CHAPTER V. MIRIAM'S ANSWER.

Te Aroha News, Volume III, Issue 155, 22 May 1886, Page 6

CHAPTER Y. MIRIAM'S ANSWER.

' Yk.s, Miriam, the lime Ins rouio," said Shirley Benson, " when, in justice to ourselves, we should have an understanding, " "Have wo not always understood each other?'' a=ked Miriam," with a perceptible tremor in her sweet voice " I hnpo pn T lcmw I have not mis understood mv own hoirfc. It has given happino-.-, since 7 havo reached tho yeira of manhood, to think that you returned my lovo " He took her hind between boh his own, and, after a cilonco, dminc/ which it might fesm he was choosing hia words, he continued : "The oour-ia of our love has cerfcainlv been m?de pmooth. Ido not see why either of u« should hesitate to express it." " Shirley,' 1 she began, f n fi voice from which every trace of emotion had vanished, " I have thought long and seriously about this. You have always peemed to me so murjh like a brother that I havo been unable to think of you a<* anything else." "I — I do nob understand," he stammered. "I wish to please you, and to pleaso all tho=e who have eet their hearts on this thins?," phe continued, with ejea downcast " But while I have come to think that it may be my duty to become your wife, 1 can only be so on the condition that it does not conflict with a higher duty." " What duty can ba higher than which you owe to me— and— and to voureelf?" '•Tuties should not Conflict," she said, "and they may not in this case Perhaps, 'hirley, in thinking of ma you haVe forgotten my father — " " Forgotten your father !'' he interrupted. " Why, I haven't pot a bettor friend in tha world than i'r. Berisford. "He'll not stand in the way." "He is very uneelfish. His li f e is devoted bo me; but I ehould »be-unworthiy hi& great love if 1 placed my happiness before his. Will you answer me a few questionp, Shirley, befojee you must insist on; my ' Yes ' or ♦No?'" , '

