The San Francisco Call. Newspaper, May 24, 1903, Page 3

withoit a e that light business, 1 rather secn poaition of altered. and the had bee: the the girl wha sitle behind the image of an old tieman with a sardonic moutl A bour lster Tom. ¢ ke through the close o't you you ¢ w It's 2)i right. Nothiog trcubles me.” Mered: : ibulat! Teu get to n - great el w uld dtve: a suggestion came him and ned to foliow it. e was called ke telephone and a voice strange to of polits tone vilo tentrilog uist, ' creaked the sdale, fen't it7" wishes to Lnow if her question.” the re- “Some lained. ting impression on wise enough not to : olishly thought you as interested es you looked. We're ~ b den n es who stay he: mmer and swear Rouen is alwa: but me and th there are Hte! you're so good to sitting on your veranda, t a book.” 1 baven't had a dance for threes < and I'm stiil addicted to it. But I'd like to 2o,” Harkless a t once, wiih = cheerful voice =5 eye, and the good Tom felt ocuntably mean persisting. ove out into the counfry through like lzkes and found themselves { @ procession of twinkling carriage ciger sparks shiniag abov2 les. winding along the levels € fete on the water. In the en- ? the club house they encoun- Hiascale, very handsome. large elaborately beaming and bend- ’ she cried. “Go and Harkiess before takes her azway to some cor CHAPTER XVI RETTY MARQUISE. ds welked through a sort ffe to find her—music p g crowd. brigut lights, bright wemen, a glimpss of Gancers a poliehed fioor In a room indred colors flashing and groupe shified, before the n the composition of th 6den thrill of exhilara s pulses and he trembled e the gay disclosure of swore = treee. Meredith to gt Ted spots glowed in his = held himself erect with head ow 2ck and shoulders squared, and 1Golizing Tem thought he looked as o kirg ought to look at the acme of power Miss Hinsdale’s word In s the genius' touch; a ent. gray man of yvears—a word-—and be- e grezt John Harkiess, the youth davs ripenéd to his prime of wis- m and strength. People made way for hem and whispered as they passed. It vesrs since John Harkiess had the midst of a crowd of butterfly evervthing seemed unreal, or like in a play; presently the cur- would fall and close the lights Jaughter from his view, leaving n the echo of music. It was like 2 aleidoscope for color; the bouquets of 4mson er white or pink or purpie; the ofusion of pretty dresses, the brilliant. tender fabrics and the handsome, fore- shortened faces thrown back over white oulders in laughter: glossy raven hair d fair tresses moving in quick saluta- 2nd the whole gay snimmer of fes- 1al tints anrd rich artificialities set off against the brzve green of outdoors, for 1he walls were solidly adorned with for- est branches, with here and there among hem & blood-red droop of beech leav: stabbed In autumn’s first skifmish with - The night was cool and the air flower smells. while harp, vielin and "cello sent 2 waltz throb through 2 tions looked rapidly through several rooms 2nd failed to find her indoors, and ! went outside, not exchanging = and, though Harkless was a Ilitle Tom barely kept up with hie long On the verandas there were fairy ps and colored {incandescents. over there. Beyornd was a ter- outlined clearly in fentasti- «ally sheped pianes of scarlet and crange and green against the blue darkness. Many coudles and :ps were scatlered the young men looking swiftly from over the terrace, peused on the ste] zroup to group. She wes not ther “i¥e haver't looked In the dancing- said Tom, Z et his compan- atber sorrowfully. John turned iy and they re-entered the hource. fie Liad parted from her in the black- ress of storm with only the flicker of Jightning to sbow ker 1o him, but it was a blaze of lights that he saw her agaln e dance was jusi ended and she stood a wide doorway, hell surrounded by - girle and young men, who were He had one full look at She was lesning (o them _all, her < fuN of Sowers, and she seemed the center of =1l the light and gayety the place. Even réredith stopped " ané exclaimed upon her; for one never got uged to her; and he remember- o< that whenever he saw her after ab- sene the gense of her beauty rushed over ~tm amew. And he believed ihe fecling on ocrasion’ was Keener than ever be- , for she was prettler than he had ever seen her. “No worde a4 not underst room he eried; but Harkless As t from every direction as the wa bearing down upen the commo: secure the next dance. Harkless be- ended. focus to saw nothing but that she stood ther fore him. Ile feared a little that e one might notice how he was trembling, and he was glaG of the many voices that Kept them from hearing his heart knock against his ribs. She saw him coming toward her and nodced o him pleasant] in juet the fashion in which she was bow- g to half 2 dezen others, and at that a im lke cor- a smile that chilled hi was 8o courteous and poised =o the man of sople t hot and cold ¢ enough then. ss pleaszatly in that manner did am very glad to see you, Kkioes, so extremely glad! And so i1 to find rou looking strong Do t21l me about all our friends tville. I should like to have a little some time. So good of you THe we for not siie exclaim: * Mr. Ha delight: from the poor w (0 Meredith. “How &o vou Covstn Tom? for vou.” Go, Good evening, not keeping a card. thank vyou, it is quite Cousin, the mu- ours. 3 s arm =lie handed 10 a gentleman side her flowers with the slightest glance at the recipient: