That ^ruisin' Lad 
 
 ■% 
 
 
 II Vi 
 
 A NOVEL. 
 
 BY 
 
 THOMAS BRUCE, 
 
THE 
 
 WILLIAM R. PERKINS 
 
 UBRARY 
 
 OF 
 
 DUKE UNIVERSITY 
 
 Rare Books 
 
That Bruisin' Lad 
 
 o' Greystone Lodge 
 
 A Novel. 
 
 BY 
 
 THOMAS BRUCE. 
 
 Author of "Cnpld ami Duty," '"Hititorical Sketches of Roanoke," "Loveleti Marriages. 
 
 COPYRIGHT SECURED. 
 
 ROAXOKK, Va. : 
 
 THE BELI. PRINTINC. AND MANrFACTVRING CO. 
 
 1890. 
 
'"t FLOWERS COLLFCTinv K16K 
 
 That Brnisin' Lad o' Greystone Lodge. 
 
 jHIRLY— situated in the western portion of North 
 Carolina, is a brand new place. The trees are 
 mere saplings, jnst beginning to shoot ; the narrow 
 streets not even finished in the suburbs, and the 
 people so new that scarcely anyone knows whence another 
 comes. Everything smells ot paint, varnish and oil. The 
 inhabitants have a contempt for anything on which time 
 has laid its honored hand, and the gentle voices of culture 
 and refinement are drowned in the hubbub created by a 
 struggle for the almighty dollar and material prosperity. 
 
 John Sylvester, a few years ago came to Shirly in a 
 modest way, as a modest contractor, on a modest scale, and 
 by dint ot faithful enterprise, as well as successful manage- 
 ment, had become comparatively well off. And now Mrs. 
 John was one of the leading social spirits of the day ; one of 
 the highest of the high, the most elegant of the elegant, 
 among the mushroom society of Shirly. In the Sylvester 
 household she is Lord Paramount of all — the centre around 
 which everything else revolves, while Mr. John is but an 
 appendage to reflect glory upon her, as her horse and phae- 
 ton, or any other piece of property which she denominates 
 her own. 
 
 But the Sylvesters had a daughter born unto them some 
 seventeen years ago, who stands out in bold relief (not in 
 size) when placed by the side of her mother. A lovely 
 maiden she is, with sweet, quiet, thoughtful ways and a 
 quaint vein of fun and humor running through her. One 
 could not help taking a fancy to her, with her dark, lustrous 
 eyes, beautiful mouth, and pretty, petite, rounded figure. 
 Julia must have inherited her quiet, unassuming ways from 
 
4 THAT HRirTSIN LAD CREYRTONE LODnK. 
 
 her father's side, because there were none on her mother's 
 to be transmitted. Althouo^h attached to the hitter, she was 
 free from those jarring, grating ways which detracted 
 ted so much from her parent. Iler mother brooked neither 
 rivalry nor opposition ; yet it was quite a])parent that if the 
 occasion ever rose, Julia's characteristics would as surely 
 overcome her mother's as truth, peace and good sense con- 
 quer those qualities of an opposite natiire. 
 
 Julia was just beginning to have company and beaux. 
 At pi esent her cousin from Etna was staying with her — a 
 Miss Rosa Reynolds. Julia's first beau was named Will 
 Archer, a blue-eyed, light-haired, uncouth youth, who never 
 seemed at his ease, and found it almost impossible to dis- 
 pose of his hands or feet. 
 
 Thus it was Charlie Metcalf found things on his return 
 to Shirly, when ho rented a room in the Sylvester mansion, 
 because he knew" and liked Mr. Sylvester, whom he Viad 
 met some years ago. 
 
 One Sunday Metcalf came in from his dinner. Passing 
 the parlor door he saw the young ladies in the room with a 
 young gentleman, whom he recognized as Archer. Charlie 
 was about to ascend the 8tair-\\ ay, when arrested by the 
 sound of his name called, he turned and walked towards 
 the door. 
 
 '•Mr. Nfetcalf, come in here!" called out Miss Rey- 
 nolds. 
 
 " What can 1 do for yon?" he asked, smiling as he 
 entered. 
 
 " We are making up an excursion party and want you 
 to join us," she answered. 
 
 " Where to ? " he inquired. 
 
 " To the White Sulphur Springs, near here," spoke up 
 Archer. " We are going the latter part of this week, and 
 I am going to take Miss Julia." 
 
 " I have not said that I would go with you, Mr. 
 Archer," spoke Julia, ratlier brusquely, turning herself 
 
THAT BRUISIN' LAD o' GREYSTONE LODGE. 5 
 
 around on the piano stool, and lightly running the fingers 
 of one hand over the key -board of the instrument. 
 
 Metealf looked up in some surprise. He had always 
 seen girls of her age treat their first beau with some gentle- 
 ness, even if they were not to the manner born. 
 
 " Why, Julia !" exclaimed Miss Reynolds, " you know 
 you are going with him. F thought it was all arranged, 
 that you w^ere to go with Mr. Archer, and I — " 
 
 "To go with me, is that it ?" interrupted Metealf, in his 
 usually audacious manner. 
 
 " You conceited thing !" she cried, " [ never thought 
 about going wnth you, T — " 
 
 •' But I did with you," he interrupted again, " and 
 that's why I mentioned if 
 
 " Miss Julia, said that she would go with me, didn't 
 she, Miss Rosa?" asked Archer, appealing to Miss Rey- 
 nolds. 
 
 " Of course," responded she, with a malicious twinkle 
 in her fine eyes. 
 
 "Certainly she wMll go with you," put in ^[etcalf, look- 
 ing at Archer. Charlie was now bent on assisting Rosa, 
 who was teasing Julia. 
 
 "I never promised to go with you, Mr. Archer," said 
 Julia stoutly, turning around on the stool and facing the 
 whole crowd, with a half defiant air. 
 
 " Don't you mind her, Mr. Archer," laughed Metealf, 
 " She rarely means what she says. She very often says no 
 when she means yes." 
 
 " Oh, I understand young ladies," Archer said, smiling 
 in a nervous manner, as he looked towards Julia. 
 
 " You don't quite understand me, if you think I'm 
 going to the Springs with you," said Julia, rising and leav- 
 ing the room in a dignified manner. 
 
 An embarrassing pause succeeded her departure. Met- 
 ealf felt really sorry for Archer, as he sat first on one hand 
 
h THAT imriSlX LAD U GREY.STONE LOIXJK. 
 
 and then on the othei', pushing first one foot and then the 
 other under his cliair. 
 
 " Miss Rosa," asked Charlie, desiring to lessen the 
 embarrassment in some way, " won't you go with me to 
 church to-night?*' 
 
 ■' Why, certainly — if thi' rest go," she replied. 
 
 " Did you ever see such a young lady, Mr. Archer ?" 
 inquired he. 
 
 "Why, what do you mean ?" she asked, looking quickly 
 at Metcalf. 
 
 " Telling me if the rest go I"" exclaimed Charlie. " I 
 suppose if I wanted the rest I could ask them.*' 
 
 " Miss Rosa," asked Archer, " won't you please ask 
 Miss Julia to come in here a moment ?" 
 
 " Certainly, I will," she answered, rising and leaving. 
 
 In a moment she returned, followed by the reluctant 
 Julia. 
 
 " Miss Julia," said Archer, sitting on both hands and 
 tapping the carpet with his right foot, " I want yon to allow 
 me the pleasure of escorting you to church. Miss Rosa and 
 Mr. Metcalf are going. It will be so jolly for us to go along 
 together." 
 
 That last sentence was of course, held out as an 
 inducement. 
 
 " Mama does not allow me to go t(^ church with young 
 gentlemen," she said, flushing a little as she looked at Met- 
 calf and took her seat again on the piano stool. 
 
 Ye gods ! what a fib ! thought Metcalf, as he remem- 
 bered ha^nng escorted her to church last Sunday evening 
 without any objections on Mrs. Sylvester's, part. 
 
 " Oh I ah ! I did not understand," stammered Archer, 
 crushing his hat in his hand, [)reparatory to leiiving. " Good 
 morning," and he bowed himself out. 
 
 "Julia I'" exclaimed Rosa, laughing, as soon as she 
 heard the gate shut, " you treat that young man shame- 
 fully." 
 
THAT BRUISIN' LAD o' GRETSTONE LODGE. 7 
 
 '' Oh, but he is such a bore, and so obtuse, and so igno- 
 rant," said she, petulantly. 
 
 " You are a novel young lady, at all events," laughed 
 Metcalf, taking a cigar from his case. 
 
 " How so ?" she demanded. 
 
 " Because you are the first one I ever knew Avho did 
 not like beaux, unless they were agreeable to her," he replied, 
 biting oft' the end of his cigar. 
 
 " You'll catch tits if you smoke that cigar in here," 
 laughed Rosa. " Aunt Sylvester thinks lots of her 
 curtains." 
 
 "Smoke on, Mr. Metcalf," smiled .Tulia. " You need 
 not»mind mama, and all her notions." 
 
 Her contemptuous accent upon the last word amused him. 
 
 " I expect I had better go on the veranda," he said, 
 rising and suiting his actions to his words. 
 
 Wlien Charlie came in that evening after tea to take 
 Kosa to church, to his chagrin he found that she was not 
 alone. Both Julia and Mary Kyle, the hired girl of the 
 house, were with her ; and all were arrayed in hats and 
 gloves, as if they were ready to start. He was no little 
 annoyed when he saw that the servant girl who cleaned up 
 his room was decked out in colors gay to go to church in 
 the presence of a young lady with whom he especially 
 desired to go alone. His face must have betrayed him. 
 because on glancing toward his eyes Rosa came forward 
 alone, and said in a low tone of voice : 
 
 ''I could not "help it — aunt S^dvester insisted on her 
 going." 
 
 " I suppose you are carrying out your word,"" he said, 
 with a satirical smile, " about not going unless you carried 
 the rest with you. Why didn't you call in the neighbors to 
 go with us ?'" 
 
 "That's downright mean, Mr. Metcalf!" she exclaimed 
 hotly. " Aunt Sylvester said she must go with us; what 
 could I do ?" 
 
8 THAT BRUISIN' LAD o' (4RKYST0NB LODGE 
 
 Charlie liked the iiiiieiiuous, sweet, dark-eyed, graceful 
 girl beside him, so he visited a mental blessing upon Mrs. 
 Sylvester's gaucheries. 
 
 " Well, nevef mind now,'' he said smiling, as they 
 moved off, followed by Julia and the maid of all work. 
 
 Metcalf said but little going to church, and the ladies 
 w^ere quiet. The servant girl had a most uncomfortable 
 feeling, because she felt that she had thrown a wet blanket 
 over the spirits of the party. 
 
 On reaching church, Charlie looked in and saw that 
 the benches were crowded. One of the ushers, however, 
 came forward and conducted them up the aisle. Arriving at 
 the centre of the building. Miss Rosa and Jidia were ushered 
 into a seat on the right ; whilst the servant girl was placed 
 in one on the left, from which a gentleman rose. 
 
 " Take a seat, sir," he said, as he noticed Metcalf 
 moving off. 
 
 "I could not think of disturljing you," replied Charlie, 
 not desiring to state that she was a servant. 
 
 "• But pray do," urged he, in n whisper. " I can pro- 
 cure one anywhere." 
 
 " So can I," said Metcalf, trying to withdraw liis arm 
 from the clasp of the strangei-. 
 
 '' But," again urged the man, " I hate to separate a 
 fellow from his girl." 
 
 Metcalf for an instant felt inclined to knock the fellow 
 down. 
 
 " She is no girl of mine — she is Mrs. Sylvester's maid," 
 he uttered in a tone, which caused several of the people 
 sitting around to look askance at him. 
 
 Just then he caught Rosa's eyes turned upon him. He 
 felt that she was, in a measure, the cause of his dilemma, 
 and yet she looked as if she enjoyed his discomfiture. At 
 that moment he desired to pummel the chap's head who 
 insisted upon his sitting by Mary Kyle, and pull Rosa's ears 
 for enjoying his misery. 
 
THAT BIIUISIN LAD GREYSTONE LODGE. 9 
 
 After church lie waited at the door until the girls came 
 out. Julia was in front, and as she paused AVillie Archer 
 stepped up and said : 
 
 " Allow me to see you home." 
 
 Metcalf smiled as he caught her glance. Her face fell 
 and she seemed almost ready to cry — all the same Archer 
 hung on, and j)laeed her hand within his arm. For a 
 moment she attempted to hold back, but the cruel crowd, 
 which had no time to inquire into her ])ersonal likes or dis- 
 likes pressed her onward. 
 
 Rosa's face had a roguish smile upon it as she took his 
 arm, which by no means soothed him. 
 
 " You treated me shamefully I" exclaimed he, as soon 
 as they were outside. 
 
 " You looked so funny and ridicuhjus .standing in the 
 aisle there," she laughed, " I couldn't help it." 
 
 " Yes, you could help it," he retorted, in an angry 
 tone. 
 
 "How could I?" she demanded, opening her eyes 
 wide at him. " You know how angry aunt Sylvester would 
 have been had w^e retiised to take Mary with us." 
 
 '• You could have gone w^ith me alone — you could have 
 said that you had an engagement," he went on in a com- 
 plaining tone. 
 
 " But I did not like to leave Julia alone — it would have 
 looked so selfish in me. I — " 
 
 " Oh, the next time you go," he interru})ted, ironically, 
 "take all the neighborhood with you — send around and see 
 who are left behind, and invite them." 
 
 "• If you don't stop quarreling I will not go with you 
 any more," she said in a mock angry voice, at the same 
 time giving his arm a slight pressure. 
 
 " x^ow, here comes that cub with Miss Julia, right at 
 our heels," he growled in a low tone of voice. 
 
 " They are directly behind us — hush-st," she muttered 
 softlv. 
 
10 THAT BRUISIN' I-AD o' GREYSTONE LODGE. 
 
 Charlie tmd his companion purs)ied their way in silence^ 
 whilst Archer attempted to make Julia enter into conversa- 
 tion with him. 
 
 " Been a pleasant evening, Miss Julia." 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 " A laro:e attendance at church," he went on, 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 " Mr. Yates preached a good sermon." 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 " The singing was charming," he ventured. 
 
 "No." 
 
 Archer began to despair. He scratched his ear witli 
 his disengaged hand as if that would enable him to cogitate 
 some subject upon which she might say something more 
 than yes or no. Finding he could not think of any, he deter- 
 mined to question her so that she would be obliged to answer. 
 
 " Miss Julia, have you a preference for any kind of 
 flowers ?" he asked, wiping the perspiration from his brow. 
 
 "No."- 
 
 " Which do you like best ?" 
 
 " I don't know." 
 
 " Bo you like geraniums best ?" 
 
 "No." 
 
 " Do you like roses best ?" 
 
 " No." 
 
 " Didn't you tell Miss Laura Bassett that you liked 
 roses the best ? " he asked, thinking he had her now. 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 " Then how can you say you do not like them the 
 best?" he demanded, with a triumphant ring in his voice. 
 
 " Can't say." 
 
 " Miss Julia, what can you say ? " he inquired in a 
 plaintive tone, as if in despair. 
 
 " Nothing," she said dryly. 
 
 Metcalf laughed softly to himself aS they entered the 
 front veraufln. He felt sorry for Archer, yet half wav 
 
THAT HRUISIN' LAI> o' (JREYSTONE LODGE. 11 
 
 vexed at his pursuing a girl who so plainly showed that his 
 presence was obnoxious to her. 
 
 "■ Good evening," said Mr. Archer, as he turned to 
 leave, after seeing Julia vanish through the front door. 
 
 " Would you let any girl treat you so ? " asked Rosa, 
 looking down upon Metcalf s well-shaped, manly, but not 
 handsome face, as she stood upon the stairway about to 
 ascend to her room. 
 
 " "Would I? " he asked, looking up at her. 
 
 " That you wouldn't ? " she exclaimed softly. 
 
 " I take a lot from you, though," he said, lowering his 
 voice, and em])lia8izing the you in the manner unmis- 
 takable. 
 
 " Oh ! " she uttered, as the color rushed to her cheeks, 
 and she turned to mount the steps. 
 
 C.'II AFTER II. 
 
 " Girls, you are disgracefully late !" exclaimed Mrs. 
 John, as she opened the dining-room door the following 
 morning, while the young ladies were at their ten o'clock 
 breakfast. " Julia, you ought to be ashamed of yourself 
 for allowing that Willie Archer to come home from church 
 with you." 
 
 Mrs. Sylvester was in one of her grand moods. She 
 used the adjective " grand," to describe everything from the 
 Xiagara Falls, to an ordituxry dinner. Being very large, 
 l)hysically, she thought she was equally as large mentally. 
 Standing in the door-way, majestically looking down upon 
 J ulia, she meant to be very impressive, and read the girl 
 what she would call a " grand lecture." 
 
 " I didn't allow him to come with me," said she, looking 
 up in a surprised manner. " He just came anyhow." 
 
12 THAT BRUISIn' LAD o' GREYSTONE LODGE. 
 
 " Tut-tut ! " sneered Mrs. Sylvester, advancing nearer 
 to the table. " You need not tell me yon could not prevent 
 his coming if you did not want him." 
 
 " I could not, though," replied she. 
 
 " No, aunt Sylvester, she couldn't," spoke up Rosa. 
 
 " And pray. Miss, how do yon knoAv ? " demanded her 
 aunt. 
 
 " Because 1 was with Julia all day yesterdaj — when 
 Will Archer was around," said her neice. " In the after- 
 noon she refused to have anything to do with him; refused 
 to go to church with him, and he forced himself on her last 
 night." 
 
 " And I wouldn't even talk with him coming back." 
 said Julia. 
 
 " Then if you cannot stoyj him I can," asserted Mrs. 
 John, bringing her foot down upon the floor. " ^'ou let 
 me know the next time he comes.'" 
 
 '' Mama," said she, looking quietty at her, " I don't 
 like the young man, therefore I shall not receive him. But 
 outside of that, what are your objections to him ?" 
 
 "He ain't nothing," answered Mrs. John, forgetting her 
 grammar in the midst of her excitement. '-He is nothing 
 but a carpenter. I'^gh ! the idea of my daughter keeping 
 company with him." 
 
 " But, mama," she said, " how can you deem that objec- 
 tionable, since your two brothers are carpenters, and pa used 
 to work at the trade.'' 
 
 Mrs. John was almost stunned for the moment. To be 
 reminded of those things by anyone was bad enough; but 
 to be informed so by her own daughter, whom she was 
 endeavoring to advance in the best society, was unpardon- 
 able. 
 
 " You ungrateful little thing!" she exclaimed, gesticu- 
 lating with her right hand, by way of emphasis. " How 
 badly you treat your mother ! I have been doing all in my 
 power to raise you properly — to elevate you into the best 
 
THAT BRriSlx' T.AD o' GRKVSTONE LODOE. 18 
 
 .society — to place you anion<^ the nicest peojtle. And then — 
 tor you to throw those disji^ustint'' reniemlDrances in my lace, 
 is a shame — an awful shame !" 
 
 "Mama," asked the girl, looking her full in the face 
 without (juailing, '• is it a shame — not to be ashamed of 
 your relations who earn their living by honest labor?" 
 
 For a moment her mother seemed astonished. She 
 liad never been answered back by her daughter before in 
 her life ; to be answered now in this kind of unanswerable 
 manner almost took her breath away. 
 
 •• Mama," went on her daughter before Mrs. John coukl 
 fully recover herself, " T want to say this too ; if I liked Mr. 
 Archer, I should not think less of him because he worked." 
 
 "Do you mean to dety me — do you" — 
 
 Here she was interrupted by the entrance of a servant, 
 who informed her that some one waited in the parlor to see 
 her. 
 
 •• My patience I "' she muttered angrily, " somebody 
 always comes at the wrong time. Do you know whom it 
 is ? "' 
 
 " No ma'am," answered Mary " the man is a stranger." 
 
 '' Tell him I'll be there in a moment," she said, as she 
 rushefl off to arrange her hair and recover her mental 
 equilibrium. 
 
 Mrs. John used every means in her power to smooth 
 away all traces of her disturbed state of mind, while she 
 brushed out her hair, and placed here and there such extra 
 touches as she deemed most likely to enhance her personal 
 appearance. After finishing to her satisfaction she walked 
 towards the parlor. 
 
 " I am really glad to see you, Mrs. Sylvester," said a 
 young man, rising from his chair with easy, graceful man- 
 ners. 
 
 " Why, Mr. Gordon ! " .she exclaimed: '' where did you 
 come from ? " 
 
 " I came from Lassiter here, seeking a rest," he replied. 
 
14 THAT nurisrx' lad o" (jrkvstone i.oixiK 
 
 " I came up to see if you could give a way-farer a room for 
 a while.'' 
 
 " That I can," she answered heartily. " T will jjive you 
 my own front room."' 
 
 " But I would not liave you to incommode yourself," 
 he said. 
 
 " Not a bit," she laughed, " 1 am accustomed to changing 
 around at short notice. When will you wish to come ?" 
 
 " I would like to come at once," he answered, " I am 
 at the hotel, and you know how uncomfortable that kind of 
 life is." 
 
 " Yes, indeed," she said. " Well, you may send your 
 things up this evening, and I will endeavor to put you away 
 to-night. How well you are looking, if I may say so." 
 
 " I have no objection," he laughed, rising. ''I will 
 return about seven o'clock." 
 
 '' I will expect you then," she said, watching him as he 
 moved out of the parlor, through the hall into the front 
 piazza. 
 
 Curiosity is a trait of character which adorns both 
 sexes alike. As Frank Gordon passed through the hall, 
 three pairs of eyes followed him eagerly — Rosa's and Julia's 
 from behind the curtains at the lower end of the hall, and 
 Metcalf 's from a crack in his door. They all saw a man of 
 medium height, with waving brown hair, a massive brow, 
 and eyes so deeply set they appeared almost sunken ; well- 
 shaped jaw-bones, coming to a point at the chin like the 
 rounded prow of a cutter; a graceful, well-knit figure, 
 i'rrayed in dark clothes, which fitted him well. He was 
 scarcely out of ear-shot before he was being discussed by 
 both girls. 
 
 "I have seen him somewhere," said Julia. 
 
 "T like his face," smiled the other. 
 
 "Hasn't he a nice figure? '" asked Julia. "And I like 
 the shape of his head." 
 
 " Speaking of heads," replied Rosa, laying her cheek 
 
THAT BRLISIN' LAI) o' GREYSTOXE LODGE. lo 
 
 against her hand on the curtain, " Mr. Metcalf s l)eat8 them 
 all. He has the finest shaped brow I ever saw, and such 
 lovely chestnut hair." 
 
 "But. Rosa," laughed Julia, " he is so dried-up 
 looking. Tie reminds me of some Egyptian mummy." 
 
 " Ain't you ashamed of yourself," said Rosa. 
 
 " Why, certainly not ; he is not half so good-looking as 
 the last gentleman, I like good-looking men ; and that is 
 one reason I dislike Will Archer. lie is sinfully ugly." 
 
 "• Oh, Julia !" exclaimed Rosa, " what strong expres- 
 sions you use. But speaking of looks : as to gentlemen, I 
 don't think they amount to much. Of course, no one likes 
 to look at an ugly man, but deliver me from one of your wax 
 doll beauties in the shape of a gentleman. I love a manly 
 face — an expressive thoughtful face ! — a face that strikes 
 you as the external covering of an internal governing, 
 decided mind." 
 
 " I was always a little afraid of those kind of faces,'" 
 said Julia. 
 
 "• Why y " asked the other, with a wondering look in 
 her eyes. 
 
 " Oh, they always look so ruling and commanding," 
 she answered, raising her retrousee little nose a trifle higher. 
 
