Oswald Langdon | Page 4

this point with the suggestion:
"Still, some crazy autocrat or frenzied people at any time may bring on far-reaching conflicts, and barbarous hordes will become menaces to civilization if taught the art of modern warfare."
After a few minutes' further conversation of a general character, Sir Donald bids Oswald good-night.
Being weary, Oswald soon after retired.
On the waters of a beautiful lake, under a cloudless sky, Oswald is swiftly sailing. The breeze seconding his own skill, the boat seems instinct with life. From the wooded bank, around a distant curve, emerges a small sail with two persons aboard. Nearing the middle of the lake, he sees a struggle, a splash, then a female form sinking in the water. With its remaining occupant the boat speeds swiftly away, disappearing beyond a jutting wooded point. Oswald's sail reaches the spot, and he rescues the insensible form of a young woman. She revives and becomes his loving friend. Soon a hateful, sinister face haunts them. Many snares they unconsciously escape. There is a tangle in the web of events. They stand upon the banks of a river, near a large city. The girl clings to him despairingly. Their foe appears, and both are struck from the bank into the river. Regaining the shore, Oswald flees. Through terrible mazes he is driven over the earth, with the face of the drowned girl before his eyes, the shadow of the gallows looming grim and black at every turn.
With a groan Oswald awakes. The pain in his side and breast is severe, but the dream seems much more real. He can not easily believe it to be simply a chimera of an overwrought brain.
CHAPTER III
OSWALD MEETS ESTHER
Late on the following morning a servant called with breakfast. In about an hour Sir Donald paid Oswald a visit.
Replying to a question as to his night's rest, he complained of severe pains across his lungs. Sir Donald suggested that a physician be called, but Oswald declined medical assistance.
After some pleasant talk, Sir Donald informed him that the servant would be at his command until evening; that in the afternoon Esther would return from London, and expected her father at the station, adding: "These little girls must be carefully attended."
Oswald felt a shade of disappointment at this fatherly allusion to little Esther. Having pictured a graceful young woman of faultless face, form, and manner, how strong his protest against the displacement of this ideal, by a rollicking little "tot," full of spoiled temper and domineering caprice.
Oswald now sees in Sir Donald Randolph less to admire. Mentally arraigning this aristocrat for his poor taste, he blames the silly father for having such a daughter. Finally, deciding not to be unduly harsh in his judgment, as there might have been mitigating circumstances, he is feeling a sense of self-approval, when voices are heard.
Looking from the window, he sees that pictured ideal coming up the graveled walk, clasping the hand of Sir Donald, talking as though time were covenant essence, with forfeiture imminent.
At once all resentment vanishes. This noble father is promptly reinstated.
Oswald now feels an impulse to apologize for his former verdict and judgment, but decides, as neither had been announced, to suppress both.
His pleased fancy pictures pleasant moonlight strolls, long rides on horseback, frequent sails upon a wooded lake, numerous tête-à-têtes in secluded bowers, a sweet girl's tender, wistful smiles, a whispered proposal, with happy, conditional acceptance, soon followed by a grand marriage ceremony.
For nearly an hour little matters kept Sir Donald from visiting his guest.
Oswald chafed under this prolonged neglect. Why should he, Oswald Langdon, with assured honors waiting acceptance, receive such shabby treatment? To leave promptly would be showing proper spirit.
However, there is little hazard of such commendable spiritual manifestation.
Strange, Miss Randolph has no more curiosity and shows so little interest.
Soon Sir Donald called, and asked if Oswald felt able to go downstairs.
"Fully, thank you!" is the animated response.
Leaning on Sir Donald's arm, the young man descends, and enters the family sitting-room, where he is presented to Esther Randolph.
Habitually at ease in exchange of formal social greetings, Oswald feels a slight tremor of embarrassment upon his presentation to this beautiful blushing girl. Such mixture of childish curiosity, impulsive girlish candor, and unconscious grace, with hesitating modesty, womanly dignity, and restraints of good breeding, all modulated by eye and accent, blending with expressive facial lights and shades, is to Oswald a new creation.
The look of questioning admiration is mutual, each evidently seeing in the other an interesting enigma.
Wonderfully fascinated by this girl of twenty, Oswald spends a delightful evening. So absorbed is he, that bodily pain and Sir Donald are in abeyance. This fine specimen of mature, aristocratic manhood now is interesting only as father of a unique daughter.
While pleased at Oswald's manly refinement and evident interest, the girl feels no warmer thrill.
Esther's