Bladys of the Stewponey | Page 8

planted, springing out
of a good soil,--and to be plucked up by the roots and transplanted,
none can say whither."
Never hitherto had any one spoken to Bladys in this manner. There was
something pedantic in his mode of speech, formed by contact with his
uncle; but there was genuine sincerity in the tone of voice, real
sympathy breaking out in flashes from his opalescent eyes.
The mother of Bladys had been a good but a hard woman, practical not
imaginative, kind but unsympathetic; engrossed in her own grievances,
she had been incapable of entering into the soul of her child, and
showing motherly feeling for its inarticulate yearnings and vague
shrinkings.
"This is none of your doing," proceeded Crispin. "To this you gave no
consent."
Her lips moved. She could not speak.
"Nay," said he, "I need no words."
There was a mellowness, a gentleness in his tone and mode of speech
that won the confidence of the girl. Hitherto he had not spoken to her
except on ordinary matters, and she had seen nothing of his heart. In
Nature, all is harmonious--the flower and its leaf are in one key. In a
landscape are no jarring contrasts. It is so in human beings; look and
voice and manner correspond with the inner nature; they are, in fact, its
true expression. The stern and unsympathetic heart has its outward
manifestations,--the harsh voice and the hard eye, and severity of line
in figure and feature. The gross soul has an unctuous look, a sensual
mouth, and a greasy voice. But the pitiful and sweet soul floods every
channel of utterance with its waters of love. The kindly thought softens
and lights up the eye, and gives to the vocal chords a wondrous

vibration. However lacking in beauty and regularity the features may be,
however shapeless the form, the inner charity transfigures all into a
beauty that is felt rather than seen. "There is no fear in love," said the
Apostle; the saying may be supplemented with this--neither is there
ugliness where is Charity.
And now this solitary girl, solitary in the midst of turmoil, was for the
first time in her life aware that she was in the presence of one who
could understand her troubles, and who stretched forth to help her and
sustain her in her recoil from the false position into which she had been
thrust.
As Bladys declined to take a seat, Crispin stood up. He did not release
her wrist. She made an effort to disengage herself, but it was not
sincere, nor was it persistent, and he retained hold.
"Nay," said he, "I will not suffer you to escape till you have answered
my questions. This may be the last time I ever have a word with you;
consider that; and I must use the moment You stand at a turning-point
in your life, and even so do I. Answer me, in the first place, how came
this mad affair about?"
She hesitated and looked down
"Speak openly. Tell me everything about it."
"There is little to relate."
"Then relate that little."
"It is this. My father is about to marry again."
"I have heard as much."
"To Catherine Barry, and I must leave the house."
"Catherine!" said Crispin. "That name is given as my uncle would say
as lucus a non lucendo, and as mons a non movendo. Excuse my
speaking words of Latin. It comes to me from my schoolmaster and

all-but father. I understand that you must leave. It cannot be other.
Catherine Barry and you cannot be under one roof."
"And one evening when the gentlemen were at Stewponey
drinking--then something my father said about it, and added that he
supposed he must have me married, and so rid the house of me. But to
do that he lacked money, as none would have a portionless girl."
"There he spake false."
"And then," proceeded Bladys, "the gentlemen being in drink, and
ready for any frolic, swore there should be sweepstakes for me. They
would each give something, and make the beginning of the fund, and
my father should announce a game of bowls, each candidate for the
prize to pay a guinea, and the whole to go to me and the winner. Then
they sent a punch-bowl round the table, and some put in five and some
three, and one even ten guineas, and so started the fund with forty-six
guineas. After that my father considered he could not go back."
"And so sacrifices his child," said the young boatman between his
teeth.
"My father is calling me," said Bladys hastily.
"I let you go on one condition only--that you return; and you shall
return with an answer. Bla, if you will take me, say so. I am a poor man,
with