The Weekly Journal. — 1902-03-21 (Hartlepool, Cleveland, England)

RESERVED. ] THE WOOING OF LADY VI:  BY DOROTHY BAIRD.  When he proposed for the first time he was seventeen, and she just one year younger. It all began by his wanting to kiss her, just as he used to do "when they were children," as he said in his lordly way. But she, being home for her holidays from a stiff French pension, and haring a great idea of keeping the proprieties, would have none of it, and ignominiously ran away. Then began a royal chase—up and down the galleries, through the long suites of stately apartments, down the great oak staircase, round the sombre dining-hall, across the massive portico, down the wide steps and out into the sunlit garden. But he did not catch her until they came to the end of the long walk and ,tombled among the intricacies of the Dutch flower beds, for Lady Vi wos swift of foot and very nimble in spite of her lengths:zing gowns. Well, having caught her, he kissed her fair and spare upon the lips; and she, having lost her breath in the chase, and therefore being unal.le to scold, sat down on a green bank near by, and began fanning herself with her broad-brimmed hat. New; she looked very pretty as she eat there in her simple muslin frock, her brown curls all tumbled by the flight, and her cheeks flushed with running.. A great sunflower stood against the box hedge behind her and hung down over her head most enchantingly. He felt almost inclined to take another kiss. S 3 he at down at her side and put his arm round her dainty waist. She made a movement as though she would be off and away again, then evidently thought better of it. Perhaps she was tired with her former exertions, or perhaps she remembered that he was sure to catch her again. Anyhow, she resolved to try a wordy battle. "How silly you are, Phil :" she said. "I am not silly," came the boyish retort. "1 mu very sen.aLle." "I don't see how you can make that out," protested Lady " I do," lie returned. "Why are you sensible then ?" she asked, turning her head so as to be able to look at him slily out of the corners of her bonny blue .eyes. " Because I have chosen you," he asserted with great assurance. Her head turned till only her tumbled ' mass of curls we= visible. "How kind of I you," she remark(tl with teething sarcasm. Dou't laugh," he said. "1 ani in Carnes:. I have chosen you. There are !heaps of other girls I might have chosen, but I I didn't." I •• Tic. conceit of the creature I" she exclaimed. •• Well, it's true —and don't call me a creature," lie retorted. " There are heaps , of tuiveh-making mammas who would jump ' j at tin honourable ' tor th,fir daughters." He  send him right away. He loved her very truly now, and he could not boar the I thought of not being able to come and see her when he wished, and of relinquishing i the many little privileges which he had enjoyed since they had been children , together. Then, too, he was aware—pain- 1 fully aware—of the fact that he would be uncomfortably poor unless he could hit on I some way of making money, while Lady Vi I was heiress to the grand old mansion on the hill and all the broad acres belonging to it, 1 to say nothing of the house in town, the villa in France, and more thousands in ono , year than he had hundreds in two. So when he proposed again it was quite by accident. It was a sultry summer afternoon. They had taken tea in a sheltered corner of the terrace, where a tiny breeze came up to them from the river which wound its way among the trees in the valley below. Lady Vi grew tired of sitting still as it grew cooler, and she wandered down the steps, and along the avenue to the rose garden, chatting as she went, and Phil followed her up and down the winding paths between the roses, in the green shade which crept up as the ahadows grew longer. At last she sat down on a rustic seat and pulled a great bough of crimson roses towards her, and they trailed over her white gown and brushed against her soft cheek, as if they loved to rest there. "Give me a rose, Vi," he said laughingly. She was talking of other things, and mechanically picked a rose which lay near her hand, and held it out to him with her dainty fin-ers spread out for fear of the thorns. He took it and raised it to his nostrils. It was one of those roses whose sweet rich perfume seems to overwhelm the senses and intoxicate the mind. Its subtle charm crept over Phil, and he kissed it before he placed it in his coat. " Sentimental again :" she sail, and she laughed softly, a perfect fairy cadence of mirth. "I suppose I am," he said gently. " I cannot help it, Vi." " Poor thing!" ironically. "It does not suit you to be sentimental, Phil. I wouldn't be if I were you." The dimples were playing in and out around her rosy mouth, and her blue eyes were laughing up into his face, and the words were out before he knew. "I love you, Vi, darling. I cannot help loving you. I cannot live without your , love.' , She put her heal on one side and surveyed him critically. " You look vety fine ,and dramatic," she remarked. "How do you manage to make , L your eyes flash so darkly?" "Vi, &air, eau you not understand? I am serious this time. It is the truth I have , told you." "1 do not think this is the first time that ; you have said all this," she replied, calmly pulling a rose to pieces leaf by leaf. " I remember someone who said he would commit suicide—dut he didn't," and she laughed , again. Can you compare that time with this? , It is no boy's love I am offering you, it is a man's lose. the love of my life—"