the gesture and look made her part- heartsick for his friend; it was so easy and natural and with the air of habit 1 had so of the ‘manner with which a woman hands things to a man who partakes of her inner confl- den Tom knew that Harkless divin.d the gesture, as well as the ldentity of the gentleman. They started away, but she paused. and turned to thé latter. *“Mr. Macauley. you muet meet Mr, Hai We leave him in your ecare, and sce that he meets all the pretiy you are used to Lelng nice to distinguished strangers. vou know.” Tom put his arm about her and whifled her away, and H: s3 felt as if a soft hand had dealt him a blow in the tace. Was this lady of little bafing forms and small cold graces the girl who had been s kind comraée, the girl who stood with v the blue tent-: s him to save his at his side along the pike? of these homely scenes made him ly. Was this she who had wept ess =0 fragrantly natural and true—was it she who said sae “loved 2ll thcse peopie very much, in spite of ing known theém only two days”? e cried out upon himself for a fool. W was he in Ler eves but a man who hiad needed to be told- that she did not love him! Hsd he not better—and more courteously to her—ha avolded the meeting which was necessarily an embar- nssment to her? he must rush like a Mohawk und her and forced her to rebuff Lim, io veil her kind- ness in i 10 remind him that he put himself in the character of a re- jected importunate. ‘S8he had punished him chough, perhaps a little too cruelly enough, in leaving him with the-man to whom sie handed bouquels as 2 matter of cour: And this man was one whose success had long been a trumpet in his ear. blaring loudly of his own failure in the same career. 1t nad been several 3 heard of the young e Journzl, and nowadars almost everybody knew about Brainard Macauley Out- wardly he was of no unusual type; an American of affair slight, ea yet alert; relaxed. vet sharp; neat, regular, a quizzical exs. a business chin, mbitious head with =oft, strzight an halr outlining a square brow: and though he was “of a type.” he was not common- place. and one knew at once thai he would make a rattling fight to arrive where he was going. It gppeared that he had heard of Hark- les=fas weil as the Carlow editor of him. They had a {ev moments of shop, and he talked to Harkless as a brother crafts- man, without the offense of graciousn: and spoke of his pleasure in the meeting end of his relfef at Harkless' recovery, for, aside from the mere human feeling. the party needed him in Carlow—even if he did not always prove himself “quite a vehement partisan.” Mazcauley laughed. “But I'm pot dolng m:" duty,” he said 1y; 1 svas to preseni you to the pretty ones only, T belfe: Wil you des- ignate vour preferred fashion of beauty? We serve all st:les. “Thank vou,” the cther answersd, lur- riedly. *I met a number last nizht-quite a number, indecd.” He had seen them only in dim_ lights, however, and except Miss Hinsdale and the widower, had not tae faintest recognition of any of them, and he cut them all, except those two, one after the other, before the evening was over; and this was a sirange thing for a politiclan to do; but be did it with such an innocent eve that they remem- bered the dark porch and forgave him. “Shall we watch the dancing, *then' asked Macaul Harkless was already watching part of it. “If you will. for more than “It is always a treat, constant proof glish caricaturi; “Yes; one realizes they couldn’t.” Harkless embered Tom Meéredith's fine accomplishments of dancing; he had heen the most famous dencer of college days, and it was in the dancer that Joln best saw his old friend zgain as he had known him, tlie light lad of the active toe. Otler couples flickerea about the one John watched, ouples that plodded, couples that bobbed, couples that gal- loped, couples that siid, but the cousins 2lone passed across the glistening reflec- tons es lightly as October leaves biown over the fores: floor. In the midst of peo- ple who éanced with fixed, ziassy eyes, or who frowned with determication to do t.eir duty or to die, and seemed io ex- pect latter, or who were pale with the apprehension of collision, or who made visible their anxiety to breathe throvgh the nose and look pleased ai the =ame time, these two floated and smiled easily upcn life. Three or four steep sieps made the portlr and cigar-tte-smoking Meredith pant like an oid man, but a dance was a cooling draught to him. As for the little Marquise—when she danced, she danced sway with all those luckiess hearts that were not hers already. The orchestra launched the jubilant measures of the deus-temps with a torrent of vi- ity, and the girl's rhythmic fight an- swered like a sail taking the breeze. There was one heart she had long since won which- answered lier every move- ment. Flushed, rapturous, eyes spark- 1 think, and a ~devil ik ling, cheeks aglow, the small head weav- ing tiwough the throng 1 a golden shuitle—ab, did she know how adorable she was! Was Tom right: is it the at- tainable unattainable to ore man and given to some other that leaves mark upon him events the uw hot sting in ecious rt, but yvet a sting a balm. The voice i than Macauley bre low and a long la: ing cheek and a soft eye. a voice laughs and breaks and ripples in the mid- . a flush- that ould put in -and there die of a word. a girl your - hat. Har You have a strong man prone! But T con- gratulate vou on the manner your subor- dirates