trtr-JSfP
IHARRIED FOR MOM.
BY TIIK DUCIinsS,
Atrrnon of "
DAWK."
PHYLLIS,"
ETC., ETO.
' MOLLY
CHAPTER I.
"Slralnlnc liarMi discords and
UnpleaslnR sharps."
Thero are limits to one's patiencel"
mys Sir Wilding, frowning heavily.
Ho is standing on the hearth-rug, with
his back to the (Ire, and lias taken up a
distinctly menacing position.
"To yours, certainly," replies his
daughter, with a faint sneer.
She is a slight girl, with a strangely
beautiful face, largo dark expressivo
eyes, and a mutinous mouth. She is
holding her head very haughtily just
.now, and has dellanco written in every
,cnnre of her lissomo figure, in every
fcaturo of her perfect face.
"Let us talk sense," says Sir Wild
ing, cither too accustomed to her
irreverence which is not altogether
jnndeserved or too prudent to notice
"Yon must accept Harrington."
"Why ?"
"Why? Why should you not?"
Why should I? You havo not
pnswercd that."
Tor many reasons. Wo are miser
ably poor, and lie is tho richest man
fwo know, for one."
"And the ugliest, for two! That
balances your one, nnd leaves tho
males as they were before."
lie is a thoroughly good fellow, for
another," says Sir Wilding, who de
vests George Harrington with all his
j0(ll.
"A late discovery."
"If over mind how late. IIo is at
Jlcast worth a dozen such fellows as
Merry n.
"A still later discovery," says Miss
3"nind, with u second Btieer. Why, it
was only last night you were singing
Mr. Mcrvyn'o praises!"
"Be it so. Yet I desire that for tho
;futiirc your acquaintance with him
pliall cease."
"As -vo are on tho subject of rea
sons, you will perhaps give mo ono for
Ihis sudden command," says tho girl,
(who has grown rather whito; but
whether from anger or some deeper
emotion it would be dilllcult to decide.
"Certainly not. Why should I? Hut
JI shall sec that T am obeyed."
"Take care! I am not your slave,"
wiys she, with Hashing eyes and color
less lips. She goes a step nearer to
Mm. " Why am I to regard Mr. Mcr
Hfjix as a stranger?"
"IIo is an idle unprincipled fellow
(thoroughly worthless -"
"And poor!" interrupts she, in an
(inexplicable tone.
"That ha3 nothing to do with it.
Tforthlessness is ono thing, poverty
mother; one is disreputable, the other
a a misfortune. am poor," says
.Sir Wilding, drawing himself up with
m gesture that would bo noble but for
eerxiethiug in tho whole air of tho man
(that renders it ludicrous, if not con
.lemptible. Jlia daughter, failing, apparently, to
ee the ludlclrous side of it, lowers her
head.
3 havo learned many things of lato
9t this "Mervyn," goes on Sir Wilding
jmrnpouUly. "IIo is a mero adventurer,
living from hand to mouth. The little
property ho lias hero is mortgaged, I
understand, up to the hilt. Ho,is not
a tit assoeiato for us."
k " A very tit associate, if ho he, as you
eay, an adventurer. What better aro
rwo?" asks she, throwing out her hand,
vnd turning upon him with n gesture
iof suporb disdain, in tills disdain it is
firapossiblo to misunderstand that sho
(includes herself.
" You forget yourself," Says her
father coldly.
Sho lets her hand fall to her side, and
a bitter smilo creeps over her (ace.
"Since when havo wo become too
scspectablo for Mr. Morvyn?" sho asks.
Ja ho altogether ruined, then? Is he
no longer of any uso to you at ccarte?
Js his last shilling gone?"
"Do not provoke mo too far," says
Sir Wilding, (lushing darkly; "you aro
woman, and your insult iu beneath
notice. Mervyn is as 1 found him, so
far as his pocket is concerned. What
mischief ho may havo incurred at your
hands is another matter, and quite
your own affair. I do not seek to look
Onto it; but I will havo tho intimacy
with him ended now. I will not have
Mm coming hero making love to you.
Understand inn onco for all. If ho
darkens my door again 1 shall horse
whip him."
"IIo is the younger man; take euro
lie docs not horsewhip you!" says Miss
JSratid, iu a low but furious tone.
