The Montgomery advertiser., 1908-05-02

young sister---almost a generation younger than himself and the sole fruit of his fathers second marriage | had been like a little sister to him. l too. She had. in the. twenty years which bad elapsed. grown to be sweet
 and beautiful young woman. In all
 the past years, with the constant op- | portunity which friendship gave of
 close companionship. the feeling never l altered. Squire Norman would have
 been surprised had he been asked to describe Margaret Rowly. and found | himself compelled to present the pie
 ture of woman, not child.
 | Now. however. when his thoughts
 went womanward and wifeward. he | awoke to the fact that Margaret came
 within the category of those he sought
 amongst. His usual decision ran its
 course. Possibility became probabii- | ty probability became certainty; the
 semi-brotherly feeling gave place to | stronger and perhaps more selfish feeling. Before he even knew 1t. he
 was head over ears in love with his | pretty neighbour.
 | The ideas of a middle-aged man are tempered by habit and custom; so stephen Norman did not rust hot-foot To declare himself to the lady. He was. however. no laggard in love; but not to Tighten the girl by a too sudden onslaught, he. began a series of yelled attentions which threw them into more constant compsnionsildp. Norman was fine man, stalwart and handsome; his forty years sat so lightly upon him that his age never seemed to come into question in woman's mind. Mar garet had always liked him and trust ed him; he was he big brother who had no duty in the way of scoiding to do. His presence had always been a gladness: and the sex of the girl first uncon- sciously and then consciously, an- swered to the mans overtures. Tn a little while Norman felt himself justi- ned in speaking to Rowly. who had long becn guardian as we'll as broth CT; for his father and his fathers wife had both been dead for years. Squire Rowly was delighted; Margaret's con- sent was soon obtained ;
 When in the f1lness of time 1t was known that an heir wta expected. Squire Norman felt that his best hopes were being fulfilled He took it for granted that the child would be a boy, and he Held the idea so strongly and so tenaciously that his wife, who loved him deeply, gave up warning and re- monstrance after she had once tried to caution him against too fond a hope, She saw how bitterly he would be dis appointed in case 1t should prove to be a girl He was, however. so fixed ou the point that she determined to say no more. After all 1t might be a boy the chances were equal. If 1t were not, then sufficient to the day would be the evil thereof. The Squire would not. listen to anyone else at all; so as the time went on his idea was more firmly fixed than ever. His arrange ments were made on the base that he would have son. The name was of name of all the Sduires of Norman stand for ages--as far back as the records went; and Stephen the new heir of course would be.
 Like all middle-aged men with young wives he was supreme1y anxious as the time drew near. Tn his anxiety for his wife hie belief in the son. be- 1 came passive rather than active. In- | deed. the idea of a son was so deeply | fixed in his mind that 1t was not to | be lightly disturbed; not even by his | anxiety for the young wife whom he | idolized.
 When instead of a son a daughter | was born, the Doctor and the nurse, | who knew his views on the subject. | held back from the mother for a Iit- i tie the knowledge of the sex The 1
 
 on the young mother. and travail had | come attended by fears Dame Norman | was so weak that the Doctor feared | lest anxiety as how her husband whom | she adored would bear the disappoint- | ment. might initiate against her. | Therefore, the Doctor, as soon as he | could be spared. with a whispered | caution to the nurse sought the Squire | fin his study, where he had long sufEer- | ed in a silent agony of anxiety. He | went resolutely to his task; for here | he had only to bear the unpleasantness | of a mans disappointment and the res | possibility of womans life.
 Well. Squire. I congratulate you | on the birth of your childl" Norman | the word ''child' instead of son" but | the cause of his anxiety was manifest ed by his first question::
 How is she, Doctor? Is she safer" The child after all was of only sec | ondary importance The Doctor, more used to such scenes and more in con trol of himself. breathed more freely; the subject of the question had light ened his task. There was therefore. | more assurance in his voice as he am swered:
 She is safely through the worst | of her trouble. but I am greatly anxl- ous as yet She Is very weak. I fear anything that might upset her"
 The Squire's voice came quick and 
 There must be no upset! And now tell me about my son, He spoke the | last word half with pride, half bash fully.
 Your son is a daughteri" There | was silence for so long that the Doc tor began to be anxious. Squire Nor | man sat quite still; his right hand rest | ing on the writing table before him | became clenched so hard that the knuc- | kles looked white and the veins red. | After long slow breath he spoke: |
 ''She. my daughter, is well?" The | Doctor answered with cheerful alac- l rity:
 Continued Tomorrow.