operate the Herald during your puzzled. but withovt her's whimsey, could ; dectde that the editor of the Rouen Journal was an exceedingly odd man. All at onee he found Meredith and the girl herself beside him; they hod sto before the dance was fin the impulse to gusrd himsell from new biows 2s 2 boy throws up elhow to ward a buffet, and. although he could not ward with his elbow, for his heart was on his sleeve—where he began to beleve that Macavley, had, see he remem- bered that he could smile wi intentional mechan rounder ‘of afternoons. for her, for.t: ness s that he limped and leaned “Do lei. me thank he gaid, with a louder echo of her manner of greeting him, litle ea “it- has been such a re to watch you dan 1t is really charming to meet yvou he Irr return to Plattviile T shall surely remem- ber to tell Miss Briscoe. At this she surprised him with a sudden, clear look in the eves, deen. £0 sad that he started. her flowers from Macauiey, W o had the alr of understanding the significance of such ceremonies verr well, and saying, “Bhan’t we all go out on the terrace?’ placed her arm in Harkless’ and conduet- ed him (and not the others) to the most sccluded corner of the terrace, a nook il- lumined by onec Japanese lantern; to which epot it was his belief that he led her. She sank into a chair, with the look of the girl who had stood by the blu tend pole, He could o d by her abrypt change to this daz- reproachfil, kindness, confused gvod fortune. If vou go back to Piattville’” she sald in a low voica. “What do you mean?”’ “¥ don’'t know. I've been dull, latel and [ thought I might go =omewhere Caught in a witchery no lack of posses- sion could dispel, and which the prospect loss made only stronger while it d, he took little thought of what he littie thought of eanything but of the gladness it was to be with her again. * ‘Somewhere else?” Where?"” here.’ ; vou no sense of responsibility? ‘What is to become of your paper? “The Herald? Oh, it will potter along, T think.” “But what has become of it in your absence, already? .Has it not deteriorated very much?” “No,” he : “it's better than it ever was hefor “What!” she cried. with 2 little gasp. “You're so astounded at my modesty “But please tell me what you mean she said quickly. “What\happened to it: “Isu’t the Jlerald rather a dull subject? T'll tell you how well Judge Briscoe looked when he ¢ame to see me: or, rather, tel me of your summer in the north. “No.” she‘anewered earnestly. “Don't you remember my telling vou that I am interested in newspaver work?” *“1 have even heard so from others,” he said, with 2n instant of dryness. “Plezse tell me about the Herald?” “Tt is very simple. Yo friend, Mr. Fisbee, found a substitute, a relative s feet high with his coat off, a traction en- gine for energy and a limited mail for speed. He writes me letters on a type- writer suffering from an impediment in its speech; and in brief, .e is an enter- prising idiot with a mania for work-bas- kets.” Her face was in the shadow. “You say the—idiot—is enterprising?” she inquired. ~ “Far more enterprising and far less idiot than 1. They are looking for oil down there, and when he came he knew less about oil than a kindergarten habe. and spoke of ‘boring for kerosene’ in his first leiter to me: but he knows it all now, and writes lang and convineing geo- logical arguments, 1f a well comes in he is prepared to get out an extra! Perhaps You may understand ‘what that means in Plattviile, with the Herald’s numerous forces. T owe .um evervthing. even the shares in the oil company. which he has perfladed me to take. And DLe is going to dare to make the Herald a daily. Do ryou remember asking me why T had never done that? Tt seemed rather a ven- ture to try te compgte with the Rouen rapers in offering State and foreign news, but this voung Gulliver s tacked onto the Associated Press. and means to print a quartto—that's ¢ . pages. you know-— Saturday, and a douhle sheet, four pages. on other mornings. The ily venture begins next Monday{" ceeed?"” * he laughed. u think not?” Her inferest in this Gull business struck him as astonishing. and vet in character with her as he had in Plattville. Then he won- Gered uphapnily if she thought that talk- ing of the Herald and learning things about the working of a country newspa- per would help her to understand Brain- ard Macauiey, “Whv have vou let him go on with it?” she asked. “I suppose vou have encour- aged him “Oh. ¥ ture’s rec! .-J encouraged him. The crea- leasness fascinated me. A dare- that is alwayvs charming.” “You think there is no chance for the creature’s succeeding with the daily?” one.” he replied. indifferently. “You mentioned work-baskets, T think?" Tie laughed again. “T believe him to he the criginal wooden-nutmeg man. Onec a week he produces a ‘Woman’s Page, wherein he prezents to the Carlow female public three methods for making currant Jelly, three receipts for the concoction of salads, and directs the ladies how to manufacture a pretty work-basket out of 0Gd scraps in twenty minutes. The as- tonishing part of it is that he has not yet been mobbed by the women who have followed his directione.” “‘So you think the daily i= a mistake and that your enterprising idiot should he mobbed? Why?' Bhe seemed to be tak- ing him very seriously. . “I think he may be—for his ‘Woman's Page.” AAEL: “It is all wrong, vou think?” “What could a Tahkee six-footer cousin of old Fishea's know about