New-York tribune. [volume] (New York [N.Y.]) 1866-1924, 1903-08-27

take said Philip. coolly- I only did what
Miss Dean wouldn't do. I didn't name the
daisy after her. I named it for man, of
course"
Randall thought Philip had paid him the com
pliment Of calling the flower for him His
vanity was hugely tickled, and the spirit of
teasing reawakened.
I'm going to be like the little acorn. Miss
Dean! Little by little I'll grow in your esteem
First not at ALL I'll end up 'passionately,' see
if l don't! You'll be adoring in time!
won't remind you of past i'll treatment. so don't
worry" He grinned broadly, showing nearly all
the lining of his upper lip.
thought both men silly and lacking in good
taste. Madam also uncomfortable, shut her
eyes tight and ordered a return to the house.
In the evening. after O'clock Philip came 20
her room. l still there
'Maman." he said. gently. may 1 take
Athena for a row? She has never been upon
the river
You would atone, mechant, for the trick you
played in the garden? To name the flower Ran
dal" That vaurien her sutton. Too bad indeed,
But she has been upon the river. Philip, as
Randall should remember Co my child" turn
ing to me. Philip will take care Of thee. Quick
Julie. my crepe de chine for MademoiseIe, and
the white lace for her head. vite. ma ille"'
did not wish to go. after refusing Mr. Thorpe;
but this might not explain and I submitted in
silence while being swathed in the shawl and
scarf l did not need. Once outside, however
thought to be free OF the wraps at least but
Philip interposed
NO. no. your arms and throat bare.
Athena. and the air of the river is chill"
1t was beautiful night. As we crossed the
railroad track I could see it cleaning far into
the distance. two long lines of silver thread
The grassy point with boathouse and willows
the steep wooded banks on either hand. and the
great stretch of river, all bathed in a white
splendor- Philip unlocked the boathouse door
and stood aside for me to enter a lighted lamp
hung in it's little corridor hesitated.
thought of the dead man who had lain there
Foolish child, what do you fear?'' said Philip.
He took my hand and led me through to the
steps beyond. where a boat lay ready. Another
moment and we hoated out upon the moonit
water
Are you glad you came, Athena o"
SO he had noticed my reluctance,
1t was kind of you to bring me- I said but
YOU and your mother are very good to me. al
ways"
Before my mother was III she was always
kind Now she is sometimes little thought
less of others" he said. pulling the boat with
long. smooth strokes northward along the shore.
i am glad YOU find her kind, for YOU are very
great haDpt-
ness last night. Wearing her diamonds pleased
her very much I know you disliked doing So
they have been little worn"
Because of her Illness I suppose"
No" said Philip. with sudden ferceness. be
cause of my father. who was fend incarnate
All! your beautiful eyes tell me you pity her
Athena! May tell you her story here upon
the river, where no tattling eavesdroppers Iurk
TO carry tales?"
You are sure she would be willing"
Quite sure he said. smiling kindly Your
ever active conscience may be at rest. but please
don't talk to her of the past-I want her to for
get. She lost her parents when mere child,
and was brought up by her uncle her guardian
His household was a gay one. and she led
happy life. among host of young cousins and
friends. My mother not only bright and
pretty, but. unfortunately. an heiress as well.
rms was what attracted my father. who had
squandered his own patrimony. He was hand
some. we'll born, agreeable. with dashing man
ner that easily pleased the romantic fancy of a
girl of seventeen. She was only that when she
first met him, poor child! At eighteen she came
into her fortune. He waited until then to de-
clare himself. and. when her guardian violently
opposed the match, persuaded her to run away
with him. Am firing you. Athena"
shook my head I was absorbed.
lowed his-he was a spendthrift. scoundrel!
Too poor to live in the CAV city of her birth. he
took my poor mother to a lonely plantation
which was still his only because he could not
sell it, having life interest in it merely Her
life became hideous-but she never told. she
was brave. She gave up all communication
with relatives and friends-she would not have
them know of her misery. For the slaves who
worked the plantation she did what she could.
Miserable. suffering creatures. slaves of devil.
they lived in hellr
The silence that followed became oppressive.
To break it I asked of the diamonds
"Ah. yes" said Philip. Il was forgetting. NV
father was away often. carousing with his boon
companions. once. before leaving for one OF
these orgies. he demanded the diamonds. My
mother refused them. There was frightfuI
scene. She thought he would kill her, but her
blood was up. she would not yield. he rode
away, vowing vengeance, swearing he would
have them yet. When he returned he learned
that they had been stolen by river thieves. He
chose to be amused that his wife had been
pIundered, Had he guessed that she was the
thief and the diamonds safe in her possession
his sense of humor might have failed him"
He ceased speaking. brooding on the past
After time he resumed the subject
My father died suddenly violent death. \
young man whom he had wronged shot him.
NV mother begged me to take her abroad, to be-
gin life afresh. with new name. Her hus-
bands a French name-he was Of French de-
scent-was hateful TO her. I did as she wished.
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