•'•" As -mdhy a3 y^bu chb^td plwd.-',. .:'..';-. ';:v l '. v - r^;,v.; : . ; -'■:::'•*'}>?£-/ 'i'.:^-:.;, { < " \ r ou have r»lven the subjeebfof our marvinoro tnuoh thought ?" ,>.'.... ■ •': j "I certainly have, Miriam." " Then you have thought aboub the place wo are to Jive in ? ' . , "I do not understand." '"■■;• " I moan, you. have thought about our homo nffer marriage?" .; . : "No; there waa no need to give that subjont much thought. You see, .Miriam, father and mother wouldn't hear of my Jiving any place but with them. Ob, that's allflycd." ■■■'■. "Very well. You wieh'to please your pn i ent3?' " I certainly do." " Because you Jove them, and because it is your duty ?" u Ye3," he said, evidently myfctified by her manner. "I thought as much. Now, did it ever strike you, Shirley, that I love my father, and that,, in addition. to this love, I owo him a high duty — " " But he is willing," interrupted Shirley. " Hear mo oub My father loves mo bo much that be would hesitate at no sacrifice of his own conifo: t or his own feelings to add to what ho mijjht imagine would bo my happing. 1\» > r.ll not think that I should ha j el fish and vn grateful if I permitted him bo suffer foi my sake?"' " VVrll, upon my word, I can't pee how, ir why he should suffer because you became lit}/ wife," said Shirley, with a show of irritation. " I am sure, Shirley, you are not u->qjon-ercue, and, perhaps, 1 sbould not blame you for not having thought about this matte fas I have. You would have mo leavo my father in his old a^e alone in this gloomy old mansion, wl'.h only the ervant? ro caro foe hin ? For t'lo love he bears me, ho would consent to -my leaving; hi'n ; bur f or the love I bear him I cannoi do so," said Miriam, with unmistakoable decision. Shirley Benson half rose from his chair, bufc he eat suddenly dowu again, his hands and lips trembling. " Then you refuse -you refuse V lio managed to say. " No, on the contrary, I accept ; but—" "But what ? ; " You must o.ijreo to one condition." 4> l agree in advance. What ia tbo con o'ition ?" asked the now elated Shirley. "That wo make our home at Lieri^ford Manor so long a3 my fathor lives ; and 1 necH not toll you how Jong I hopo that may Shirley Benson evidently did not expect thi-\ for it wa3,fuily a minute be'oro he could mado a comment ; then he said : ' You know, Miriam, that I cun only bo happy whero you are, and that if you pro posed that wo live at the Nor Mi I'olo, I should make an effort to get there with you. Now, what do you siy to letting our parents decide tbis'matter ?"' Miriam shook her head and said ; "My mind ia made up. I cannot leave my father. ] would not leave him even if he requested it." I' But why not urge your father to leave this gloomy okl castle ; he would be happier near u 3 in the city ?" "You can urge him if you choose. Only where he b can I be happy. You understand me, Hiirley V " f—lf — I think I do," he said. '' Very well," she said, with a phased smile and an extended -hand ; " Jet us ?ay no more about it for the present. There is* the lunch be'l. Do you wish to go to your room ? No ? then we shall go to the diningroom " Shirley Benson pretended to be pleased with tho result, of this conversation, which certainly was of a most business- like turn, considering f ho primary subject. Bufc in his heart Shirley Benson wa^ provoked. He had had his own way so lon<>that ho was shocked to think that he could not have it .••till " I will pretend to yield to her now," he reasoned, " confident that she will como to my way of thinking after a bit " Madame Barron met Shiriey in the dining room, mid though a very well-bred lady, her greeting was most ardent, She was so happy to see him at Berisford Manor s;*ain ; and strange!y enough, she dreamt only last night that she saw him Pd'ling on a great white ship coveied with gay fhgs ; and how wag his dear papa and mamma ? and would not they, too, come to the manor before all the freshness of spring had departed ? Madam Barron had a most musical voice, and she spoke English with great purity and an accent just perceptible enough to add to its interest. w While perfectly easy and natural in his manner, Dr. IScrUford rarely smile;!, or indulged in that light style of speaking which the French caWpcrsiJlaye.^ and which briehtene, if it does not amuso and instruct. But today he was in excollent spirits, and Madame Barton and Shit-ley must have thought him positively witty, for they laughed much at his quaint remark?, to the great surprise of Minnio, who waited on the table. While luncheon waa being eaten in the dining-room a conversation was going on in the kilchon between Mary Brady 1 , the cook, and Hans Muun, the coachman, that served to throw much light on their own character* and on the characters of the pcoplo at the table in the other room. In this conversation Minnie took a hurried but a decidedly interesting part, during her many visits to tlio kitchen. Mary Brady was a buxom, wholesomelooking young woman of five-and-twenty ; and as Hans was a sturdy Young fellow, single, and only five years (Her. it was quite natural that thy two should find much comfort in each other's company,, for at the best Berisford Manor could- hardly be called a lively place. „ ', "Madamo Barron camo near eating np Mr Benson, she was so, glad to ccc him," said Minnie. " Upon me faith, if she had ate him," ?aid Mary Brady, " it's nies-eF. for one, that'd nivir inform on her.; but judgin' be the luks of him, I'm thinkin' he'd disagree with her, an' frho couldn't keep him down." "Mary Brady, you got a pig pram. I dink's ehoosfc like you. But you know vy dot Matam Barron she been so glat to see dot young rethetted feller?" said Hans; and he held his head to,one Bide and smiled at Mary, as one <vho aßka a puzzling con 1 undrum. "Well," said Mary Brady, when Minnie had fled away to the dining-room for the twentieth time, "there's no accountin' for jtastoß, as they say, But between you an' me an' the doore-poat agin which yer'lanenin'over there, I think Mpdattte Barron is only purtindin?- just like you see skamin' mm sometimes; — purtindin' that they're dead in love with girls whin they're only a deludin' of 'em along." s •'Some inen'a. pooty hat; bud I don'd vas yon oof dem ; fellers, Bud vy. makes r de rnatam dry to mak pelief dot vay ?" asked Hans, hia respect for Mary's opinion being evidently aa great aaliia admiration for her .person.'., : ~''"\'7.-' ■]''!■':■ ■"'"■ ": ' '," ; "''• " Sure; you don't mania to toll me, Hans, that you can't .see ;what 'that i. woman's dhrivia'-;at ?V ;.;-/■-• '- '"■*',„ ■ '■'-'■' " Voomana'been pdptyha'rt dings to r see moosh aboudj" laugKed Hans; / ' ' i;J"X'll confese-rsomeof fe&'is of that kih'd," emd Mary j V an' if she isn't wan of 'em, '

thin I'm mfojjidgin' her, an' I must £ray to be forgiven. But ILh is what she's afther, as sure's your name's Hans Munn." Mary Brady looked about her cautiously, lowered her voice, and continued, as she came close' enough to the coachman* to rest' her hand on his arm : "Can't you ccc that if Miss Vliriam married, the nndam'll have the house all to herself." "Shoostso," taid fian<>. "An* the dootor'll bo here all alone to Mm3elt ?" " Yes ; bot's bat to lie lonely." " Well, it's lonely mm that wants most to get married." "I dinks dot, doo, Mary," laughed Hans Mary went on as if she had not heard him : "An' the madame knowa thatoulder mm than the doctor has been fooled into takin' second wives."