assured that
he could not bring down a pheasant
at two yards. He possesses firearms
of every description, prefelring,
however, the accumulation of rifles
and shotguns. He has asome cost
ing-but there! am afraid to say
how much. And after all, it does
not matter, for what have to tell
does not concern him.
had taken in Lady Grey, an hon
or l would gladly have relinquished
to another For the mere fact of
being an American, the author of
peculiarly dry work on Borneo and
an F. r. G. S., does not necessarily
imply conversational ability, am
sure Lady Cicely Grey, if she re-
members my existance will readily
agree to this.
She was, and trust still is, avon
derfully beautiful woman, tall, slen-
dor without being thing, bronze of
hair, and possessing marvellous red
and white coloring which we in the
States call the English complexion.
She impressed me at once as being
a woman who had got most Of
what life has to offer, and had found
it disappointing. Not that she
exhibited SYMPTOMS of permission;
on the contrary, her expression was
usually one of unruffeled calm. But
such is the impression received,
and my impressions are correct.
rearranged the silver at my place
to my liking, and turned toward her
Had I been at home and unaware of
her nationality, l should have asked
her whether she thought English
winters more severe than those Of
Boston. She showed much of that
polite hauteur which marks the fem
mime resident of the Hub. AS it
was, | spoke of the shooting-which
by the way, had been miserable
that day-and she replied with
remark that clearly implied: please
if you have nothing to say, leave
me to my thoughts, which, l assure
you, sir, are far more interesting
than yours" 1t was not a snub,
but it sutficed. I turned in despera-
ton to my left hand the lannon's
wife.
She was talking rapidly, in
rasping falsetto, to a young barris-
ter, who--but | have forgotten just
what he had done; it was important
however, and made a man OF prom
inence.
went back to nv soup, and wish
ed that English country houses were
steam heated. l detested shlvers
around my spine. Presently l heaad
Lady Cicley's mellow voice. l reused
myself, and looked up quickly to re-
ply Alas! her head was turned from
me, and saw only a piled-up mass
Of FURNISHED hair that was like red
bronze in the light from the candl e.
bra.
You came down this afternoon she
was asking.
Yes, twenty after two, from Char
ing Cross.
The mans voice pleased me i'm.
mensely. Its deep tmbre told me at
once that he was well over six feet,
aud had muscles. Being a small sta
frroI c,llortipn Of nrcoa rorca1f
naturally admire heightand strength
l turned my head forward to see him
and caught tleet,ug glimpse o! a
long, straight uose, TWO healthy.col.
ored cheek bones, a pair of hand"
some brown eyes ana rather stray .
Cling yellow mustache.
liked what | saw, After that,
save for one or two perfunctory ex-
changes of commonpIaces with the
cannsn's lady, played eavesdropper
to the conversation on my right.
"And you,' he asked, "you have
been here all week."
"Since Tuesday,"
"They told me at the house you
were away. l thought they said in
Wessex.'
II had intended going to the NAL
tiers for q fortnight; but, of course,
after their bereavement. it was out OF
the question
"What is it? You know l reached
London yesterday. Up in the
Highlands one doesn' hear things"
Greatly? Hughie--he was the sec.
ond son, you know-ded last week,
somewhere abroad. 1t is very sad.
Grace is heartbroken; think he was
her favoritc.
"Of course" he muttered d. Every
sad I think l remember the lad;
thin, dark chap; awfully quiet; look
ed--er-weak, ehy'
YES, that was Hughie; a dear
boy. The elder son, Courtney, is
in the army
Il know. Regular beast. I've met
him."
Il fear he's not very nice,' an
swered Lady Ccely, softly. But
what can one expects You know
what the father is"
by Jove! I should rather think
so! heard new story about him
last week from Guernsey of the
Fourteenth" The man paused and
laughed deeply. Then he coughed,
embarrassed. Fancy you wouldn't
care for it, though" he muttered.
Probably not, if Mr.. Guernsey |
told it answered Lady Cicely, quiet.
ly and trifle coldly.
"Come, now, Isay! Guernsey's not