176 
THE LADIES' FLORAL CABINET 
“ That thought is worst of all. There might be help 
for It if—” 
1 . 8^<i liis face became wliite. There is no 
help for it now,” she had said, and so quietly tliat tlie 
remembrance of her engagement thrust itself upon l)ini, 
inspired the question, “Was she resigned 
vP 11 ® ^®^^ chilled, as if the hot springs of love had 
been suddenly frozen. _ There was apparently no response 
on her part to the passion which he now became conscious 
he had displayed ; her calm sadness was impenetrable. 
She was like one who, knowing her fate, accepted it, and 
IS ^ndy to walk steadily forward without murmuring. 
i^ould he, too, bow to this fate ? or should he attempt 
o , ®j through the barrier and rescue her from it? 
He had only to say good-by and go away. She seemed 
to be waiting for him to do so, and he was moved by a 
perverse impulse to go. But he was not to be guided 
by impulse now. _ He al^ was ready to accept his fate 
and to pass on without whining; not, however, until 
he had proved to the uttennost that his fate was apart 
from hers. He should not, if he could help it, have 
cause to blame himself hereafter for having hesitated to 
adopt any honorable means by which he might secure 
the happiness he craved for; he should not have to re- 
^ ^ done tills, or that, all might have been 
He was influenced and sustained in tliis resolution by 
what he had just heard from Teddy. The latter in his 
despamng howl had unconsciously iterated the fact 
that he confessed his treachery only because he had 
l^med that his foster-sister was so much distressed 
"^bere was a simple interpretation of 
Mat thstress, and Maurice seized it eagerly, yet with the 
timidity which one feels when a long-coveted prize is 
unexpectedly placed within reach. 
, ®Poke calmly, but there was subdued passion 
throbbing m every tone and look. 
“ I ought, perhaps, to do no more than thank you 
again and go; but I cannot do that. You said you 
■OTshed me to reinember you as Lucy; I do not tiiini.- 
she would have wished me to go without at least trying 
to let you understand me fully. "VVe seem both to have 
^en walking in the dark, and daylight has come to us. 
We should not separate now without a thorough clear- 
mg up between us, for we can never have another op- 
portumty of speaking freely together.” 
“ What can we do! ” she asked, betraying emotion by 
the nervous way in which she rested her hand on the 
back of a chair. 
“We can look our position deliberately in the face— 
you on your part, I on mine, and strive to And out what 
it really is. Then we can decide whether or not it is 
best for us to say good-by, and it may save us some re¬ 
gret afterward.” 
“I do not think we can do that,” she exclaimed 
amtatedly, for his composure had the singulai- effect 
of completely upsetting hers; “lam sure that I cannot. 
So many things come back to me—I cannot be calm 
and it is useless to pretend it.” ' 
BKs pulse bounded: all the sober considerations of 
their relative positions, of past doubts and possible 
future misunderstandings, which he had been making 
such a mighty effort to lay before her, vanished from 
his thought. His only sense was that slie was standing 
there with her bright eyes fixed upon him, her pale 
cheeks flushed and Tips trembling. 
“At least you can answer this,” he cried, “must we 
part ?” 
“ It is as you will.” 
“As / will—!” 
She was in his arms; they kissed. The past, the 
future, doubt, fear, friends—the world were aU annihi¬ 
lated : there was for them only that moment of com¬ 
plete joy. 
CHAPTER XXI—CONGRATULATIONS, 
Mr. Calthorpe was accompanied by his son to the 
comer of the square in which Colonel Cuthbert’s house 
was situated. Thei-e Maurice got out, “ leaving me to 
paj the fare, the cunning dog!—he is sure to succeed ” 
said the father to himself, admiring his son’s prudence 
“ A man of tmly economic mind is always disringuished 
by his cai'efulness about cab-fares and his umbrSla.” 
He was shown into the drawing-room where he found 
Miss cShbert alone. It was the fii-st time they had met 
Kva rrincethe breach between her and Mamice; 
SirMr Caffhorpe was as gracious as if there had been 
no bFeachfand as if there had never been any interrup¬ 
tion of the familiar intercourse he had been ncciistomed 
to hold with her as the oldest friend of hei fathei. He 
was conscious of both circumstances, howevei^ as well 
as of their cause, and he was secretly chuckling to him¬ 
self at the prospect of the surpnse he had m stoie for 
the proud lady. He had much satisfaction m tlunking 
that he would presently show her how easily she and 
her fortune could be cUcpensed with by his sou, and how 
greatly she had wronged him. 
“I am delighted to see you lookmg so remarkably 
well, my dear Miss Cuthbert. Upon my word, I think 
the ail' of London agrees with you better than that of 
Hollyford.” , , ,, . 
“And I am delighted that you have been able to come, 
Mr. Calthorpe. I was so much afraid that you might 
be engaged.” . 
He had not observed a momentary glance of slyness 
on her part as he entered, and he did not detect the 
twinkle of mischievous fun in her eyes when she spoke 
witli natural cordiality. 
“ Of course, my engagements are numerous—too 
numerous.” he said, witii the ah of a man who has re¬ 
signed liiihself to the martyi'dom of his own popularity; 
adding gallantly, “ but when you summon me, every¬ 
thing else must give way.” 
“Thank you, it is very good of you to say so. But 
you know it is a long time since you visited us.” 
“That is true; dear me, how time does fly ! I some¬ 
times wonder if the gi'eat magician Science, among his 
other man-els, has not played us a trick and put some 
electric force into the wheels of Time, so that we find 
oui-selves at the end of life before we are quite conscious 
that it has begun. But there, time is only an agreeable 
topic for the young; beauty is a topic for all ages. Let 
us talk about yourself. You wrote that you desired 
• particularly to see me.” 
“Yes, and you will be surprised when you leam why.” 
“Pleasantly, I have no doubt.” 
“ I hope so, for it is to ask you to—to my wedding.” 
“ YoiU' wedding!” 
“ Yes, and I wished to ask you in tliis way rather than 
by a fomal invitation, because you are my father’s 
oldest friend, and I feel as if you were almost a relative. 
I hope you will come.” 
There was no more awkivardness in the delivei'y of 
tliis pretty little address than might have been expected; 
and if -there was a slight emphasis on the words 
“ ahiiost a relative,” it was not enough to attract atten¬ 
tion. 
“ "i^y, this is the second bridal announcement I have 
had this morning!” ejaculated Mr. Calthorpe smiling, 
and yet sensible that the importance of his tidings was 
considerably lessened by what he had just heard. Then 
impresMvely, “ You have touched me deeply by asking 
me m this way and treating me as a relative. At one 
time, indeed. I had hoped to have the right of calling 
myself your close relative; your father had the same 
hop®, .^d we thought it would be a pleasing climax to 
our hfe-long friendship. That was not tp be. You 
young people have ways of your owm which bewilder us 
old people, and we must be content to aUow you to have 
of pai'tners.” 
My father is qmte satisfied.” 
^ ti'ost most Sincerely 
vnfi f ^^-ppointed in the character of 
^ ohosen, and on whom so much of 
^ wilf ‘f®P®»d' I can only say that 
voiir n 6^®®-*®®* pleasure to be present at 
ceremony, and as one who sincerely de- 
bv Me MiefXt^L ^■®®®'l>le sensation produced 
&lv and nofT^V^*'?A^^^^^ himself most grace- 
^ boiT^ surpassed the elegaLe of 
^neTtmv^ his remarks. His back was 
lurnea toiyard the door, so that he did not ohsei-ve it 
CuMlSrt ZTmJ- 
nce. HIS attention was drawn to Me fact by Mabel. 
J 
