Lucknow Sentinel, 1891-12-04, Page 6- 1E APTER 171.
_......,
!!Unfold,yye tender blooms of life ;
•,6mgeeres , let all the world be gay ;
"1' S
well-*the:morining et .oar day"
Must riseoeoutesongs andstriie.'-'
-Loris Morris.
• T,he first, week of Helen'a visit hadpassed,
bawl she had elreedy decided that Qarnntion
Cotta a was the pleasennteat house pessible•
in which to live, that no companion could
be more congenial than Miss Elizabeth, that
Se re $ rKi .�7 a15411at to .Slieriti
Devon was the loveliest county in England
, --,-in fact, to be brief, that she was as happy
as the lovely July days were long.
Roth Miss Elizabeth and the leas im-
pressionable Betsey had gone down before
hercharms like ninepins. When she was
,out of the room, they talked about her ;
when she, was present, they followed her
_^asaabos..},ssewrteh.,ef;el,;testi,;ei,�.thavela1exPet;,ane.:
.As a matter of course, she took the guidance
of the household into her firm hands, and
even -Rave advice en the subject of garden-
ing, flitting to and fro the grass -plot, from
Sower -bed to flower -bed, carrying shears or
watering -pot, trowel or rake, hose or spud,
as the fanny seized her, with Mise Elizabeth,
plaiting, following at her heels. When, as
was sometimes the cane, she fell into a wild
and whimsical mood and talked and romped
More like an irresponsible madcap than the
than the dignifiedyoung woman she some-
,ruiii:5 appeercd, Mize Elizabeth, instead of
Scolding, went into fits of weak laughter.
More than once during her wanderings
she had caught a glimpse of a high, yellow
pg_ur, with
a pqua- ro•aLu_�uluv_cu hru_v
sitting bolt upright on the box seat, whom
she recognized. Usually he had some one
beside him ; twice it had been another
square -shouldered, broad figure like his own ;
but the third time his companion had been
a lady, a pretty girl, whose face was turned
toward hon as though she was listening
' while he talked: Once, only once, Helen
field met that dogcart face to face, and then
its occupant, who had been alone, had drawn
up beside her and engaged her for an un-
conscionably long time in conversation.
More than once she had tried to move on,
but each time he had recalled her by a
question and always on the subject of her
loss, on which topio he had, of course, a
right to question her. In an affair of
dogged determination, Helen had met her
master, an amiable,,gentle batunflinchingly
obstinate master.
Mr. Jones had also called one afternoon
at Carnation. Cottage, and again it was for
the -purposeof conversing .with Helen about
her stolen property, of which, it seemed, he
• had heard somehopeful news ; infect, he
believed the watch' had been discovered in a
pawnbroker's shop in Birmingham,' and in
,that ease before very long 'he should have
,,the pleasure of restoring it to its owner.
,'Helen, who had been down on. the beach
during this`event, waretoiling slowly up the
• hill;. on .her way home when Mr. Jones
•emerged, from the garden gate, with the
most cheriuhed ether°, ;aunt's rosebuds
his button=liole, . " and an ag-
gressively debonair and satisfied de-
meanor. She was overjoyed at the pros-
pect of recovering her watr�h and listened
to all he had to say, which was not a little,
on 'that and on other subjects, witheager
eyes and her ;nest gracious manner. When,
at hail nhe'left'liim he''watched her out of
sight, and then, turning away, he walked
one witlaa : aver' look than usual on his
- ese, mitre bled face; while she, enter-
ing th • : met her excited aunt with a
torrentof insane jokes and teasing laughter.
• Upon the afternoon of that day which
hod been fixed for the ball at Newton Hall
the Misses. Mitford, at Helen's request, had
tea early ; after which the girl, 'adjusting
her big white hat, and,, as a tribute to
custom, fetching her gloves) which .she put
in her pocket instead of upon her hands),
set off for her daily walk. She paused a
moment at the gate to wave a farewell to
her aunt, who was bent double over her car-
nation bed, the surface soil of which she
was loosening with a fork.
" The tide is out this evening, auntie ; I
.am going to the rocks. The distant rocks,
it's a long walk. 1 may be late."
" Don't get drowned, love."
" No, auntie."
" Don't get your feet wet."
" No, auntie."