 '' W^ouldn't you like to be ruled by some strong man ? " 
 inquired Rosa, softly. 
 
 " Depends upon the man/' replied she. 
 
 " Well, I would," said Rosa, raising her head and look- 
 ing dreamily away. 
 
 " But you know you always had (jueer notions,'* 
 laughed Julia. " And you make them doubly curious by 
 your mode of expression. What girl seventeen years old 
 except yourself would speak of the external and 
 internal parts of a man's head ? JS'ow the majority of girls 
 would rather see a head good looking, but that is as far as 
 they generally inquire." 
 
16 THAT briisin' i,ai) o' (jkkystoxe lodge. 
 
 '' Then I am sadly in the minority," said Rosa, in a 
 mock, plaintive kind of voice. 
 
 " Of course you are, my dear,"" saiJ-eiy remarked Julia 
 as she walked into the dining-room. 
 
 "Oh, Mr. Metcalf!" exclaimed Kosa, "you almost 
 frightened me,'* as he thi'ust his head suddenly hehind the 
 curtains. 
 
 " I shouldn't think I could frighten such a philosopher," 
 lie replied, with a look of decided admiration directed 
 towards her. '' I heard you discussing heads just now and 
 I like your ideas." 
 
 "You are making fun of me,'" she said. 
 
 " You are making an. awfully pretty picture looking 
 through those curtains in that way," he said, as she stood 
 just between them with a hand On each one, holding them 
 at the sides of her exquisitely shaped head. 
 
 " Hush up ! " she exclaimed, playfully drawing the 
 curtains in front of her face and taking them back as 
 suddenly. " You can't make me believe, Mr. Metcalf, that 
 you think all of those things about me. But here, sir ! 
 what do you mean by listening to a conversation which was 
 not intended for you ? " and her face assumed a severely 
 reproving look. 
 
 " I stand convicted," smiled he. '•'• 1 cannot plead not 
 guilty, but I am sure that I can tile a special plea of justifi- 
 cation, which ought at least to mitigate the rigor of your 
 judgment." 
 
 "Plead on, and if you give me a good explanation I 
 will lessen the [mnishment," she said. 
 
 " I was looking at the gentleman as he passed out," 
 })roceedcd he, " and after hearing the sound of his footsteps 
 die away, I heard voices at this end of the hall. Some one 
 mentioned ' Mr. Metcalf 's head.' Wasn't it natural I should 
 listen then ? The thoughts expressed came from the lips of 
 a maiden of only seventeen years — thoughts which would 
 have reflected credit upon a much older and more experi- 
 
THAT DKUISIN" LAD O' GREYSTONE LODGE. 17 
 
 enced Lead. Wasn't it natural I should listen on ? Now 
 can you punish mo very severely ? " 
 
 The earnestness of his tone, the seriousness of his 
 glance, dispelled any idea from her mind that he was flat- 
 tering her. 
 
 " As a matter of justice maybe you ought to be pun- 
 ished just a little," said she, in a gentle voice. "But I feel 
 somehow as if I didn't wish to." 
 
 " You know what that feeling is, don't you? " he asked. 
 
 " I have an idea," she answered, " but I cannot exactly 
 clothe it in language." 
 
 " That is tempering mercy with justice," he remarked. 
 
 " Of course it is," she asserted. " But just there lies 
 the difference between small and great minds. Most of us 
 have ideas on subjects which we cannot express. We think 
 them so easily ; to give them to others in living thoughts 
 and truths is so different. Some greater mind comes along 
 and instantaneously gives them expression in language, the 
 truth and force of which flashes across our mental world 
 with as vivid a light as if we had uttered them ourselves. 
 Yours is the greater mind, Mr. Metcalf." 
 
 " You flatter me,'' he said, bowing. 
 
 " Here comes aunt Sylvester," said she. " I know she 
 will want Julia and I to assist her in fixing a room for that 
 handsome new-comer." 
 
 " Who is he?'' inquired Metcalf. 
 
 '■ I have no idea," she returned. " Julia said that his 
 face was familiar to her, but she could not recall his name " 
 
 " Why, Rosa," said Mrs. John coming up, all traces of 
 her recent ill-humor having disappeared, "I want you and 
 Julia to assist me in arranging a room for the gentleman 
 who was here a moment ago. He wants to come at once." 
 
 " Who is the gentleman, mama ?" asked Julia, coming 
 from the dining-room. 
 
 " You ought to know him ; it is Mr. Frank Gordon," 
 
18 THAT URULSIiN' LAD o' (iKIiYSTONE LODGE. 
 
 she answered. " JJon't you recollect that he used to visit our 
 house with Johnny Porter ? " 
 
 " Oh, yes," answered the girl. " I do remember him 
 now. You know, Kosa, I told you I thouglit I recollected 
 having seen him. He is so jolly and nice ! We will have 
 everything ready for him." 
 
 " Gordon — Gordon," muttered Charlie, as if soliloquiz- 
 ing to himself, " I know that name. 1 wonder if he is 
 from Weston county ? " 
 
 " Yes ! " answered Mrs. John. 
 
 " Then I know him," said he. 
 
 " Does he come from nice people ? " asked she, with an 
 important air. 
 
 " I should say so !" he replied, in an emphatic manner. 
 
 There was a general break-up of the party as Mrs. 
 John and the young ladies went off to attend to their duties 
 and Metcalf to his disciplinary reading, as he usually 
 termed a morning hour given to Gibbon and Macauly. 
 
 But for some reason he could not concentrate his atten- 
 tion to the subject in hand. The members of the Prjetorian 
 Guard as well as the forms of the lioman Emperors would 
 resolve theijiselves into various shapes, which he imagined 
 Frank Gordon had taken since he last saw him. Metcalf 
 knew now that he was the same brown-eyed lad who used 
 to visit his brother and himself in Weston. Thinking of 
 the young man conjured up all kinds of childhood and 
 boyhood associations. Finding that he could not devote 
 himself to his mental work he threw aside his book and 
 went for a walk. 
 
 Returning after dinner to INIrs. fFohn's, on coming in 
 sight of the house, he saw a gentleman approaching in a 
 leisurely kind of way. Ilis walk appeared familiar, and on 
 Hearing the front gate, he looked toward Metcalf. Resting 
 his right hand upon the paling, he waited until Charlie 
 came up. 
 
THAT BRUISIN' LAD o' GREYSTONE LODGE. l!) 
 
 " Metcalf, what are you doing here ? " he asked, extend- 
 ing his hand. 
 
 " I have only been here a few weeks," said Charlie, 
 grasping his warmly. " I thought you were the Frank 
 Gordon of old Weston days when I heard yonr name 
 called this morning." 
 
 " Yes," he replied, smiling, " I am the same ; do you 
 remember when I used to come to see you and j'our 
 brother ? Don't you recollect the black pony called Monkey, 
 which all three of us rode ? " 
 
 " I do," answered Charlie, fervently ; " I have gone 
 over my whole life since you were here this morning." 
 
 " I suppose my coming suggested it," he said in a 
 sympathetic ^'oice. " I am very glad to know that I am 
 domiciled with you ; everything will not appear so strange 
 now." 
 
 " No," replied Charlie, " there will be much in common 
 between us in this queer place. Come with me now to my 
 quarters and make yourself at home until your room is 
 ready for you." 
 
 " Thank you," he smiled, as he followed Charlie into 
 the house. 
 
 They went at once to Metcalf 's room and were soon 
 comfortably seated, smoking their cigarettes. 
 
 " Do you expect to practice your profession here ? " 
 asked Charlie. 
 
 " No, I think not," he answered, " I am now on a 
 kind of vacation ; you see, I have been attorney for a 
 mining district out in the far West and expect to return 
 there. I believe you ply the same craft that I do for your 
 bread and butter." 
 
 " Yes, I am a lawyer, too," answered Charlie, thought- 
 fully ; " and, strange to say, I too have charge of a mining 
 district in the state of Ohio, and am having a holiday also." 
 
 " Why, isn't that strange ? " asked the other, taking 
 
20 THAT URUISIN' LAD o' GREYSTONE LODGE 
 
 his cigarette from his montli and looking at Metcalf in a 
 wondering manner, 
 
 " It is rather queer, I must confess," returned the other. 
 
 " Tell me something about my co-tenants here with 
 me!" demanded Gordon, placing his feet against the 
 window-sill ; " you have been installed long enough to tind 
 out something about them." 
 
 " Well — you know ma Sylvester," said the other. 
 
 " Yes I know her," he smiled. " I fancy it doesn't take 
 one long to size her up. Fair, fat, and near forty, as to 
 personal appearances ; very aristocratic without possessing 
 a single attribute which makes aristocracy except 
 some money ; rather loud and parvenu, albeit good hearted 
 and genial ; can't converse without drawing the subject of 
 conversation and all present to lierself ; a person for all 
 the external splendor possible, yet counting the cost accur- 
 ately." 
 
 " I think you have read her well," laughed Charlie, as 
 he threw away his cigarette. " You'll] fancy pa Sylvester — 
 not very clever, but with a keen eye to the main chance, 
 not to be despised. He is a plain man, and his ways are 
 correspondingly plain. Nothing stuck up about him ! He 
 has a high opinion of ma Sylvester, deferring to her in 
 most things. Devotedly attached to his daughter. For th'; 
 rest he goes to his work regularly ; eats his three meals a 
 day and beyond that his existence and identity are com- 
 pletely swallowed up in ma Sylvester." 
 
 " Then I suppose with the exception of reversing 
 matters a little," laughed Gordon, " their life is a true 
 exposition of matrimony as contemplated by law. Pa Syl- 
 vester is merged into ma Sylvester and they are truly one." 
 
 " That's just about it," laughed Metcalf, softly. " We 
 see this reversed order of things very often in the married 
 state and it seems to work as w^ell as any." 
 
 " Well, who else have we ? " inquired Frank. 
 
 " Ma Sylvester's daughter and ma Sylvester's neice; 
 
TiiAT bruisin' lad o' oreystone lodge. 21 
 
 Mr. and Mrs. Herbert," went on Charlie. " As to the 
 young ladies, they are nice, sweet and attractive girls ; I 
 have nothing at present to say concerning their looks. 
 Beauty is so much a matter of individual expression and 
 taste that I shall leave you to form your own opinion. Of 
 Mr. Herbert and wife, I know very little, but I am sure he 
 is everything a northerner could be who is close. It is said 
 of Mrs. Herbert that she iiiarried him to spite a recreant 
 lover. I do not desire to detract from Mrs. H's many 
 attractions, but-I am inclined to l)elieve that she got the 
 worst of the bargain in every way. 
 
 " So that finishes them up," said Gordon, smiling. 
 
 " All except ourselves," returned Cluirlie, lighting a 
 cigarette. 
 
 " Metcalf, where do you take 3'our meals ? " inquired 
 the other. 
 
 " At the Langdon House," he replied. " If you have 
 not engaged yours elsewhere come with me ; you can 
 scarcely do better in this place as to menu or associates." 
 
 " This is a rather cosmopolitan place anyway — isn't 
 it?" asked Gordon. 
 
 " Most decidedly so," returned Charlie. " You meet 
 all classes of people here, from the most respectable swell 
 to the brawny mechanic. Dudes flourish indigenously ; 
 society is composed of a gathering of all those people who 
 have money from- the heterogeneous mass of inhabitants at 
 large. The people are none the less interesting on account 
 of their variety and present an admirable opportunity for 
 the study of human nature." 
 
 " Metcalf, you always had a talent for sawing people 
 up," laughed Gordon as he rose from his seat. " I shall go 
 now and look after my traps." 
 
22 THAT huuisin' lad u' greystone lodce. 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 It was a lovely evenino; in May, some ten days after 
 Gordon's arrival that ma Sylvester and pa Sylvester were 
 sitting in the front ])iazza, enjoying the delights of their own 
 vine and fig tree and a matrimonial dialogue, 
 
 " Mr. Sylvester," she said, " I think Julia should he 
 sent to sciiool again. I let her stop hecause she coni[tlained 
 of being sick, but I am sure I made a mistake; she was 
 very rude to me the other day and I can do nothing \\ith 
 her ; I want you to tell her that she must start again." 
 
 " Of course I will," he said. " You are right. I am 
 surprised at her l)eing rude to you ; what was it about ? " 
 
 " I objected to her receiving beaux, and she was very 
 defiant," she said. 
 
 '•She's certainly too young for that I" he exclaimed. 
 " Her head will be turned." 
 
 " That Mr. Gordon has been with her a good deal 
 latelj'," said she ; "I heard that he was very poor. That 
 must be stopped, or she will be entangled in some way with 
 him. Did you ever find out anything about ^Mr. Metcalf ? 
 I like him."*^ 
 
 " I tried to," he replied, " but could not. I know 
 of his family and they are nice people, but for some reason 
 which no one can account for he is entirely cut off from 
 them." 
 
 " Did you hear the reason ? " asked she. 
 
 " I have just said that no one seemed to know," he 
 answered. 
 
 " I bet 3'ou anything he has done something he ought 
 not to," she said, in a very positive Avay. 
 
 " I expect you are right," he assented. 
 
 " Of course, if they had money it would be all right," 
 she went on, " but they are evidently poor, and our position 
 in society should make us very careful as to whom we have 
 as associates. Seeing these young men with us, people 
 would naturally suppose they are right in every sense. I 
 
THAT BHUISIN' LAD o' (iREYSTONE LODGE. 23 
 
 sboiiltl dislike very much to have either one to turn out 
 otherwise than he ought to. Did you ever notice with what 
 contempt Mr. Gordon speaks of the people around here ?" 
 
 " Yes, I have," he answered. " But that man is a good 
 judge of character ; I have never yet heard him — " 
 
 " St — hush," hissed Mrs. Sylvester, "here comes Mr. 
 Metcalf now. I suppose he is going to his tea." 
 
 " Won't you have a seat, Mr. Metcalf? " asked ma Syl- 
 vester, in her sweetest tone. 
 
 " No," he replied, " I am going for my tea. Have you 
 seen Gordon anywhere ? " 
 
 " He went with Julia to the practicing this evening," 
 she said. 
 
 " Oh — he did," muttered Charlie. 
 
 " Have 3'ou any objection, Mr. Metcalf? " she inquired. 
 
 " Who, I ? — why do you ask such a thing ? " 
 
 " Because, your reply sounded that way," she said, in 
 an olfended tone. 
 
 " I am sure it is your imagination," he laughed. " I 
 am not Mr. Gordon's keeper." 
 
 " Does he need one ?" she asked. 
 
 " Xot at present," he answered, significantly, as he 
 moved down the steps. 
 
 In the meantime j the subject of this conversation was 
 slowly wending his way with Julia to the hall, known as the 
 opera house. They were chatting very pleasantly as they 
 threaded their way through the thickly-crowded street, 
 oblivious to all around. 
 
 "I always hate to walk on this street," said she ; " there 
 is always such y crowd." 
 
 " They won't hurt you," laughed Gordon ; " I will 
 take care of you. What a curious lot of people you have 
 here, anyway." 
 
 " Shut up, Mr. Gordon ! " she exclaimed, laughing. 
 " You are always abusing our people." 
 
24 THAT BRUISIN' LAD O' GREYSTONE LODGE. 
 
 " Oh, 110 ! " he said, " don't cull it abuse ; cull it criti- 
 cism." 
 
 " Well, then, criticising them," she said, mocking him ; 
 " at any rate, you are always poking fun at them." 
 
 " No — I poke the fun at you." 
 
 " About them," she corrected; "you are so precise," 
 she said, petulantly, " I am almost afraid to speak." 
 
 '' Miss Julia, do you believe your party can get through 
 with Pinafore?" he asked. 
 
 " Why not ? " 
 
 " Because I don't believe you liave musical talent 
 enough in this place to sing Pinafore," he replied, smiling. 
 " People must have a certain amount of education in order 
 to act and sing an opera of that sort properly." 
 
 " Mr. Gordon, you are shockingly rude ! " she 
 exclaimed, almost pausing as they were about to ascend the 
 stair-way of the hall ; " do you suppose all the people are 
 ignoramuses in this city? I thank you, I don't consider 
 myself one." 
 
 " I wasn't alluding to you, and you know it," spoke 
 Gordon, in a decided tone. " I know you can sing — can 
 act almost anything, but I doubt the success of your opera." 
 
 " You would doubt the Lord's Prayer — doubt anything, 
 Mr. Gordon," she said, shrugging her shoulders. 
 
 " I can tell you one thing I don't doubt," he almost 
 whispered, as they stood by the door before entering, " that 
 is you." 
 
 " Mr. Gordon, how dare you make fun of me?" she 
 uttered, as the color swept over her face. 
 
 " There it is again ! " he exclaimed, in an irritated tone. 
 " I cannot give an honest expression of an opinion concern- 
 ing you without your ridiculing it ;" and his face wore an 
 angry expression as they entered. 
 
 Gordon was becoming interested in this untutored 
 maiden of seventeen ; her thoughtful, sweet, winsome little 
 ways interested him no less than her brusque way of pooh- 
 
THAT bruisin' lad o' oreystone lodge. 25 
 
 pooliing everything of a personal nature he said to her 
 aggravated him. Slie laughed at his soft phrases uttered 
 to her, tip-tilted her little nose at his compliments and 
 shrugged her shoulders with contempt when he upbraided 
 her disbelief. Gordon had been accustomed to the fair sex 
 giving him a willing ear when he chose to descant on softer 
 matters, yet this one showed not only impatience but ridi- 
 cule whenever he directed the conversation in a personal 
 channel. 
 
 On taking bis seat in front of the stage, he commenced 
 to listen to the leader trying to teach a lot of young men 
 " O'er the Deep Blue Sea," from Pinafore. The professor 
 struggled manfully, as he took each young gentleman 
 seriatim and sang and resang the part Avitli varied waives 
 and flourishes of the hand each time ; then he would move 
 olf some distance and shout : " now, all together ! " The 
 professor's voice would ring out in rich tones while the 
 young men looked on in mute astonishment. Then the 
 leader would wipe the perspiration from his brow in an 
 agonized way, whilst Gordon, though no musician, knew 
 well enough that those young men did not understand a 
 note. How could they when Ihey scarcely took time fi'om 
 their business to eat. 
 
 Presently, Gordon beard a titter among the boys 
 around, some of whom had escorted the ladies down ; turn- 
 ing his head, lie saw one of them slowly walking up the 
 centre of the hall witb a placard abstracted from one of the 
 chairs, pinned on his back on whicb was written the word 
 " taken." When he moved farther ofl:', cheer after cheer 
 went up from the youngsters as the class itself rushed to 
 the front of the stage, whilst a smile played over the profes- 
 sor's features as he exclaimed : " Class dismissed for the 
 evening ! " The whole scene was so ridiculous that the 
 feelings of indignation which first rose in Gordon's breast 
 at the ill-bred manners of the young men gave way to 
 unrestrained merriment as he escorted elulia out, while a 
 
26 THAT bruisin' lad o' greystonb lodge 
 
 number of voices chanted : " Sir Joseph Porter, K. C. B." 
 
 " Did you ever hear of such conduct ? " exclaimed she, 
 as soon as they reached the street. " Why, they broke up 
 the whole night's })erformance." 
 
 " That small boy gave one in its place, though," laughed 
 Gordon. 
 
 " He's the worst boy in town," she said. " Mr. Gordon, 
 I don't believe those young men in the class will ever learn 
 Pinafore." 
 
 " Just what I thought and predicted," he replied, 
 smiling. 
 
 They walked on some monients in silence. 
 
 " Mr. Gordon, why don't you say, " I told you so," she 
 uttered, looking around shyly and archly at him. 
 
 •' You see, I am magnanimous," he smiled. 
 
 Just then she moved her hand forward on his arm a 
 little. Gordon looked down upon it. It was beautifully 
 shaped and looked so peaceful and quiet reposing in the 
 silvery light of the moon with its alabaster whiteness. 
 
 " What a lovely hand you have ! " he exclaimed, in a 
 caressing tone of voice. 
 
 "Mr. Gordon — you forget yourself!" she cried out, 
 jerking it from his arm and standing still in the street. 
 
 Gordon was completely taken aback. 
 
 " Didn't you ever have any one tell you before that 
 your hand was pretty ? " he inquired. 
 
 " You shan't say those things to me — ^you don't mean 
 a word of them," she replied in answer to his question. 
 
 " I don't mean them !" he exclaimed, looking intently 
 at her. " You choose to assert that," he went on, " but I 
 know better; I mean every word of it. You treat me 
 abominably ! I cannot say a word ; utter a thought, unless I 
 am roundly informed that I am telling an untruth. I am 
 tired of it ! I am downright angry ! " 
 
 Th'ev ffazed at each other in absolute silence. 
 
THAT BRUISIN' LAD o' GREYSTONE LODGE. 27 
 
 " I don't see any use in staying here any longer," she 
 said, looking at him out of the corners of her eyes. 
 
 " Then we will t^o on," he bowed stiffly, holding out 
 an arm to her through which she meekly put her hand. 
 
 Neither uttered a word until they were nearly home. 
 
 " Mr. Gordon, are you much mad ? " she asked, look- 
 ing up softly at him. 
 
 " Yes, I am," he returned, in a quivering tone of voice. 
 
 " Then let's make it up, won't you? " she asked again. 
 
 For a moment he made no reply. Then he looked 
 around towards her. Her face was tilled with a roguish 
 smile as she glanced up at him. 
 
 " Say well, won't you?" 
 
 He looked at her again. 
 
 " Well," he answered, with a smile, as he held open 
 the gate for her to pass in. 
 
 " I wonder if they've retired ? " said he, as he noticed 
 the empty chairs in the piazza. 
 
 " I hardly expect they have," she returned, " I saw a 
 light in the parlor Avindow ; we will go in there." 
 
 " So you have returned at last ! " exclaimed Mrs. John, 
 who was 8 sitting upon a sofa, conversing with Rosa and Mr. 
 Metcalf. " What makes you so late ? " 
 
 " Why, I thought we were early, replied Gordon, " the 
 practicing came to a short end by the enacting of a comedy 
 by one of the small boys," he laughed, as he looked at 
 Julia. 
 
 " What did he do ? " asked one or two voices at once. 
 
 " He overturned Pinafore, for one thing," said Gordon, 
 who then related all that passed, in his usually humorous 
 and sarcastic vein. 
 
 " So you do not think they will make a success of 
 Pinafore ? " asked Metcalf. 
 
 " Not unless they carry the small boy along to divert 
 the audience from the music. I am sure the daily quartette 
 we have here is much superior," said Gordon. 
 
28 THAT BRUISIN' lad o' UIIEYSTONE LODGE. 
 
 " You mean when \vc sing, ' ['11 bo All Smiles To-niglit, 
 Love,' " laughed Rosa, 
 
 " Exactly," he answered. 
 
 " Then we'll begin now," said Julia ; Mr. Gordon, 
 play the accompaniment." 
 
 As Gordon took his seat at the i)ian() and the rest 
 gathered around, they certaiidy made a handsome quartette; 
 nor were they deficient in singing, cither. Even ma Sylves- 
 ter, lying back on the sofa, was quiet under its influence, 
 and really sorry when the voices died away on the stillness 
 of the air. 
 
 " Well, it is time for you to retire, young ladies," she 
 said, rising and bidding the gentlemen good-night. 
 
 "Look here, Gordon," said Charlie, as soon as the door 
 was closed, "Ma Sylvester is watching you." 
 
 " Hope she will be edified," replied the other coolly, as he 
 lighted a cigarette from the gas. " What causes her to 
 seek me out? " 
 
 " Interest in her daughter," said Metcalf. 
 
 " How do you know," inquired he, looking up in a sur- 
 prised manner. 
 
 " Because, she as good as told me so," returned Charlie. 
 " What are you up to, Frank, anyway?" asked he. 
 
