The Plymouth tribune. (Plymouth, Ind.) 1901-1911, 1909-02-18

pose lie Ill ABOUT WIN. suit silky
Dallison down to the ground. | presume;
not that | know much about it, But as
he hath hidden me 10 the consumption of
clcquot and bait. if Coriander wins at
Epson. it is fair to presume he'd like to
see him well through his smalls,' to be-
gin with
All we go laundering on in our blind
ness and ignorance. Can even the most
far-sighted of us ever predicate twenty
four hours ahead? What mess Provi-
dence makes of our intricate calculations
What shallow fools we seem. after all our
study. | wonder what Granville Rose
would have said. ii anybody had limited
to him that within ten days his destiny
would be bouad up with Coriander's? Can
you not fancy his laughing retort: II
never race. What's Hecuba to me, or
| 10 Hccuba 2" Yet il will be so.
Grenville losses the paper on one side
and in a careless way takes up his letters.
Two or three are thrown aside; but his
pulse quickens. and his handsome fea-
lures flush little. as he catches sight of
that firm. delicate hand be knows so we'll
Mande's letter had been near the bottom
Of the pile, or he had not glanced over
IT,.
of his had wound her way into his heart
strangely of late. He hardly knew him
self how it had all come TO pass. He had
bullied her as boy; he even. till quite
lately, had snubbed her as man. He
had liked her. ay, loved her. in cousinly
fashion, all his life. How was he to have
dreamt that the gawky school girl who
accompanied him in his fishing expedi-
tons at Glinn was to grow into the love
" girl Maude had Of late bossomed into?
He was no fool. and had as much COM
mand over his passions as five-and-twen-
ty that sets up for no superlative virtue
and lives in the world, can usually lay
claim to. That anything could be more
injudicous than a love affair between
himself, with mere underlined prospects,
and the daughter of his ruined, spend
thrift uncle, no one could be more clearly
aware That il Maude Denison married,
it must be somebody with means and POI
siton, he thoroughly understood. That
he should at present marry anybody he
quite recognized as an impossibility. And
vet. with all these theoretical axioms
distinctly present to his mind, he was
forced to admit to himself that he was
over head and ears in love with his cousin.
That he had never even limited it TO her
was fact upon which he gave himself
most extraordinary credit. That she had
as yet given him no earthly reason to sup
pose he was anything to her but Cousin
Gren was circumstance that he brooded
over sulkily and despondingly. With these
correct and high-principled views, it
should have been made matter of great
graduation but you see it was not. l
am afraid it will ever be so. The right
people never do fall in love with each
other: while, from the days Helen left
Menelaus to the present time, the con-
verse of the proposition seems nexhausti-
bic and Interchangeable.
But all this while Granville Rose had
been reading Maude's epistle. His face
darkens as he does so, the brows contract,
and n curse breaks at last from his lips
in low, cultural tone that BODIES bad
times for somebody. supposipg that Gren-
Vile possesses power equal TO his inci-
nation.
That brute Pearman - he muttered
MY instinct didn't fail me. Better I'd
have dislocated his cursed neck by throw
ing him down stairs that night than this.
And the poor child appeals to me to help
her, What can / do?"
Once more he glances at the letter.
again he reads the paragraph: "Gren.
dear. you have been my resource in all my
scrapes since | can remember. Do come
to my rescue now: what am l to do?
My childish troubles of bygone days were
not of much account. whatever they might
look at the time. This seems extinguish-
ing the sunshine of my life on the thresh-
old-as if | was doomed, as | heard you
say not long ago. ] have said / cannot.
| dare not. Both papa and mother say |
am TO decide for myself. But it isn't so
you know. Gren, it isn't. There's papa,
more sneering and gloomy than ever, sug-
costing that we had better make the most
of Glinn during the remaining few weeks
that ii remains to us-as | have decided
to give away the property. Mother. of
course, all tears; and papa DULLES her
worse than ever. Oh. tell me what TO do.
Grcn. for / am very miserable. l can't
stand it much longer-I know | can't.
shall have to give in: cannot bear to
see mother always in tears. l almost wish
| was dead. DO indeed; aud yet don't
want TO die"
ne mulIcrS, 1lieT Tedulng II
through for about the twentieth time
its easy to see the whole thing. My
precious uncle intends you shall marry
Pearman, so that he may finish his days
in Glinn. My aunt, poor soul, is weeping
Dead Sea over the arrangement, and
having her soul harried out besides.
Maude-Maude, my darling. how can
help you? Pretty chance of n pauper like
myself being much use on the OCCASION.
he mused with bitter sneer. She never
says, poor child. by the way. what sum.
if any, would stop the gap-though, Of
course, there must be a price. However.
that is a question there is no use in rails
ing. Of course it's thousands; and to
raise few hundreds would require all my
ingenuity. to say nothing of terminating
in my eventual destruction; not but what
it's little I'd think of that just now, to
save Maude. My love, | am powerless =
And Grenvlle Rose leaned his head upon
his hands and tasted the bitterest sorrow
this world can afford-that of an appeal
for succor from the woman whom he low
ed. and the knowledge that he was pow
erless to help her even hairs breadth
in her bitter anguish. Better TO stand
by her deathbed than this!
Our nineteenth century training mai
us bear such trials well. But do not be-
lieve, my brethren, that when the mash
is dropped. feelings are not much the
same as of yore. Bitter tears are shed
over worthless women, and deep lamenta-
tons made over rotten Investments in the
privacy of the bed char her. The matu-
final razor sweeps the chin at times with
strange fascination for one strong free
stroke at the jugular vein; morbid feel
ing to end all this weary struggle. and
cut the knot of existence. A well-known
writer. the other day. laid down ut was
better to be bored than to be miserable.
can't say | agree with him. ! would
Their be miserable.
or more than an hour does Grenv
e his apartment. musing over Maud
liter. But no he can neither see help to
be rendered, nor even anything to justify
the slightest interference on his part.
Then he thought savagely of the old duel