Half an hour later Helen had reached the
shore. She loved the sea, the thousand
lights and shades that tinged its surface,
the restlessness, the eternal variety,
the mystery of its troubled life. But that
evening she had no time to watch the
waves ; she walked quickly along the sands,
skirting the groups of nursemaids and
children with her face turned westward
toward the cliffs, which shelved down into
a jutting peninsula. Here ° the low rocks
reached far out into the sea, and then,
sinking below the surface, showed like a black
shadow through the blue waters. Thither
she steered her way.
The bathing -woman, who was standing
as sentinel behind a long row of curious,
/sand -ingrained, faded garments which,
secured by stones, lay supine on the yellow
sands addressed her as she'passed—
" Where be'ee going to, Miss 1"
" To the rocks. "
" Then,pplaze to mind the tide ; her comes
in powerful fast and strong out yonder.
Don't 'ee go out to far, miss. It's safe
enough if yu'll be a bit careful."
Helen nodded. " She would be careful,"
she said, and strode on fast.
She toiled laboriously over the rough and
broken shingle which intervened between
the sands and those splendid rocks—her
destination. Most girls would have been.
daunted by the obstacles of that long and
painful walk, and would •soon have turned
• back to join those comrades who were con-
tent with pleasures less difficult of access,
but with Helen it was altogether otherwise.
An impediment in her route was merely a
thing to be surmounted ; it was no barrier
to stop her progress. When once that for-
midable possession of hers, her mind, was
made up, her purpose, she had accustomed
.herself to consider, was inflexible.
She found the distance she had to traverse
was far greater than she had anticipated,
and it was long before she—tired, hot and
footsore—reaehedthe desired spot and sat
down on the first low rock at heed to rest
and look about her. The air was redolent
sof the breath of the sea ; a bright breeze
was blowing, which put a "sharp head" on
, the chopping waves, and cut them up into
'bustling, zig-zag ridges that splashed and
broke continually' against the rocks, and
towed and swayed ilio heavy layers of sea-
weed to and fro. •
She was enjoying herself after a cleiidiah
fashion, the warm transparent • water was
adtsg t She rolled her sleeves up 'high,
.,.n , knelling down before a pool and she
plunged her hand and arm deep down
•anion "the seaweed ii,nd•the stones. She was
laughing;et the awkward 'flight of a tiny
crab when a call--a-clear, loud call --startled
her to. her feet.
She stood up, raised her dripping, white
hand to shade her eyes, and stared io the
direotion whence the sound had come. A
little sailing -boat, in which were seated
tdCr; ones an £he gentleman whom Helen
had seen before in he yellow -wheeled dog
cart, was within twenty yards of her. It
was the former of these two young men
who had so unceremoniously bailed her.
" Hey, hey ! You mustn't atay there—
don't stay there !" he cried. " The tide
has turned ; in two Minutes those gulleys
It behind you will be three feet deep. If you
elaeh,as: eteoed 'asgsepea lmd,v i ceseclo se
up, I can tell you."
Helen was dismayed ; the, situation was
exasperating. She' did not move : she
stooped a little, to be sure that those dread-
ful feet of hers wore concealed, and then she
cast a hurried glance around. Where was
'that rock upon which she had stored her be -
place, and now she could not find it.
't
" I say, donwait 1" cried the voice
again. •' You ' will be drowned. There
isn't too much time to get across."
' " Thank you—thank you," she called
back, feebly. " I will go—I, am going."
Still she did not move.
" What a good-looking girl !" said Mr.
Jones's friend. " No wonder you rowed
here ten thousand miles an hour when you
saw her ! She's a precious deal too pretty
to drown. She has lost her head, though.
Why don't she go on ?"
" No fear of her losing her head," returned
the other, with an unkind laugh. " we have
told her what to expect, so if she wishes to
be drowned she knows how to do it. She is
as headstrong as ' an allegory.' If her man-
ners matched her face she would do, but
they don't."
"Poor thing ! What has she done to
you, . Bertie ? She has never jumped on
you, has she ? You are such a lucky chap,
you expect to get all the roses and none of
the thorns. She ' don't take no 'count of
us,' -es you say in Devon, for ,she has not
budged an inch."
" She is a little fool," said Mr. Jones,
shortly. "Turn the boat, Mason. We will
bustle up and leave her."