 " I really can't sa}'." 
 
 " What are your intentions ? " 
 
 " I haven't any that I know of." 
 
 " What is to become of this — where is it to end ? " 
 asked Metcalf, looking thoughtfully at the other. 
 
 " I haven't the ghost of an idea ; I am simply drifting 
 with the tide," he said. 
 
 " Gordon, don't drift on down until you are tired and 
 then leave her alone to stem the torrent into which you 
 have led her," said Metcalf, seriously. 
 
 " Metcalf! " he exclaimed, " don't lecture ; remember, 
 we are liaving a holiday now ; don't break in on my routine 
 of simple pleasure. 
 
THAT BRUISIN' LAD O' GREYSTONE LODGE. 29 
 
 " Gordon, (iiordon,'' s;ii(l Cliurlic, risiiiii; and pacino; 
 the floor; " don't call it a 'simple pleasure ' to yourself to 
 raise hopes in a fresh, young heart which will be crushed 
 out, disappointed and withered. That girl is becoming 
 interested in you ; you are throwing a charm and light into 
 her existence she never knew before. For God's sake, 
 pause ! " 
 
 " But, Metcalf," he said, " suppose she interests me ; is 
 there anything Avrong in seeking her as my wife? " 
 
 "You marry Julia Sylvester!" exclaimed Metcalf, 
 almost stammering. 
 
 " And why not — pray?" demanded Gordon, coolly. 
 
 " Why, what would the proud Gordon's of Weston 
 say to your marrj-ing ma Sylvester's daughter ? " inquired 
 Charlie, in reply. 
 
 " They would raise shindy," said the other ; " my 
 Respected Parent would raise his hands in holy horror 
 when I introduced ma Sylvester, and would doubtless won- 
 der what was the incipient cause of my insanity. I haven't 
 thought ot marrying, haven't thought of wliat will become 
 of the matter, haven't thought of anything but the happy, 
 golden present." 
 
 "But please think, Frank," said the other, as they 
 rose to retire. 
 
 " Metcalf, you alwaj'S were a rum kind of chap," 
 lausi'hed Gordon. 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 The Langdon House, where Metcalt and Gordon took 
 their daily meals, was first-class in every respect, from 
 the slippered waitresses to tlie eggs which they 
 scved on toast. The house was owned and managed by a 
 
30 THAT BRUISIN* LAD o' GREVSTONH LODGE. 
 
 lady named Miss Eliza Langdon — Miss Lize, as her 
 boarders called her for brevity's sake. She was assisted by 
 a most respectable colored woman named Katie Winston, 
 who was of invaluable assistance to her. Miss Lize was 
 known throughout the city as a good financier, and in 
 connection with her mode of management had been char- 
 acterized as "business all over." 
 
 Miss Lize believed in method ; she required it from 
 the seating of her guests at the dinner-table, to the feeding 
 of her Skye terrier. Her breakfasts, dinners and suppers 
 were served at regular hours, and each guest was expected 
 to be prompt in attendance. 
 
 Miss Lize was honest, too ; her menu consisted of the 
 best the market could aftbrd, and was always served in the 
 most inviting style ; she gave you your money's worth every 
 month, with care and particularity, and at the termination 
 of that period expected you to observe the same rigid punc- 
 tuality in the settlement of your bill. 
 
 She took a motherly interest in every one of her 
 guests, and lived as much for their benefit as her own. The 
 flowers around the house were devoted to their use, and 
 scarcely a Sunday passed during the spring that she did not 
 have a bouquet of roses on each guest's plate, which he was 
 duly ex[:)ected to use afterward as a button-hole bouquet. 
 She kept thoroughly posted as to each one's habits, mode of 
 life, financial ability and business character, and if she saw 
 anything wrong, would sympathize with or scold the person, 
 as her ideas of right or wrong dictated. 
 
 At the present time she was somewhat puzzled about Met- 
 calf ; he came to her house a perfect stranger and had been 
 taking his meals there for three weeks. She had tried every 
 way to find out something about him, but failed ; no one 
 seemed to know anything about him ; so far as she could see 
 or learn, he had no property ; he was in no business, nor 
 engaged in any profession, which showed he had visible 
 means of support. She was becoming very much worried 
 
THAT BRUISIN' LAb o' GREYSTONE LODGE. 81 
 
 over the matter, had advised with Katie Winston and had 
 lost a good deal of sleep in trying to solve the prohleni con- 
 cerning him. To kee^) any one as a table-hoarder without 
 baggage or belongings, knowing nothing about the person, 
 was not to be thought of for a moment. 
 
 She determined one morning to go and consult her 
 brother-in-law, Doctor Griswold, who had grown up with 
 the town, and find out if he could give her the desired 
 information. 
 
 " John ! " she called out to the boy working in the 
 flowerbeds, "when is your time up for working those beds?" 
 
 " Half past nine. Miss Lize," answered the boy 
 respectfully. 
 
 " Then John, at fifteen minutes to ten, bring my phaeton 
 out," she said, disappearing. 
 
 As she ascended the front steps, Metcalf and Gordon 
 came in to breakfast. Her face was rigidly stolid as she 
 gave them a distant good morning. 
 
 "You are late for breakfast, Mr. Metcalf," she spoke 
 freezingly, looking across Gordon at him. 
 
 " I am very sorry. Miss Langdon," said he, politely. 
 
 "Feeling sorry does not give the servants time to clean 
 off" for dinner," she said coldly. 
 
 " I shall try and be earlier, next time," he replied, 
 smiling. "But you have never told me yet the exact time 
 of your meals." 
 
 " Not my fault," she went on, tartly. " I have the 
 regular hours printed on a card on the wall, hanging next 
 to the dining-room door. Your own negligence is the cause 
 of your not knowing. Mr. Metcalf I — you can go oil now." 
 
 Gordon was simply astounded at her manner of 
 speaking. 
 
 " Judging from her asperity, I suppose she has reached 
 that age in life, which we term old maidism," he remarked 
 hotly, as he hung up his hat. 
 
 " She is a very good woman," said Metcalf. " She 
 
32 THAT bruisin' lad o' greystone lodge. 
 
 carries on her Mftkirs on strictly methodical principles, which 
 is necessary in her business." 
 
 " All the same, she has taken my appetite away," he 
 smiled. " I see a fellow over yonder who is just beginning 
 to l)reakfast — I wonder if he ii^ot lectured." 
 
 Metcalf turned his eyes towards the other table. Tie 
 saw a rather tall, spare-made man, with grey hair and side 
 whiskers, and a sharp, vinegarish expression. 
 
 " He is a kind of institution here," replied he. " I 
 doubt if Miss Lize called him to account." 
 
 " What's his name, and what does he do ? " asked 
 Gordon. 
 
 " He is a clerk in some department here," answered 
 Charlie. " Alex. Sisson is his name." 
 
 "lie looks like one of that set," laughed Gordon softly. 
 "lie, moreover, has that sharp, hawkisk look, denoting 
 that he loves money." 
 
 " He's awfully close, I have heard," said the other. 
 " From a small salary he saved enough to invest in real 
 estate to a certain extent, and has made some money. But 
 wliat made you think he was stingy ? " 
 
 "By the general set of his face," said Frank, frowning. 
 " [t looks as if he was lean and gaunt to see a dollar." 
 
 " Frank," said Charlie, smiling, "you are so hard on 
 people. It seems to me that a man who lays up money 
 and accumulates, nmst have brain power. At least you 
 respect that." 
 
 " No such thing ! " exclaimed he. "Brain power is not 
 necessary in order that a man may lay u}) money. There is 
 no animal so sure to be laden witli money as an ass, who 
 rarely kuows how to exchange it for anything else. Your 
 concentrated fox is seldom comparable to your concentrated 
 ass in money l)reeding." 
 
 " And pray, why ? " asked the other, looking up in a 
 surprised manner. 
 
 " Because," replied he, " your concentrated fox thinks 
 
THAT BRUISIN' LAD o' GREYSTONE LODGE. 33 
 
 of many things, und turns liis attention more than one way. 
 The other talks ahout money, thinks about money, dreams 
 about money, and acquires no knovvledg'j apart from money, 
 until he becomes a concentrated ass. That is us sure as the 
 fact that a ' dead carrion breeds maggots.' " 
 
 " You have heen reading something lately on this sul)- 
 Ject," laughed Charlie. "You argue like a logician." 
 
 " Mr. Metcalf ! " cried out Miss Lize from her phaeton, 
 as tlie young men passed through the gate, " we have din- 
 ner at one o'clock sharp." 
 
 " Yes, miss," replied Gordon, stitHy, as they walked 
 down the street. 
 
 The two young men were scarcely out of sight before 
 Miss Langdon ordered John to drive to Doctor James 
 Griswold. 
 
 Doctor Griswold married a sister of Miss Eliza Lang- 
 don's, and in his own estimation was a person of some 
 importance. Tlis appearance was not prepossessing, with 
 wee bits of grey eyes covered with glasses, common brown 
 hair and beard. He was diminutive in statue, with the 
 exception of large feet. The doctor was an officer in the 
 city, and really believed he had literary talent, which had 
 spent some of its force in writing an article or two for the 
 local papers, on the subjects of " Small-pox," and " The 
 Duties of a Coroner." He was on. the point of entering his 
 doctor's vehicle when Miss Eliza drove up. 
 
 " Morning, Lize — morning," he said. 
 
 "James, I wish to speak with you a moment," she 
 said, as her horse was driven near the curbstone. 
 
 " Will you come in the house or remain out here ? " he 
 asked. 
 
 " Just come up to my phaeton," she replied. "That's 
 it. James, I have a boarder at my house, and I cannot iind 
 out anything about him. I thought I would ask you, since 
 you have been here so long." 
 
34 THAT BRUISIN' LAD o' liREYSTONE LODOE. 
 
 " What's his name ? " inquired the doctor, pursing up 
 his lips, and looking very important. 
 
 " Charles Metealf," she replied, glancing anxiously 
 towards him. " He came about three weeks ago ; on yes- 
 terday he brought another man with him named Gordon, 
 who wanted table board ; I cannot find out anything about 
 either of them, I don't like having young men boarding 
 with me about whom I scarcely know anything." 
 
 " Of course, of course," muttered the doctor. " Met- 
 calfe — Metealf; I have heard that name. Oh, yes, I remem- 
 ber now ! he was here for a short time and loafed around ; 
 Alfred Lorraine knows him. Aha, he is the fellow who 
 left here by moonlight ; yes, yes — he is that very rascal who 
 opposed my collecting a coroner's fee. They said he owed 
 money, tcfo ; shady character I expect, Lize. I tell you 
 what I will do, I will drive by and see Lorraine ; maybe he 
 can give me some information." 
 
 " I wish you Avould, James, and I will take it as a favor. 
 Good-bye James." 
 
 " Morning, Lize — morning," he replied, moving 
 towards his gig as she drove off. 
 
 The doctor pursued his way down the street, occasion- 
 ally lashing his horse, which maintained the same dignified 
 dog-trot all the time. He would glance first on one side 
 and then on another, as his thoughts alternated between 
 Metealf and whether the people he met were thinking of 
 him. 
 
 " I will go at once to Lorraine's and find out about that 
 fellow," he muttered, as if to himself. 
 
 " What you say, pa ? " inquired his thirteen-year-old 
 son, who was driving him. 
 
 " Don't ask questions, son," he replied, with a sigh. 
 " Your pa has so much to think about that he cannot con- 
 tain it all," 
 
 " Yes, pa," answered the boy, as they drove on in 
 silence. 
 
THAT BRUISIN' LAI) O' GREYSTONE L0D(1E. 35 
 
 Reaching the court-house yard, he went at once to 
 Lorraine's office. 
 
 " Mr. Lorraine, can I speak with you a moment," he 
 asked, as he stood within the room. 
 
 " Certainly, doctor," answered a tall, square-shouldered 
 gentleman, with gray eyes, gray hair, moustache and goatee. 
 
 " I want to find out something about Charles Metcalf — 
 dida't he stay around here at one time?" inquired the 
 doctor. 
 
 " Yes, he did ; what do you wish to find out ? I saw 
 him here the other day," said Lorraine. 
 
 '' What kind of a man is he ? " asked he. 
 
 " How do you mean ? " inquired Lorraine, in his turn ; 
 " as a lawyer, he is a master of his profession ; he is very 
 smart I can tell you, and extremely agreeable."^ 
 
 " Didn't he leave here owing some money 't " inquired 
 the doctor. 
 
 " I know very little of Metcalf 's personal affairs," he 
 answered. " He was a very reticent man about his matters, 
 but I understood at the time that he did owe some ; if he 
 has not paid it, I am sure he will when he gets it." 
 
 Wasn't there some talk about his being wrong in some 
 way ? " 
 
 " I have heard that he was verj^ reckless and extrava- 
 gant at one time. I further understand," went on the 
 lawyer, " that he had some family trouble, the nature of 
 which I never understood, nor did I ever seek to inquire." 
 
 " So, ho ! " exclaimed Dr. Griswold, brightening per- 
 ceptibly, " he has a shady character I expect." 
 
 " I would advise you not to say anything of that kind 
 to him, doctor," said Lorraine quietly. 
 
 " Why, is he dangerous ? " asked the other. 
 
 " Extremely so," answered Lorraine, in a positive man- 
 ner. " He would be disagreeably so if you were to intimate 
 such a thing to him." 
 
 " Oh, I don't propose having anything to do with him," 
 
36 THAT BRUISIN' LAD o' GREYSTONE LODGE. 
 
 said the doctor, in a supercilious manner ; " I simpl\Mvanted 
 to find out if he didn't leave here owing money." 
 
 " I can give you no positive information on that score," 
 he smiled, turning to his papers as the doctor rose to leave. 
 
 The information received from Lorraine was by no 
 means damning enough in Dr. Griswold's estimation. 
 
 He then determined to see Mr. Tlill, the city sergeant, 
 and find out if he could throw any light upon Metcalf 's 
 character. He knew that the sergeant was well-informed 
 on all matters concerning the pecuniary transactions, liabili- 
 ties and movements of the people who had lived here. 
 Going at once to the court-house building, he found him in 
 his ofiice. 
 
 The sergeant rose as he entered. 
 
 " Whart; can I do for you, doctor ?" inquired he. 
 
 " I want some information about a certain party who 
 lived here," he replied. 
 
 " Who Avas it, doctor ? " he asked. 
 
 " A Mr. Charles Metcalf; Lorraine knows him — he used 
 to stay around here," answered he. 
 
 " I knew him in my oificial capacity, only," said Mr. 
 Hill. " I can tell you one thing, he is a brilliant man." 
 
 " What was his reputation concerning money ?" asked 
 the doctor. 
 
 " Well, now doctor, I doubt if I can give you any 
 information on that score," replied Hill, his countenance 
 falling. The sergeant disliked to repeat hearsay derogatory 
 remarks made about anyone, and he knew many had been 
 spoken about Metcalf. " I did hear that he failed to pay 
 some money that he owed." 
 
 " Is that so ?" exclaimed the doctor, feigning surprise. 
 " Did you ever hear any one say anything else about him ? " 
 
 " I don't remember just now — let me see. Doctor, I 
 can inform you who is most likel}' to tell you all about 
 him—" 
 
 " Who ?" asked the doctor, interrupting him eagerly. 
 
THAT BRUISIN' LAD O' (JREYSTONE LODGE. 37 
 
 " Trohcrne, my deputy," answered Hill. " I rcmomlxT 
 now that he was horn and hrcd in the same county in which 
 Metcalf lived — wait a moment, I'll 'phone for him. 
 
 In about five minutes Treherne came in, a genial, kind- 
 looking man. 
 
 " Treherne," inquired Hill, " do you know anything 
 about Charles Metcalf, who staid here once ? " 
 
 " Yes, I was bred in the same county — I know all his 
 people well," replied Treherne. 
 
 " What kind of people are they ?" asked Doctor Gris- 
 wold. 
 
 " The best in the state," answered the other. 
 
 " What about him ; wasn't there something wrong 
 with him?" queried the doctor eagerly, with that deeply 
 interested expression upon his face betrayed by a terrier 
 watching expectantly at a rat-hole, knowing that the little 
 animal may come out any moment. 
 
 " In what way do you mean ? " inquired Treherne, 
 really amused at the look upon his face. 
 
 " About his pecuniary matters, and such like," replied 
 he. 
 
 " His money matters have always been wrong," laughed 
 Treherne. " He spent an estate of some fifty thousand 
 dollars, and got head over heels in debt — " 
 
 " Good gracious ! " cried Doctor Griswold, " what a 
 scamp ! " 
 
 In his estimation, a man was a rascal who threw his 
 money away, unless in his direction. 
 
 " I heard also," went on the deputy, " that he had some 
 kind of trouble at college. I could never learn the particu- 
 lars of that. I — " 
 
 " What was it?" he interrupted again, with almost 
 breathless anxiety. 
 
 " Something about a lady," said the deputy. " I never 
 found out what the mystery was, but I know it caused him 
 some trouble. He was never the same man afterwards. 
 
38 THAT bruisin' lad o' greystone lodge. 
 
 But, doctor, he is a gentleman, and one of the most gener- 
 ous men I ever saw." 
 
 " Sir ! " exclaimed the other, swelling with righteous 
 indignation, " he is a rascal!" And the doctor brought 
 his hand down upon the table with a slap, which caused the 
 pens and ink to rattle. 
 
 " Doctor," said Treherne, his face assuming a serious 
 expression. " I do not mean to interfere in jour private 
 matters, but you had better not speak about Metcalf in that 
 way, because if it came to his ears I would not like v,ery 
 much to be in your place. He is the worse person aroused 
 I ever knew. I just offer thi-s as a suggestion for your own 
 benefit." 
 
 " I suppose I could defend myself," said he, paling at 
 the very idea of such a suggestion. 
 
 " Better men than you, doctor, have tried and failed, 
 when he Avas interfered with," said Treherne quietly. 
 
 Doctor Griswold paused a moment and looked at Tre- 
 herne from out of his wee bits of eyes. lie felt sure that 
 Treherne was friendly towards Metcalf, and would not tell 
 all he knew. 
 
 " And that's all you know ? " he asked, with a 
 certain tone of doubt in his voice as he put the question. 
 
 " Oh, I suppose there is much more that could be told 
 about the man," replied the deputy, " but I have never 
 heard anything else derogatory to his reputation. He was 
 exceedingly fund of fine horses, and rode a great deal ; in 
 fact, spent much money in that way. It was also said that 
 he had a genius for managing ladies as well. He had a 
 nick name given him by the fellows in the county." 
 
 " What was that ? " he inquired. 
 
 "I was just trying to think — oh yes! It was 'That 
 Bruisin' Lad 0' Greystone Lodge.' " 
 
 "Well, tell me something about that college scrape he 
 got into ? " he asked impatiently. 
 
 " I told you I could never find out anytliing about it," 
 
THAT BRUISIN' LAD o' GREYSTONE LODGE. 39 
 
 he returned. " No one seemed to know ii thing about the 
 circumstances connected with it." 
 
 " Was he ever married ? " asked Doctor (xriswold. 
 
 " lie is said to have been married," replied Treherne, 
 
 " Where is his wife ? " 
 
 " I can't tell you who she is nor where she is," con- 
 tinued the deputy, I do not positively know that he was 
 ever married. Some suppose that the lady with whom he 
 had the att'air while he was at college and his wife was one 
 and the same person." 
 
 " Ah-ha ! " the doctor exclaimed softly. " I begin to 
 find out something. I — " 
 
 " Don't lay any stress on what I tell you, doctor," 
 interrupted Treherne, " because I know nothing positively." 
 
 " Oh, I understand ! " cried the doctor, with a peculiar 
 ring in his voice, as he drew on his gloves and left. 
 
 The doctor was a little worried and puzzled as he 
 walked back to his gig. He had mentally determined when 
 he started out that mornins;, that after scainino; his informa- 
 tion he would seek Metcalf out, upbraid him properly, and 
 then inquire how such a person as he dared to obtain quar- 
 ters at his respectable sister-in-law's. But since he learned 
 of Metcalf's being a dangerous man his love of self over- 
 came his idea of duty, and he determined to say nothing to 
 Metcalf at present. He was puzzled, because he felt cer- 
 tain there was something about the man which he could 
 not get at ; nevertheless he was satisfied that there were 
 some awful things about him, and made up his mind to so 
 report the matter to his sister-in-law. 
 
 " Strange ! " he muttered, as he reached his gig. " It 
 seems impossible to get at any tangible fact concerning 
 him " 
 
 " Where to, pa ? " asked his son as he stepped into his 
 vehicle. 
 
 " Drive to the Langdon House," he replied, absently. 
 
 On reaching there, and walking into the in closure, he 
 
40 THAT BKUISIN' LAD o' OREYSTONE LODGE. 
 
 found Miss Eliza and Mr. Sisson sitting in the vine-covered 
 piazza. 
 
 " Evening, Lize — evening, Sisson," he said, as he wiped 
 the perspiration from his brow. " Shall I tell you here the 
 result of my investigation ? " He looked towards Mr. Sis- 
 son, who glanced across the street in a mock-disinterested 
 kind of manner. 
 
 " Of course," she answered. " Mr. Sisson is like a 
 member of the family." 
 
 " Lize," he proceeded solemnly ; " that man Metcal 
 cannot be trusted. He spent a large estate and ran in debt. 
 He also married and deserted an estimable young lady. He 
 is a 'shady lot.' " 
 
 " I told you he wouldn't do," chimed in Sisson. " I 
 know a man when I see him. He is stuck up, too. He 
 treats us oiRce boys as if he didn't care a rush for us." 
 
 " I was atraid something was tlie matter," she said 
 solemnly, as she rose and walked towards the door. 
 
 " You'll make him leave, won't you Lize ? " asked her 
 brother-in-law. 
 
 " At the end of the month," she answered, flatly, leav- 
 ing the gentlemen to their own ruminations, as she went to 
 prepare for dinner. 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 A few days after the foregoing events, an evening sun 
 was pouring its slanting rays o'er the trees and green grass 
 in pa Sylvester's ydrd. 
 
 Rosa Reynolds was sitting upon the rustic seat around 
 the apple-tree, looking down upon her feet as she moved 
 them backwards and forwards in the thick, cool-looking grass. 
 Her countenance was obscured from view by a large, 
 
THAT BRUISIN' lad o' GREYSTONE LOtXJE. 41 
 
 bewitchiiig-loooking Ktraw hat, so that Metcalf, who liacl 
 conic upon the i)iazza a moment ago, eouhl i^otseeher face. 
 
 Watcliing licr as she sat bending over, with her dark 
 tresses waiving here and there, her Ijthe, rounded figure 
 stooping over, her easy, graceful movemcTits with her feet, 
 The Bruisin' Lad, who had rarely glanced at a woman 
 l)efore, felt his pulse quicken and his heart beat faster than 
 its usual wont. 
 
 She heard a movement on the porch ; she glanced up 
 quickly and then smiled. 
 
 " Oh ! it's you ! " she exclaimed, " I thought it was 
 somebody." 
 
 " I count myself somebody, although I have some doubt 
 about my being more than an actual existing somebody," 
 he replied, walking across and taking a seat by her. 
 
 "I didn't mean that you were nobody," she laughed, 
 flushing slightly, " I meant to say that I thought you were 
 somebody else. You know that I think you are quite a 
 somebody — you know you are awfully clever." 
 
 " I know — I — am — clever ! " he exclaimed, pausing 
 between each word. " I don't know any such thing." 
 
 " The article you wrote was clever, at any rate," she 
 said, looking in a teasing manner at him. 
 
 " My article ! " he uttered slowly, with surprise. 
 " What do you know about it ? " 
 
 " Then you did write it — so my little birdie was not 
 wrong," she laughed softly, as he looked at her in mute 
 astonishment. 
 