"Florence! How daro you speak to
mo like that?"
"How daro you Incense mo as yo'u
do? Is tho child to concede all to tho
parent, mid the parent nothing to the
child? You gave mo my nature, and
now you taunt mo with It. What does
St Jaul say? 'Fathers, provoko not
your children to wrath.'"
"Don't quote St. Paul to mo," says
Blr Wilding. That ho ds somewhat
Ignorant of tho Now Testament may
bo inferred from tho fact that ho does
not at this moment quote back a
crushing text to her.
"Ah, you don't liko homo truths,"
retorts ho triumphantly.
'I don't liko Ill-breeding in any
shape or form. When you lost) your
temper, you loso your dignity; and you
1 also lose sight of the fu"t ttiat distaste
ful repartco always borderj on vulgar
ity. Let us talk sense."
"With nil my heart," sayn Misi
Hrand. " Hut if, by tho sense, I am to
understand you mean talking me Into
accepting Mr. Harrington, I tell you
honestly it will bo time thrown away."
"What is your objection to him?"
"Of course, the great objection is
that I really don't care whether he bo
dead or alive. One .should care a little,
I think, about the man ono marries,
but it would bo impossible to caro for
him; and he Is so ugly."
"Pshaw! a mere girl's fad. Six
months after matrimony beauty and
ugliness are of equal value."
" I dare say. Jlut at least for tho six
monthg, I suppose, the beauty counts
for something."
"You aro thinking of Mervyn!" ex
claims he ungrily.
" One must think of something."
"Then think of Harrington."
"No, lh.ir.lc you. He doesn't suit me
in the least."
"You are a fool!" says Sir Wilding
savagely.
"And your daughter," retorts she,
with an irritating laugh. " daro say
that sort of infirmity runs in the blood.
There don't lose your temper; remem
ber your dignity and your lecture of a
moment since."
Hero It occurs to Sir Wilding that
his daughter may be more than a
match for him. He refrains, therefore,
from indignant rejoinder, and, turning,
takes up the poker and molests tho
coals with a vengeance. The flames,
darting up, illumine both faces, so
strangely like, yet so strangely unlike.
"There is something I must tell you,
Florence," says her father at length
huskily.
Ho still holds the poker in his hand
in an unconscious fashion, and keeps
his face turned well away from her.
If ho Is afraid of anything on earth it
is tho cola contemptuous eyes of his
only child.
"Well? says Miss Hrand indif
ferently. " I don't know if what I am going to
say will havo the least weight with
you. You have always been so un
dutiful in your conduct towards me,"
says Sir Wilding fretfully, with all tho
air of a man who is about to relato a
grievance rathor than a backsliding,
" that J dare say you will treat my com
munication with disrespect; but as it
concerns you as well a3 me, and as
George Harrington's proposal lias
brought matters to a climax, I feel it
had better be told."
"What is it?" says Florence, feeling
something akin to fear at her heart,
Sho drops into a chair near her, and,
resting her elbow on the table, regards
her father with keen but troubled eyes.
"It all lies in a nutshell," says ho,
fidgeting nervously. " During tho past
two years I havo borrowed money from
old Harrington -tho father that I
never can repay."
Hoyond tho fact that her eyes have
grown even harder, Miss Hrand betrays
no sign of having heard him.
"Thero is but one way of saving my
honor," says Sir Wilding, shifting un
easily from ono foot to tho other. "I
have no money to meet his demands,
as you probably know. F.ven if I sac
rificed tho furniture, it would not
bring in a fourth of the sum. There
is really nothing to be sold -"
" ICxcept me," says Florence Hrand,
in a clear metallic tone.
Her father, who has not dared to
look at her, lets the poker fall from his
hand now with a noisy clatter, and
busies himself picking it up again as a
means of covering ids confusion.
" I am tho ono way, 1 suppose," she
says presently.
"Your marriage with George Har
rington, If you could bring yourself to
think or it," says Sir Wilding, In a tone
that is meant to be pleading, but is
only servile, " would settle everything
His father tells mo George has sot his
heart on you. Ho came here yesterday
to speak to mo about It, and -and -"
To Florence his words convey tho
idea that it was George Harrington not
his father, who came yesterday to ur
rango this vile barter of so much
money for ono fair body.