After a mild protest his friend obeyed.
Tacking to the wind, the boat sailed down
the bay, and landed its occupants on the
shore below Noelcombe. Here the men
separated, one disappearing in the direction
of Newton, the other—after wandering
rather aimlessly about the sands for a time
—suddenly turned his face westward, and
began to plod over the rough route which
led to the reef of rocks.
Though Miss Helen Mitford was ungrate-
ful and pig-headed, and though Mr. Jones
thought it probable that _he_should _ shortly
ask the gentle and pliable Lady Lucy Free -
mantle to marry him, yet he was interested
to know what had become of that slender
figure which ho could still see, with his
mind's eye, standing in the sunshine, with
her beautiful wet hand and arm raised,
and her earnest; startled eves fixed on
him. , He had felt unreasonable anger at
his . companion's admiration of the
girl, anger which he had directed upon her
luckless head. He had spoken of her with
unjustifiable rudeness .; it was well for him
that she had been out of earshot when he
had done so ; he could picture her face had
she,,by any unhappy chance, overheard his
words.
If she had not flown at the first hint of
danger, then she deserved praise for her
pluck—not the condemnation for rashness
which he had allotted her.
His head was overflowing with thoughts
of her. His heart enisgave him that he had
not appreciated the daring bravery with
which she had heard of her danger (a danger
he had somewhat exaggerated),' and steadily,
calmly, courageously faced it.
Meanwhile, this calm, young heroine, as
soon as the boat's head was turned away,
cast custom and caution to the winds. The
choice between dignity or drowning was not
hard to make, betiween clothed feet or
safety, seemliness orpreservation, boots or
death. Stumbling, clambering, slipping;
she ran, like a stag over the rocks, fording
pools and gulleys recklessly in her panic,
cutting and bruising her feet and accom-
plishing her painful retreat with wonderful
celerity considering the difficulties of her
path and her constant backward glances at
the departing boat.
And so, presently, Mr. Jones saw the
figure for which he was in search, approach-
ing him, but most leisurely. How pro-
vokingly she dawdled ; no house -laden
snail ever crawled so slowly 'as she now
advanced. Could it be that she recognized
him, and from perversity, or coyness, or
some unfathomable feminine coquetry,
lingered for the mere purpose of annoying
him?
The conclusi he naturally deduced from
this delightfull, expected shyness of hers,
set his heart b ing fast, he had taken her
unawares, and thus learned the value of
that indifferent manner which it had
pleased her to adopt toward him. How ex-
ceedingly pretty she looked 1 Her downcast
black -lashed eyes, her drooping head, that
changing color of which he was the author,
became her royalty ; he would not spoil the
picture by speaking and setting her at her
ease. Even her voice, as 'she addressed
him hurriedly by name, faltered—there was
a deprecating cadence, new as it was sweet,
in its tones. His late companion had•
accused him of desiring to possess, nay,
more, of actually possessing ' " all
the roses and none of the thorns " ;
this blushing 'rose had assuredly
stripped off her prickles, and she was a rare
blossom, the fairest of her "sisters. His
heart warmed to her, ' he, would be most
gentle, he would be unconscious of her con-
straint. But he must be cautious, it would
not do to be too—there his resolutions failed
him, for Miss Mitford, with a second rapid
uncertain movement, sank down again into
her former position on the shingle, flushing
like Aurora.
It was his duty, of course, to follow her
lead and seat himself beside hor, and, late
though it was,he felt no disinclination to do
so. Leisurely, and with a kind smile, he
placed himself beside hetes-his reception had
flattered him, he was sure of himself.
" Trust in thyself—then spur amain " for
wooing as for working is an excellent
motto.