 " To which article do you refer ? " he asked. 
 
 "So you have written more than one, have you ? " she 
 inquired. " You have been very mouse-like and quiet 
 about your pursuits, and people have been wondering what 
 you are doing, but I heard some one speak of an article in 
 the Eclectic which you wrote, and when I tax you with it, 
 in your eager curiosity to find out something, you give me 
 an insight into your craft. Allow me to congratulate you, 
 
42 THAT bruisin' lad o' greystone lodge. 
 
 i 
 
 Mr. Mctcalf, upon being a member of that favored class 
 known as — authors. I have your secrets now, and my price 
 of secrecy is all sorts of nice behavior on your part." 
 
 " You astound me — please tell me how you found out, 
 won't you ? " 
 
 " Mr. Metcalf," she said, smiling roguishly at hira, 
 " you are better known than you thought or had an idea of. 
 I am not going to tell you who told me." 
 
 " Do tell me," he urged. 
 
 " No — I promised I would not." 
 
 " The person won't mind," he begged in a pleading 
 tone. 
 
 " Oh — oh ! yes the person would. I never betray con- 
 iidejice." 
 
 " I am simply astonished," he said, looking in a puz- 
 zled manner towards her, " at such a thing leaking out. 
 You are a kind of uncanny spiritual being, I believe." 
 
 " I know something about Mr. Gordon, too !" she cried. 
 
 " Why, what do you know about Gordon ? " 
 
 " He is writing too." 
 
 "Gordon writing ! " he exclaimed. " I don't believe it. 
 What is he scribbling upon ? " 
 
 " A Sketch of Shirly," she answered. 
 
 " Who told you that? " he asked, full of astonishment. 
 " Look here ! If you don't tell me who informed you al)out 
 these things, I shall really believe you are a supernatural, 
 spiritual being." 
 
 " I am flesh and blood," she said. "St. Paul informs 
 us that flesh and blood is not spiritual but earthly — earthy, 
 of the earth. How can I be a spiritual person ? " 
 
 " Then you are a spirit — spiritual — " 
 " Contraption ! " she interrupted. 
 Metcalf laughed heartily at this word. 
 " When did you coin that part of speecli ?" he asked, as 
 soon a^ his lauorh subsided. 
 
THAT BRUISIN' LAD o' GREYSTONE LODGE. 43 
 
 " Why that's a good old English word," she replied, 
 drawing herself up with dignity. 
 
 " You can't find it in the dictionary, anyhow," he said, 
 
 " Have you looked for it," she asked. 
 
 " No." 
 
 " Then you don't mean to say that you know every 
 word in the dictionary ? " 
 
 " No." 
 
 " Then you don't know whether contraption is there or 
 not," she said, bringing her right foot down upon the grass 
 with an emphatic stamp. 
 
 " I acknowledge I am vanquished," he cried, looking 
 W'ith undisguised admiration at the young girl who turned 
 him down so easily. 
 
 " Mr. Metcalf, why do you look at me with such a 
 curious, earnest gaze," she asked. " I have noticed you do 
 it several times." 
 
 For a moment there was a pause, as each glanced at 
 the other ; only for a moment, though, because after that 
 her eyes sank beneath his gaze in spite of her eftbrts to 
 keep them steadily fixed on his, whilst a faint blush gradu- 
 ally stole over her cheeks, until at last her whole face was 
 suffused W'ith cojor. The natural sequence to such a ques- 
 tion never once occurred to her until after she had asked it, 
 and she felt as if she would like to sink into the earth at her 
 feet. Her eyes were raised but once more — only to meet 
 his same steady gaze, beneath which they fell as quickly 
 again. 
 
 " I look at you," he said, his voice quivering at first, 
 " because you are the most natural, unaffected, ingenuous 
 human being I ever saw. Moreover, I cannot help feeling 
 that you could be trusted just as implicitly as we believe in 
 the gospel of St. Matthew." 
 
 " Oh, Mr. Metcalf! " she exclaimed, almost humbly, 
 " isn't that sacriligeous ? " 
 
 " Are you sacriligeous? " he asked. 
 
44 THAT BRUISIN' lad o' GREYSTOXE l.ODCK. 
 
 " I hope not," she replied, earnestly. 
 
 " Then nothini;' I could say about you would be." 
 
 " Mr. Metcalt; I— I didn't—" 
 
 " Mean to ask that question," he interrupted. " I 
 know you- spoke without thinking and would have recalled 
 the question ere it was asked, but that, like everything else 
 you do, is in perfect keeping with your ingenuous naicete. 
 Miss Rosa, as the God of nature created 3'ou, ao you are 
 now ; strive hard to hold fast to so invaluable an acquisi- 
 tion." 
 
 " I never thought being natural was so wonderftil," she 
 said, simply. 
 
 " Isn't it something to l)e like the Creator who made 
 you — reflecting his image in every act and thought ? " he 
 asked. 
 
 " How does being unaffected and ingenuous make any 
 one more like the image of God ?" she asked, in reply. 
 
 " Because every creation of God is perfect," he returned. 
 " The natural, simple, unafl:ected ways of which we are 
 speaking is but a perfect resemblance of Him in manner. 
 It is this likeness to perfection in what is natural, which 
 appeals so strongly to all of us who are rowing more or loss 
 in the craft of hypocrisy." i 
 
 " I never thought of that before," she said, looking 
 thoughtfully towards the western horizon. 
 
 Just then Julia came out. 
 
 " Where are you going ? " he inquired, as Rosa rose. 
 
 " Over to Edie's," she said. 
 
 " Edie's ! " he exclaimed, " who is she ? " 
 
 " She is my ma's sister," spoke up Julia, as she joined 
 them. 
 
 " Can I go ?" he asked, plaintively. 
 
 " Depends," said Julia. 
 
 " On what ? " 
 
 " Our sovereign wills," cried Rosa, dropping into her 
 usually teasing vein. 
 
 i 
 
THAT BRUISIN' LAD O' UREYSTO^JE LODOE. 45 
 
 " But I reckon I can go," he smiled. 
 
 '' I spec'," said Julia, making a little moue at him, as 
 tlioy moved ofK 
 
 The trio |)roceeded down the street, Julia on the inside, 
 Rosa next to her and Metcalf on the outside. Whenever 
 any of the household went walking, it mattered not how 
 they mancruvered, Metcalf would iiivariahly find himself by 
 Kosa's side. 
 
 " I Avonder what has become of Mr. Gordon ? " asked 
 Julia. 
 
 " lie's ruminating," laughed Rosa. 
 
 "On what?" asked she. 
 
 " On statistics. Mr. Metcalf, you are not fair ! " 
 exclaimed Rosa. 
 
 " How so ? " he inquired, moving a little closer and 
 bending his head nearer as if to catch her reply. 
 
 " You are not keeping your place on the side-walk — 
 you are pushing me against Julia." 
 
 Rosa had a hal>it when walking on the street of grace- 
 fully half turning when she spoke. Metcalf's heart gave a 
 bound as she did this, and her lovely brown eyes sparkled 
 near his. 
 
 " You are so mean ! " she went on, in a half petulant 
 manner. 
 
 " I am not half so mean as you are, to quarrel over 
 such a little thing," he growled, with contempt. 
 
 " I am not bad — I am just as good and sweet as I can 
 be," shy said, pouting, then giving him a roguish smile with 
 the same lips. 
 
 " Rosa, how conceited you are ! " exclaimed Julia. 
 "You two are forever quarreling." 
 
 Julia was not far from wrong in a certain sense ; when- 
 ever Metcalf and Rosa were together with any one they 
 invariably began a mock battle, in which the most unheard 
 of accusations were hurled by each one at the other. 
 
46 THAT bruisin' lad o' (jreystone lodge 
 
 When they reached Miss Edie Farmer's house, Rosa 
 stopped on the sidewalk. 
 
 " Julia, I believe I will go and see Miss Lettie." 
 
 " I'll take you," said Metcalf, as he held the gate open 
 for Julia to pass through. 
 
 " Who is Miss Lettie ? " he asked, as they proceeded 
 onwards. 
 
 '' Miss Lettie — don't you know the young lady who 
 came up with me and married Mr. Fitzgiblet ? " 
 
 " You mean the one who married the old gentleman 
 over here for his money ? " 
 
 " Yes," she answered, "wasn't it funny ? he is eighty 
 and she is some fifty years old. They never saw each other 
 until she came to marry him ; he was angry with his 
 children by his first wife, and concluded to disinherit them. 
 He commenced talking soft to Edie, but she would not 
 listen to him ; then he gets Miss Edie to write to Miss 
 Lettie Wiseman, who responded most favorably and so they 
 Avere married." 
 
 " What a pair of idiots ! " exclaimed he, contemptu- 
 ously. 
 
 " They seem very happy, all the same," she said, as 
 they paused before a gate, which Metcalf proceeded to 
 unlatch. 
 
 An old gentleman, stooping with age, one foot totter- 
 ing on the brink of the grave, met them at the door. By 
 his pronunciation Metcalf knew he was of German descent. 
 
 " How vis ye, me tear ? " he asked. " Coom in ; bring 
 3^e frien' vid ye." 
 
 " Is Miss Lettie in," asked she. 
 
 " Yes, here I am," said a cheery voice from the hall. 
 " Come on in, Rosa." 
 
 Metcalf saw a gray-headed lady, with a partially 
 wrinkled face, who still possessed some traces of having 
 been handsome, long and merry ago. 
 
 When they were all seated in the cozy sitting-room. 
 
THAT BRUISIN' LAD O' (JREYSTONE LODGE. 47 
 
 Metcalf looked at the old couple in sheer Jistonishmcnt. 
 There was a self-satisfied, placid look on the old gentleman's 
 face, whilst Fitzgiblet's wore a kind of half-apologetic 
 expression of countenance, which produced the ini])ression 
 that she forever begged pardon for having married the old 
 man. Her face, too, was familiar to Metcalf; he felt a desire 
 to find out where he had seen her before, but experienced 
 a hesitancy in breaking in on the conversation between the 
 ladies. Presently there was a pause. 
 
 " Mr. Metcalf," she said, " I used to know some of 
 your people, I think." 
 
 " Where, Mrs. Fitzgiblet ? " he asked. 
 
 "At Lancing Court House; I lived there once and 
 have seen them frequently, going to and returning fi-om 
 Etna." 
 
 " I remember now that I saw you there," he said. 
 " Where did you move to from there ? " 
 
 " I went to Etna," she returned. " I am well known 
 in Etna ; here is a letter I received from one of the first 
 ladies in that place. This shows that I was well thought of 
 there, and was not obliged to make a change of life." 
 
 Here she took a letter from the table and showed it 
 -to Metcalf, who glanced at the signature, '^s he thought 
 how each apology demonstrated the fact that she was not 
 only conscious of having bartered her self-respect, but that 
 it needed some auxiliary aid for support. 
 
 " Oh, yes — I know Mrs. Otway," he said smiling, 
 " You are indeed fortunate in having such a friend ; I know 
 that she is an elegant and refined lady, who has won an 
 enviable reputation through her charitable works." 
 
 In a moment Rosa proposed to leave. 
 
 Passing Edie's house, they found that Julia had gone 
 to call upon a neighbor. 
 
 " And you call that a happy pair ! " cried Metcalf, with 
 a slight fling of contempt in his voice. 
 
48 THAT lillUlSIN' LAD o' CKEYSTONE LODdE. 
 
 " Why, certainly," she iiiiswcred. " lie never wants 
 her out of his sight, and they a[)pear hap})y." 
 
 " Miss Rosa ! " exclaimed he, almost pausing in his 
 walk, " that is an unhappy, conscience-struck woman, as 
 sure as you are living." 
 
 " The idea ! " she ejaculated ; " Miss Lettie never did 
 anything in her life to cause her remorse." 
 
 " I am sorry to hear you say that," he proceeded, as 
 they walked on slowly. " Has a woman done nothing who 
 Ijarters herself for the extrinsic trap^nngs of matrimony ? 
 Has she done nothing in crushing out those more delicate, 
 gentle sentiments, tilled with little passions sweet, which 
 ought to be cherished faithfully to render her more womanly 
 and refined ? Has she done nothing who sacrifices her true 
 womanhood, belonging really to the man of her heart, for 
 victuals and clothes, or luxuries ? If nothing else, she has 
 merely committed degredation, and just think what a quag- 
 mire that is for a lady to sink into." 
 
 " Mr. Metcalf, you always give me something to think 
 about," she said. "I am sure you are right because I know 
 I cannot bear anyone whom I do not like to come near me." 
 
 They walked on in silence until the Sylvester mansion 
 was reached. When near the piazza, Gordon hailed Met- 
 calf from the window. 
 
 " Go and see what he wants," smiled Rosa, relieving 
 him of her flowers and parasol which he was carrying. 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 Although physically small, Doctor Griswold was 
 neither lacking in natural sense nor in a kind of dogged 
 determination we often see in characters like his. He never 
 
THAT BIIUISIN' LAD o' ('.KEYSTONE LODOE. 49 
 
 for one nioineiit thou<i;ht of giving up the investigation 
 concerning Metculf until he hud exhausted what he consid- 
 ered the entire field of inquiry. lie dwelt so much upon 
 the derogatory side of this man's hearsay character without 
 knowing anything of his good traits, that he really believed 
 him to be a villian in disguise. 
 
 While Metcalf was basking in the sunlight of Rosa's 
 smiles, Doctor Griswold was diligently attempting to find 
 out something about him. He determined to see some of 
 his medical friends who had been here longer than himself; 
 then he suddenly thought of Doetor Harry Campbell, who 
 had recently settled here, and recollected that he was from 
 the same county as Metcalf. Calling for his gig and don- 
 ning his hat, he carried out the purpose formed in bis mind 
 of going to see Campbell, and in some thirty minutes was 
 in his office. 
 
 Campbell was very polite to Doctor Griswold, feeling 
 sure that the latter had heard something of his wonderful 
 knowledge in midwifery and came to call him in for con- 
 sultation. He looked very important as he took his seat, 
 and pulled at his thin, light moustache. 
 
 " Doctor Cam[>bell, I want some information about a 
 gentleman from your county," saia Griswold. 
 
 Campbell's face fell as he endeavored to smooth away 
 tlie di8ap[)ointed look which he could feel overspreading it. 
 
 " What is his name ? " he asked. 
 
 " Charles Metcalf." 
 
 " By Jove — he comes from big people." 
 
 " What about him ? " asked Griswold. 
 
 "In what way ? " 
 
 " Concerning his pecuniary transactions." 
 
 " I have heard much of his reckless expenditure of 
 money, but — " 
 
 Here he was interrupted by the entrance of a gentle- 
 man no less than Frank Gordon. 
 
50 
 
 'nm 
 
 LODGE. 
 
 " Take a seat," motioned the doctor with his hand. " I 
 will 1)6 through m a moment." 
 
 lie then turned again to Doctor Griswold. 
 
 " As I was proceeding to say, I never heard anything 
 else very wrong about Charlie Metcalf." 
 
 " Didn't he have some woman trouble ? " asked Gris- 
 wold. 
 
 " Don't exactly catch your meaning." 
 
 " Didn't he get in a scrape about some lady ?" inquired 
 he, again. 
 
 • " Well, I heard some iloating rumor of that kind," 
 resi)onded Campbell, " but never learned the particulars," 
 
 Gordon almost started from his chair, but restrained 
 himself and looked unconcernedly out of the window. 
 
 "Didn't he fail to pay his debts?" asked Doctor Gris- 
 wold. 
 
 ■" Why, some years ago I understood that he lived 
 beyond his means and created liabilities." 
 
 " AVasn't he considered a rascal ? " asked the doctor 
 viciously. 
 
 " By no means," responded the other. "His reputa- 
 tion, so far as I know, was that of a reckless, helter-skelter 
 young man, as generous with his money as he was negligent 
 in transditions concerning i1." 
 
 " But he is a rascal, sir ! " cried the doctor, with an 
 indignant look. 
 
 Gordon almost started from his seat and he flashed a 
 look towards Doctor Griswold as dark as a thunder-cloud. 
 
 " Doctor, you had better be careful as to the language 
 you use about Charlie Metcalty said Campbell. " The soil 
 of North Carolina never nurtured a more reckless, desperate 
 character wdien aroused, than ' That Bruisin' Lad o' Grey- 
 stone Lodge,' and I would dislike to see you incur his 
 displeasure." 
 
 " Doctor Campbell," said Goi'd')n, rsing, " I have to 
 leave now, but I will see vou aL';ain." 
 
THAT BRUISIN' LAD o' GREYSTONE LODOE. 51 
 
 " What is your name," asked he. 
 
 " Never mind about that, doctor," and touching his 
 hat he was oft". 
 
 Descending the stairway, he scarcely knew what to 
 think, but he was judge enough of human nature to recog- 
 nize intuitively that the man whom Campbell addressed 
 was inimical to Metcalf. lie would acquaint Charlie with 
 it at once. Then he recollected he had not heard the man's 
 name He paused middle-way upon the stairs, and turning 
 retraced his steps. 
 
 " Doctor Campbell, who is that man sitting near you ?" 
 he asked. 
 
 Both medical gentlemen looked up in surprise. 
 
 " Griswold is my name," said he, as soon as he recov- 
 ered self-possession. " What do you want with me? " 
 
 " Nothing but your name. Doctor Griswold," he re- 
 sponded, as he turned upon his heel and left the room. 
 
 lie went at once to the Sylvester's to find Metcalf. His 
 first impulse was to see Charlie and tell him all, but as he 
 became cooler he saw that Avould never do. As much as 
 he liked his friend and disliked the doctor, he took enough 
 interest in humanit}' not to desire the latter to have his head 
 punched, which he saw would be the inevitable result if he 
 told Charlie all. Gordon knew something of the Bruisin' 
 Lad's temper, for he remembered having seen him aroused 
 once at a tournament, when he committed fearful destruc- 
 tion on all sides with a lance. 
 
 Arriving at the house, he looked for him but found he 
 was out. Going to his room, he waited as patiently as ho 
 could until he saw him enter the gate with Rosa. 
 
 "I do believe he is getting interested in that girl," 
 soliloquized Frank, as he watched them approach. When 
 they neared the porch he called Metcalf. 
 
 Gordon pitched into the subject as soon as Charlie was 
 in the room. 
 
52 THAT BRUISIN' lad o' (JKEVSTONE LODCt:. 
 
 " Somebody here is tryinir to find out souiotliinir about 
 you ! " he exclaimed. 
 
 " Who? " he inquired, in a surprised manner. 
 
 " A Doctor Griswold." 
 
 " What did he desire to learn? " 
 
 " Something about your private character/' replied 
 Gordon. 
 
 He then informed MetcaU'all he had heard in Camp- 
 bell's office, withholding the epithets of aljuse which Doctor 
 Griswold used. When Frarik came to the part relating to 
 the lady, he noticed Metcalf 's face [tale perceptibly, as it 
 assumed a hard, set expression. 
 
 " I say, old chap ! " cried Gordon, " we all knew about 
 your extravagance, and how yon injured yourself l)y it, but 
 you never had any discreditable affair with any ladv, did 
 you?." 
 
 Gordon looked so frankly and affectionately at Metcalf 
 that the latter was completely disarmed. 
 
 '• Gordon," he said, " I appreciate the nature and deli- 
 cacy of your inquiry enough to remove any false opinions 
 which you ma}' entertain on that score. I did have an 
 affair with a lady, but it was nothing to my discredit, an<l if 
 the truth was knowni, you would see that I was grossly 
 sinned against. At present the interests of others prevent 
 my speaking as frankly as I otherwise would about the mat- 
 ter. My simple declaration will have to suffice you now." 
 
 " Your word is sufficient," said Gordon warmly, " and 
 you have my sympathy. I did not mean to pry into your 
 affiiirs." 
 
 " Gordon, did you say that Griswold was going to try 
 and find out something from Ruskin ? " asked Metcalf. 
 
 " He said he would write to Ruskin this evening." 
 " What do you suppose is his object ? " asked he. 
 
 " To find out something about that lady, if he can." 
 
 " I must see Ruskin at once," went on Charlie. *' He 
 always blamed me for keeping silent, and he might blurt 
 
THAT bruisin' lab o' greystoNE lodge, 53 
 
 out something in reply to Griswold's letter wlii(;li I do not 
 wish known." 
 
 " Can't you write ? " 
 
 " Griswold's letter might have gone by now, :nid 
 might reach there earlier than mine." 
 
 *' Wire then," suggested Frank. 
 
 " Not on a matter of this kind," he answered gravely. 
 " T will have to go." 
 
 " How about 3'our engagement to go to church with 
 Miss Reynolds to-morrow ? " he jisked. 
 
 " I will return by ten-thirty to-morrow morning." 
 
 " Let's see," said Frank. " You will be in a rush all 
 the time. You leave here at 6:55, reaching Etna at 9:00 
 p. M., and catch the Netherville connection at 12:00. 
 Roland, your nearest station to Grcystone Lodge, can be 
 made by one o'clock. The return train leaves there at halt" 
 past two. You will have only one hour and thirty minutes, 
 provided Ruskin is on hand — and eight miles to go." 
 
 " I can do it," said Charlie. " Spotty Dimple can 
 bring me from Greystone Lodge to Roland in ten minutes." 
 
 " You'll kill him, too ! " exclaimed Frank. " You go 
 and get your traps ready and I will forward a telegram to 
 Ruskin.''' 
 
 Metcalf proceeded to write the dispatch. 
 
 As Frank rushed oW, he said : 
 
 " Wire James Metcalf, at Greystone Lodge, to have a 
 trap at Roland to meet me." 
 
 " All right," cried Frank, as he went down stairs. 
 
 Metcalf pursued his way leisurely down to arrange 
 what was necessary in the way of linen to be taken on his 
 trip. Passing the parlor door he paused a moment to look 
 in ; the girls were at the piano looking over some music. 
 
 " Where did you come from ? " asked Julia, turning 
 upon the stool and facing him. 
 
 " From Gordon's room," he answered. 
 
54 THAT bulisin' lad o' greystone lodge. 
 
 "Where is Mr. Gordon? we want him to play an 
 accompaniment for us," said she. 
 
 " I sent him off." 
 
 " Then come in and take his place," spoke she in a 
 commanding tone. 
 
 Metcalf came forward. 
 
 " Mr. Metcalf, watch those girls ! " exclaimed ma 
 Sylvester. " Whenever Mr. Gordon plays or sings for 
 them, they invariably make faces at him behind his back. 
 Yoii are too dignified for that sort of amusement, so I warn 
 you." 
 
 " Girls," he said, turning upon the stool, "you are at 
 liberty to make just as many faces as you choose, but if I 
 catch either of you in the act, I will kiss you sure. So like 
 the Spartans, be w^ary. 
 
 "The idea!" exclaimed both girls, simultaneously, 
 " You have lost your mind ! " 
 
 He turned toward the key-board whilst a suppressed 
 giggle might have been heard from the two girls behind. 
 
 The temptation to do wdiat they were forbidden was 
 more than the feminine nature of the young ladies couhl 
 bear. Moreover, they felt sure he could not see. lie had 
 scarcely began his music, when looking in the bright ebony 
 front of the piano he saw the two girls in their reflected 
 likenesses, not only making all kinds of faces, but even 
 clawing at him in an imaginary way with their fingers. 
 
 Suddenly he arose from the piano and there was a 
 scream and then a rush. He caught Julia, who w^^s behind, 
 and kissing her as quickly as he could, left her all in a heap 
 on the parlor floor. He rushed for the stairway up which 
 he bounded two steps at a time endeavoring to overtake 
 Rosa. She ran towards her room, but finding the catch on 
 her door fastened, turned upon him like some beautiful, 
 wild animal at bay. 
 
