The Birmingham age-herald., 1907-06-30
COPYRIGHT 1907 BY IRVING KING ALI RIGHTS RESERVED.

young squire of Mythe House, and the
 other his cousin, d MT. March, who was
 going out somewhere as Colonial Gov ernor.
 Brithwood was supercillious and brutal, and threw John crown. John threw 1t back to him indignantly. MT. March gazed keenly at the lad and said: My name Is March-Henry March. You have done me !. great service If l can ever be of any service to you in return" Thank you, sir replied John, with a bow, and the . two gentlemen went on, March stopping , at the stile to look back and murmur:
 "Oh, youth, youth"
 Years passed and John and Phineas, | now young men, were spending their sum-
 mer at Rose Cottage, on the breezy up-
 lands of Enderley, whence John rode
 down every day to supervise not only the
 lanyard, but the flour mill which Abel Fletcher had added to his business in Nor
 ton Bury.
 One half of Rose Cottage was occupied
 by the young men and the other half by an invalid named March (John and Phin- gas wondered if it could be the same man who came so near to being drowned in the Avon) and his daughter, who tended him assidiously, and of whom the young l men saw, at first, but little, though their kind and garrulous landlady, who looked
 after both families, often thought how
 nice 1t would be if the young people would "come together and conspired to that end. She had a streak of romance, this hardworking woman.
 Johns latent romance began to awaken, l too, and when Miss March walked on the | downs he walked there also-but at re- , spectful distance. He found out that her 1 name was Ursula. With a thrill he re- l membered that the little girl who had i thrown him the slice. of wheaton bread 1 on the day he first met Pineas had been | called Ursula by her nurse. Yet of course l she could not be the same.
 l Gradually the young men came to know | their fair neighbor and then John began | to walk with her in the beachwood which ! grew near by and discoursed to her learn | edly on the different sorts of trees, on 1 sunsets and sunrises and the breezes Of 1 the uplands. When two young people of | opposite sexes begin to talk of sunsets and trees and birds and that sort of thing l there is but one result.
 They made a pleasant picture, these two when they came in from their walk-such
 walks the young woman could snatch time for in her almost constant attend | ance on her father-she with her hooded cloak dropping off, showing her graceful shape, rather above the medium height,
 and her dark-brown hair, which was gath
 cred up in a mass of curls at the top of her head as the fashion then was, her
 dark eyes sparkling and her whole color ing being of that soft darkness of tone which gives an impression of something
 at once warm and tender, and John in the flush of his strength and youth. When old MT. March came to die, as he did shortly after, 1t was John on whom the orphan girl relied in everything, even though a great coach and four, with Lady
 Caroline Brithwood's own maid in the
 rumble and Lady Caroline's own black eyed Neapolitan page, came to Rose Cot tage with letter offering to Ursula the assistance of her cousins at Mythe House.
 The dead man had been, after all, that same Mir. March whose life John had saved on the day he took his first writing lesson. His cousin, Squire Brithwood, had married a daughter of the Earl of Lux more. He had met her at Naples in the household of Lady Hamilton-that beauti- ful sinner whose bad fame as the be- witcher of Britannia's god of war, the im- martal Nelson of the hundred fights" was then on every tongue.
 When her father had been laid in Ender- ley churchyard and her first grief was over, Miss March asked of John; Do you know Norton Bury MT. Halifax?' 'I live there" replied John. "Indeed Then you must know my cousins, the Brithwoods MT. Brithwood is believe, left my guardian. This was
 to have been changed-I wish 1t had been.
 
 of her. what sort of a person is Lady Carolne?"
 John hesitated. Gossip was rife with
 stories of the continual drunkenness of Squire Brithwood and the escapades of his wife.
 T believe" said he at last, that she is very charitable to the poor, very pleasant and very kind hearted but if l may ven ture to hint as much not the sort of person to whom Miss March would like to be indebted for anything except cour- tesy."
 "I shall be indebted to no one replied Miss March. If she were good woman, ! Lady Caroline would be a great comfort Eand a useful adviser to one who Is scarce t1S, and, l believe. an heress.' Johns face fell. He had believed, had hoped. that Ursula was poor. And so you live in Norton Bury, continued Ur-
 sula. How well I remember the chimes there. They used to keep me awake nights when I was a little girl on visit to the place and had cut my wrist with bread knife in a struggle with my nurse. l fear l was a self-wiled child. They would not let me give a piece of bread and but ter to a poor, half-starved boy have often thought of him since, when l have looked at this mark. He did look so man. ly and so hungry
 Let me look at the mark, please said JOnn. ana, tdklnB ner Hdnu BeHtiy, He softly pushed back the sleeve. discovering a deep discolored seam just above the wrist. As he gazed at 1t hls features quiv- cred, and then. without a word, he left the room. But he sought Miss March next day and apologized for his abruptness. She was going away to her cousins, the Brithwoods, and she expressed her hope that she would see John and Phneas- Phineas came in as a second thought-at Mythe House.
 '.It is right Miss March, said John,
 with honest dignity and pride showing in his face that I should tell you who and
 what am. You will pardon me for not telling you sooner what l was only too
 willing to forget, that we are not equals
 that is, society would not regard us as
 such. You are gentlewoman and I am tradesman."
 The news was evidently shock to her; but John went on with the story of his life, including the incident of the little
 girl and the wheaten bread.
 "Oh, was that you?'' exclaimed Ursula.
 She looked at him as he concluded his
 story with mingled expression of joy.
 pride and stonishment-and then her eyes
 fol1 ha I, har a