The Cook County herald. [volume] (Grand Marais, Minn.) 1893-1909, 1903-05-09
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By AMY BRAZIER =
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CHAPTER III.-(Continued.)


night and day-a shadow so grim and
black even his love for Barbara cannot
make him forget it, trouble so dark
he dare not face his mothers gentle
eyes-a trouble he locks in his own
heart, while day by day the end comes
nearer. Even if he told Barbara she
would not understand. Racing debts
and promissory notes would be Greek
and Latin to her. But by degrees
George becomes graver and quieter;
his sunny smile is forced sometimes,
and his light-hearted gaiety seems to
have deserted him. And then Mrs.
Bouverie falls ill-so ill that any
shock or worry might be falkland
George sits and looks at her with a
lump in his throat and wet eyes. And
now his heart is breaking with his
own troubles, a sea of debt is engulf-
Ing him. In a month bill for one
hundred pounds falls due, and he has
nothing to meet it with, his own al
loWance anticipated long ago, and the
mother who might have helped him
lying too i'll to care now.
NO excitement" the doctors say.
The least shock would prove fatal.''
No wonder George Bouverie looks
miserable, and his face has drawn,
gray look. Dishonor is an ugly word,
and that is what it will mean. The
man who had helped him into the
mess will not help him out of it. He
has left the country, and George has
to bear it all alone.
How to get hundred pounds? That
is the problem that haunts George
Bouverie with sick agony of uneasi-
ness that will not be quieted It is
always there-the certainty of ruin
and the shame of it is horrible.
Money, borrowed to pay his racing
debts 1t seemed so easy at the time,
and three months seemed such a long
way off. He would be sure to have
run of luck and be able to pay. But
the man who had lent him his name
has gone, and George has no means Of
procuring hundred pounds. With a
sinking heart, he remembers with a
blush that scorches his cheek that his
mothers income is very slender. She
had given nearly all to him, saying,
in her sweet, lovable way:
What can an old woman like me
want? A young man must have pocket
money"
If she had only been harder on me
when l was a little chap" groans
George now realizing too late that his
own way has not been a good way
Even Barbara cannot. comfort him
now.
The winter has worn itself away and
March has come-March that has more
of the shy witching of April than the
usual boisterous Month that proverbi-
ally enters as a lion. .,-.-
Still no answer from Tasmania.
Does Mr.. Saville also mean to ignore
the engagement? 1t were hard to say,
but it looks like it.
Mrs. Bouverie slowly creeps back
from the borders of the shadow land,
and George keeps his misery to him
self, while the day of reckoning draws
nearer and nearer.
Today the lovers have met. Bar
bara has ridden over on her bicycle to
ask for Mrs. Bouverie, and George
walks with her down the avenue. Bar
bara cannot fail to notice his detected
manner, the look of trouble that
blots the sunshine from his face.
They stand together in the sunshine
and the light falls on their young
faces, and out across the lawn the
sunbeams touch the daffodils.: :.
Barbara looks at them with smile.
Il always think of Wordsworth's
lines" she says, and quotes them
softly:
The waves beside them danced; but
they
Outdid the sparkling waves in glee.
A poet could not but be gay
In such a jocund company.
/ gazed and gazed, but little thought
What wealth the show to me had
brought"
George only signs.
She slips her hand into his as he
wheels her bicycle beside her.
Poor George, it must have been
such an anxious time for you; but
your mother is better, really better,
now"
EYES," he says, modify looking with
unseeing eyes at the nodding, dancing
daffodils, and drawing another long
sigh. Then his eyes rest on her face,
with a sudden agony of regret she can
not fathom
Barbara, my darling, I am not
worthy of you!" he exclaims, in voice
that speaks of desperation.
She lifts sweet, smiling eyes.
"You must not say that, George;
but, dear, why do you look so I'M
happy?"
II can't help it," he bursts out.
Barbara, I am most unlucky fell
low. Dear, it would be better for you
if you never saw me again.
She. looks half frightened, but her
hand creeps closer into his palm.
There isn't any fresh trouble, is
there?" she asks, noting all at once the
haggard look in his face. -
Then he tells her suddenly and