 " Don't — don't kiss me ! " she exclaimed, as both of 
 them paused for breath. 
 
THAT nUriSIN" LAD O' OREYSTONK LOlx;!-:. 55 
 
 " Then wby did you inakL' a tlico iit me?'' lie asked, 
 Lis breast heaving. 
 
 " I didn't—'' 
 
 " Yes you did," he interrupted. " I saw you ; I am 
 going to kiss you." lie moved nearer. 
 
 " Go back, Mr. Metcalf !" she almost shouted, with an 
 indignant ring in her voice. " You shall not ; I will call 
 for uncle Sylvester." 
 
 " I am going to do it," he said grimly, moving a tritle 
 nearer. " I kissed Julia and I am not going tolet you oft*." 
 
 " But Julia is not so old as I," she said, the color surg- 
 ing into her cheeks. " I am a woman — " 
 
 " And as lovely and sweet a one as ever was created," 
 he interrujttHd, drawing nearer still, wdiilst his hot breath 
 fanned her cheek, as she shrank against the wall. 
 
 They looked at each other for one moment. 
 
 " Oh, Mr. Metcalf! " she exclaimed, shivering all over, 
 " what a curious, determined look you have ! You frighten 
 me ! " 
 
 It was the expression of the hitherto pleasant, kind 
 Metcalf — changed to the set, determined look of " That 
 Bruisin' Lad 0' Greystone Lodge." Metcalf would have 
 kissed her then if the act had killed them both. He raised 
 his right hand. 
 
 " Mr. Metcalf, please don't ! " she cried. 
 
 Her voice changed from the dctiant to the pleading, as 
 his face almost overshadowed hers. 
 
 " You had as well submit ! " he exclaimed hoarsely, 
 raising his other hand. 
 
 She knew the time had come, and instinctively placed 
 l)oth hands over her face. She made a gallant resistance, 
 but all tt) no eft'ect. He caught her hands and took them 
 from her face. Throwing his right arm around her shoulder 
 he took possession of her chin, and holding her face back, 
 kissed her soft, yielding, mobile lips — not with the vieAv of 
 
56 THAT BRUISIN' lad o' (JllEYSTONE LODGE 
 
 paying any penalty, Imt with all the wealth and strength of 
 a love which he had never given to any woman before. 
 
 Standing there after she was released, not a word 
 passed between them for a moment. 
 
 " Mr. Metcalf!" she exclaimed, between her gasps for 
 breath, " yon are downright mean ! " 
 
 " Am I ? " he asked, softly. 
 
 " Ugh — isn't it awfnl ! " she cried, pulling at her hand- 
 kerchief " Just think, to be kissed by a real man ! " 
 
 " Were you ever kissed by an imaginary one before ? " 
 he asked. 
 
 " 'No one ever dared to try it ! " she exclaimed, her 
 eyes flashing, 
 
 A thrill shot over him as she said that. 
 
 Metcalf and Eosa were standing near the landing of 
 the stairway. Presently they heard a door open at the 
 upper end of the hall. A head all tousled up, a neck with- 
 out collar or cravat, was poked out of the door, as a voice 
 exclaimed : " Marie ! " 
 
 " Well Johnnie — coming," answered Mrs. Herbert's 
 sweet tones from the opposite room. 
 
 " Come — come on now," he half stammered petulantly. 
 
 " Can't you wait until I get through? " she asked. 
 
 " Oh — ah — do come on now, the l)aby is all alone." 
 
 " But you are there with her," said Mrs. Herbert. 
 
 " Oh, but it is the woman's business to do these things," 
 he said. " I never saw such ladies as they have in this 
 place. They certainly have a soft snap. Why, my annt 
 keeps house, cooks for eight people, cleans u{) four rooms, 
 does all the washing and ironing, goes to market and has 
 four or five hours every day to herself." 
 
 " I know aunt Lucy is a paragon," said she, as she 
 entered their room. He banged the door behind them. 
 
 " Why can't the cub give his wife a moment's peace ! " 
 cried Charlie. " Would you stand such treatment? " 
 
 " Not from him," said Rosa flatly. 
 
THAT BRUISIN' LAD o' GREYSTONE LODGE. 57 
 
 "My goodness, it is six-fifteeii, I will l>c late," said 
 Charlie, looking at his watch. 
 
 " "Where are yon going," she asked. 
 
 " I am going to run over to my brother's, but will re- 
 turn to-morrow. Good bye." 
 
 " Good night," she returned softly, as he started down. 
 
 Leaning over the balustrade, she watched him in the 
 act of descending. His dark, curling, chestnut hair looked 
 very pretty. She opened her hand and moved it up and 
 down as" if carressing something ; at the same time thinking 
 how nice it would be just to pat his head softly. 
 
 On reaching the hall below he met Gordon. 
 
 " Got your things ready," asked Gordon. 
 
 " Have them so in a moment," he replied. 
 
 Some fifteen or twenty minutes afterwards Metcalf and 
 Gordon started for the station. Slowly pursuing their way 
 down the street, neither one knew that Rosa's lustrous dark 
 eyes were watching Charlie ; whilst her heart wished him 
 God-speed and a quick return. 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 The modest John Sylvester, the modest contractor, sat 
 in a modest way on his fine piazza after tea during the same 
 evening on which Metcalf went to Greystone Lodge. He 
 was enjoying the balmy weather, his cool front yard, and 
 wondering to himself why he should have been so fortunate. 
 John was as happy as a man ever becomes in this world — 
 chewing his tobacco and waiting for ma Sylvester to come 
 and tell him the news of the day. 
 
 The rustle of many clean, slift' skirts soon heralded her 
 approach. 
 
58 THAT BRUISIN' LAD O' GREYSTONE LODGE. 
 
 " Mr. Sylvester," she said, pausing in the doorway, 
 " JuHa has gone out again with that Mr. Gordon." 
 
 " Can't you hold her in check ? " he asked. 
 
 AVlieii he thought of how she held him down he was 
 convinced that her powers in that direction were unlimited. 
 
 " I can do nothing with her," she replied. " I never 
 saw anyone so thoroughly self-willed in all my life. I ex- 
 pressly warned her about this Gordon, 'but she will not pay 
 any attention to me." 
 
 " I w^ill see what I can do with her," he said, as he rose 
 from his chair to oft'er Mrs. Herbert a seat, who came out 
 then. 
 
 " Marie — we were just speaking of Julia's going with 
 that Gordon so macli," remarked ma Sylvester. 
 
 " He seems to be a very nice gentleman, at all events," 
 Marie said. 
 
 " But who is he — w^hat money is he got ? " asked ma 
 Sylvester, who w^as rather careless about grammar when 
 she became excited. 
 
 "lam sure I know nothing about him," she replied, 
 " but he certainly is clever and an admirable judge of 
 human nature." 
 
 " That he is," i'ssented pa Sylvester. 
 
 " Being a judge of human nature doesn't pay grocery 
 bills," remarked Mrs. John logically. 
 
 "Of course not, cousin Jennie," answered Marie, "but 
 before you speak about the matter to Julia, be sure and 
 know all concerning it. It would be a i>ity to cross her 
 and then find out afterwards that you had made a mistake." 
 And Marie sighed. She remembered what a fearful error 
 had been committed in her own case. 
 
 " I believe they are. becoming very nmch interested in 
 each other," went on ma Sylvester. 
 
 " I have an idea they are too," agreed Marie. 
 
 " Where did they go to-night ? " inquired pa Sylvester. 
 
THAT BRUISIN' LAD o' GREYSTONE LODGE. 59 
 
 " They went to hear Dr. Latrobe lecture upon the 
 bible," replied his wife. 
 
 " Here they come now ! " exclaimed Marie, as she 
 noticed two people cross the street. 
 
 In a few moments they had entered and were seated 
 with the rest. For a moment there was a pause in the con- 
 versation. 
 
 Then Marie asked : 
 
 " How did you like Doctor Latrobe ? " 
 
 " Pretty well," he answered. " I think he is as ^'ood 
 as the average clergyman, although he imbibes many of 
 their curious notions concerning theology." 
 
 " What do you mean by curious notions, Mr. Gordon ?" 
 asked ma Sylvester. 
 
 " AVell, he believes God punishes people, and that the 
 All-Wise, Beneficent Creator has a torturing place ready to 
 receive a portion of humanity and listen to its moans and 
 groans." 
 
 " Mr. Gordon, do you mean to say there is no future 
 place of punishment ? " asked ma Sylvester, severely. 
 
 "Comparatively speaking, there may be one — positively 
 there is none," he answered, coolly. 
 
 " You are an infidfil ! " she cried. " What do you 
 uiean by the terms comparatively and positively ? " she 
 inquired. 
 
 " I will try and explain myself," he answered. 
 
 " By all means do so, Mr. Gordon," spoke up Mrs. 
 Herbert, looking much interested in the subject. 
 
 " So far as our finite lives go," said Gordon, " we can 
 oul}' judge of the future by our past and present. Without 
 happiness we could never know suffering, aitd without 
 suffering we could never experience happiness ; what is 
 suffering to one person is happiness to another, and what 
 may be happiness to the one may be suffering for the other. 
 This proposition is demonstrated by every-day life around 
 us ; the howling, profane, indecent sinks of iniquity, filled 
 
60 THAT BRTISIN* LAD 0* GREYSTONE LODGE 
 
 with (IrunkeiuicHS and crime, would aeeni to us ii place of 
 untold suffering and sorrow. We who tread the higher 
 walks in life, shudder when we think of those creatures, and 
 pity them, hoping that some day God will save them. We 
 say they are everlastingly lost. To us such a state is one of 
 both unhappiness and punishment ; but are they really 
 unhappy ? Are they really punished ? Do they suffer that 
 intense anguish which in imagination, causes us to shudder ? 
 We are forced to admit that the majority are happ}', and 
 have as much enjoyment as tliey desire, or are capable of, 
 and to place them in Heaven to-day would be to render them 
 miserable. 
 
 For us who love what is high, noble, good and true, 
 God prepares a state in which we will have all the happi- 
 ness vye are capable of. For those who love what is low% 
 degrading, untrue and immoral, a state is created in which 
 they will have all the enjoyment they are capable of. The 
 one kind of happiness is so much superior to the other that 
 the one state is called Heaven — the other Hell. 
 
 God leaves every man free to choose as he may desire, 
 and so far from punishing any gives each one, unto which- 
 ever state he goes, all the happiness to be desired from that 
 state. He is just, merciful, and so full of loving kindness, 
 that he took upon himself human flesh and dwelt among 
 men, in order that he might lead them into this highest 
 state of happiness ; and so great is the one above the other 
 that he commends the one whilst he condemns the other. 
 He likens the one to all that is bright, happy and beautiful, 
 the other to all that is gloomy, dark and dreadful." 
 
 For a moment there w^as silence. 
 
 " Mr.' Gordon," spoke up ma Sylvester, " 3'ou are an 
 intidel ; the bible teaches us that there are future rewards 
 and punishments." 
 
 " In the old testament," went on Gordon, " there is 
 scarcely an allusion to a future state of existence, let alone 
 any r eference to its rewards and punishments. In the New 
 
THAT BRUISIN* LAD 0* GREYSTONE LODGE. 61 
 
 Testament Jesus Christ used the strongest figurative lan- 
 guage to demonstrate the plainest facts. He holds out, side 
 by side, the good and bad — the happy and unhappy states. 
 He tells us explicitly, what excludes us from the higher — 
 what condemns us to the lower state. In an express descriji- 
 tion in one of the gospels of the disposition of humanity by 
 The Great King hereafter, those things which lead us to 
 heaven are mentioned, while those excluding us are not any 
 given number of transgressions committed by us, but a 
 failure to perform those acts which fit us for Heaven, such 
 as the exercise of charity and self-denial. We are informed 
 by Christ that if we give our needy brethren food, drink, 
 clothing, and visit them in afiliction and practice self-deiiial, 
 we fit ourselves for the kingdom of Heaven, while the fail- 
 ure to do those things simply leave us in a condition unfitted 
 for the enjoyment of that place, and we are necessarily 
 reduced to an existence in the lower state, all through our 
 own choice, because we prefer the happiness drawn from 
 that most and are happier in doing evil than good." 
 
 " In order to illustrate the immeasurable difference be- 
 tween the two states, he not only paints the happiness and 
 unhappiness of each in the most brilliant colors, but likens 
 the immense space between them unto reward und punish- 
 ment. The unhappiness of the one comes by comparison 
 with the happiness of the other, rather than by any actual 
 punishment. People in this world, seated upon the monu- 
 ment of virtue, look down upon the plain of vice and shiver 
 at it's punishment. Are it's inhabitants a miserable lot of 
 punished beings ? Truth in this case answers no, just as 
 emphatically as it ansAvers yes, to the question : is not 
 Virtue a far superior order of happiness to Vice ? i' 
 
 " Those are Mr, Metcalf s views, are they not, Mr. 
 Gordon ?" asked Rosa. 
 
 " I believe they are," he answered. 
 
 "And I am sure they are true," she said quietly. 
 
 " Rosa ! " exclaimed ma Sylvester, " you have lost your 
 
62 THAT BRUISIN' LAD o' GREYSTONE LODGE. 
 
 mind. You shall not hold sick infidel doctrines." Ma 
 Sylvester, in her excitement again forgot her grammar. 
 
 "Aunt Sylvester, I can't help having my opinions," 
 said the girl gently. 
 
 " But I don't allow young girls in my house to hold 
 opinions without consulting me," she replied. 
 
 " You may lock me up, aunt Sylvester, but you cannot 
 prevent my thinking — " 
 
 " But I can stop you from telling your thoughts," in- 
 terrupted her aunt. '' Don't you say any such things again." 
 
 " Xo, I will not," replied the girl, equally as gently as 
 she did before. 
 
 In a few moments pa and ma Sylvester went in for the 
 evening, leaving the young ladies and Frank on the piazza. 
 The young people had become quite free and eas}' by this 
 this time, and generally managed to be together a great 
 deal. 
 
 " Julia," said Rosa, " we have him now, let's make him 
 tell us all about it." 
 
 " All about what ? " he asked in a surprised tone. 
 
 " Listen at you, you little hypocrite ! " exclaimed Julia, 
 looking archly at him. "Tell us all about it now." 
 
 " Really, I am at sea, I have no idea what 3'ou are 
 alluding to — please tell me ? " 
 
 lie liked this young miss more and more. Her quaint, 
 charming, piquant manners interested him no less than they 
 piqued him at times; and when he asked her "please," a 
 soft intonation characterized his request, which no one but 
 this young miss of seventeen could command. 
 
 " Why the book you are writing — there is an accotmt 
 of it in the paper this evening," said Julia. 
 
 " Oh ! " he exclaimed. " I did not know you were 
 alluding to that. Well, it is only to be a slight sketch of 
 this country and its leading features." 
 
 " Are you going to give us a corner in it ? " asked 
 Julia, demurely. 
 
THAT BRUISIN' LAD o' GREYSTONE LODGE. 63 
 
 " That depends," he smiled. 
 
 " On what ? " inquired she. 
 
 " On how nice you are to me," he replied. 
 
 " Well, then, we will be vSO nice to you," she said, cock- 
 ing her little slippered foot against the post unconsciously, 
 and showing a model of curves and lines which would have 
 caused an artist to sigh. 
 
 " You girls don't stick," he said, laughing. " You are 
 very nice to a fellow until you get what you want, and then 
 you shunt him olf." 
 
 " We do no such thing!" cried Julia, indignantly. 
 
 " Oh, but you do," he went on. " The other day you 
 wanted some rose-buds and you were both so nice and 
 sweet ; after you got them you were as cool as possible." 
 
 " But they died afterwards ; we were real good as long 
 as they remained fresh," said she. 
 
 " Well, if you desire to have a niche in this wonderful 
 sketch, you must tell me something about yourselves," he 
 said. 
 
 " Tell what?" asked Rosa, "If we have to tell you 
 what to say, we had as well write our own histories our- 
 selves." 
 
 " But nearly every one here has a sketch vvritten of 
 himself on the type- writer and hands it to me, begging that 
 I will insert the whole, or make just such use of it as I may 
 deem proper," he laughed. 
 
 " They don't ! " exclaimed Julia. 
 
 " Yes, they do," he said. " I have two or three in my 
 pocket now ; of course, it is bad taste, and makes you feel 
 disgusted with the parties who do it, unless you ask for it." 
 
 " Read some of them to us, won't you ? " requested 
 Julia. 
 
 " Wouldn't that be a breach of confidence ? " he asked 
 in reply. 
 
 " I hadn't thought of that." 
 
 " But," he proceeded, " I will tell you what is in one or 
 
64 THAT BRUISIN' LAD O' GREYSTONE LODGE. 
 
 two of them without mentioning any names. Every one 
 thinks that he is more or less a public character and has 
 been instrumental in confering some benefit upon mankind, 
 lie prepares a personal sketch ot himself, telling you about 
 his parents' birth as well as his own — " 
 
 " But, Mr. Gordon," interrupted Rosa, " do they not 
 know that such facts can be of no possible interest to the 
 public?" 
 
 " If they know such a thing, they fail sadly to recog- 
 nize it," he w^ent on. " Another informs you that he has 
 accumulated a great deal of real estate in town, and that he 
 began life as a saw-mill man ; another that he has the finest 
 house in toAvn. Those men really deserving the most credit 
 are least known and among the few from whom you are 
 forced to demand information, and who invariably refuse 
 to give it unless a reason accompanies the demand." 
 
 " How fond people are of seeing themselves in print," 
 observed Julia. " Unless I accomplished something which 
 would live after I had passed away I should hate to be 
 mentioned publicly." 
 
 " All people have not your innate modesty, dear," 
 said Rosa. " They want the world to imagine they are 
 much greater than they really are." 
 
 " That is very foolish," remarked Gordon. " No one 
 can deceive people for any great length of time, because 
 they are sure to be found out. The exposure must be 
 extremely disagreeable, to say nothing of the disgrace. But 
 young ladies, it is nearly twelve o'clock, and ma Sylvester 
 will be calling for you directly. Go and get some beauty 
 sleep." 
 
 " We flatter ourselves that we do not need it," said 
 Julia, as they went in and bade him good evening. 
 
 Rosa thought a great deal of Metcalf that night between 
 her hour of prayer and sleep. She wondered what he 
 was doing at this time and whether he would return the 
 following morning safe from his trip. " He is* the manliest 
 
THAT BRUISIN' LAD o' GREYSTONE LODGE. 65 
 
 man I ever suw," she soliloquized, us she placed her hand 
 under her [»illovv. She smiled in thinking of the kissing 
 scene. Of course he was rude — very mean — and should 
 never have been guilty of such a thing ; but could he have 
 been so nice if he had not kissed her? Could she have 
 respected him as much if he had failed to keep his word ? Of 
 course the idea of her being in love with him was absurd. 
 How could she be in love with any man, unless he had told 
 her of his love and asked her to l)e his wife ? Yet, the bare 
 mention of his name, the very thought of him caused her 
 heart to throb with a sensation that would have been posi- 
 tively painful, but for its pleasure. She recalled several 
 damaging statements heard about him lately, but did not 
 believe any of those nasty things said, and experienced a 
 positive feeling of pride swell in her bosom when she 
 thought of his elegant, cool wa}' of carrying himself, and 
 his immeasurable superiority in everything to those who 
 talked about him. As unconsciousness gradually seized 
 her she fancied he was standing over her with his quiet, easy 
 smile — looking down upon her in that earnest, eager 
 way, which always cause.d such queer little thrills to creep 
 over her. 
 
 CHAPTER Vm. 
 
 The evening shadows were fast deepening into the 
 darkness of night around the tenements of Stoddart Court 
 House, as a small boy traversed the rickety sidewalk up the 
 main street with a yellow paper in his hand. He was 
 carrying a telegram to Major J. W. Ruskin, the leading 
 lawyer of that section of country, and commonwealth's 
 attorney as well. 
 
66 THAT bruisin' lad o' greystone lodge. 
 
 At that very moment Major Ruskiii was seated in liis 
 library, reading the evening papers, contented with the 
 world and in a good hnmor with everyone. The world 
 around Stoddart Court House had treated him well. 
 Twenty years ago he had landed there with a beautiful 
 young wife and twenty-five cents in his pocket. By dint 
 of dogged application and close attention to business, but 
 mainly through the countenance and patronage of Mrs. 
 Nannie Metcalf, he had accumulated a fiue estate and 
 gotten a lucrative practice. He drove his pair of blood 
 bays, gave fine entertainments to his neighbors, and lived 
 in an elegant residence on the outskirts of the place. His 
 wife had been a great beauty in her young days, and even 
 now, some forty years had not completely destroyed the 
 remains of it. She had made the major an admirable 
 help-meet, and as she handed him the telegram, accom- 
 panied the act with a loving smile and bright look. 
 
 " Any bad news ? " she asked, as he read the dispatch. 
 
 " ISTo, you can read it yourself," he said, handing it to 
 her. 
 
 She took it, and read as follojvs. 
 
 " Shirly, X. C, May 29th, 1884. 
 Major J. W. Ruskin, 
 
 Stoddart Court House, N. C. 
 Chas. Metcalf says meet him half past one o'clock 
 to-night at Greystone Lodge. 
 
 Frank Gordon." 
 
 " Charlie Metcalf is in trouble of some sort," said his 
 wife, looking up from the telegram." Go right out and 
 see what you can do for him. There is something strange 
 about him. I never could divine why he should have left 
 that lovely young wife of his. She is so beautiful, so bright 
 and nice." 
 
 " He lias a good reason for it," said he. " Metcalf is 
 not a man to leave his wife without a reason." 
 
 " You always said that," she retorted, rather petu- 
 lantly, " but you never would tell it." 
 
THAT BRUISIN' LAD o' GREYSTONE LODGE. 67 
 
 " I have no right to tell my client's secrets," he spoke, 
 with an amused smile. 
 
 " You ought to tell your wife everything," she said. 
 " I will have the carriage ordered. You can remain at the 
 Lodge all night, as Sue Metealfwill take the best care of you." 
 
 " Very good," he replied, as he rose to prepare him- 
 self for the journey. 
 
 In a few moments he w^as bowling along towards Grey- 
 stone Lodge, whilst the shadows of the moon played hide 
 and seek about the roadside and over the horses' backs. 
 He tried to think what Charlie Metcalf wanted with him. 
 The time had been Avhen he would have known it was some 
 money trouble; but of late years Charlie had ceased to 
 trouble any one on that score. He concluded then it was 
 something connected with the lady Metcalf had suddenly 
 married some ten years ago, and as suddenly left. 
 
 Major Ruskin had long been the legal adviser of the 
 Metcalf people and knew most of their family secrets. He 
 alone, except Charlie and his so-called wife, knew why 
 Metcalt had left and taken the upbraiding of the world 
 rather than remain wdth her, and in his heart had admired 
 the man for sacrificing himself to save this woman from 
 untold trouble — her reputation from the comment and 
 criticism of curious, prying strangers. And he had kept 
 the secret well, too, never mentioning it to a human soul 
 except Metcalf, and only to him when it was absolutely 
 necessary. He valued highly the friendship and good 
 opinion of Charlie's mother, whose kindness in early life to 
 him often sealed his mouth, wdien otherwise he would 
 have doubtless rated the vounfirman soundlv for his extrava- 
 gance and folly in matters concerning money. 
 
 He was a little surprised on reaching Greystone Lodge 
 to lind that Charlie Metcalf was not there James informed 
 him that he was expected ; he, too, had received a telegram, 
 but was as much at sea as Major Ruskin as to the cause of 
 Charlie's sudden visit. 
 
68 THAT BRUISIN' LAD o' UREYSTONE LODGEl. 
 
 " Major, have yon an idea what is the matter ? " he 
 asked, when they were seated in the library. 
 