currant jelly and work-baskets?” “Heaven defead the right. T do not!” “You are sure he is six feet?” “You should see his signature; that leaves no doubt. And, also, his abllity denotes his stature.” “Yeu believe that ability is in proportion 10 height. do you not?” There was a dangerous luring in her tone. His memury recalied to him that he ‘was treading on undermined ground, so he hastened to say: “In inverse propor- tion.” “Then your substitute is a failure. I see.”” she said, slowly. What muffled illumination there was in their nook fell upon his face: her hack was toward it, so that she was only an outline to him, and he would have been staftled and touched to the qui could he have known that her lips quivered and eyes filled with tears as she spoke the last words. He was happy as he had ot heen since hort June day: it was enough to be with her again. Nothing, t even Brainard Maecauley, could dull his delight. And, besides, for a few min- utes he had forgotten Rrainard Macau- ley. What more could man ask than to sit in the gloom with her, to know that h> / was near her again for a little while, and to talk about anything—f he talked &t all. Nonsense and idle exaggeration bout voung Fisbee would do 23 well as ung eman {3 an cxcep-! tion.” he returned, T told you I owed everything to him; my gratitude will not allow me to admit fhat bility is:lass than his stature. He suggzested my pur- of a quantity of Mr, Watts’ cil it was knocked flat on .its turning out d but Watts' third we!l ccmes in, and isbee has convinesd me that it ad if my Midas® exira booms the nd the boom developrs, 1 shall op- pose the income tax. Poor old Plattville will be full of strangers and speculators, and the Herald advocate vast improvéments to impresz the invéstor's eye, Stagnation and pictiresqueness will flee fogether; it iz the history of the Indlana town. Al- ready the Herald is clamoring with Schofield’s Henry—rou remember the bell- ringer?—for Main street to be asphalted. It will all come. The only trouble with, young Fisbee is that he has too much s 1d vet the daily will not succeed?” So. That's too big a jump, unless my voung man’s expressions on the tariff command a wide sale among curjo- hunters.” “Then he is quite a fool about political maiters? “Far from it; he is highly ingenious. Wis editorials are often the subtlest cups of flattery I ever sipped, many of them showing assiduous study of old flles to magter the methdéd ound notions of his cagle-eyed predecessor. But the '-tariff seems to have got him. He is a very masculine perzon, except for this one fem- inins quality, for, if T may say it without ungallantry, there iz a legend that no woman has ever understood the tariff. Young Fisbec must be an extremely trav- eled person, because the custom-house people have made an impression upon him which no few encounters with them could explain, and he conceives the tariff to be a law which discommodes a lady who has been purchasing gloves in Paris. Te thinks smuggling the great evil of the present tarlff system; it is such a temp- tation, =o insidlous a breakdown of mor- 2l Ater. His views must edify Carlow.” She gave a aquick, stified cry. *Oh! thero isnit a word of truth in what you = Not a word!/ 1 did not think you could be so crudi!” 4 He bent forward, peering at her in as- tonishment. 3 ruel!” t “You know it is a_hateful distortio an exaggerati imed g ately. “No man living cotld _y}xhve so | o sense as vou sav g hage The tari® s perfeetly plain to any child. Whén you were in Plattville you weren't like this—f dlan’t know vou were' unkind? {0 | 1 don't understand, please—" iss Hinsdale has been’ talking—rav- ing—to me about you! You may not know it—though 1 suppose you do--but you made a conquest last night. It scems a little hard a poor young man who is at work for you in Plattville, doing his best for vou, plodding on through the hot davs, and doing all he knows how, while vou sit listening to music in the evenings with Clara Hinsdale, 2nd make a mock: of his work and his trying to please yon— : “But 1 didn't mention him to Miss Hins- dale. In fact, I dian’t mention anything to Mise Hinsdale. YWhat have I done? The young man s making his living by his work—and my living, teo, for that matter. It only seemsz to me that nis tar- Ml editerials are rather humorous. She langhed suddeniy—ringingly. “Of courze they are? How should 1 know? Immensely humorous! And the good creature knows nothing beyond smug- gling and the custom-house chalk marks? Why, even I-ha, ha, ha 1—shouid have known better than that. What a little fool your enterprising idiot must be! — with his * work-baskets and currant jelly and his . trying to make the ferald a dally!