Vernon County censor. [volume] (Viroqua, Wis.) 1865-1955, 1903-02-04
CHATTER |.

Ntttuuo sHlpDlhE Souhtlt uhiAt IA htSPA'A6
with the character of his thoughts.
What's the matter now, Benson
asked a sweet. limpid voice.
The speaker was a quiet, dernure, self
possessed and self-contain"3 Young CIR
of eighteen years. with grace in heI
movements, yivacity in her gestures and
positiveuess in her demeanor.
Benson stopped his work, took off his
cap. wiped his brow, and looked at her
down his fabby cheeks with grim sense
of qualification He was too old to be
in love with her, but not too old TO APP
preciate her.
I'm tell you Barbara" he said. in a
slow, drawing undertone, Price is eX-
pected home to-day"
He meant Brice Rutherford. the own
er of Croylands, who had been away
Sowing wild oats" for year.
Il don't see why that should upset
you so" remarked Barbara, in a quiet
tone.
''Who said it did?' snapped Benson.
''I'm trifle disturbed about it, that's
all. It's his temper, Barbara
"A violent fellow. is he?" asked she.
"And without sense or reason" declar-
ed Benson mo one dare protest. and
as for advice. it's more than ones neck
Is worth to offer it
docs he resemble his fatherT' Bar
bara was curious enough to ask, think
ing of the dark. frowning portrait in the
commodious sitting room
mot in a single respect" replied Ben
son. There's nothing of lngomar about
him--not even of magnanimity He re-
sembles his mother, and that is the
queerest thing about t. His mild blue
eyes, magnetic voice and fair Saxon
face seem iucomp with his violent
Outbursts Of temper
Benson, though domestic. was by no
means an illiterate man. and Barbara
often stopped to talk with him. His
ideas were original and he expressed
them with force. She turned from him.
swinging her gypsy hat in charmingly
Girlish way, every movement one Of I'M
studied grace. Benson looked after her
with something of fatherly fondness in
his watery eyes.
Tim wondering how you'll get along
with him." he said lifting his voice.
"0h, I'll manage him. she flung back,
low, sweet ripple of laughter going by
on the air
"Humpht calculated Benson; then he
added his berry-brown face brighten
ing: Il shouldn't wonder If she does
manage bin! She wins on one some
how without making an effort to do So
She's chuck full of good common sense,
and won't swerve an inch when she
knows she's right-which she almost al
ways is When she finds that she's in
the wrong she recedes. She might apol-
ogize, but she'd never cringe. Oh they'll
collide soon enough goodness knows.
| only pray that she may never fall IN
love with him. 1t will be a curse to
her, Just as it was a curse To-"
He didn't finish the sentence. \ cold
glitter came into his eyes. and he smote
the air w.t. his clenched hand. 1t was
an unpleasant memory that stirred him
so violently.
AS Barbara Is walking leisurely among
the trees, listening to the singing of the
birds, watching the shifting shadows, n
haling the fresh resinous odors. and en-
joying nature in the fullest personal APP
preparation, we will take the opportunity
TO inform the reader how she happened
TO be at Croylands, one Of the largest
most ancient md most diversified Of the
many beautiful country seats within an
hours ride of Philadelphia.
He name was Barbara Bradleigh.
and she was the only daughter of a de-
ceased clergyman. Mrs. Rutherford
Briee Rutherford's mother, had given
her d home at CroylaI DIS, first Temporal
rily, from the merest plomptings of sym
pathy, and now Internationally and per-
nanentiy held by reason of her pleasing
traits of character and the valuable ser
vices which she was able and willing to
render.
She was not a mental. Her time was
TO a large extent her own. The. compen-
sation was whatever Mrs. Rutherford
cared to give her at unstipulated inter
walls. Barbara was contented. Sh, found
companionship in her books. She had
not been quite n year at Croylands, and
hence had never met Brice Rutherford.
She had not walked far amid the
cathedral-like stiffness of the woods that
bright morning before she found herself
face TO face with stranger. BY keen
intuitiveness she knew that he was Brice
Rutherford, the young owner of Croy-
lands.
"Helloa" he cried, in his brusque
manner. stopping her directly ia the
path. DO you know that you gre tres
passing"
Am I?' she asked, with demure I'M
consciousness, faint flush of color in
her cheeks. her pretty head turned to
one side, her dark lashes but partly up
lifted
Yes" he sharply retorted. a little
piqued at her self-possession. Nobody
has any rights here save those who live
at Croylands."
Then am at perfect liberty to pro-
ceed," was her answer in the same even.
undisturbed tone. Il live at Croylauds. q"
oh" he calculated. trifle nonplus-
ed. his interest in her increasing. who
are you. prayT
She might have questioned his right
to ask, but said, in a dignifcd way:
My name is Barbara Bradleigh. sir;
while you are Mr.. Brice Rutherford"
after which we can consider our
selves properly introduced" replied he.
with q shrug.
He was handsome man, tough as a
tennis bail. three days growth of beard
on his cheeks and chin, a tired loos in
his eyes, lines of dissipation around his
mouth. his clothing elegant but dusty
from travel.
An idle, easy-going, irresolute fellow
was he. with some creditable traits about
him. but bound to so to ruin on the fast
express, unless something more than or
binary switched him off the track.
Man of the world though he was. h'
hardly knew what to say next. Wha
made him become embarrassed? The
consciousness that she was thorough
lndY3 The snhtIe ohnr of natchouiy II