 " I haven't the o^liost of an idea," he rephed. " At 
 first I imagined tliat he mii;-ht be in some money trouble, 
 but I soon thought that I must be mistaken, because for the 
 past two or three years he lias been particularly free from 
 such." 
 
 " I believe it is something concerning his wife which 
 brings him here so quickly," suggested James Metcalf. 
 
 " Why do you think that ? " inquired the Major, feign- 
 ing surprise. 
 
 " Because, that whole affair has been such a curious 
 one," he replied. " Just think ! Charlie married this beau- 
 tiful, wealthy young girl and in a few months, without 
 apparent ryme or reason, left her and refused to live with 
 her afterwards and won't tell anyone but you why he acted 
 so infernally strange. Of course the boy had some ground 
 for behaving in sucli a queer manner, l)ut he might have 
 told us something about it. Many people think that he 
 wilfully deserted her." 
 
 " How do you know that he ever told me why he left ?" 
 asked Major Ruskin, calmly. 
 
 " Oh, Charlie told you. I am sure of that from a 
 remark he made to me," answered James. " And Major, I 
 would be so glad if you were to let me know the reason. I 
 will never say one word about it. His wife is so nice in 
 every way ; so irreproachable in her conduct, that I cannot 
 divine why he should have left her — yet there must be some 
 reason for it." 
 
 " I will say that he had ample grounds for his conduct, 
 James," said Major Ruskin. " For the present, I am not at 
 liberty to say anything as to the cause." 
 
 " I wish you would endeavor to persuade him to tell 
 me when he comes to-night," said the other. 
 
 " I will advise him to do so," replied the Major, 
 frankly. 
 
THAT BRUISIN* LAD o' QREYSTONE LODGE. 69 
 
 The subject of this discussion at this moment was just 
 getting from the train at Roland some four miles from 
 Greystone Lodge. Burwell, the groom, took his tra]).*: and 
 escorted him to the buggy waiting for him on the otfside of 
 the station-house. Whilst his valise was being put away 
 he asked Burwell a question or two about his horses, with 
 reference to the time it would take them to convey him to 
 Greystone Lodge. 
 
 " It is now half past one," said Charlie, looking at his 
 watch. " You can take me there by two o'clock, can't 
 you ? " 
 
 " To be sho' sah, I ken," he replied. 
 
 " Burwell, is Spotty Dimple in good condition," he 
 asked. 
 
 " Prime srdi — same ez a young ole bar'," answered the 
 darkey. 
 
 " Well, I have to return here Iw three o'clock to catch 
 the east-bound train, I want some one to take Spotty on 
 my return, as I shall ride him back. Who can' I get?" 
 
 " Lem'me see," said he, scratching his head. " Mars 
 Charlie, I tell you what do ; you knows de way to de Lodge, 
 you drive thar en I will stay here an' git Si)otty wlien you 
 come back. De Efarailtonia horse an' Charlie boy — de 
 same you used to drive — is hooked in to-night, en dey take? 
 you to de Lodge 'fo' you ken say scat." 
 
 Metcalf was soon seated in the light vehicle and having 
 gathered his reins, gave the horses Ihe word go. He knew 
 every inch of the road to Greystone Lodge, and was certain 
 that he could cover the four miles in twenty minutes, unless 
 the team had lost tlieir power of traveling. They could 
 trot their mile in three minutes on good road, and easily 
 keep it up for five miles. He made the first half a mile in 
 five minutes, over hill and stone, when he came to the low 
 grounds along which the road ran next to the railroad for 
 two miles; on reaching it he let the team out, and they 
 seemed to fly until he came to the railroad crossing, which 
 
70 THAT bruisin' lad o' greystone lodge 
 
 brought him into the Box Hill estate belonging to his uncle, 
 Alex. Metcalf. In about five minutes after passing the rock 
 wall around Box Hill, he drew up before the heavy stone 
 piazza at Greystone Lodge. 
 
 " Is that you, Charlie ? " asked his brother, coming 
 from the door. 
 
 " Yes — send me a boy to take these horses — whoa 
 Frank ! — is Ruskin here ? " 
 
 " Yes — wait a moment, until I call Charlie Alderson." 
 
 Metcalf quietly remained in the buggy until the servant 
 came. 
 
 " What caused you to come so suddenly ? " inquired 
 his brother. 
 
 " Why, I was obliged to see Ruskin a moment and had 
 no time to wait," he answered, as they entered the hall. " I 
 have to return on that three o'clock train and it is nearly 
 two now." 
 
 " Good gracious, man ! " exclaimed his brother, " you 
 can't doit unless you go du*ectly back." 
 
 " Yes I can," he returned, " Let me have Spotty Dim- 
 ple to ride back to Roland at fifteen minutes to three and 
 I will get through snugly." 
 
 " Well then," said his brother, " I Avill give the orders 
 about Spotty, while you go in and see the Major." 
 
 " And James, mind you don't let anyone disturb us 
 until I ask for you," he called out as his brother's figure 
 receded. 
 
 " So you are here once more," spoke the major, as he 
 entered the library. 
 
 " Yes, how are you, major ? " 
 
 " I am very well — may be older than when you last 
 saw me," he replied. " I heard you inform James a 
 moment ago that you had to return at once, so if you will 
 state what you want with me, I will give you my earnest 
 attention." 
 
 " I wanted to post you as to something, and advise 
 
THAT BRUISIN' LAD o' GREYSTONE LODGE. 71 
 
 with you concerning a matter which has sprung up recently." 
 
 " I am all attention," he said calmly, seating himself. 
 
 " I have been in Shirly for a month, and for some 
 unknown reason to me," proceeded Charlie, "a Doctor Gris- 
 wold has been making inquiries about my character. He 
 saw Doctor Harry Campbell, who advised him to write to 
 you. He wants to iind out something about my ' woman 
 scrape,' as he terms it, an wrote you concerning it to-day. 
 I wanted to be sure that you told him nothing, and also to 
 ask your advice about — about — " 
 
 " Well, about what?" asked Major Ruskin, as Charlie 
 stammered a little. 
 
 " About marrying in my present position," he blurted 
 out, blushing furiously. 
 
 "So you have fallen in love at last, have you ? " 
 
 " Yes major, I am hard hit." 
 
 " Who is the young lady ? " 
 
 "A Miss Rosa Reynolds. Her family reside in Etna at 
 present." 
 
 " Any relation to the Reynolds who live about Lancing 
 Court House ? " he asked. 
 
 " Well, yes," replied Metcalf. " Her father came from 
 that family." 
 
 " Then isn't any discussion unnecessary ? Don't you 
 know you can't marry that girl ? " he asked, gazing coolly 
 into Metcalf 's face. 
 
 " And why not that girl," he demanded, with a slight 
 inflexion of irritation in his voice. 
 
 " Do you think your people would sanction or allow 
 such an alliance ? Wasn't her father a working man ? " 
 
 " He was a man who earned his livlihood by the sweat 
 of his brow," replied Charlie. " But you know there is 
 such a thing as loving a girl enough to marry her in the 
 teeth of your family, nolens volens." And a peculiar, grim, 
 set expression came over the face of The Bruisin' Lad. 
 
72 THAT bruisin' lad o' greystone lodge. 
 
 "Do you love that girl enough to do that thing?" 
 asked he. 
 
 " Yes, I do," he answered. 
 
 " Then, if that's your determination, a discussion is not 
 unnecessary," he said. 
 
 "Can I marry without a divorce from the other 
 woman ?" atsked Metcalf. 
 
 " And not commit higaniy, you mean ? " he asked in 
 reply. 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " Then I should most emphatically say you can," he 
 said. " Your marriage was a void one ab initio, and heing 
 such you are free to marry Miss lieynolds to-morrow, if 
 she will have you." 
 
 " If she will have me ! " exclaimed Metcalf, " I have 
 never spoken a word of love to her yet and don't know 
 that I will ; so I cannot say what she will do on that score." 
 
 " I should not have said anything about that," went 
 on the Major, " but you are so accustomed to having what 
 you wish — of making people go as you will — that I thought 
 it probable you had not taken such a thing into considera- 
 tion. Though you are not legally bound to the lady whom 
 the world says is your wife, and are free to contract any 
 alliance you may choose, yet under the circumstances, any 
 young girl would pause and consider well before marrying 
 you." 
 
 " If she loved me properly, I am sure she would marry 
 me," he said proudly, " I would not give a fig for a woman 
 who could not give up the last friend she had to marry the 
 man of her choice." 
 
 " Well, there may be some who are willing to do it," 
 asserted the Major ; " When a woman loves a man, there is 
 no saying what amount of foolish things she will not com- 
 mit to marry him. I think your position is one of peculiar 
 hardship, and if the truth was known you would not only 
 be exonerated, but have the sympathy of everyone. My 
 
THAT BRUISIN' LAD o' GREYSTONE LODGE. 73 
 
 a'dvice to you now is to siin[)ly deny you were ever married 
 in the past. Of course there will be some people who can- 
 not understand it, yet as a matter of fact you have never 
 been married, althougli at one time you believed you were. 
 The statute of Pennsylvania bars any prosecution for 
 bio;amy, so far as your former wife is concerned, because 
 more tlian five years have elapsed since her marriage with 
 you. So now I should say if your marriage with Miss Rey- 
 nolds is necessary for your happiness, and she is willing, by 
 all means consummate it as early as possible. Of course, 
 when you address her, tell her all ; or I would advise you 
 to acquaint her parents with the state of afiairs before you 
 even speak with her." 
 
 I shall certainly not be guilty of anything dishonor- 
 able," said Metcalf, looking steadily at Major Ruskin, " I 
 shall tell her people the wliole truth and not withhold a 
 single fact." 
 
 " And her people will doubtless raise all manner of 
 objections, when you do," he replied. 
 
 " Why so ? " asked Charlie. 
 
 " Can't you see ? " inquired the other, " you have the 
 reputation of being a married man, and though those 
 immediately concerned will know the truth, yet the world 
 at large av ill not ; such an existing state of things will cause 
 more or less disagreeable comment which not even her 
 family will stand, though an alliance with the Metcalf 's is 
 the result." 
 
 " If she loves me and is willing to marr}^ me, I am sure 
 both sides of the house wiil have to put up with if," he 
 said, smiling grimly. 
 
 " Where is the lady now wdiom you believed to be 
 your wife at one time '{ " he inquired. 
 
 " She is in Maryland." 
 
 " What is she doing ? " 
 
 " Staying with her aunt." 
 
 " Metcalf, she is a wonderful woman," he said. " Her 
 
74 THAT BRUISIN' LAD o' GREYSTONE LODGE. 
 
 conduct has been irreproachable excej)t for this one thing ; 
 she was very luuch achiiired at the springs last summer." 
 
 " I know it ; had I loved her, I would have stood by 
 her until death. I made a sad, sad mistake in ever having 
 married her when I cared nothing for her." 
 
 " Your l)rother James asked me to tell him why you 
 refused to live with that woman," went on the major. " I 
 told him that I would advise you to let him know the 
 reason. You had l)etter acquaint him with the truth." 
 
 Metcalf thought a moment. 
 
 " x\fter I am gone," he said, " you tell him all about it, 
 Won't y(m? I shall not have time to-night." 
 
 "Of course I will," he replied, "and I thiidc you act 
 wisely in allowing me to do so," 
 
 " And please shut up ttiat infernal, prying doctor if he 
 writes," demanded Charlie. 
 
 " Don't have any fears on that score," laughed the 
 major, " I will — " 
 
 " Charlie," interrupted James, " Spotty is ready and 
 you have only fifteen minutes to make it in." 
 
 " You can't make it Metcalf," said the major. 
 
 " Yes, I must," replied he, rising from his seat. 
 " James, Major Kuskin will tell you all." 
 
 " I am so glad, Charlie," he said. " Come and see me 
 when you have more time." 
 
 " I will," said he, seizing his hat and rushing tor the 
 front piazza, followed by the other two. 
 
 The horse which was to carry him to Honald in thirteen 
 minutes was a large piebald animal, of wonderful power 
 and build. Standing in the silvery light of the moon he 
 was a perfect picture, from the small expressive ears to the 
 high placed tail -bone on his rump. When standing, his 
 nostril exhibited a portion of its deep red membrane lining, 
 and was as thin and delicate as a wafer. His neck was 
 beautitully arched, sloping easily towards the highstanding 
 withers, whilst his back was almost level and very short. 
 
THAT BRUISIn' lad 0* GREYSTONE LOt)(iE. 75 
 
 Metcalf had rimlen Spotty Dimple at many a tournament 
 and knew his powers well. 
 
 When he announced himself ready to mount, the 
 groom hegan to wipe the saddle skirts with a wet sponge. 
 Scarcely had he commenced his task before the horse 
 exhibited decided. signs of restiveness. 
 
 " Spotty Dimple thinks you are fixing him for a 
 tournament," remarked James Metcalf to the groom. 
 
 In a minute all was ready. Metcalf mounted, and the 
 moment his legs pressed the horse's sides, the latter knew 
 it was the Bruisin' Lad, and began to corvet and plunge, 
 whilst the groom adjusted the stirrup leathers. When the 
 latter stood aside and Metcalf loosened the reins, the horse 
 bounded forward, almost unseating Charlie. 
 
 The gentlemen and groom watched him as he disap- 
 l»eared down the carriage way towards the front gate. 
 
 " Is the gate open, Alderson ? " asked James, of the 
 groom. 
 
 " No sail — but Mars Charlie ain't a-earing," answered 
 he. 
 
 They moved out a little to get a better view of the 
 vanishing horseman. As he neared the gate the horse 
 swerved to the left and took the palings at a flying leap. 
 
 " Hi — ies' look thar — I sed so. Mars Charlie took 'im 
 ober samer den a crow could fly," said the groom, in an 
 exultant manner. 
 
 " Reckon he will make it in time, Alderson?" asked 
 the Major. 
 
 " To be sho' Mars Major, 'case ole Spotty Dimple so 
 glad to git De Bruisin' Lad on him once mo'," replied he, 
 as the gentlemen moved into the house. 
 
 The Bruisin' Lad well knew what powers Spotty had 
 if he was handled properly. As soon as the fence was 
 cleared he began to pull the horse down to his work. 
 Spotty was in for fun and disposed to do his best on the 
 start. Metcalf could feel his powerful under-jaw working 
 
76 THAT BKUISIN' LAD o' GREYSTONE LOD(iE 
 
 to catch the shank of the bit in liis month ; at last he 
 accomplished it. lie hoUed forward with renewed vie;or, 
 hut by a peculiar twist of his elbow, The Brnisin' Lad dis- 
 lodged it and regained possession of his mouth. By this time 
 they had reached an ascent composed of round stones and 
 gravel known as "The Rock}^ Knoll ;" the round rocks and 
 gravel flew in every direction as the powerful animal ])lunged 
 forward heedless of all except his own wild excitement and 
 the fact that The Bruisin' Lad was astride him; he was 
 getting down to sober, cool work fairly well now. On, on 
 he flew around the rock wall inclosing Box Hill grounds, 
 scariug the l)irds from the lilac bushes as he swept past 
 them; on, on through the beautiful, rolling lands of the 
 plantation until the overseer's quarters were reached ; here 
 Metcalf ran his hand over the horse's shoulder, as white 
 flecks of foam flew back over him every time the uoble ani- 
 mal tossed his head. 
 
 " You'll make it. Spotty Dimple," he muttered, in a 
 carressing toue as he checked him slightly in his mad 
 career. 
 
 They were neariug the railroad now. Metcalf heard 
 the train whistle for the crossing ; he knew if he cliecked 
 up much time would be lost, so raising himself in his stir- 
 rups, he shouted : 
 
 " Go ! " 
 
 The horse bounded forward as if he was shot ; it was 
 the old, old signal The Bruisin' Lad used to give in sti'rting 
 him on a race. He reached out his arched neck until it 
 seemed to the rider that he was almost lying flat upon the 
 ground ; as he came withiu a few feet of the crossing he 
 cleared the track at a tremendous leap and whirled to his 
 left, almost throwing the Bruisin' Lad from the saddle. 
 They were now on tlie low-ground, level road, with almost 
 a straight shoot to the station. Charlie knew he must out- 
 strip the train to take a passage u[)on it ; Spott}' seemed to 
 understand it as well, for he chafed fearfully as Metcalf 
 
THAT BRUISIN' LAD o' GREYSTONE LODGS. T7 
 
 pulled him in, until thev were opposite Wilton, about one 
 mile from Roland. He was just behind the rear eoacli, and 
 once more he stood in his stirrups and shouted : 
 
 " Go ! " 
 
 Once more the noble beast went forward with 
 increased speed ; as he tore onwards, Gradually overtaking 
 the steaming engine, both rider and horse seemed to grow 
 wild; cheer after clieer rose from Metcalf as Spotty Dimple 
 craned out his arched neck, laid his ears close to his head 
 and rushed forward like a streak of lightning. When the 
 train began to check up for the station, Metcalf went ahead 
 and took S})Otty Dimple up at the platform as the train 
 came thundering around tbe curve. The great horse's lungs 
 worked like a pair of l)ellows as Metcalf dismounted and 
 the blankets were thrown over him. 
 
 " He made it, didn't he Mars Charlie ? '' asked Burwell, 
 throwing his arm around the horse's neck. 
 
 " He (hd it in eleven minutes and a half," said he, 
 looking at his watch and handing the groom some loose 
 coin. " Take care of him and tell James never to sell him." 
 
 In a few moments Metcalf was arranging his berth in 
 the sleeper, preparatory to his journey back to Shirly. 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 " Mr. Gordon, I am shocked at you ! I am surprised 
 at you ! I am just as mad as I can be ! I think you 
 ought to be ashamed of yourself I " exclaimed Julia, as 
 Gordon stood between her and the parlor door to prevent 
 her exit. 
 
 The foregoing exclamatory remarks dealt out so 
 unspairingly by the usually quiet Julia Sylvester, were 
 
78 tHAT bruisin' lad o' (jreystone lodge. 
 
 uttered about four or five days after Metcalfs return from 
 Grey stone Lodge. 
 
 " Let me bv, Mr. Gordon I " cried Julia, imperiously. 
 
 " Xot until you hear what I have to say," he replied 
 ealmly. 
 
 " You know you don't mean a word you say," she 
 Avent on. " You have no right to say such things to me." 
 
 " Julia Sylvester — I love you," he said, his lips quiver- 
 ing perceptibly as he uttered the words. " Untutored as 
 you are, young as you may be, unbelieving as you sa}' you 
 are, all the same you are the only woman I ever cared for, 
 or who could make my heart beat faster. From almost the 
 Urst moment I ever knew you I have loved you, and you 
 have shown me very conclusively that I am nothing to you. 
 None the less I want some day to call you wife " 
 
 " The idea of your talking to me in such a manner ! 
 I am only seventeen and have not left school. Had you 
 really cared for me, I am sure you would have waited until 
 I was a — a — grown lady. My mother doesn't even allow 
 me to receive visitors yet." 
 
 " I can't help all that," he said. 
 
 " You need not have tried to make fun of me," she 
 proceeded. " Because you were in the house and saw me 
 daily, you ought not to have taken advantage of such oppor- 
 tunities to follow me around so conspicuously, to cause peo- 
 ple to think I was in love with you, and try to make fun ' 
 of me by telling me that a man of the world like you, could 
 love — I mean, care for a chit like me. It is downright 
 ipiean." 
 
 Gordon had borne a great deal on account of his love 
 for the girl, and her youth ; he rose in arms at her con- 
 tinued accusations. In the excitement of the moment, 
 Julia had forgotten much. She failed to recognize that 
 Gordon had not intruded himself upon her, and that his 
 frequent attentions and companionship had not appeared 
 unacceptable to her. 
 
THAT BRUISIN' LAD O' GREYSTONE LODGE. 70 
 
 " Miss Julia," he said, with a fixed expression upon 
 Ills face, " I am sorry jou should think that I have endeav- 
 ored to lessen your amusement in any way, or kee}) others 
 trom paying you attention. I did not intend to do that. 
 In the future I shall try not to intrude upon you in any 
 way ; and now you can pass out," 
 
 lie opened the door, but she did not move a step. 
 Womanlike, she stood perfectly still, twisting her hands 
 around her apron. Gordon waited a moment until she 
 seemed not disposed to go, and then marched out himself. 
 
 That was the thing above all others which Julia did 
 not wish to be done. She had become so accustomed to 
 Gordon's obedience to her least wish, that any expression of 
 ideas on his part not coinciding with her views of the fit- 
 ness of things, was rank treason on his part. Way down in 
 her sweet, true little heart, she had already been building 
 castles in the air. She had pictured to herself how the nice, 
 agreeable Gordon should continue on her devoted admirer 
 for several years to come, and when she had finished her 
 round of gaities, had a good square fling at society, then 
 Gordon would throw himself at her feet, and all would go 
 as merry as a marriage-bell. 
 
 Xow all had been spoilt by his untimely declaration. 
 Of course sooner or later ma would have to know it, and 
 then there would be a scene. 
 
 " He is so hateful ! " she exclaimed. " I don't like him 
 one bit ! " 
 
 Standing there on the floor his fine face came before 
 her, with his curling chestnut hair, chiseled features, agree; 
 able, charming manners, and lier heart succumbed. 
 Throwing herself ui)()n the sofa, she burst into tears. It 
 Avas in this position that Rosa found her. 
 
 " Why, Julia, dear ! " she cried, "what is the nuitter ? " 
 
 "■ Nothing," replied she, endeavoring to hide her face. 
 
 " What has happened ? " 
 
 " Nothing.'* 
 
80 THAT BRUISIN' LAD o' GREYSTONE LODGE. 
 
 " Julia, something has happened," said Rosa. "Didn't 
 I meet Mr. Gordon rushing upstairs, liis face white with 
 anger? And then I eonie in here and find you crying. 
 Tell rae, did you and he have a (puirrel ?" 
 
 " I hate him," she cried. " He is so mean and 
 disagreeable ! he is downright nast;y ! " 
 
 " Yes, he is, Julia," said Rosa, her face assuming a 
 serious hue. " He must be all that if he does anything to 
 make you cry. Julia ! I alnn^st hate him." 
 
 " Who said he made me cry ? " she asked, her eyes 
 fairly blazing. " Who cares whether you hate him or not ? 
 He is twice as nice as long, dried-up, old Mr. Metcalf, and 
 you shan't talk about him so. Rosa, you always were so 
 disagreeable ! " 
 
 Rosa laughed outright with that musical voice of hers, 
 which in laughter alwa^ys wound up in a melodious kind of 
 who-ee, sounding like the chiming of bells over the hills 
 and tar away. 
 
 " Julia," she went on, "I was only jesting; I think Mr. 
 Gordon is just as nice as he can be, and 1 am not alone in 
 my opinion." 
 
 " Who else thinks so ? '" demanded Julia, [Milling at her 
 handkerchief. 
 
 "■ You," she answered, looking her squarely in the face. 
 " Julia, Mr. Gordon loves you, and dear if you care for him 
 be careful how you deal with him." 
 
 " I don't care about dealing with him at all," retorted 
 she, flashing up again. 
 
 " Yes you do, dear,'' returne<l Rosa, quietly. 
 
 " Rosa, don't tell nuinui about it now." 
 
 " About what, dear? " asked she, gently. 
 
 " Oh, about — I mean — oh, don'tyou know ?" slie asked , 
 innocently. 
 
 " I think I understand," answered Rosa, pressing her 
 hand. " Mr. Gordon proposed to you, didn't he ? " 
 
THAT BRUISIN' LAD o' GREYSTONE LODGE. 81 
 
 " lie didn't mean it," answered shy. '" He could not 
 care tor a cliit like me." 
 
 " I think he does love this chit very much," said Rosa, 
 placing her arms aflectionately around her. " This little 
 thing is not aware how attractive she is growing." 
 