"Don't go on," sho says hastily.
"Don't seek to cover your relation
with soft words. I prefer it crude and
harsh like this: You gain, I lose; I am
tho victim, you tho victor. At least,
I should bo grateful that you havo as
signed nio tho nobler part. You wore
sure, then, of my acquiescence in this
sehemo?"
"If you refuse," boglns Sir Wilding,
misled by the scorn of her manner into
believing her bent on rebellion, "I can
only say -"
"7ocan I refuse?" crliu she, turn
ing upon him with sudden fury. " You
havo laid a net for mowho shall de
liver mo from it? Anything beforo
dishonor . I give in; do what you will
with me -marry mo to this man as
soon as the barest decency will penult,
and lot us bo done with it."
"There n'ust, of course, bo somo
usual delay," says Sir Wilding, trying
vainly to conceal tho exultation hur
owonls l,avo caused him. "Hut
" I warn you not to give mo tinio to
think," says Miss Hrand, rising sul
lenly. " 1 shall marry him in a fort
night, or 1 shall not marry him at all.
Understand that, and make no mistake
about it. Tell him so."
" Hut if-"
"Thero shall bo nelthor Ifi nor buts
in this most iniquitous transaction. I
am selling my soul for the flimsy thing
you call your honor, and you shall cer
tainly undertake all the minor miseries
connected with tho transfer. Do not
mention my name, but let him fully
comprehend that the marriago is to be
got over before Christmas."
It is now CI033 upon that holy tide;
but, afraid to arguo with her in her
present mood, Sir Wilding agrees to let
George Harrington know that the wed
ding must bo both hurried and, com
paratively speaking, private.
As she rises to leave the room, he
goes up to her, and lays his hands in a
would-be-fatherly fashion upon her
shoulders.
"I have to thank you," ho is begin
ning sentimentally, but by a sudden
movement she shakes herself free of
him.
"I have to thank you, too," she says,
with passionate bitterness. "This hate
ful marriage h.i3 at least one sweet side
to it. It will separate mo finally from
you."
She tuni3, and, without another
glance, swcep3 Imperiously from tho
room.
CHAPTER II.
" Moderation U the silken strln.t ninnlni
Tliroush the pearl chain of all virtues."
It is a dull dark day, one of Nature's
most barren efforts. Tho rain is falling
in sullen drops, and the wind is moan
ing heavily. Above, in tho cloud-laden
sky, the sound of distant storms, in
" hollow murmurs dle3 away."
A fresh and angry burst of rain is
dashing itself against the drawing
room window-panes of Hrand House as
tho servant opens tho door and an-
"MY KATIIKK TOLD YOU, NO D01M1T,
nouiices " Mr. Harrington."
It is not tho old Harrington who is
ushered "in, but tho young man, his
only son. Of tho old Harrington it
will bo sufficient to say that he is " a
man of an unbounded stomach," (giv
ing that seutenco its most simple
meaning) and a very haudsomo faco.
Indeed, tho Harringtons for generations
havo been so famed for their beauty
that it was considered rcmarkablo
when tho young man of tho present
tlmo grow up without even ono presen
table feature. It earned him tho sobri
quet of " Ugly Harrington," though
thoro aro certainly many men more
worthy of the adjectivo than he.
Yet now, as ho entors tho room and
ono looks at him, it must bo acknowl
edged ho is an ugly man. Hut with
such a calm earnestness of purpose in
his oyes, and with a mouth so charac
terized by a certain firm sweetness, as
serves, in a great measure, to redeom
his faco from actual plainness, nnd elo
vnto it into something beyond mere
beauty. To many this man Is dear; by
a fow ho is well beloved. Ho is about
twenty-nine, nnd stands a shado less
than six feot in height
IIo comes quickly up to Florence
Hrand, as tho door closes bohlud him,
nnd says, without any preface,
" Your father tells mo thero Is some
hope for me."
"My father told you, no doubt, I war.
willing to marry you," returns she
slowly. Her oye3 do not fall before
his. On the contrary, thoy look at him
steadily and half defiantly.
"Yes. 1 could not bring myself to
hollovein my good fortune, however;
so came to hear from your own lips
whether it bo really so."