To give him his due he made himself
very agreeable ; how fluently he talked
and how quietly she listened sho anawercd
him but in soft monosyllables ; he felt that
he shone in conversation, she was evidently
well satisfied with his society, for she
made no attempt to move, she sat motion -
legs as a statue. Fired by the troubled
expression of her beautiful eyes—by the
way, how her sweet face had grown in
expression, the anxiety that ruffled her
brow, Otho restlessness, a constraint be-
trayed by the way in which she toyed
continually wiih-some•pebbles in her hand',
were all new—he began to talk sentiment, it
was not his way to besentimental, he hardly
knew what ailed him. Following her gaze
across the sea, he began to descant on its beau-
ties. Had she watched last night's sunset,
the lights had been—what did that whom
he meant and what he meant—" day died
litseetheedetaleloa!LeYeeeseetleeta.W.e.eeitesalta
she seen a storm,at sea ? Viewed from the
coast, ie declared it to be a most glorious
sight ; he would give anything to be with
her at Noelcombe when a real 'nor'easter
was blowing, and the waves dashed roaring
up against the rocks and drenched the cliffs
a hundred feet aloft with spray. But she
be with the • sailors, and her thought of
them would blind her eyes to the beauties
of the storm. He was getting on fast ; he
was going ahead ; to bis comrade's unutter-
able relief, he suddenly drew out his watch
and changed the subject.
" It is half -past 7," he announced care-
lessly ; he thought that, perhaps, her
watehless position had made her regardless
vi tilde. At what a pace the bine oars
gone !"
Every nerve in her body lustily negatived
that 'remark, but she said :
" Yes, it is very, very late. Won't
you " (timidly) " be late for dinner?"
" Yes," he returned with a regretful
sigh ; " unless we start at once, I shall
probably get no dinner at all."
" Don't," she began with a sudden bold-
ness ; " please don't think it necessary to
wait for me. I shall not go home for some
time. I don't know when I shall go home
—not for hours and hours."
" Then," he returned, gravely, ." you
mean to deprive me altogether of my
dinner."
" But, surely, you have forgotten, you
must go ; it is the night of your ball."
He murmured somethingwhich the break-
ing of the waves drowned, but which war in
reality a rash avowal of oblivion to the
mundane matters of life under the present
circumstances.
She smiled a bewilderindingly kind smile
into his face.
" Good -by," she said, holding out her
hand to him. " I won't allow you to stay
for another moment. I should never for-
give myself if you lost your dinner through
your -your politeness; and don't you think
—I'm sure—at least I think your people
will want you and won't know where you
are. ,
"A -pathetic, pleading note had become
entangled in her hesitating tones. He took
her cold little hand and held it tightly,
answering her with some words apt and soft
enough to repay her amply for her favor.
He fancied that he knew a good deal about
the ways of women, but this one puzzled
him. Game so easy of acquisition was sport
not worthy of the name. But the hand
which he held, small and cold though it was
struggled stoutly for freedom, so stoutly,
indeed, that he released it.
Poor Helen; the failure, or rather the re-
sult of her final effort to rid herself of this
unconscious aggressor overwhelmed her.
She was disheartened, preplexed, and tired
out. The incoming waves splashed danger-
ously near her ; a few minutes more and her
present position would . be untenable.
Her mouth quivered perceptibly,
and the tears started to her
eyes. Mr. Jones noticed these pre-
liminaries with dismay ; he had barely
time to feel that matters were getting
serious, and to reflect that the kissing away
of these tears would bea' blessed work, when
her drowned gray eyesiwere turned tragically
to his.
" Won't you. go ? Will nothing make
you go ?" she cried, pushing forth, for one
moment, from beneath her 'serggee skirt, a
bare and bleeding foot at which she pointed
with a pregnant gesture. " I have to walk
all the way over these dreadful, dreadful
stones barefoot. I could not find my—my
boots or stockings when you frightened me ;
they were out there on the rocks ; they have
been washed away. Oh ! you are laughing
—how can you laugh ?"
And the tears in her eyes welled over,
and rolled slowly down her cheeks. ,
CHAPTER VII.
There's a divinity that shapes our ends,
Rough-hew them how we will.
SHAItsPEARE.
But if Mr. Jones had smiled, the smile
arose from a desire to screen an inevitable
chagrin, rather than from any sense of
humor at the situation, and at her words he
became grave as a judge. Indeed, he felt
as little inclined to laugh as did Helen her-
self at that moment, for he was disagreeably
conscious of 'having played the coxcomb in
his thoughts. Had ever man more griev-
ously misread a manner ? And yet he was
glad—yes, glad that he had been mistakeri,
and that this young person differed from
that vast tribe of demoiselles a marier, who
advanced uninvited from all corners, and at
all stages of his life, to meet him.