 Rosa was right there. One of Julia's chief attractions 
 was her unconsciousness of her many charms. Hitherto 
 she had been treated so much like a child that she was not 
 aware she was fast Ijudding into lovely womanhood with 
 many fascinating qualities and rare prophetical marks of 
 beauty. Gordon was quick to discover it, at all events, and 
 would have given almost anything to possess this opening 
 rosebud. 
 
 " Julia," remarked her cousin, " I have just heard 
 some disagreeable news ; mother has written me to come 
 home at once." 
 
 " You don't say so ! " cried Julia, rousing herself, " I 
 am so sorry ; can't you persuade her to let you stay 
 longer ? " 
 
 " No, I have already overstaid my time, and she needs 
 me," replied she. 
 
 " When will you leave ? " 
 
 " To-morrow morning," she said. 
 
 " And what will Mr. Metcalf say ? " inquired Julia, 
 demurely. 
 
 " Oh, he won't mind," she answered, smiling, while a 
 tell-tale blush mantled her cheek " I must go noAvand tell 
 aunt Sylvester about it. By-the-way, have you heard how 
 uncle Collins Farmer is to-day? " 
 
 " Yes — mama was over there this morning and on her 
 return said he was better." 
 
 The girls went out of the parlor and just as they 
 started towards the dining-room Metcalf came in. 
 
 " Where is Gordon ? " he asked. 
 
 " He went up to his room," answered Rosa, smiling 
 in spite of herself. 
 
»Z THAT BRUISIN' LAD GREYSTONE LODGE. 
 
 " Rosa is going home, Mr. Metcalf," spoke up Julia. 
 
 " You are not ! " he exclaimed, in a kind of dead blank 
 voice which sounded like so much music in Rosa's ears. 
 
 " Yes, I have to go, unless aunt Sylvester says I must 
 stay," she said. 
 
 " Then we will see if something cannot he done with 
 aunt Sylvester," he laughed, as he proceeded up stairs. 
 
 He went at once in search of Gordon, intending to 
 have it out with him about writing a history of Sliirley and 
 Rot acquainting him with the fact. When he entered the 
 room the man's face looked so woe-begone as he sat in the 
 chair, that Metcalf completely forgot about the history. 
 
 "Why, what's up, old chap?" he asked, as he took a 
 seat beside him. i 
 
 " Oh nothing," replied Frank. 
 
 " My dear fellow, your very voice betrays you," said 
 Charlie. " Something very important has happened. Tell 
 me what it is, and if I can be of any use to you, of course 
 you can command me." 
 
 " Well, I had a racket with Miss Sylvester." 
 
 " What kind ? " inquired Charlie. 
 
 " I can hardly say," answered Frank. " But I know 
 this much; she gave me the worst tongue-lashing I ever 
 had in my life." 
 
 "You don't say so?" cried Charlie. " Tell me all 
 about it." 
 
 Gordon related everything that happened, while 
 Charlie listened with the utm'ost astonishment and interest. 
 When the former's recital was over, the latter leaned back 
 in his chair and laughed heartily. 
 
 " What are you laughing at? " asked Frank, growling. 
 "I don't see anything very funny about it." 
 
 " But there is a ridiculous side to it," said Metcalf, 
 laughing again. 
 
 " What is it ? " 
 
 " That you should be so completely floored by a young 
 
THAT BRUISIN' LAD o' GREYSTONE LODGE. 83 
 
 miss of seventeen," replied Metcalf. " That Frank Gordon, 
 the handsome, agreeable literateur, accustomed to bringing 
 the lovliest of the fair to his feet, should beg and sue for the 
 love of a school-girl, and in return for the asking get a good 
 sound rating, is just a little peculiar ; don't you think so, 
 Gordon ? " 
 
 " I rather think it is," he assented. 
 
 " But cheer up — ' faint heart never won fair lady,' even 
 if she was but a kid," said Charlie, as he performed his 
 toilet for dinner. "If the little Miss Sylvester takes all of 
 this wind out of your sails, what will become of you when 
 the large Mrs. Sylvester demands an explanation ? She 
 doesn't like you so much anyway." 
 
 " I will be totally demolished when both attempt to 
 rend me," he said. 
 
 " That will never be," remarked Metcalf, paring his 
 nails. 
 
 " Why ? " asked Frank. 
 
 " Because that young lady is made of that sterne^r stuff 
 which has no better sense than to be true," he answered. 
 " And if your respected future mother-in-law should raise 
 groundless objections, your fair Dulcinea will quickly give 
 lier to understand where she is to stand. Gordon, that's a 
 true little woman." 
 
 " I know that, Metcalf, as well as you," he said, " but 
 she is so fond of her mother, that I dislike to think of any 
 difference between them." 
 
 " Don't give yourself any uneasiness on that score," 
 said Charlie, " when nui Sylvester learns that she cannot 
 pilot the ship any longer, and finds out what a clever, nice 
 boy you are, she will be thoroughly agreeable, and give you 
 some of the fair Julia's bread and preserves. Let's get our 
 dinner." 
 
 Going out they met the ladies on the piazza ; Metcalf 
 put at ma Sylvester instantaneously about Rosa's staying 
 lono-er. 
 
84 THAT BRUrSIN* LAD o' GREYSTONE LOl)Gfi, 
 
 " Really, Mr. Metculf, I could not take the responsi- 
 bility upon myself of causing her to prolong her visit. Her 
 mother has reasons for her return, I dare say, and might 
 not like her staying," said she, with a cold, metalic ring in 
 her voice. 
 
 " Write her mother that you are going to keep her 
 another week, anyway," urged he, as he felt a great lump 
 rising in his throat. 
 
 " I don't feel at liberty to do that," she said, decidedly, 
 as if there was an end of the matter. 
 
 So there was nothing for Metcalf to do but to proceed 
 to his dinner When he reached the Langdon House, he 
 asked for the proprietoress. Miss Langdon came out in her 
 usual methodical way, and asked what he desired. 
 
 " I wish to settle my bill," he said, simply. 
 
 " Oh ! " she exclaimed, as if taken by surprise. 
 
 " Give me a receipt, if you please," he demanded. 
 
 " Certainly," she returned, " I will hand it to you as 
 you go out from dinner." 
 
 As we have intimated before, Miss Eliza Langdon was 
 an eminently just woman. That afternoon she drove down 
 to Doctor Griswold's otHce ; entering she found him busily 
 engaged writing. 
 
 " James, Mr. Metcalf paid his board like a gentleman," 
 she said. 
 
 " He did ! " he said, as if thunder-struck. " I am sur- 
 prised at that ; I had written to a lawyer in Stoddart county 
 to iind out all about him." 
 
 " James, I don't think I will «q^k him to leave," she 
 w^ent on. " The more I see of him, the more I like him." 
 
 " Lize, you run a great risk keeping him," he said irri- 
 tably. " You are nursing a viper in your bosom. If you 
 are stung don't run to mo for cure." 
 
 " All right, James, I will get some other doctor," she 
 replied, taking him literally. " I shall not discharge Mr. 
 Metcalf. Good morning, James." 
 
THAT fiRUISIN* LAD o' GREYSTONE LODGE. 85 
 
 " Morning, Lize, morning," he answered, returning to 
 his work. 
 
 Miss Lize returned to lier home feeling that slie liad 
 fully discharged her duty. 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 Mrs. Elmira Reynolds, Rosa's mother, lived at Etna 
 with her aunt, Mrs. Mary Gooch. Mrs. Reynolds had lost 
 her husband some years ago, and was in straightened cir- 
 cumstances. This aunt owned a home which she ungraci- 
 ously allowed as a shelter to Mrs. Reynolds and her chil- 
 dren, never forgetting to remind even the youngest of them 
 that she had full powet; to send them away whenever she 
 might desire to do so. Mrs. Reynolds' position was very 
 irksome there, and doubtless she would have left long ago, 
 only her brothers, who assisted in supporting her objected, 
 because they were sure if she would knuckle sufficiently to 
 Mrs. Gooch, that the latter would make her the residuary 
 legatee of her last will and testament ; so she bore it all the 
 best she could on the children's account. 
 
 Mrs. Reynolds married when she was only fourteen 
 years of age, and at this time looked extremely young. She 
 was rather good-looking than otherwise, with dark hair and 
 eyes, short face and small figure. She was very bright and 
 possessed more than the usual modicum of mind ; but Mrs. 
 Reynolds could not be trusted ; there was a sharp, vascilat- 
 ing kind of shrewdness and cynicism about her which boded 
 no good for any one towards whom her good wishes did not 
 run. She could treat you with suave politeness and the 
 utmost hospitality to your face, yet fire a powerful load of 
 grape-shot in the way of abuse at you behind your back. 
 
86 THAT uruisin' lad o' greystone lodge 
 
 She brooked no opposition whatever; was self-willed and 
 vindictive with even her own children whom she loved well, 
 and eared "for tenderly. 
 
 Rosa had been home some days and detailed over and 
 over again the many things said and done at Shirly during 
 her visit. 
 
 " Rose," asked her mother, one morning, " who writes 
 yon those letters which you receive every day? " 
 
 " Mr. Metcalf, mama," she answered, not looking up 
 from her work. 
 
 " Your aunt Mary is very uneasy about your receiving 
 them ; she thinks you ought not to get them," her mother 
 said. 
 
 •' Aunt Mary is so curious," said Rose, petulantly. 
 " What business is it of her's if I do have a letter from any 
 one ? I am sure it will not injure her," 
 
 " But you forget," spoke Mrs. Reynolds, with a sarcas- 
 tic smile, " that you dwell under her roof. As you live in 
 her house, doesn't that entitle her to the right of knowing 
 everything you do ? She thinks so, at all events." 
 
 " But I don't," replied the girl, flatly. " I don't intend 
 either that she shall know. What a dreadful thing it is to 
 be dependent upon any one. Mama, I am going to work. 
 Anyting is better than having you ahvaj's pressed. I can at 
 least earn something." 
 
 This was a noble and laudable sentiment in this seven- 
 teen-year-old young lady, but perfectly in keeping with the 
 genuinenes of her character. With such people as Rosa, 
 dependence is far more irksome than honest toil, 
 • " What can you do?" inquired her mother, 
 
 " I would prefer some situation in a millinery establish- 
 ment. You can very often iind something to do in sucli 
 places." 
 
 " But you won't make much," said her mother ; " the 
 young ladies who go in such places are poorly paid and 
 there are so many desirous of obtaining situations," 
 
THAT BRUISIN' LAD o' GREYSTONE LODGE. 87 
 
 " Nevertheless, I am going to try," she said, " to get a 
 phico. One of the girls at Miss Limestone's establishment 
 informed me that she was sure I could find employment 
 there ; of course, the remuneration will be small, but I may 
 be able to rise in time and command a better salary." 
 
 " Tliere is another objection," said her mother, leaiiing 
 down to bite olf a piece of refractory thread, " you are 
 thrown in contact with all kinds of people ; that is more or 
 less trying always on young ladies unaccustomed to pub- 
 licity." 
 
 Mrs. Reynolds was clearly right in this view. One of the 
 most touchingly sad spectacles in this world is to see a young 
 girl forced to earn her bread in one of those public places — 
 l>rought into daily contact with every class of people, and 
 notice that innate dawn of delicacy and gentle refinement 
 swept aAvay, leaving feminine chastity and virtue almost 
 bare. But few ladies can pass this trying ordeal and retain 
 those softer, gentler touches so dear and fascinating to the 
 sterner sex. 
 
 " I understand you mama," she said. " I appreciate 
 your views on that subject, and if I secure a situation, will 
 try and always be the same natural girl." 
 
 " I don't think anything will hurt you dear, because 
 you are so good and sweet. I — " 
 
 "Sister! " sang out a voice from the next room. 
 
 " Well Joe, what do you want ? " asked Rosa. 
 
 " Aunt Mary says for you to come and see her," 
 re[)lied a small individual, appearing at the door. 
 
 Josephine, called Joe by the family for the sake of 
 brevity, was a little girl ,some seven or eight years old. 
 Everybody had discovered that she was a miracle of bright- 
 ness, but no one ever found her a miracle of goodness. She 
 was undoubtedly a precocious individual mentally, and 
 astonished everyone around by her bright rejoinders. 
 
 " What does Aunt Mary want ? " asked Rosa. 
 
88 THAT BRUISIN' LAD o' GREYSTONE LODGE. 
 
 " llow can I inform you unless she told me," she 
 replied. 
 
 " You are always so smart ! " said her sister, with a 
 sarcastic fling in her voice. 
 
 " Don't say smart," retorted Joe with a curl on her lip. 
 " It is so common. Say hright or clever." 
 
 " Don't speak in that manner about your sister, Joe," 
 said her mother reprovingly. 
 
 " I am not speaking about her at all. I am speaking 
 to her," she replied. 
 
 " And you don't know what aunt Mary wants?" asked 
 liosa. 
 
 " No, I do not," she returned. " I think if you want 
 to know, the wisest course is to go and find out, sister ! " 
 and Joe looked up as if a bright idea just entered her head, 
 " can you and mama sit this way ? " 
 
 Mrs. Reynold and the eldest sister looked towards her 
 at once, as she perched herself upon a chair. Throwing 
 out her legs on a level with her seat, she turned both toes 
 of her feet inwards, until they touched each other on a 
 straight line. Looking triumphantly arountl, she 
 
 exclaimed : 
 
 '' I'll bet you all you can't do that ! " 
 
 Rosa burst into a peal of laughter. 
 
 " Joe ! " cried her mother, rising from her seat and 
 rushing toward her, " you are insane ! Get ofl" that chair 
 this instant ! " 
 
 Joe ceased her contortion act, slid from the chair, and 
 scampered oif as fast as her two feet could carry her, to 
 avoid a collision with her mother's open hand. 
 
 " Did you ever see such a child?" laughed her mother. 
 
 " She's awful," said Rosa. " But mama, she is very 
 sweet and funny. Her little tricks are really amusing." 
 
 " Rosie, go and see what your aunt Avants," her mother 
 said. " But let me know when you return." 
 
THAT BRUISIN' LAD o' GREYSTONE LODGE. 89 
 
 " Very good mama," she replied, us she went out of 
 tlie room. 
 
 Mrs. Gooch was a rcHc of tlic ar.ti-helhini days, and 
 like many old peo[»le of her stamp l)elieved the world was 
 all wrong now-a-days l)ecau8e things were changed. She 
 constantly reminded those around how fast and disgust- 
 ingly ra})id everyhody was now, especially the young ladies. 
 We often wonder according to her views what the girls did 
 in her young days. To everything they said or did now, 
 she would remark : " we didn't do that when I was a girl." 
 
 Neither did they have electricity in ail its branches 
 then, yet the world would be in a sad plight in this day 
 without it. Progression is the order of this generation, and 
 science is being grappled more successfully every day. 
 This is the natural and logical result of God's appearance on 
 earth, and the farther Christianity extends, the greater will 
 be the natural development to man. Mrs. Gooch did not 
 exactly see it in this light, and thought the world fast tend- 
 ing towards moral and physical destruction. 
 
 " My dear, I desire to speak with you a moment," she 
 said, when Rosa entered her room upstairs. 
 
 " Yes, aunt Mary," she replied, standing in front of 
 her. 
 
 " Sit down, Rosa," she went on. " Girls have changed 
 sadly since my day. When I was one, if any of my elders 
 sent for me I came at once and sat a little way off, ready to 
 hear what they had to say." 
 
 " Yes, aunt Mary," said the girl, seating herself on 
 one of her feet in that peculiar female way, on the front 
 edge of a chair, 
 
 " I hear a gentleman has been writing to you — what do 
 you mean by allowing such a thing? " she asked, looking 
 severely over her spectacles at her grand-neice. 
 
 A flush spread the girl's cheek, not of shame at any act 
 of her own, but of irritation at her aunt's supposition that 
 
90 THAT BRUISIN' LAD o' GREYSTONE LODGE. 
 
 she would allow anything wrong to be done. In plain [tar- 
 lance, Rosa was angry. But like all true-hearted ladies, her 
 anger was ladylike. Although perfectly sincere, open and 
 honest, Rosa inherited a large bit of her mother's temper 
 without the latter's gaucheries, in exhibiting it. 
 
 " Aunt Mary, I don't think you have any right to be 
 asking me about such things," said Rosa, making every, 
 effort to control herself properly. " I have told mama all 
 about it and she did not object." 
 
 That was a direct throw down of the gauntlet on her 
 part. Don't you know her aunt took it upl 
 
 She jobbed her knitting needle angrily through her 
 sock, placed the work and ball of yarn on a chair near, 
 pushed her spectacles back on her head, and, straightening 
 herself up, looked Rosa squarely in the face. The latter 
 gave her interest for interest in the way of looks. 
 
 " You are saucy ! " she exclaimed. 
 
 " I don't mean to be." 
 
 " Then you've got a wonderful knack of doing what 
 you don't mean," retorted the old lady. " You are living 
 in my house, and I have both the right and power to turn 
 you out any moment that I see a cause to. If I can do that 
 I can surely inquire what you are doing in this house." 
 
 The girl was expecting just such an outbreak, and was 
 in a measure prepared for it. 
 
 " Aunt Mary," she said, wincing under the thrust with 
 quivering lips, " you have a right to say who sliall stay in 
 your house and who shall not. But I am here under my 
 motlier's care and direction, and responsible to her alone. 
 What arrangements she has with you I do not inquire into, 
 because such a course would be impertinence on my part ; 
 but I shall not answer each i*nd every inquiry concerning 
 my affairs in this way, unless it is relevant to your matters. 
 I have gotten several letters from Mr. Charlie Metcalf, and 
 I suppose I will hear again." 
 
THAT BRUISIN' LAD o' GREYSTONE LODGE. 91 
 
 " Then you stop him from writing to you at once ! " 
 she cried. " The idea of your speaking in sucli a manner 
 to me ! You must be losing your mind — tliough to be sure, 
 girls of this day have but little to lose ! Mind now, if I 
 hear of any more letters coming, then out you go ! This 
 house bears a respectable name." 
 
 " I shall certainly not do anything to tarnish its name," 
 said Rosa, with a rather scornful tone of voice. " You for- 
 get yourself strangely, aunt Mary ! The idea of my ever 
 doing anything to cause your house to suffer in name or 
 fame is absurd ! And I want to say this, too ! You shall 
 not insult me in this fashion again. If you do, I will leave 
 your house without being requested." 
 
 " Tut — tut — tut ! " cried her aunt. " Where are those 
 letters Mr. Metcalf wrote you?" 
 
 " I have them." 
 
 " Then bring them to me," she said, reaching out her 
 hand as if Rosa had them in her lap. 
 
 " I am not going to show them to you, Aunt Mary," 
 she replied. " There is nothing in them that could not be 
 seen by anyone. They simply tell me how uncle Collins is; 
 and what is going on at aunt Sylvester's house, but I object 
 to showing letters I receive, unless it is my duty to do so." 
 
 " Leave my room," said her aunt, pointing towards the 
 door. She was almost choked with anger. 
 
 Stately, with a dignified step and the air of a princess, 
 Rosa left the apartment. 
 
 She went at once to her room, and seizing her hat and 
 cloak was soon arrayed for a walk. 
 
 "Where are you going ? " asked Mrs. Reynolds, coming 
 ill. 
 
 " Over to town, to get me something to do," she 
 replied. 
 
 " What did your aunt Mary say ? " 
 
 Rosa told her all that passed. 
 
92 THAT BRUISIN' LAD 0* GREYSTONE LODGE 
 
 " Oh, Rosa ! " oxclaimecl her mother, " you oujjht never 
 to have spoken in that manner to her ! " 
 
 " What sliouhl T liave said then, mama ? " she 
 demanded. 
 
 " Why (Vuhi't you tell her that you wouldn't receive 
 any more letters; then if Mr. Metcalf wrote again, why sim- 
 ply conceal the tact from her." 
 
 " Why, mama !" cried the girl. 
 
 This course suggested hy Mrs. Reynolds' craftiness hy 
 no means coincided with Rosa's open, ingenuous nature, 
 hut she held her tongue. This was her mother. 
 
 Walking as rapidly as possihle, she soon reached Miss 
 Limestone's establishment. That lady received her very 
 graciously, and in a few moments the coveted situation was 
 secured. 
 
 " The pay is very small — only five dollars a month," 
 suggested Rosa, meekly. 
 
 " I am aware of that. Miss Rosa," said the lady, " hut 
 you see we cannot aftbrd to give more to beginners. Many 
 ladies are willing to work for nothing at first, in order to 
 gain a foot-hold. You will begin by trimming hats ; if you 
 prove yourself competent and useful, of course you will not 
 only command a larger salary after awhile, but gain a 
 thorough knowledge of the business." 
 
 " Very good — I will accept your ofl:er," said she. 
 " When must I begin ? " 
 
 " To-morrow," answered Miss Limestone. 
 
 Rosa raised her parasol and started down the street. 
 She threaded her way among the passers-by, feeling much 
 better and more comfortable. She determined to go by the 
 post-office and get Metcalf 's " daily report, " as she called it. 
 Standing before the opening in the office, while the boy 
 sorted the letters, the time seemed interminably long. Her 
 little heart beat so that she could hear it through her tight- 
 fitting bodice, and blushed lest the small boy handling the 
 letters should hear it too. When he placed a fat-looking 
 
THAT BRUISIN' lad o' GREYSTONE LODGE. 93 
 
 letter before her, she felt something bounding into her 
 throat, as she glanced at tlie small boy to see if he was 
 noticing her. Gathering her treasure as quickly as possi- 
 ble, she went on her way, keeping it hid from all view until 
 she came to the silent path-way over the river, then she 
 l>roke it open, reading while walking along. It must have 
 been a pretty long one for she was not through with it until 
 the forks of the road were reached — one of which led to 
 her aunt's. 
 
 " I certainly am surprised to hear he is coming," she 
 soliloquized to herself. " I believe he is only Jesting ; he 
 says he is coming Saturday week ; how I would like to see 
 him! Strange — so strange, isn't it?" and her voice died 
 away amidst her thoughts. She was as free from vanity as 
 possible and wondered why Charlie Metcalf, with all his 
 cleverness, could take such a fancy to her. Just then the 
 voices of the children calling to her broke in upon her 
 reverie. 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 Several weeks had passed since Rosa left for Etna and 
 everything seemed to have gone wrong in the hitherto 
 pleasant Sylvester mansion. Gordon and Julia studiously 
 avoided each other, and Metcalf was as morose as a young 
 hyena — so Frank informed him. Ma Sylvester was l>ecom- 
 ing impatient for the time for her summer trip, and pa Syl- 
 vester was miserable because ma waj? not happy, 
 
 Charlie Metcalf was now well satisfied that there was 
 no happiness for him apart from Rosa Reynolds. He had 
 written quite often to her about what was going on, and the 
 
94 THAT BRUISIN' LAD o' OREYStONE LODGfi. 
 
 only real pleasure which he enjoyed since she left was the 
 recdijit of a sweet, newsy letter from her. He was sure now 
 that if he saw her again he would tell her of his love it it 
 i-esulted in eternal separation. Of course he would conceal 
 nothing from her, hut tell her all. He was not certain how- 
 she would look upon his situation, hecause people hold such 
 a variety of opinions on suhjects of this nature. If young 
 girls generally have a horror of widowers how would they 
 "egard a man who once helieved himself married and the 
 woman still alive ? Even in such a case there might be 
 neither legal nor moral rights in her favor, yet in many 
 ways she could be particularly nasty and disagreeable. For 
 instance, by instituting a prosecution for bigamy, although 
 she could never sustain it. 
 
