The Miller sun. (Miller, Hand County, S.D.) 190?-19??, 1907-06-01
CHAPTER XIV

CHAPTER XIV.
When Psyche had called her last
good night" 10 me from her room, as
i'll the cave it was her custom TO do before
composing herself to sleep, l stole out of
tho house to breathe again the fresh air
and enjoy the full sense of freedom.
After standing awhile gazing all round
at the heavens with an ineffable joy in
my heart, passed through the garden,
and, turning instinctively towards the
Chase, followed the familiar path to the
park gates, my step growing quicker and
more elastic under an citation that was
easily to be accounted for. When / left
the Chase | had no prospect more hope
full than that of realizing Sir Henry Dun
cars cynical suggestion by finding a Col
conda. Well, l had found what to me
was Golconda, and now / could face
y Henry and demand his daughters
aand.
1t was nearly midnight there was no
Light in the lodge keepers window; the
gate was unlocked, and not hundred
yards down the drive there was bend
from which the house could be seen. With
nc excuse but a lover sfolly, l passed
the gate and walked to the bend, and
there stood for fully five minutes, gaz-
Ing at a solitary light in one of the win
dows, giving loose rein to my fancy, and
letting it carry me into a paradise, where
. saw no face Eut Ethel Duncan's.
When at length l turned to 60 back
| perceived tall, grey figure standing
III the alley formed by footpath which
turned from the drive at the bend. 1t
was Sir Henry; recognized him at a
glance. There was nothing remarkable
in his being there at this hour, even if
the night had been less tempting to a late
stroll. He was man of odd ascetic
habits, sometimes combining himself for
days together N one room, at others wan
dering on the downs night after night
in weather that made even the coast
guard shirk his duty.
"Who are you?" he asked, stepping
forward.
Bernard Thorne."
II thought So" he said, and then add
ed, in a peremptory tone, Tell me what
you are doing here. You have come here
to see my daughter. You have written
to her.
Il have done nothing of the kind"
SIS that true?" he asked in a tone
that stung me.
You have never known me to attempt
to deceive YOU" | answered, warmly.
Indeed You promised you would not
return until you had fortune to offer
my daughter
"And on that condition you suffered me
to hope that | might make her my wife.
1t was an expedient perhaps to get rid of
me- You did not expect me to return
before you had married your daughter to
a husband more TO your taste than your
late secretary. But you held out that
hope to me; | accepted it; and now that
YOU see me here you know the reason
| have a fortune to offer your daughter.'
1T is incredible. ! was told you had
gone to America. Even there you have
not had time to make fortune-hon-
estly."
Il dare not trust my tongue to answer
YOU after that insinuation," said |, step
ping aside in order to pass him.
Wait" he said, putting his stick rude
ly before me. "Our estimates of for
tunes may differ considerably. What is
this fortune you have made?'
II cannot tell you. 1t may be ten
thousand pounds it may be less
''Ten thousand pounds Do you know
that my daughter may accept husband
with twenty times that amount? You
mistake your position. What is ten thou
sand pounds?"
Enough TO make me independent of
your generosity, and that is all sought
l dare now to ask your daughter to be
my wife, and It is for her--not you-to
decide whether l shall be her husband or
not"
"One moment. One question at least
/ have a right to ask, and one which
you, with the antecedents of your fam
lily before you, ought to answer. How
have you come by this money!"
II am not IN state of mind at this
moment to tell you my history. If 1 told
YOU now you would think me more mad
than my presence here at this time gives
you reason to suppose / am. In pro-
pei time and race will tell you ALL
Before you speak to my daughter?"
"Yes." Upon that we separated with
out another word.
greatly regretted this meeting with
sslr Henry and the avowal it mad led
me to make. For, ardently as I desired