At the sight of her distress, he forgot
himself ; such a lapse of memory was not
quite of so rare an occurence with Mr. Jones
as with the majority of his sex. Divesting
himself instantly of that gallant air which
embarrassed hor, with considerable tact and
kindliness he soothed Helen into taking a
leas hopeless view of her position ; and when
her tears were dried and she was composed,
she found that he had again opened a road
through which she could escape from a
dilerr ma.
"But I am giving you so much trouble ;
you are so kind," she faltered.
"Trouble ? Nonsense, its no trouble at
all. I was going into the village, anyway.
I shall get up to your place in no
time, and explain what has happened.
You stay quietly here; no, not juat
hero, but a dozen yards further in. Get up ;
give me your hands ; lean on me, that's
right. Rah ! how those beastly stones hurt
you. There, you're all safe now, and the
tido won't be in for an hour. Don't move,
and I will undertake that your maidshall
bring your shoes and stockings before you
know where you are. No, don't thank me,
it's absurd'You ou know it was all my fault
for scaring yon out of your life on the rocks.
Good-bye, till to -morrow. I wish"—press-
ing the_
ish"—pressiugthe_ Band he held, suddenly and, firmly—
"I wish to heaven that you were coming to
our dance to -night."
"But Were he had reached Noelcombef
when his young blood had had time to cool,
and when the extraordinary influence of
the girl's presence was removed, he was no
longer sure of the truth of that forciblyex-
pressed desire, for he remembered ardy
Lucy to whom he had already engaged
himself for half -a -dozen dances, and to
wheat he quite intended to engage himself
for life. /
Some time later that evening, Mies
Elizabeth Mitford, her apectacles upon her
hose, was delicately perambulating her
dewy lawn, enth her upgathered skirts in
one hand and a jam -pot containing a
deadly solution of salt and water in the
other. , The passion of her nationality,
,theatbiratelerese
O P
Il,t .R � ll_et,Wa
downcast eyes.
" Auntie ,let those wretched slugs live on
for just one more night," she said ; her
suggestions were apt to fall from her auto-
cratic lips in the guise of commands.
" Come over here, and look at the sea and
let mo•talk to you. When you are alug-
Thus adjured, the disturbed sportswoman
drew herself upright by a stiff effort, and
with a guilty confusion turned to her niece.
" My love, I did not see you, I thought
you were in the drawi g -room singing that
odd song of youre. �or she ild not have
come' out here. How," anxiously, " are
you poor, dear feet ?"
Helen looked down critically at those in-
vaiide which ,were roaming within
aunt's capacious house boots—cloth boots,
they were capped with patent leather, lined
with scarlet flannel, side laced, devoid of
heels and roomy.
"Oh, -they are all right now, Auntie,
they don't hurt at all, I had forgotten
them. I assure you, it is awful when they
press their identity on one—as mine did
upon me on the beach."
" Mr. Jones is a most kind-hearted per-
son, Helen."
The girl had turned aside to pick a
crimson rose from the tree behind her,
which she placed in the bosom of her
gown ; she was humming very softly
" It may draw you a tear
Or a box on the ear,
You can never be sure till you've tried."
" I; learned both the value of boots and of
messengers," she answered, watching the
sky.
hough Miss Elizabeth had obediently
joined Helen, her eyes were not on that
miraculous and glorious panorama of
changing color to which they had ,been
directed but had• crept down to the hunting
ground at her feet.
" Auntie," in a slow. low-pitched tone,
" were you ever in love? "
Miss Elizabeth, scrutinizing the lawn,
said, with a pre -occupied air.
" What did you say, my dear ? "
" Were you ever in love ?
"Oh,''yes, my dear, robe -sure I was."
".Then you fell in love ? "
"Yes, yes, certainly I did."
" Well ? inquisitively.
No answer.
" Well, Auntie ?" a little louder, and per -
.suasively.
" Well—what—my dear !"
" What happened when you were in
love ?"
" Nothing which I can at this moment
recollect, Helen."
Then you were not engaged ?"
" Yes, indeed, I was engaged for nearly a
year, love. . It was , an anxious time and
Thomas jilted me."
Helen drew in her breath 'and flushed.