"My father spoke tho truth" "or
once," is on tho tip of her tongue, but
by an effort sho restrains hersolf; " yet
thero is something more that proba
bly ho did not tell you. I can marry
you, Indeed, but I cannot lovo you. ...
"Not yet," s :yt Pr-i- ''
that i3 scarcely t' 1)3 wonderc 1 a'; v i,;
have 3Pon mn but four times alto
! gether, I tlrti";."
"That is just th? nunib-r of time
you have seen nr: and ye:"
"You should remember the differ
ence between in, Interrupts he quietly.
The manly humility of his tone would
probably havo touched any worn tti but
one determined to regard liim at his
worst.
" And yet," sho goes on haughtily, as
though disdaining tho interruption,
" you say at loast, my father says
that you love me."
"Your father says less than the
truth. That you should love me on so
short an acquaintance is more than I
ever hoped."
" Well, I have told you," said Miss
Hrand, after a slight pause; " I thought
so much was due to you."
"It was. But is that all)" asks he,
regarding her closely.
" Is it not enough ?" asks she In turn
contcmptuotuly. " Were I you, I
should hesitate."
"You are not me; I do not hesitate.
I accept tho risk," returns he slowly.
"You are a brave man!" she says,
with a curl of her beautiful lip.
In this spirit they got married some
few weeks later. The ceremony is got
over very creditably, not so much as a
tear falling to dim its lustre. Tho
bride, according to some, is too self
possessed almost stoical iu her calm;
but according to others, sufllciently
pale to carry oil any suspicion of want
of feeling. Tho bridegroom, being the
nferior articlo on all such occasions,
little commented upon.
I WAS WILLING TO MATtltY YOU.
After the wedding breakfast, Mr. and
Mrs. Harrington start for town, on their
way to the Continent. Just at the end
every one mikes way for tho father to
bestow a last embraco upon his only
child; but the only child so evidently
shrinks from this public demonstration
that a slight awkwardness is tho re
sult; and finally her husband carries
her oft hurriedly to tho waiting car
riage. Hut this unpleasant little episodo hap
pened qulto threo hours ago; and now
Florenco finds herself In a private sitting-room
at tho Langham. It is a
very pretty room, wonderfully home
like and cozy for a hotel; and Florenco
sinking languidly Into a deeply cush
ioned chair, tells herself, with a sigh
of thankfulness, at last sho is alone.
Sho had said somo little thitig to Mr.
Harrington shortly after their arrival
that had left him no alternative hut
to reliovo her of his presenco; and now,
lotting her faco sink into her palm, sho
gives herself up to thought for tho first
tlmo for many days.
Recent events attract first the idle
workings of tho brain. The cold dawn
when sho had awakened and risen,
and gone stolldy about such prepara
tions as must belong to a coming
marriage, whether distastofnl or other
wise; tho drive to church; tho wed
ding; every smallest word uttered by
her or him (sho shudders), every pulsa
tion of her carefully subdued heart,
now returns to her olearly as when tho
actual hour was at hand. Tho break
fast, whero he (another shudder) had
spokon a few quiet words, and where
tho bishop had been more hopelessly
silly than even his worst enemies could
have anticipated all comes to her now.
All seoms clear as "a dream within a
dream." Yet ovorythlug is reality.
In that lias tho sting, sho tells herself,
with a start of anguish. A. few short
hours ago! and now how willingly
would sho return to it! Sho must havo
She h.i3 risen to hpr feet with an im
pulsive desire to do something that
may recall her liberty, but sinks back
igiln into her se.it, overpowe-ed by the
weight that has been brought to bear
upon her. She is irrevocably bound to
the man she doe3 not love. She is for
sver separated from tho man she could
have loved with all her soul, so she be
lieves. As this cruel certainty comes
to her, sho does not curse Fate, but sho
jighs; her lips pale, her eyes enlarge;
jvidently a strugglo is going on within
her. Finally, Satan conquers. Draw
ing a small morocco case from her
pocket she opens it, and gazes eagerly
and longingly at its contents.
