Waterbury evening Democrat., 1903-03-21


 him in 8 forest walk near the river. Brandon. was sauntering along read ing when they overlook him. Jane told me afterward that Mary's conduct up- on coming up to him was pretty and curious beyond the naming. At first she was inclined to be distant and say cutting things, but when Brandon be- gan to grow restive under them and showed signs of turning back she changed front in the twinkling of an eye and was all sweetness. She laugh ed and smiled and dimpled, as only she could, and was full of bright glances and gracious words.
 She tried hundred little schemes to get him to herself for a moment-the hunting of wild flower or a four leaved clover or the exploration of some little nook in the forest toward which she would lead him-but Jane did not at first take the hint and kept close at her heels. Mary's, impuisive nature was not much given to limiting she usually. nodded, and most em- phatically at that-so after a few fail ures to rid herself of her waiting lady she said impatiently: "Jane, in the name of heaven, don't keep so close to us! You won't move out of reach of my hand, and you know how often it inclines to box your ears!'
 Jane did know, am sorry for Mary's s sake to say, how often the fair hand was given to such spasms; so with this emphasized hint she walked on ahead, half sulky at the indignity put upon her and half amused at her whimsical mistress.
 Mary lost no time, but began the at- tack at once.
 ''Now, sir, I want you to tell me the truth. Why do you refuse my invita- tions and so consistently keep away from me? I thought at first would simply let you go your way, and then I thought I-I would not. Don't deny it. I know you won't. With all your faults, you don't tell even little lies; not even to woman-I believe. Now there is fine compliment--is it not?- when intended to scold you?' She gave fiuttering little laugh, and, with hanging head. continued: ''Tell me, is not the kings sister of quality suR- ficient to suit you? Perhaps you must have the queen or the Blessed Virgin Tell me now?" And she looked up at him, half in banter, half in doubt.
 My duties'- began Brandon.
 "Oh, bother your duties! Tell me the truth.''
 tI will, if you let me-" returned Brandon, who had no intention what ever of doing anything of 3le sort. "My duties now occupy my time in the evening"
 "That will not do,'' interrupted Mary, who knew enough of guardsman' $ duty to be sure it was not onerous. You might as well come to it and tell the truth; that you do not like our so- ciety." And she gave him vicious little glance without a shadow of a smile.
 "In Gods name, Lady Mary, that is not it." answered Brandon, who was on the rack. "Please do not think it. I cannot bear to have you say such a truth"
 '"Then tell me the real truth.''
 "I cannot; I cannot. beg of you not to ask. Leave me, or let me leave you! I refuse to answer further" The latter half of this sentence was uttered doggedly and sounded sullen and i'll humored, although of course it was not so intended. He had been so perilous- ly near speaking words which would probably have lighted, to their destruc- tion-to his certainly-the smoldering flames within their breast that it frightened him, and the manner in which he spoke was but tone giving utterance to the pain in his heart.
 Mary took it as it sounded and in un- feigned surprise exclaimed angrily: '.Leave you? Do I hear alright? I never thought that I, the daughter and sister of a king, would live to be dis missed by a-by a--any one.'
 "Your highness"- began Brandon, but she was gone before he could speak.
 He did not follow her to explain, knowing how dangerous such an ex- planation would be, but felt that it was best for them both that she should remain offended, painful as the thought was to him.
 Of course, Mary's womanly self es- teem, to say nothing of her royal pride was wounded to the quick, and no wonder.
 Poor Brandon sat down upon a stone, and as he longingly watched her retir- ing form wished in his heart he were dead. This was the first time he really knew how much he loved the girl, and he saw that, with him at least, it was a matter of bad to worse and at that rate would soon be-worst.
 Now that he had unintentionally of tended her and had permitted her to go without an explanation she was dearer to him than ever, and as he sat there with his face in his hands he knew that if matters went on as they were going the time would soon come when he would throw caution to the dogs and would try the impossible-to win her for his own. Caution and judgment still sat enthroned, and they told him now what he knew full we'll they would not tell him after a short time-that failure was certain to fol low the attempt and disaster sure to follow failure First, the king would