Genre Fiction. Page - 198

--just enough to have made Connery believe, at first, that probably he had seen the man meeting some passenger at the station.

"You are--" Connery ventured more casually.

"In private employ; yes, sir," the man cut off quickly. Then Connery knew him; it was when Gabriel Warden traveled on Connery's train that the conductor had seen this chauffeur; this was Patrick Corboy, who had driven Warden the night he was killed. But Connery, having won his point, knew better than to show it. "Waiting for a receipt from me?" he asked as if he had abandoned his curiosity.

The chauffeur nodded. Connery took a sheet of paper, wrote on it, sealed it in an envelope and handed it over; the chauffeur hastened back to his car and drove off. Connery, order in hand, stood at the door watching the car depart. He whistled softly to himself. Evidently his passenger was to be one of the great men in Eastern finance who had been brought West by Warden's death. As the car disappeared, Connery gazed off to the Sound.

one's duty."

He waited for contradiction, and spat on the fire. Then, as neither mother nor child raised any objection, he was for going on, but relapsed into silence.

* * * * *

They said no more. Both Jean Michel, sitting by the fireside, and Louisa, in her bed, dreamed sadly. The old man, in spite of what he had said, had bitter thoughts about his son's marriage, and Louisa was thinking of it also, and blaming herself, although she had nothing wherewith to reproach herself.

She had been a servant when, to everybody's surprise, and her own especially, she married Melchior Krafft, Jean Michel's son. The Kraffts were without fortune, but were considerable people in the little Rhine town in which the old man had settled down more than fifty years before. Both father and son were musicians, and known to all the musicians of the country from Cologne to Mannheim. Melchior played the violin at the Hof-Theater, and Jean Michel had formerly been director of the grand-ducal concerts. The o

sary labours to the officers of the ship, and the soldiers,who had made uncommon exertions. Roused by a sense of theirdanger, the same seamen, at this moment, in frantic exclamations,demanded of heaven and their fellow-sufferers that succour whichtheir own efforts, timely made, might possibly have procured.

'The ship continued to beat on the rocks; and soon bilging, fellwith her broadside towards the shore. When she struck, a number ofthe men climbed up the ensign-staff, under an apprehension of herimmediately going to pieces.

'Mr. Meriton, at this crisis, offered to these unhappy beings thebest advice which could be given; he recommended that all shouldcome to the side of the ship lying lowest on the rocks, and singlyto take the opportunities which might then offer, of escaping tothe shore.

'Having thus provided, to the utmost of his power, for the safetyof the desponding crew, he returned to the round-house, where, bythis time, all the passengers and most of the officers hadassemble

dozen times. Folding the paper into minute dimensionshe tucked it carefully inside his vest pocket and glanced sidewaysat Clymer. The banker hardly noticed his uneasy movements as hesat regarding Helen McIntyre standing in the witness box. Althoughpaler than usual, the girl's manner was quiet, but Clymer, a closestudent of human nature, decided she was keeping her composure bywill power alone, and his interest grew.

The Judge, from the Bench, was also regarding the handsome witnessand the burglar with close attention. Colonel Charles McIntyre, awealthy manufacturer, had, upon his retirement from active business,made the National Capital his home, and his name had become ahousehold word for philanthropy, while his twin daughters were bothpopular in Washington's gay younger set. Several reporters of localpapers, attracted by the mention of the McIntyre name, as well asby the twins' appearance, watched the scene with keen expectancy,eager for early morning "copy."

As the Assistant Distri

o hear from Mrs. Belltott, that his sister, the beautifulunmarried young English lady, was Miss Maryon. The novelty was, that herchristian-name was Marion too. Marion Maryon. Many a time I have runoff those two names in my thoughts, like a bit of verse. Oh many, andmany, and many a time!

We saw out all the drink that was produced, like good men and true, andthen took our leaves, and went down to the beach. The weather wasbeautiful; the wind steady, low, and gentle; the island, a picture; thesea, a picture; the sky, a picture. In that country there are two rainyseasons in the year. One sets in at about our English Midsummer; theother, about a fortnight after our English Michaelmas. It was thebeginning of August at that time; the first of these rainy seasons waswell over; and everything was in its most beautiful growth, and had itsloveliest look upon it.

"They enjoy themselves here," I says to Charker, turning surly again."This is better than private-soldiering."

We had come down t

ould never please a high-born child like you.

THE CHILD.

Old mother, my old mother, the green dawn
Brightens above while you blow up the fire;
And evening finds you spreading the white cloth.
The young may lie in bed and dream and hope,
But you work on because your heart is old.

BRIDGET BRUIN.

The young are idle.

THE CHILD.

Old father, you are wise,
And all the years have gathered in your heart
To whisper of the wonders that are gone.
The young must sigh through many a dream and hope,
But you are wise because your heart is old.

MAURTEEN BRUIN.

O, who would think to find so young a child
Loving old age and wisdom.

[BRIDGET gives her more bread and honey.

THE CHILD.

No more, mother.

MAURTEEN BRUIN.

What a small bite; The milk is ready now;
What a small sip!

THE CHILD.

They had been set in family connection,intimate by kin, intimate in earliest life by every outward tie, andespecially intimate by the subtile affinities of their spiritualnatures. Yet he who can, under any circumstances, entreat the love ofwoman, and then take advantage of her weakness or her confidence, is ananomaly in nature, and should have a special, judiciary here and inheaven.

Since so much of the romance here following is truth, veritable truth,it is to be regretted that any error of historical character wassuffered to assume importance in the narrative. Yet this is so often thecase in works of this kind, that it is not remarkable here. Moresurprising is it that truth was so carefully and conscientiously guardedand preserved.

In conflicting statements, it is difficult to determine the precise yearof the marriage of Mr. Edwards, whether before or after the death of"Eliza Wharton," although it may have been long before, even as one ofhis biographers has it, and that recklessness and e

g such a pupil, and happier still you, in havingsuch a tutor ... I ask two things of you, my dear Elmar, for I supposeyou will read this letter, that you will persuade the Lady Jane towrite me a letter in Greek as soon as possible; for she promised shewould do so ... I have also lately written to John Sturm, and told himthat she had promised. Take care that I get a letter soon from her aswell as from you. It is a long way for letters to come, but John Haleswill be a most convenient letter-carrier and bring them safely....

To LADY CLARKE

An offer of assistance

[London], 15 Jan. 1554.

Your remarkable love of virtue and zeal for learning, most illustriouslady, joined with such talents and perseverance, are worthy of greatpraise in themselves, and greater still because you are a woman, butgreatest of all because you are a lady of the court; where there aremany other occupations for ladies, besides learning, and many otherpleasures besides the practice of the virtues

e foreman.

"Brought my tooth-brush," said Lin, showing it in the breast-pocket of his flannel shirt.

"Going to Denver?"

"Why, maybe."

"Take in San Francisco?"

"Sounds slick."

"Made any plans?"

"Gosh, no!"

"Don't want anything on your brain?"

"Nothin' except my hat, I guess," said Lin, and broke into cheerful song:

"'Twas a nasty baby anyhow, And it only died to spite us; 'Twas afflicted with the cerebrow Spinal meningitis!'"

They wound up out of the magic valley of Wind River, through the bastioned gullies and the gnome-like mystery of dry water-courses, upward and up to the level of the huge sage-brush plain above. Behind lay the deep valley they had climbed from, mighty, expanding, its trees like bushes, its cattle like pebbles, its opposite side towering also to the edge of this upper plain. There it lay, another world. One step farther away from its rim, and the two edges of the plain had flowed together over it like a closing se