—It will he a ludicrous failure, of course. No doubt he thought he was heing quits wise, and was pleased over his tariff edi torfals—his funny. funny editorials—his lest—to please vou! Ha, ha, ha! How immensely funny!” Y “Do vou know him?" he asked abruptly. “I have not the honor of the gentie- man's acauaintanee. Ah, she rejoined Bitterly, “I sece what you mean; it Is the old accusation, is it? Tam a woman, and i ‘sound the personmal note.” ' I could not resent a eruelty for the sake of a man 1 do not Xnow. But Iot it go. My reseni- ment is personal. after . since it is agatnet a man I do know s He leaned toward her bec: (ot halp it. u than hothing. “Then 1 will give you nething,” she an- swered guick!: “You flout me:" he cried. fer than resentment.” “I hate most, T think,” she said with a tremulousness he did not perceive, “when you suy you do ust care to go back to Plattviil “Did 1 spy it? “It is in every word, and it is true; vou don’t care to go back there.” “Yes, it Is true: I don't.” “You want to leave the piace where you* do pood; to leave those psople who love you, who were ready to die {o avenge your hurt!” she esclaimed vehemently. “Yes, T know,” he returned gravely. *I am ashamed,” “Don’t say that!” she cried. “Don't gay you are ashamed of it. Do yvou sup- pose 1 do not understand the dreariness it has been for you? Don’'t you know that 1 see it i3 a horror to vou, that it brinzs back your struggle with thosze beasts in tlie dark and revivifies all your suffering. merely to think of it.” "Her turns and sudden contradictions left him taungled in a maze; he could not foliow, but must sit helpless to keep pace with ber, while the sheer, bappiness of being with her tingled through his veins. She rose and took a step aside, then spcke again: “Well, since vou want to leave Carlow, you shall; since you do not wish to return, vou need not.— Are you lavghing at me?’ She leaned toward him, and looked at him steadily, with her face cloge to his. HMe was not laughing; his eves shone with a decp fire; use he could “I'd rather have resentment “That is bet- in that nearness he hardly comprehended what she said: “Thank vou for net laugh- she whispered, and leaned back from “1 suppose you think my promises are quite wild, and they are. I do not know what I was talking about, or what 1 meant, any better than you do. You may understand some day. Tt is all—I mean that it hurts one io hear vou say you do not care for Carlow.” She turned “Come."” It is my turn to conclude the interview. You remember, the last time it was you who—"" She broke off, shuddering, and covered her face with her hands. Abh that!” she exclaimed. *I did not think— dld not mean to speak of that miserable, miserable night. And I to be harsh with vou for not caring to go back to Carlo “Your harshness,” he laughed. ‘A waft of cider.” “We must go,” she said. He did not move, but sat staring at her like a thirsty man drinking. With an impulsive and pretty gesture =ha reached out her hand to him. Her lit- tle. white glove trembled in the night be- fore his eves and his heart leaved to meet its sudden generosity; his thin firgers closed over it as he rose, and iken that hand he had likened to a white butterfly lay warm and light and quiet in Niis own. And as they had so often stood Wgether in their short day and their two nights of the moon, so now again they #tood with a serenading silence between them. A plaintive waltz refrain from the hy e ran through the blue woof of star- lit air as a sad colored thread through the tapestry of night; they heard the mel- low crcon of the ’cello and the silver plaints of violins, the chiming harp and the triangle bells, all woven into a minor strain of dance music that beat gentiy upon their ears with such suggestion of he past, that, as by some witcheraft of hearing, they.listened to music made for lovers * daneing and lovers listening, a hundred years ago. “I care for only world,” he said tremulously. Jost {t? 1 didn’t mean to ask you, that last night, altnough you answered. Have 1 no chance? Is it still the same? Do I come too late?” The butterfiy fluttered in his hand and then away. “There is one thing you must always understand.” she said gently, “and that is that a woman can be grateful. I give you all the gratitude there is in me. and [“think J have a great deal; it is all yours. Will you always remember that?” “Gratitude? What can there—"" “You do not understand now, but some vou will. T ask you to remember 1 my every act and thought which bore reference to you—and there have becn many—came from the purest grati- tude.” Although you do not see it now, will you promise to beiieve it?” . “Yes;” he sald simply. “For the rest—" she rest—I do not love you.” He bowed his head and did not lift it. “Do yvou understand?” she asked. “I understand,” he answered quietly. She looked at him long, and then, sud- denly, her hand to her heart, gave a Iit- tle, pitying, tender cry’'and moved toward one thing in this “Have I aused. “For the him. At this he ralsed hi¥ head ana smiled “No; don’t you mind,” he sald. “It's all right. I was such a cad the other time I needed to be told;"l was so entirely silly about it. T couldn’t face the others to tell them good night, and 1 left_you out there to go in to them alone. 1 didn't realize, for’'my manners were all gove. 1'd lived in & kind of stupor, I think, for a long time; then being with vou was_like a dream, and the sudden waking was too much for me. 1've bgen ashamied often. since Inthinking of ig-and’ I wds weli punished for not taking vou in. T thought only of myseif, ara | anced bov. But I had whined from the moment 1 met you, because I was sickly with egoism and loneliness and self-pity. I'm keeping you from the dancing. Won’ you let me take you baek to the house?” " A commanding and querulous contralto voice was heard behind them. and a dim, -majestic figure appeared under the Japa- nese lantern. Z ' “Helen?" 7 The girl turned guickly. “Yes, mamma. “May I ask you to return to the eciub-- hounse for supper with me?! Your father has been very much worried about you. We have all bgen looking for you. “Mamma, this is Mr. Harkless. “How do you do?"’ The lady murmured this much so far under her breath that tha words might have been mistaken for anything elsc—most plausibly, perhaps, for, “Who eares if it is?"—nor further did she acknowledge John's profound in- ciination, Frigidity and complaint of ill- usage made a giamor in every fold of her expensive garments: she was large and troubled and severe. A second figure emetged from behind her and bowed with the suave dignity that belonged .to Brain- ard Maeawley. “Mr. Macauley has asked to sit at our table,” Mrs. Sherwood said to Helen. *May 1 beg you to come at once? Ybur father is holding places for us.” ‘Certainly,” she answered.. “T will fol- low you with Mr. Harkless.” *§ think Mr. Harki il excuse you, said the elder lady. “He has an engage- ment. Mr. Meredith has een looking everywhere for him to take Miss Hinsdale out to supper.” “Gond-night, Miss Sherwood,” said John in a cheerful volce. *I thank you for sit- ting out the dance with me.” “Good-uight,” she said, and gave him her hand. “I'm so sorry 1 sha'n’t see you again. 1 am only in Rouen this evening, or 1 shouid ask you to come to see me. [ am leaying to-morrow morning. Good- night—<yes, mamma.” be ihree figures went toward the iight lights of the clubhouse. She was leanipg on Macauley’s arm and chatting gayly, smiling up to him brightly. John watched her till she was lost in the throng on the veranda. There, in the lights, where wiiters were arranging lit- tle tables, every one was talking and movirg about, noisily goed humored and happy. There was a flourish of violins, and then the orchestra swung into a ram- march that pranced like uncurbed © it stirred the blood of old men with militant bugle calls and blast of horns: it might have heralded the chariot of a flamboyant war god, rioting out of sunrise, plumed with yvouth. Some quite yourg men on the veranda made as if they were pestive horses champing at the bit and h€ading a procession, and, from s group near by, loud laughing pealed. John HarkleSsmslifted to his face the band that had held hers; there was the faint perfume of her glove. He kissed his own hand. Then he put that hand and the other to his forehead, and sank into her chair. “Let me get back,” he said. “Let me get back to Plattvilie, where ¥ belong.” Pom Meredith came calling him. “Hark- less? John Harkless?” “ffere I am, Tom.” “Come along, boy. What on earth are you doing out here all alone? I thought vou were with—I thought some people were with you. Yeu're bored to death, T know: but gqome along and be bored some more, because T promized to bring you in for supper. Then we'll go home. They've saved a place for you by Miss Hinsdale.”” “Very well, lad,” answered Harkless, and put his hand on the other’s shoulder. like a - whining, unbal- “Thank you.” The fext day he could net leave his hed: his wounds were feverish and his weakness had returned. Meredith = was shaken with remorse because he had let him wander around in th2 damp night alr with no one to look after him. CHAPTER XVIL HELEN'S TOAST. Judge Briscoe was s ..ing out under the afterncon sky with his chair tilted back and his fect propped against the steps. His coat was off and sfinnle sat near at hand sewing a button on the garment for him, and she wore that dreamy glaze that comes over women's cyes when they sew for other people. From the interior of the house rose and fell the murmur of 2 number of voices en- gaged in a conversation, which, tor a time seemed to consist of dejected mono- syllables; but presently tne Judge and Minnie heard Helen's voice, clear, soft and trembling a little with excitement. She talked only two or three minutes, but what she sald stirred up a great commo- tlon. All the voices burst forth at once in ejaculations—almost shouts; but pres- ently they were again subdued and still, except for the single soft one, which .eld forth more quietly, but with a deeper agitation than any of the others. “You needn’t try to bamboozle me.” said the Judge in a covert tone to his daughter, and with a glance at the par- lor - ndow. whence now issued the rum- bie of Warren Smih's basso. I tell vou that girl would follow Jonn Harkless to Jericho.” nle shook her hea mysterious.y, and bit a thread with a vague frown. “Weli, why not?’ asked the Judge crossly Why wouldn't she have him the: “Well, who knows he's asked her yet?” Miunie screamed derisively at the densi- ty of man. “What made him run off that way the night he was hurt? Why didn't he come ck in the house with her?” “Pshaw “Don’t you stands?" “Meaning that you than I do, I presum suppose a woman under- W more about it grunted the old gentleman. “‘Yes, father,” she replied, smiling be- nignantly upon bi Did she tell you?" he asked abruptly. 0, no. I guess the truth is that wo- men don’t know more than men so much as they see more: they understand more without having to read about it.” “That's the -way of it.is it?" he laughed. “Well, it don’t make any difference, she'll have him some time.” “No. father; it's only gratitude!” “‘Gratitude!” The Judge snorted scorn- fully. “Girls don’t do as much as she's done for him out of gratitude. Look what she's doing: not only running the Herald for him, but making it a datly, and a good daily at that. First time I saw her I knew right away she was the smartest girl [ ever laid eves on;—I expeet she must have 80t it'from her mother. Gratitude! Pooh! Look how she's studied his interests, and watched jike a cat for chances for him In everything. Didn’t she get him into Eph Watts’ company? She talked to Watts and the other fellows, day after day, and drove around their leased land with’ em, and studied it up, and got on the inside, and made him buy. Now. if they strike it—and she’s sure they will, and I'm sure she knows when to have fafth in a thing —why, they’ll $ell out to the Standard, and ‘they can all quit work for the rest of -their lives if they want to: and Harkless gets as much as any without lifting a finger, all because he had a little money —mighty little, too—laid up in bank and a . girl that saw where to put it. She did that for him, didn’t she?” Don't. you see what ‘fun’it's been for her?” refurned Minnie. . “She’s been hav- ing the best time she evef had; I never knew amy one-half so happy.” . 