'Till the secret be secret no more
In the light of one hour as it flies,
Be the hour as of suns that expire
Or suns that rise."
It is quite a month later. August, hot and sunny, is reigning with quite
a mad merriment, making the most of the days that be, knowing full well
that the end of the summer is nigh. The air is stifling; up from the
warm earth comes the almost overpowering perfume of the late flowers.
Perpetua moving amongst the carnations and hollyhocks in her soft white
cambric frock, gathers a few of the former in a languid manner to place
in the bosom of her frock. There they rest, a spot of blood color upon
their white ground.
Lady Baring, on the death of her elder brother, had left town for the
seclusion of her country home, carrying Perpetua with her. She had grown
very fond of the girl, and the fancy she had formed (before Sir
Hastings' death) that Thaddeus was in love with the young heiress, and
that she would make him a suitable wife, had not suffered in any way
through the fact of Sir Thaddeus having now become the head of the
family.
Perpetua, having idly plucked a few last pansies, looked at them, and as
idly flung them away, goes on her listless way through the gardens. A
whole _long_ month and not one word from him! Are his social duties now
so numerous that he has forgotten he has a ward? "Well," emphatically,
and with a vicious little tug at her big white hat, "_some_ people have
strange views about duty."
She has almost reached the summer-house, vine-clad, and temptingly cool
in all this heat, when a quick step behind her causes her to turn.
"They told me you were here," says the professor, coming up with her. He
is so distinctly the professor still, in spite of his new mourning, and
the better cut of his clothes, and the general air of having been
severely looked after--that Perpetua feels at home with him at once.
"I have been here for some time," says she calmly. "A whole month, isn't
it?"
"Yes, I know. Were you going into that green little place. It looks
cool."
It is cool, and particularly empty. One small seat occupies the back of
it, and nothing else at all, except the professor and his ward.
"Perpetua!" says he, turning to her. His tone is low, impassioned. "I
have come. I could not come sooner, and I _would_ not write. How could I
put it all on paper? You remember that last evening?"
"I remember," says she faintly.
"And all you said?"
"All _you_ said."
"I said nothing. I did not dare. _Then_ I was too poor a man, too
insignificant to dare to lay bare to you the thoughts, the fears, the
hopes that were killing me."
"Nothing!" echoes she. "Have you then forgotten?" She raises her head,
and casts at him a swift, but burning glance. "_Was_ it nothing? You
came to plead your friend's cause, I think. Surely that was something? I
thought it a great deal. And what was it you said of Mr. Hardinge? Ah! I
_have_ forgotten that, but I know how you extolled him--praised him to
the skies--recommended him to me as a desirable suitor." She makes an
impatient movement, as if to shake something from her. "Why have you
come to-day?" asks she. "To plead his cause afresh?"
"Not his--to-day."
"Whose then? Another suitor, maybe? It seems I have more than even I
dreamt of."
"I do not know if you have dreamed of this one," says Curzon, perplexed
by her manner. Some hope had been in his heart in his journey to her,
but now it dies. There is little love truly in her small, vivid face,
her gleaming eyes, her parted, scornful lips.
"I am not given to dreams," says she, with a petulant shrug, "_I_ know
what I mean always. And as I tell you, if you _have_ come here to-day to
lay before me, for my consideration, the name of another of your friends
who wishes to marry me, why I beg you to save yourself the trouble. Even
the country does not save me from suitors. I can make my choice from
many, and when I _do_ want to marry, I shall choose for myself."
"Still--if you would permit me to name _this_ one," begins Curzon, very
humbly, "it can do you no harm to hear of him. And it all lies in your
own power. You can, if you will, say yes, or----" He pauses. The pause
is eloquent, and full of deep entreaty.
"Or no," supplies she calmly. "True! You," with a half defiant, half
saucy glance, "are beginning to learn that a guardian cannot control one
altogether."
"I don't think I ever controlled you, Perpetua."