Her curiosity had inflicted a wound on this
poor lady, who must yet be ma i,,ile of tough
material for she had been jilted; jilted,
jilted, and yet her outraged pride had not
killed her 1 Helen, in her angry distress,
could not speak, but the victim of the
wrong manifested no agitation, she went on
commenting on the circumstance with
serene complaisance.
"Dear me, Helen, you have no notion
how unpleasant it all seemed, and how
foolishly I fretted. It is hard to foresee in
a present distress a future gain. ,..Provi-
dence was very good to me. The poor,
thing for whom he jilted me became his
wife—a position I was ignorant enough to
envy her. She has had a hard life, for he
made a most uncomfortable and selfish' hus-
band, while I, my dear, have spent the
autumn of my happy life without a care.
My love, the adoption of a life-partneris
too great a risk to be willingly undertaken
by any one except .those who are fearless
through the inexperience of their extreme
youth. * -* * My goodness me ! Helen',
there, look, upon the stalk of that tender
picotee ? Do you see it ? Rapacious little
wretch ! I must secure him." And she
ran back to recommence her engrossing
occupation. Then, Helen re-entered the
little porch and a few moments later the
sound of music. reached Miss Elizabeth
through the open window. Helen was
singing a new song, unfamiliar to the house-
hold.
Upon the following afternoon the younger
Miss Mitford, looking as sweet and fresh
and fair as the flowers araund her, was
fidgeting about the' grass plot as she waited
for the carriage which Lady Jones had
promised should call at four o'clock to pick
her up on its way to Rivers Meet. She
wore, with sad extravagence, her very best
gown, a thin electric cotton that matched
the color of her eyes, and clad in which she
looked her best, and knew it. In her
wai'stbelt she had carefully stored a whole
parterre of her aunt's choicest carnations ;
her nut -brown lovelocks` were arranged to
perfection beneath the broad brim, of her
hat.
" Too-to-to-too•toot !" the stirring and
lively.,call of a horn, the rumble of wheels,
the sharp trot of horses' hoofs, the jingling
of harness precursed the arrival of the
Jones' coach, which presently, loaded with
a boisterous, laughing, happy crew, drew
up alongside the door of Carnation Cottage.
Neither Lady Jones nor, her son were
among the party, but a girl, whom Helen
afterwards learned to be Patricia Jones,
called out, listlessly :
" How do you do ? " following the ques-
tion by the advice to " Get up as fast as
possible, for the horses won't stand."
So Helen mounted the -steps precipitately
and srlueezed herself into the small space on
the third seat back, whither she was
directed—a little abashed at finding herself
the ono outsider among a, party of inmates
•
—a position seldom enviable. Her happy,
faculty of easy enjoyment served her in
food stead during that drive, for, more
rom lack of invitation than want of inolinn-
tion_, she took small part in that " feast of
reason -and flow of soul floating avounc'i>.
her. She was in tlbe habit of taking her stand
in the foreground of the scene ; here she was
unceremoniously thrust- intothe back.,
ground, and subsequently ignered-no
doubt a wholesome though an unppalatable
experience or the damsel, who, however,
laughed at such witticisms as she heard,
observed the company, and craned her neck
first on one side, then teethe other, to catch
a full eight of the Surrounding. osmptry, and
culled plenty of pleasure from so doing.
Patricia, Anastasia, and the other half-
dozen girls were fully occupied with their
respective swains, and the aftermath of -the
previous night'sflirtationewas being cAsped
on all sides.
The young man whom Helen had seen
with Mr. Jones in the boat was driving, and
si a eat
,_]lz, x:,}e,is!,,@tL�?.;;!�n, the.,l?o,�sest. Asa�Q:��r, .�_.,,,,,;
�1
such attention as he could spare from the
team, which required careful handling over
the Devon roads, she engrossed.
Once, and once only, Patricia addressed
her silent guest—
" I'm afraid you have not much room,
Miss Mitford. My brother said you would
cr c e se
forgot all about you and ,started an hour
ago." Then, turning to the man next her,
she went on—" Bertie drove Lady Lucy in
the dogcart ; she was more than half afraid,
but he insisted." -
"Have they settled it?" he• ^eked, with
that sort of smile which flick only over
one ','„it."
Miss Jones shrugged he . h,`lroad
shouers.amp
" Bertie is like all the resof you, Sir
Edwin," she returned—" doesn't know his
own mind. The fact is he is an unconscion-
able flirt, though if one told him so he
wouldn't believe it."