5 “Yesi she went up andsaw him at that party, and she knows he's still thinking about her. I shouldn't be surprised if he asked her them, and that's what makes her so gay.” Well, she eouldn’t have said ‘ves,” be- catuse he went back to his bed the next day, and he’s been there most of the time since. “Pehaw! Ile wasn't over his injuries, and he was weak and ot malaria.” “Well, she couldn’t be so happy while Ee': sick, if she cared very much about im. . “He's not'very sick. She's happy be- cause’s she’s working for him, and she knows his iliness isn't serious. He'll be 2 well man when she says the word. He's love-sick, that's what he is; I never saw a man so taken down with it in my life.” “Then it isn’t malaria? Minnic said, with a smile of somé superiority. * sou're:just like your pedr mother,” the old gentleman answered, growing rather red.. “She never could learn to argue. What I say is that Helen cares about him, whether she savs she does or not, whether she acts like it or noi—or whether she thinks she does or not,” he added irasci- . “Do yeu know what she’s doing for to-day?” Not exact ““Well, when they were talking together at that party. he said something that made her think he was anxious to get away from Piattville—you're not to re- peat this, child; she told me, relying on my discretion.” Well 7" Do you know why she's got these men to come here to-day to meet her—Warren Smith and Landis and Horner, and Bos- well and young Keating of Amo, and fram Martin _and those two _ fellows from Gaines County?” X R “‘Something about politics. isn't it?"” Something about politics!” he echoed. I should say it Wait till it's done, and this evening I'll tell you—if you can keep a secret.” Minnie set her work-basket on the steps. “Oh, 1 guess T can Keep a secret,” she said. “But it won't’ make any differ- ence. “You mean you've said it, and you'll stick to it that it’s gratitude till their wedding-day- “She knows he.gave her father some- thing to do, and helped him in other ways, when o one else did."* “I know all about that. She reproaches herself for having neglected Fisbee while a stranger took care of him, and saved him * from starving—and worse. She's unreasonabie about it; she didn't know he was in want till long after. That's just like Fisbee. to tel! her. afterward. He didn’t tell her how low he got: but he hinted at it to her, and T guess she un- derstood; I gathered that much from him. Of course she’s grateful, but grate- fulness don’t account for everything.” “Yes. it does.” ““Well, T never expected to have the last word with 2 woman.” ““Well, you needn’t.” said Minnie. “T don’t. T never do,” he retorted. She did not answer, but hummed a little tune and looked un at the tree-tops. Warren Smith appeared in the ¥ “Judge,” he said, “will you ue:"fmé? We need xpu.” Briscoe nodded and rose at once. As he reached the door, ing whisper: t's hard te be s re about T right; it's gratitudes o To DUt “There.” he revlied, chuekling, *T thought T shouldn’t have the last :ofll." Minnie tegan to sing and the Judge. Minnie said in a piere- after sianding in the doorway till he was again summoned from within, slow- ly retired. Briscoe had versisted in his own ex- planation of Helen's gayety: nevertheless he did not auestion his daughter's as- sumption that the young lady was en- joying her caréer in Carlow. She was free as a bird to go and come, and - her duties and pleasures ran together In a | happy excitement. Her hands were full of work, but she sought and inc d new tasks, and performed them a She came to Carlow as unused as to the 1 Harkless on his arrival, and her tional equipment for the work was far less than his: her experience, nothing. But both were native to the Stat and the genius of the American is adapta- bility, and both were sprung from pion- cers whose means of life depended on that quality. There are. here and thes excrescent individuals who. through stock decadence or their inability to comprehend repub- lican conditions, are not assimilated by the body of the country; but many eof these are imports, while some are ex- por Our foreign-born asitalers now and then find themselves remoged by the police to institutions of routine, while the romantic innocents who set up erests in the face of an unimpressionable democracy are apt to be lured by their own curious ambitions, or these of . their women-folk, to spend a great part of their time in or about the villas of Albion, thus paid for its perfidy; and, although the anarchists and the bubble-hunters make a noise. it is enormously out of pro- portion to their number, which is rela- tively very small. and neither the -im- pvorted nor the exported article can be taken as characteristic