"N--o! Perhaps not. But then you tried to. That's worse."
"Do you forbid me then to lay before you--this name--that I----?"
"I have told you," says she, "that I can find a name for myself."
"You forbid me to speak," says he slowly.
"_I_ forbid! A ward forbid her guardian! I should be afraid!" says she,
with an extremely naughty little glance at him.
"You trifle with me," says the professor slowly, a little sternly, and
with uncontrolled despair. "I thought--I believed--I was _mad_ enough to
imagine, from your manner to me that last night we met, that I was
something more than a mere guardian to you."
"More than _that_. That seems to be a Herculean relation. What more
would you be?"
"I am no longer that, at all events."
"What!" cries she, flushing deeply. "You--you give me up----"
"It is you who give _me_ up."
"You say you will no longer be my guardian!" She seems struck with
amazement at this declaration on his part. She had not believed him when
he had before spoken of his intention of resigning. "But you cannot,"
says she. "You have promised. Papa _said_ you were to take care of me."
"Your father did not know."
"He _did_. He said you were the one man in all the world he could
trust."
"Impossible," says the professor. "A--lover--cannot be a guardian!" His
voice has sunk to a whisper. He turns away, and makes a step towards the
door.
"You are going," cries she, fighting with a desperate desire for tears,
that is still strongly allied to anger. "You would leave me. You will be
no longer my guardian, Ah! was I not right? Did I not _tell_ you you
were in a hurry to get rid of me?"
This most unfair accusation rouses the professor to extreme wrath. He
turns round and faces her like an enraged lion.
"You are a child," says he, in a tone sufficient to make any woman
resentful. "It is folly to argue with you."
"A child! What are you then?" cries she tremulously.
"A _fool_!" furiously. "I was given my cue, I would not take it. You
told me that it was bad enough to be your ward, that you would not on
any account be closer to me. _That_ should have been clear to me, yet,
like an idiot, I hoped against hope. I took false courage from each
smile of yours, each glance, each word. There! Once I leave you now, the
chain between us will be broken, we shall never, with _my_ will, meet
again. You say you have had suitors since you came down here. You hinted
to me that you could mention the name of him you wished to marry. So be
it. Mention it to Gwendoline--to any one you like, but not to me."
He strides towards the doorway. He has almost turned the corner.
"Thaddeus" cries a small, but frantic voice. If dying he would hear that
and turn. She is holding out her hands to him, the tears are running
down her lovely cheeks.
"It is to you--to _you_ I would tell his name," sobs she, as he returns
slowly, unwillingly, but _surely_, to her. "To you alone."
"To me! Go on," says Curzon; "let me hear it. What is the name of this
man you want to marry?"
"Thaddeus Curzon!" says she, covering her face with her hands, and,
indeed, it is only when she feels his arms round her, and his heart
beating against hers, that she so far recovers herself as to be able to
add, "And a _hideous_ name it is, too!"
But this last little firework does no harm. Curzon is too ecstatically
happy to take notice of her small impertinence.
THE END.
* * * * *
JELLY OF CUCUMBER AND ROSES.
MADE BY W. A. DYER & CO., MONTREAL, is a delightfully fragrant Toilet
article. Removes freckles and sun-burn, and renders chapped and rough
skin, after one application, smooth and pleasant. No Toilet-table is
complete without a tube of Dyer's Jelly of Cucumber and Roses. Sold by
all Druggists.
Agents for United States--
CASWELL, MASSEY & CO., New York & Newport.
* * * * *
Teeth Like Pearls!
Is a common expression. The way to obtain it, use Dyer's Arnicated Tooth
Paste, fragrant and delicious. Try it. Druggists keep it.
W.A. DYER & CO., MONTREAL.