She had been twenty minutes so oc
cupied, with pauses between (becauso I
contend tho mo3t love-lorn damsel
could not gaze for so long without in
truding thoughts upon the object of
her most sacred adoration), when tho
door opens, and a waiter entering the
room puts sentimental regrets to llight.
lie throws some coal on tho flro with
a considerable amount of noise; and I
don't know whether Georgo Harrington
is suggestive of coal, but certainly
the trimming of tho lire suggests to
Mrs. Harrington that she has not seen
her newly-acquired husband for a con
siderable time.
" Can I do anything for you, ma'am ?
ask3 the waiter, when he had finished
making the coal3 a nuisance.
"No, thank you," says Mrs. Harring
ton curtly. In reality, she is curious
enough to inquire where Mr. Harring
ton may be, but cannot bring herself to
ask the question. Then tho waiter goes
away, and she falls again to contem
plating the portrait in the case, and
finally dreams away an hour gazing
into the glowing fire; yet tho absorp
tion that had been hers during that
first twenty minute3 doc3 not return to
her again. Instinctively, though nerv
ously, she feels that sho is listening for
the opening of tho door behind her.
About two hours later, Mr. Harring
ton, opening this door, comes leisurely
Into tho room. There is no lover-like
liasto in his footsteps. IIo walks
straight up to where his wife is sitting
in her low chair before the fire.
She does not lift her head at his ap
proach, but still stares earnestly into
the blazing coals. Who shall say what
phantoms she is conjuring up from tho
caverns and hollows that lie amongst
them!
"Florence," says Harrington at
length, as though to attract attention.
A tide of color sweeps over her faco
for an instant, leaving her paler than
before.
"Well?" she says, resting her eyes by
an effort upon his.
"1 am afraid I have roused you from
happy thoughts," ho says quietly. " Hut
I find it necessary to ask you again
where you would liko to go."
"I thought Homo was our destina
tion." It was. But it shall be home again
instead, if you wish it."
"Why should I wish it?" asks she,
flashing a sudden glance at him.
"There, or at Home, it will bo all the
same to me; I shall be as happy in one
place as in the other."
" Or as unhappy ! That is what you
mean, of courso?"
Seeing she will not answer, he goes
on again:
"Ho candid with me at least; I
shall never forgive myself for having
tempted you to this marriago; there
fore I cannot expect you to forgive mo.
Hut let there be no polite reservations."
" You can hardly accuse me of hypoc
risy so far," she says rising suddenly,
and going nearer to him. Tho coldness,
tho half-suppressed aversion, she had
displayed during his courtship now
comes vividly back to her. "Why did
you marry mo?" sho says, lifting her
eyes to his.
"For want of a more fashionablo
reason, let us say becauso I loved you,"
returns ho in an unmoved tone.
"At least," says Florence, subdued by
his earnestness, " 1 did not deceive you.
I told you openly, distinctly, that
did not love you."
" You did, indeed. Do you imagine
I have forgotten ono look or tone of
yours on that occasion. And yet I
hoped! Somo fool has said, " Hope is
tho anchor of tho soul." It has failed
me, however. My bark has gone down;
has foundered.with all hands on board."
"I warned you," sho says sullenly.
" I told you tho worst."
"Tho worst?" His glance is scruti
nizing. "Yes. What could thero be worso
than tho fact that I bore you no affec
tion none; not oven tho smallest
friendliness?"
"There might be far worse," says
Harrington slowly; "thero might bo,
for instance, the fact that you loved
another."
Tho blood recedes from Hp and brow;
but sho does not lower her eyes oefore
his.
" When I asked you to marry mo I.
believed you heart-whole,' says Har
rington, in tho samo low oven voice ho
had used all through; "and so believ
ing, I swore to myself I vfould mnko
you my own, heart and soul, by right
of my love, iu less than throe months.
Two hours ago I lost all hope."
"You moan?" sho asks, still defiant.
Sho is terribly pale; but her eyes havo
not fallen. Even at this supremo
momont ho pauses to cast a thought of
admiration upon her undaunted courage
"I hare discovered your love for
Talc care!" Sho has swayed a little,
and the lace of her sleeve has caught tho
flatno of the light nearest to her. In
an instant a blaze shoots up from her
rounded arm. With a swift movement
Harrington close3 his hand upon tho
burning lice, and so extinguishes it.