of our country. For the American is one whe soon fits any place, or into any shaped hole In Amerfca. where you can set him - down. It may be that without going so far. as to suggest the halls of the great and 8006 and rich one might mention a num- ber of houses of entertainment for marn and beast in this country in which Mr. Martin of the Plattville Dry Goods Em- porium would find himself little at ease. But even in the extreme case if Mr. Mar- tin were given his choice of being burned to death, or drowned. or of spending & month at the most stupendously embel- lished tavern located in our possessions, and supposing him to have chosen the third alternate, it is probable that he would have grown almost accustomed to his surroundings before he died; and if he survived the month we may even fan- ey him really enjoying moments of con- ersation with the night elerks. Mr. Parker observed, Miss Sher- wood did not do the Grand Duchess.ggiv- ing the Carlow tenants a treat. She felt no duchess symptoms within herself. and though. of course, she had variods man- ners tecked away to wear as one suits garments to occasions—and it was a Rouen “party gown” wherewith she chose to abash noor John Harkless at their meeting—here in Carlow she was a wom- an of affairs, lively, shrewd, engaging, capable: she was herself (at least she was that side of herself). And it should be expiained that Harkless had based his columny regarding the tariff on a para- graph that crept inadveriently into an otherwise statesmanlike article, and that “H. Frisbee” understood the tariff as well as any woman who ever lived. But the tariff inspired no mere articles from that pen. Rodney MecCune bad lifted his head, and those who had followed his stricken enemy felt that the cause was lost, with- out the leader. The old ring that the Herald had crushed was a ring once more, and the heclers had ral'ied—“the boys were in line again.” The work had been done quictly. and Halloway was already beaten. and heaten badly. John Harkless lay sick and Rodney Me- Cune would sit in Congress, for the nomi- nation meant election. But one day the Harkless forces. demoralized, broken, al- most hopeless, woke up to find that they had a leader. Many of them were con- tent with the belief that this was a young lawyer named Keatinz, who had risen up in Amo, but Mr. Keating himself hal a different impression. Helen was a little nervous., and very much excited, over the pelitical confer- ence at Judge Briscoe’s. She planned it with careful diplomacy, and arranged the details with a fine sense of the dramatle. There was a suggestion she desired to have made in this meeting, which she wished should emanate from the Amo and Gaines County people. instead of proceed- ing from Carlow—for she thought it bet« ter to make the outsiders believe her idea an inspiration of their own—so she made a little comedy and provided for Bris- coe’s entrance at an. effective momont. The Judge fas a substantial influence, strong in the councils of his party when he chose to be. and though of late years he had contented himself with: voting. at the polls, every one knew what weight.he carried when he saw fit to bestir himself. ‘When he .entered the parlor he found the politicians in a state of subdued ex- citement Helen sat by the window, blushing, and talking eagetly to old -Fis- bee.. One of the gentlemen from.Gafues County was walking about the room ex- claiming, “A glorious conception! A glorious conceptio addressing the brie- a-brac, apparently. (He thought'the con- ception his own.) Mr. Martin was tug- sing at his beard and whispering to Lan- dis and Horner, and the two Amo men were consulting in_a.corner, but as the Judge came in, one of them turned and said loudly, “That's the man.” . “What man am, I, Keating?”, asked Briscoe cheerily. E “We better. explain, I guess,” answer: the other; and turning to his compatriot: “You tell him, Boswell “Well—-it's this; wa: " said . Boswell, an! came at once to an awkward pause, turning aside sheepishly and unabie to proceed. “So that's the way of it, is it?" said the old gentleman. Helen laughed cheerfully and looked about her with a courageous and eneou=- aging eve. “It is embarrassing.” she said. “Judge Briscoe, we are contemplating ‘a plece of the blackest treachery and chicanery.” We are going to give Mr. Halloway the—the go-by!™” The embar- rassment fell away and everybody began to talk at once. % “Hold on a minute,” said the Judge: “let's get at it straight. What do you want with me < “I'll tell you." volunteered Keating. “You see, the boys are getting in. line again for. this convention. They are the old file that used to. rule the roost be- fore the Herald got too strong for them, and they rely on. Mr. Harkless" being sick to beat Kedge Halloway with that Gaines County man, McCune. Now, none of us here want Rod McCune, I guess. ‘We - had trouble enough once with. him and his heelers, and now that Mr. Hark- less is down, they've taken advantage ot it to raise revolution: Rod MecCune for Congress! He's a dirtr-heasted swindler—I hope Miss Sherwood will par- - don the strong expression—and everybody thought the Herald had driven him out of polities, though it never told it did it: but he's up on top again. Now, the question is to beat him. We hold the com- mittees, but the boys have been fighting the committecs—call ‘em the ‘Harkless Ring'—and never understood that the Herald wou'd have turned us down In a