* * * * *
Burdock BLOOD BITTERS
THE KEY TO HEALTH unlocks all the clogged secretions of the Stomach,
Liver, Bowels and Blood, carrying off all humors and impurities from the
entire system, correcting Acidity, and curing Biliousness, Dyspepsia,
Sick Headache, Constipation, Rheumatism, Dropsy, Dry Skin, Dizziness,
Jaundice, Heartburn, Nervous and General Debility, Salt Rheum,
Erysipelas, Scrofula, etc. It purifies and eradicates from the Blood all
poisonous humors, from a common Pimple to the worst Scrofulous Sore.
* * * * *
DYSPEPSINE!
The Great American Remedy.
FOR DYSPEPSIA
In all Its forms,
As Indigestion, Flatulency, Heartburn, Waterbrash, Sick-Headache,
Constipation, Biliousness, and all forms of Dyspepsia; regulating
the action of the stomach, and of the digestive organs.
Sold by all druggist, 5Oc. a bottle.
Sole Proprietor, WALLACE DAWSON.
MONTREAL, CAN., ROUSES POINT, N. Y.
* * * * *
DR. CHEVALLIER'S RED SPRUCE GUM PASTE,
DR. NELSON'S PRESCRIPTION,
_GOUDRON de NORWEGE_,
ARE THE BEST REMEDIES
For COUGHS and COLDS.
Insist upon getting one of them.
25c. each.
For Sale by all Respectable Druggists.
LAVIOLETTE & NELSON, Druggists,
_AGENTS OF FRENCH PATENTS._ 16O5 Notre Dame St.
* * * * *
Have you Teeth?
--THEN PRESERVE THEM BY USING--
LYMAN'S CHERRY TOOTH PASTE.
Whitens the teeth, sweetens the breath, prevents decay.
In handsome Engraved Pots,--25 cents each.
Trade Mark Secured.
Lyman's
Royal Canadian Perfumes.
The only CANADIAN PERFUMES on the English Market.
Cerise.
English Violets.
Heliotrope.
Jockey Club.
Etc.
Prairie Flowers.
Pond Lily
White Rose.
Ylang Ylang.
Etc.
* * * * *
ESTABLISHED 1852
LORGE & CO.,
HATTERS & FURRIERS.
21 ST. LAWRENCE MAIN ST. 21
MONTREAL.
Established 1866.
L. J. A. SURVEYER,
6 ST. LAWRENCE ST.
(near Craig Street.)
HOUSE FURNISHING HARDWARE,
Brass, Vienna and Russian Coffee Machines,
CARPET SWEEPERS, CURTAIN STRETCHERS,
BEST ENGLISH CUTLERY,
FRENCH MOULDS, &c.,
BUILDERS' HARDWARE, TOOLS, ETC.
* * * * *
COVERNTON'S SPECIALTIES
GOOD MORNING!
HAVE you used COVERNTON'S Celebrated FRAGRANT CARBOLIC TOOTH WASH,
For Cleansing and Preserving the Teeth, Hardening the Gums, etc. Highly
recommended by the leading Dentists of the City. Price, 25c., 50c., and
$1.00 a bottle.
COVERNTON'S SYRUP OF WILD CHERRY,
For Coughs, Colds, Asthma, Bronchitis, etc. Price 25c.
COVERNTON'S AROMATIC BLACKBERRY CARMINATIVE,
For Diarrhea, Cholera Morbus, Dysentery, etc. Price 25c.
COVERNTON'S NIPPLE OIL,
For Cracked or Sore Nipples. Price 25c.
GOOD EVENING!
USE COVERNTON'S ALPINE CREAM
for Chapped Hands, Sore Lips, Sunburn, Tan, Freckles, etc. A most
delightful preparation for the Toilet. Price 25c.
C. J. COVERNTON & CO.,
Dispensing Chemists,
CORNER OF BLEURY AND DORCHESTER STREETS,
_Branch, 469 St. Lawrence Street,_
MONTREAL.
End of Project Gutenberg's A Little Rebel, by Margaret Wolfe Hungerford