" You are not hurt?" ho asks anxi-
ouslv.
" No."
"Not even scorched?" v
He pushes up the half burned sleevo
as he speaks, and passes his fingera
with a light touch over her arm tho
soft pretty arm that is his by lawful
right. The remembrance that it is his
comes to him at this moment, but fails
to conquer him; he throws it out with
a mental sneer, and lets tho white arm
fall to its owner's side.
"Forget my arm," she says, with
determination; "just now, you wero
saying"
" That Fate had been kind to me."
"Kind?"
" Yes. I can no longer be tricked or
befooled. A chance moment has con
vinced mo that though I labored for
ever to gain your heart the end would
only find me a modern Sisyphus."
She has seated herself again, and is
now playing with her fan, with her
eye3 downcast.
"You have gone so far," she says
slowly, " that perhaps you will explain,"
"Oh, about that,' ho says carelessly;
'if it he necessary, yes. Somo time
after our arrival I was coming in hero
to ask you I really forget what now;
nothing of any importance, I daresay
when I saw that you were sitting
just where whore you are now, and that
you were cryiny! Crying bitterly, a3
if your heart would break, on the very
day of your marriage!"
lie pauses. As though she expects
his eyes to be on her, she holds herself
erect, and flicks her fan to and fro with
an air of insolent indifference. Yet
sho wrongs him. IIo keeps his gazo
fixed pertinaciously upon the glass
door at the further end of the room.
"I crossed the room silently," ho
goes on presently, " to ask you what
whether pshaw! if I could bo of any
use to you; and as I approached I saw
1 really beg your pardon for my in
discretion, but I couldn't help it I saw
lying on your lap a portrait of Mervyn.
Your tears were wetting it. I hopo it
isn't spoiled? It was a faultless
likeness.
No answer. The fan is moving with
greater rapidity; but otherwise Mrs.
Harrington might be deaf to all that i3
being said.
"It occurred to mo then, though I
am generally a dull fellow, that I
might as well go back to where I camo
from. Any consolation J could offer
would hut add an additional poignancy
to your grief."
" Your manner is an insult !" sho
says slowly, turning her large eyes fully
upon his.
"I assure you, you mistake me," ho
says shrugging his shoulders; "tho
facts I relate may be considered an in
sult to a married woman; but I am
not responsible for them. You wero
so absorbed with your portrait you did
not hear me. 1 withdrew. Could I be
have with more delicate tact? At the
door, indeed, 1 looked back; you wero
kissing tho portrait then. Pah! how
hot this room is!"
He walks a step or two, and then re
turns. Hy this time she has quite re
covered her self-iiossesslon.
TO UK CONTIN'UKD.j
Antelope and Cold Weather.
Among the novel sights to be seen
along the Fnion Paeifio through Wyo
ming is that of great herds of antelope.
One hand, which has been about Rock
Spr.ngs the last ten days, is supposed
to number over ten thousand. A party
went out from that town one day and
returned in two hours with seventeen,
which was all they wanted, but they
could have killed many more. Another
party went from Hryan and bagged
thirty-six beforo thoy got tired of tho
sport, and were glutted with meat. So
it is all along tho road, from Laramie
to Carter. Old railroad men say that
the bunching of antelope is a good in
dication that tho winter is to bo a se
vere one. They refer to tho fall of
1877. when the antelope gathered in
great herds and remained together dur
ing tho winter, which was tho worst
evor experienced on tho road. Tho
same was tho caso several other winters
which proved very sovore. Hut they
say they never saw them so thick be
fore. Not only antelope, but all othor
kinds of game appear to bo moro abund
ant in tho west than for many years.
Salt lake Tribune.
Reiteration ot a Reassuring
Fact.
It is exceedingly reassuring to bo told
from time to time that "business is busi
ness." Tho repetit on of such a state
ment prevents tho hearer from lapsing
into an impression that business is a
sport, n pastiino or a means of relaxa
tion. Lowell Citizen.
Portugal's Decorated Baby.
The king of Portugal recently con
ferred tho threo military orders of For
tugal upon tho baby king of Spain. I'
appears that this monarch was highly
decorated and expressed his satisfaction
bv a desporato attompt to swallow ono
of his new decorations. torft Jor"'
ing i'ew.