The gentleman addressed murmured some
response, at which Patricia's rosy cheeks
grew rosier, and to which she retorted with
gratified smiles. ,
Helen was an unsympathetic observer of
these soft passages; her lips hardened a
little. " They are all making fools of
themselves—every one," sho thought, and
she plumed herself' on her superiority to
these weaknesses.
° Up and down the heaving country the
strong team of hill -trained horses trotted
fast. The air fanned a color into Helen's
cheeks, and •.brightened her eyes. The
chaperon of the party was a girl, little
older than Helen herself, w ose;usband
was Helen's neighbor, and w efore
they reached their destinati.., fe ' 'into a
broken conversation with her.. When they
alighted at Rivers Meet he elected to con-
stitute himself her companion, and though
he was heavy, dull, and universally dis-
contented, she was compelled to accept his
proffered society, as it seemed to be a
choice between him as her squire
or no one. Thus she spent the greater
part of the time with him, trying conscien-
tiously to amuse and interest.him, but fail-
ing obviously. She received a carelese.
smile and pre -occupied greeting from her
young host. He did not speak to her ; his
presence was in great demand. A girl with
a weak, inanimate face, whom Helen beard
addressed as Lady Lucy, was, always by his
side, and he seemed .to bestow some of that
superfluous energy of his upon the, arrange-
ment of the picnic, 'for the servants were
flying to and fro at his behests.
Now this wise young man had read " the
books of woman's looks rather deeply ; he
knew the feminine weakness that desires
everything except that one thing which she
possesses, that values nothing which she'
owns; but' ever casts a • covetous eye
upon the unattainable, and so, thoughwith
considerable reluctance, he scrupulously
neglected Helen. The picnic part of the
entertainment was worthy of its source—
iced drinks with startling names .; sand-
wiches, cool, curious and unwholesome ;
tea, ceffee, sugared and almonded • cakes,
bon -bons, and tea -table accessories beloved
of women were pressed upon the guests by
troops of servants. No man need .stir a
finger on his comrade's behalf, and there-
fore the men for once in a way, enjoyed a
picnic.
"That is the muster, old chap," said
Helen's squire with.alacrity, addressing Mr.
Jones. " Come along, Miss Mitford, you
and I must be off. Awfully noisy place this
—Niagara not in it. Shan't be sorry to
get into the quiet. See you again. Good-
bye. Good-bye."
" Good-bye, Jack," said he, " but it isn't
good-bye to Miss Mitford. If sho will allow
me, I am to have the pleasure of driving her
back in my cart. Lady Lucy fancies there
is going to be a thunderstorm, so she has
booked for the landau, and I can't be such a
brute as to sunder any of the couples on the
coach."
By this speech Mr. Jones had shown the .
subtlety of the serpent ; by his indifferent,
but incontestable invitation,. he precluded
the possibility of Helen's'either refusing his
escort or guessing at what pains he
been in perfecting the present arrangem
To which arrangement she acquiesced qu to
graciously—her pride would not 'allow her
to wincevanity. beneath the punishment of her'
" Will you go down and see the start,
Miss Mitford? , Or will you come a hundred
yards higher up the stream and have a look
at e ""
Shethhesitatepeniad she had no inclination to
see the start, she had no interest in her late
companions. • Mr. Jones read her silence to
his luring.
" Z'S e won't see them off. Good-bye's are
melancholy duties, you are quite right.
Come along clown this path, it's not far,"e
and he led the way through the bracken,
but such a ripping place -when you 'pet
there. We have plenty of time, I am going
to drive you home by the New C t round
the Great Tor—it is a shorter win than the
way yeti came, but the road is afe for
coaching. You want agood head and a
steady nerve to appreciate the view, but you
possess both, I know."
To this locality Bertie guided his
companion.
`' Ient't this ripping ?" said he, leaning
against the rock, upon a ledge of which she
had seated herself. " I wanted you to see
the pools, I knew you would like Rivers
Meet. Just look and listen,'I won't talk to
you. A human eoiee ora human being is
superfluous here. We are too. 'insignificant
to assert ourselves ; we ought to take back
seats and keep quiet."
(To be Continuoo,t
F.;
•