 Charles Metcalf had never loved before in his life. He 
 went through a marriage ceremony once, but he kneAv at 
 the time that he did not care tor the woman. He repented 
 sincerely of that sin and took the heavy visitation after- 
 wards falling upon him, meekly — never complaining. Up 
 to this time his yoke was bearable, but since he loved Rosa 
 Reynolds it became irksome and galling. How he wished 
 now that he could recall that hasty, thoughtless step and 
 present himself in person to her, as he was in heart — only 
 her's, " yesterday, to-day and forever." But there was one 
 thing he would certainly not do, and that was make the 
 least effort to persuade her to see the matter through his 
 glasses, but she should view it unbiased througlt jher own. 
 
 Metcalf was a man of great emotional nature, with a 
 will like a strong piece of wrought iron. When he first 
 discovered his growing interest in this young lady, knowing 
 his position, he brought this wonderful will power to bear 
 upon it, and endeavored to crush it out. He failed igno- 
 miniously. The failure awed him. He now felt that a 
 passion had taken possession of him stronger than he ever 
 knew before. There was a sacred tenderness mingled with 
 , too, becaust; the ol)ject of it was the one and only woman 
 
THAT bruisin' lad o' greystone lodge. 95 
 
 who had ever taught him " the sad, sad lesson of loving," 
 It was also unselfish. He would have suftered any amount 
 of trial and privation rather than cause her a moment's 
 nnhappiness, or disturb the peace of her mind for a second. 
 
 Sitting in the porch still thinking over the hardship of 
 his position, the postman came up and handed him two 
 letters. He took them carelessly, but the moment he read 
 the address upon the one uppermost his heart seemed to 
 stand still. He w^ould never forget that handwriting, 
 although three years had passed away since he saw it. It 
 was that of the woman with whom he once went through a 
 marriage ceremony. Breaking it open he read -as follow^s : 
 
 Baltimore, June 29th, 1884. 
 Dear Mr, Metcalp : 
 
 Pardon me for intruding upon you, but something has 
 happened which makes it imperatively necessary for me to 
 have an interview with you. Ere this reaches you I wnll 
 be on my way to Shirly, where I learned by inquiry you are 
 staying at present. Please call on me at Hotel Raymond on 
 Tuesday afternoon, the 31st inst., at three o'clock. 
 
 Yours truly, Mamie Metcalf. 
 
 To say that he was astonished at the perusal of this 
 would be putting it mildly ; he was simply dumbfounded. 
 For three years he had heard nothing from her, nor had 
 any communication passed between them, excepting the 
 allowance paid her through Metcalf's attorney. He had 
 expressly forbade her seeking him out in any way, and she 
 promised never to do so. What happened to cause her to 
 do this he could not divine. He then thought he w'ould 
 wire her not to come, but to-day was the thirty-first, and 
 the train by which she came was due in three hours. There 
 was nothing left but to accord her the desired interview. 
 He was extremely vexed. Recovering his self-possession as 
 quickly as he could, he broke open the other letter. He 
 a'dw it was from Major Ruskin. 
 
06 THAT BRUISIN' LAD o' GREYSTONE LODGE. 
 
 Stoddart, C. H., June 30th. 
 My Dear Charlie: 
 
 I received a letter from Doctor James Griswold in ref- 
 erence to you. I followed instructions in answering, and 
 lie will find but cold comfort in the reply. He was very 
 abusive in his letter about you, using such terms as scamp, 
 deceiver and the like. Don't kill the man; but I deem it 
 best to acquaint you with what he is saying, in order that 
 his tongue may be shut. All are well at Greystone Lodge. 
 Let me know if I can be of any service to you. 
 
 Yours affect., Jno. W. Ruskin. 
 
 From being extremely vexed, he became very angry — 
 violently *80. "When the Bruisin' Lad lost his temper he 
 was just as ugly and nasty as he was polite and amiable in 
 his peaceful moments. He became very much excited, and 
 rising from his seat went at once to look for Doctor Gris- 
 wold. Reaching the front gate, he met Gordon. 
 
 " Where is Griswold's office?" he asked, moistening 
 his lips quietly. 
 
 " What do you want with him, Metcalf ?" he asked, in 
 an alarmed voice, laying his hand on Charlie's arm. 
 
 " I want to speak with him a moment," he replied, a 
 steely gleam shooting from his eyes in a way which caused 
 one's blood to creep. 
 
 " Metcalf, you are angry — you have heard something — 
 wait before you go," urged Gordon, 
 
 " Stand aside, Frank ! " he cried out, hoarsely. "That 
 man has been using abusive epithets about me, and I am 
 going to stop him." 
 
 " Metcalf, you'll kill him if you go now, you are fear- 
 fully angry ! Do wait and cool oft". You don't know he 
 said anything," urged Frank, catching hold of him. 
 
 " Let go ! " and he shook Frank's arm oft". " Yes, he 
 did say it, because Ruskin wrote me. Move, Gordon ! it 
 is useless to stand here." 
 
 Finding it loas useless to attempt any further restraint, 
 
THAT BRUISIN' lad o' CREYSTONE LODGE. 97 
 
 Frunk allowed liim to juiss, uiul went with hiia n:^ lie moved 
 i(uiek:ly tliroiii^h the gate uiid down the sidewalk. 
 
 " Say, Charlie, you are not going to hurt him, are you ?" 
 lie asked. 
 
 "■ I don't know what I shall do until I get there," he 
 re[)lii'd. 
 
 " Have you got any weapon? " 
 
 " Xo, r don't care Ibr any unless some friend inter- 
 feres." 
 
 " I'll see that nothing of that kind oeeurs," saidGordon. 
 
 The two men walked on in silence until they reaehed 
 I)oetor (4riswol(rs office. Metealf marched on in, and saw 
 a wee-bit of a man writing at a table. As he glanced at 
 him, a feeling of contempt pervaded him, so plainly did the 
 Doctor's face show what stamp of man he was. 
 
 " You are Doctor James Griswold," he said, witli a 
 perceptible sneer, not unnoticed by the medical man. 
 
 " And, pray, how do you know me so well, considering 
 I know nothing about you," he said, looking in a surprised 
 manner at Charlie. 
 
 "Because you look like a liar ! " he said, advancing a 
 step nearer. " No, sit down until I am ready for you to 
 get up," he went on, as Doctor Griswold rose in sheer 
 astonishment. He placed both hands on his shoulders and 
 crushed him down easily into the chair again. 
 
 "Who are you — what do you mean?" he asked, as 
 he writhed in the vice-like grasp of The Bruisin* Lad. 
 
 " I am Charles Metealf," he answered, with that 
 [)eculiar steely gleam in his eyes, " and I want to know why 
 you wrote that tissue of falsehoods to Major Kuskin." 
 
 "What — what do you allude to?" asked the doctor, 
 his face turning deadly pale as the persi)iration rolled from 
 his brow down u[)on his cheeks. The man was thoroughly 
 frightened now. He had lieard so much about Metealf 's 
 temper and desperation, that he really believed his time 
 had come. 
 
 ^ 
 
98 THAT bruisin' lad o' (jreystone lodge. 
 
 '' Doctor Griswold, if you were a nuiii physicuUv, I 
 should be ><paring in words, mid full-handed with some- 
 thing else," said Charlie, looking contemptuously down 
 upon him. " But as you are such a contemptible piece of 
 humanity, I shall only say a few words to you. You come 
 of that stamp of men who lite to blacken a fellow creat- 
 ure's name, destroy his reputation, not through necessity or 
 duty, but mere malignacy. You have a heart full of 
 malignant, bitter feelings, a heart void of all social duty, 
 as well as the rights of your neighbor."' 
 
 "Men who strike through revenge are actuated by sonic 
 fancied or real injury committed against them ; but, men 
 of your class strike out of sheer malice — the most depraved 
 state of degredatiou to which the human heart can sink. 
 The only reason you are not a murderer is, you arc an 
 arrant coward. If I ever hear of your mentioning my 
 name again, I shall inliict personal as Avell as bodily casti- 
 gatio!) upon you, and until then, I leave you to your own 
 sweet reflections." 
 
 Charles Metcalt removed his hand.^ from the doctor's 
 shoulders and walked out. Gordon followed. On reach- 
 ing the stairway the latter said : 
 
 " Metcalf, I am so glad you didn't hurt him I " 
 
 "He is a little puppy, nothing more," re[tlied Charlie 
 " When I first heard of him I was under the imiiression 
 that he was a man in size. Of course I would never strike 
 one like him." 
 
 " Metcalt, you are a genuinely brave man," said Gor- 
 don. " Of course we all know you are very desperate 
 when angry, but I feel now that you will never let your 
 anger cause you to commit a mere act of violence." 
 
 " I should hope not," he answered earnestly. 
 
 The young gentlemen pursued their way to dinner. 
 Metcalf ha<l but little appetite; the shadows of the coming 
 interview with Mamie Metcalf were already falling 
 across his path and darkening it. He ransacked his brain 
 
THAT BRFISIN' LAD o' GREYSTONE LODGE. 99 
 
 time and time }ij>;ain, endeavoring to seek tlie cause of her 
 sudden visit, but all to no ettect. He thonglit once of tel- 
 ling Gordon all aUont it; but the risk to Mamie caused 
 him to keep his mouth sealed. He hardly knew what to 
 do, and the oidy way out of the matter that he could see, 
 was to grant the desired interview. If he failed to meet 
 her at the hotel, she would seek him out, and that would 
 he tar uku'c unpleasant. 
 
 On his return after dinner to his room, ma Sylvester 
 met him at the front door. The moment he saw her he 
 knew something was w^rong. A lowering, sullen look 
 rusted npon her face, which Metcalf always hatetl to see there. 
 Xothwithstanding her amusing attempts to play In grande 
 '/'line, he had grown fond of her. She was genial, kind, 
 and pleasant to all, and was undoubtedly very clever, natu- 
 rally. 
 
 " Mr. Metcalf, where is Mr. Gordon? " she asked, with 
 stately dignity. 
 
 " He left me a moment ago, after dinner. I suppose 
 he went down town," he answered. 
 
 " As soon as he returns, if you see Jiim, please say that 
 I desire to speak with him for a short time." 
 
 " Yes, I will," he answered. " Can I do anything for 
 you?" 
 
 '' Xothing ut all," she replied, moving towards her 
 room majestically. 
 
 Metcalf watched her as she departed, and wondered 
 what she wanted wirli (4ordon. All at once it tiashed 
 across his mind. 
 
 " By jovel "" he exclaimed, laughing, " she is going to 
 <roYe Gordon for addressing that lovely girl of hers. She 
 won't get anything out of him, though." 
 
 Metcalf divined rightly. Ma Sylvester learned that 
 morning about the parlor scene between Julia and Frank. 
 
 Julia went to take a music lesson, and during her 
 absence a letter came for her from Rosa. Ma Sylvester 
 
100 THAT HKUISIN' LAD o' (iREVSTONE LODGEl. 
 
 still adhorcp to the barbarous custom of opcijiug her 
 (laughter's letters tirst and allowiug her to peruse them 
 afterwards. Actiug uttder this maternal iiifluonce, she 
 read Julia's letter, iu which there was an unmistakable 
 reference to Frauk's courting escapade. She taxed Julia 
 with it the moment the latter returiied, and forced from her 
 an account of the whole matter. She flew into oue of her 
 arand humors, declaring that things had come to a (/ravd 
 pass, in a grand way, and that she would put up with such 
 grand doings no longer. 
 
 Enterino; her room after seeing Metralf, she iiitched 
 into Julia again. 
 
 " I am going to give that Gordon apiece of my mind !" 
 she exclaimed. " I never did like him. lie ain't nothing 
 no way. He ain't got money enough to bur}' himself with. 
 Miss, you shall be present wh^n I speak witli him." 
 
 She ha<l threatened the young girl with a prospect of 
 this ordeal once before, and Julia begged to be excused. 
 
 " Mama, please don't say anything to him where I am. 
 It is all over now. I will never speak to him again if you 
 don't wish it. Don't say anything rough to him." 
 
 "Taking his part, are you?" she asked, with an 
 inflexion of sarcasm in her tone. 
 
 " Xo, I am not," answered she. " But I did not treat 
 him politely, and said soujc very foolish things to him. 
 Mama, please let it all pass." 
 
 Julia here broke down and burst into tears. She 
 loved her mother, and disliked exceedingly, to see her 
 amioyed. At the same time, she felt sure that Gordon was 
 not to blame. She regretted extremely that there should 
 be any rencontre between the two, and was violently 
 op|')osed to hearing it. 
 
 " I shall not pass over it," said lier mother, " I have 
 treated that Gordon well. T gave up my best room to him, 
 and he has been dealt with in the kindest manner. He is 
 au ungrateful wretch." 
 
TttAT BRFISIn' lad o' GREYStONE LODGfe. lOl 
 
 " Maybe, mama, he didn't mean it a;^ injg^ratitndo wlien 
 lie said what he did to me," suggested Jnlia. 
 
 '■'■ Yes, lie did ! " she retorted. " T want you to un(U'r- 
 stand that you shall tell me everything, even to your 
 thoughts. You ought never to have kept this from me. 
 (^o, you shall ! and hear every word I have to say to him." 
 
 " Whether I want' to or not, mama? " she asked. 
 
 " Yes, whether you wish to or not/" she replied. " If 
 you don't obe}' my every wish and do just as I want you to, 
 then you are a mean, Idack-hearted girl. That's all T have 
 to say." 
 
 " Oh — oh — mama, you are so hard on mej " cried 
 Julia, as fresh tears poured down her cheeks. " I hate to 
 talk about such things to anyone. If Mr. (Tordon had said 
 anything he ought not, I would have told you about it." 
 
 " I don't believe you would," replied her mother. " I 
 hear Mr. Gordon coming now. (iet ready to go with me 
 at once." 
 
 " Mama, dear mama !" cried Julia, throwing herself at 
 her feet, " don't make me go ! Spare me, spare my feel- 
 ings! I feel as if I Avould sijik under the ground now." 
 
 " Get up — you shall go," she cried. "T will punish 
 you both properly. He should have spoken to me first and 
 asked my consent. You ouglit to have told me. T intend 
 to make y(Hi both pay for it, and drive him from the 
 house." 
 
 Julia rose from her recumbent position slowly. In 
 one moment she w^as transferred from the quiet, gentle, 
 obedient girl into a woman, ready to do or die. Her 
 mother's want of regard ibv those delicate, sweet, frail ten- 
 dails, which entwined this new sweetlieart love first [tained, 
 then shocked, and finally hardened her. Following her 
 mother quietly into the parlor, there was a set, determined 
 expression upon her face, which boded no yielding from 
 any position or stand she had taken. Immediately on 
 entering, she caught Gordon's eye How gentle, easy and 
 
102 THAT liRTISlN' LAD 0* GREYSTONE LOIXSE 
 
 (liiCiiitit'd lit' appeared in eoiitrast with her motiior's uneasy, 
 flurried and loud appearance. 
 
 ' Mr. Gordon," said her ma, drawiuLC herself up with 
 si'reat diii'nity, " I tliink you liave acted in a uiost ungentle- 
 manly manner towards me." 
 
 " In whr.t way, Mrs. Sylvester ? " he demanded, quietly. 
 
 Gordon was about the most difHeuit human heing under 
 the sun for any f)ne to overthrow in a battle of words. lie 
 knew perfectly well why she sent for him, Init was deter- 
 mined to make her acknowledge it i)i the onset. 
 
 " You ought to know without being told," she said. 
 
 " Not unless I am conscious of some wrouii'," lie 
 retorted. 
 
 " You have used my kindness and hosj)itality, sir, as a 
 cloak under wliich to make improper advances towards my 
 daughter — " 
 
 " One moment, ma'am," he interrupted : " kindly allow 
 Miss Julia to retire during this discussion." 
 
 " My name is not ma'am," she uttered with rising 
 color. " I—" 
 
 " Well then, madam," he interrni)ted, " I am sure you 
 do not wish your daughter to l)e present at a time when it 
 must be peculiarly disagreeal)le to her. She has already 
 informed me that it is not a pleasant matter; I sincerely 
 wish to save her all pain and annoyance possible. Am I 
 not correct, Miss Julia," he asked, turning towards, her and 
 bowing, " in supposing that you prefer not to be present ?" 
 
 Julia's cheeks fairly burned. Here was the man whom 
 she had treated so rudely, wliose advances she had thrown 
 aside witli indignity and utiuost scorn, against wliom she 
 had made all manner of accusations, taking her part and 
 attempting in every way to save her feelings ; she f'jlt 
 heartily ashamed of herself ajul very proud of him. More- 
 over, she could not help feeling it was on her account' alone 
 that he was bcarinoj all this, and throuo-h her that he would 
 be banished. She determined to set herself riirht before 
 
THAT BKUISIN" LAD <»" CKEV.STONK LOlXiE. 108 
 
 l)im iit all events, to sliovv liini that she luul neither [>art nor 
 parcel in Ijringing about this state of thiiii^s. 
 
 " My (laughter's wishes coincide with my own in tliis 
 matter, and whatever I say she will re-echo," said Mrs. 
 Sylvester, s[»eaking just as Julia was about to reply. " You 
 had no right to take advantage of my admitting 3'ou into 
 my family to make love to my daughter. It was very 
 underhand and sneaking in you, as my daughter most 
 l>roperly informed you when you forgot — " 
 
 " Mama ! " 
 
 Ma Sylvester started and Gordon turned ([uickly 
 towards Juha. Both looked on in astonishment at the 
 young girl, who had su(hlenly cried out and risen to her 
 feet. Admiration seized possession of Gordon as he looked 
 at her sparkling dark eyes, her Hushed cheeks and parted 
 li[)S, her heaving bosom and almost quivering frame. Julia 
 was thoroughly aroused now ; her mother's want of lady- 
 like tact towards herself, her want of justice towards Gor- 
 don, had simply driven the girl to bay, and like all people 
 })laced at bay, she turned not only to defend herself, but to 
 i-end her tormentors as well. A swift expression ol infinite 
 contempt and disgust shot over her face as she glanced at 
 her mother. 
 
 " Mrs. Sylvester,"' spoke up Gordon, in a manly but 
 dignitied tone, "• truth compels me to say that [ never made 
 an im[)ro[>er pro[)osal to your daughter ; I love and desire 
 to cherish her, as any true-hearted man would love and 
 cherish a wife. I t(jld her gf it, I asked her to l)e my wite : 
 I would ask her again if I thought it would avail any- 
 thing." 
 
 " Who are you, to speak in this lofty and grand man- 
 ner to me ! " cried Mrs. Sylvester, losing all control of her- 
 self, " you are a monster ! a deceitful, scheming adventurer I 
 you come into my house utterly poverty-stricken, and dare 
 to try and steal my daughter's affections — " 
 
 " Mama ! " rang out Julia's full voice, " you strangely 
 
104 THAT BRUISIN' LAD O' GREYSTONE LODGE. 
 
 torget yourselt"; Mr. Gordon lias not been guilty of any- 
 tliing wrong; he is not a monster nor a deceitful man ; he 
 didn't try to undermine you, nor steal my love. lie was 
 straightforward and manly about it. 1 acted badly towards 
 him ; I was rude and unlady-hke to liim I lie is too good 
 for my love I Mama he is much better tlian you ; he stands 
 now a hundred times nobler and gentler than you do; he is 
 every inch a man." 
 
 She paused a moment for breath ; she had no control 
 of herself now. Her mother looked on in speechless amaz.e- 
 ment, while tears of gratitude shon-j in Gordon's eyes. 
 
 " Yes, mama, you are acting badly now ; so there ! " 
 she said, stamping her little slippered foot, " you have made 
 me submit to the most awful degredation, and torn aside 
 the female veil of delicacy and true refinement, against my 
 wishes. It is down-right mean in you — so there I You 
 have accused Mr. Gordon of all kinds of things he didn't 
 do — so there ! You have used the most unlady-like language 
 towards him while he has behaved with all the gentleness 
 of a lady, combined with true courage and manliness — 
 showing himself far superior to you — so there ! He can love 
 and trust the girl of a nionth's acquaintance and endeavors 
 to save her feelings ; you attempt to expose and torture 
 them — so there I 1 like him for his noble generosity — liis 
 manliness — and mama, at this time I hate you for being 
 rude and mean to him — so there I Mr. Gordon," she went 
 on, " will you forgive me for having acted so badly to you ? 
 I am ashamed of myself already ; I am so much oblige to 
 you for taking such careful thought about my feelings and 
 wishes ; I do believe you love me and 1 am proud ot having 
 won such love I " 
 
 "Brave girl — jj-enerous girl — noble girl I " cried Gor- 
 don, "you are worthy the love of a Prince. I am truly 
 grateful to you for your honest effort in behalf of Justice." 
 And he gently took and raised her lovely little hand to his 
 lips. 
 
THAT BRUISIX' LAD o' OREYSTONE LODGE. 105 
 
 Ma Sylvester was not only (Imiihtbiiiided lor the 
 nioiiient, but silenced. Slie ajtpeared dazed. 
 
 "Julia!" she exchiimed, hoarsely, the tears tillini!; her 
 eyes. 
 
 " Mania I " erie<l the i^'irl, her soft lieart relentiniJ" as 
 she hurst into tears. " I do love you. You have heen so 
 good and kind to nie all my lite. I almost wish I was 
 never horn. Mama, I am sorry I iiad to speak to you so. 
 I love you dearly. You are as i^ood and sweet as you can 
 he, hut so mean and unjust to Mr. Gordon." She threw 
 her arms around her niother, kissed her brow and (-heeks, 
 and then releasing her, left the room, sobbing as if her 
 heart would break. 
 
 " Mr. Gor<h)n," said ma Sylvester, " you are the cause 
 of all tills. I wish you had never come here. You have 
 not only made me see a great deal of trouble, but caused 
 my daughter to defy me." 
 
 " Mrs. Sylvester," lie said, "I am sorry that I should 
 have brought you annoyance, but I could not help loving 
 3'our daughter. You will find that she will do her duty 
 fully in everything, and will be just as opposed to thwarting 
 you as ever." 
 
 " Everything goes against me in these days," she 
 sighed, at she left the rocnn. 
 
 (-lordmi stood alone for a moment, and then departed, 
 to see if he could find Julia anywbere. 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 Just about the time that Julia was defending Frank 
 Gordon so ably, Charlie Metcalf was standing in the 
 rotunda of Hotel Raymond, waiting until the clerk becarne 
 
10') THAT BRUISIN' lad o' (illEYSToNE LODGE. 
 
 (lisc'Diiiigod ill order to inquire it" Miiniic Metc-alf was 
 there. 
 
 " Did Mrs. Mamie Metcalf arrive here on the west 
 bound train ? " lie asked of the clerk, when the latter turned 
 towards him. 
 
 " Lady with commanding ligure, dark hair and eyes ? " 
 he inquired in re[)ly. 
 
 " Yes, sir," replied Metcalf. 
 
 " I think she is here — got a card ? " he asked, ta]>})inga 
 hell at his hand tor a servant. "" Take this to nunilier 16," 
 he said, handing the card Charlie gave him to a chamher- 
 maid. 
 
 Metcalf glance<l around the office for some minutes, 
 until the waitress returned. 
 
 " Come this way," slie said, turning and retracing her 
 ste[)s upstairs, followed hy himself 
 
 He felt his heart beating a tritie faster as he knocked 
 upon the door. 
 
 " Come in," said a sweet, clear voice, sounding like 
 musie to the ears. 
 
 He went in and his eyes once more rested u[»on the 
 lady who had nearly wrecked his life. 
 
 She was a beautiful woman some twenty-nine years 
 old. Her eyes were very dark, large and lustrous, sjiark- 
 ling like two twin diamonds. Her wealth of black hair 
 pushed back from a [»erfect brow, seemed all the time try- 
 ing to escape from its contines. A Grecian nose and rose- 
 bud of a mouth eom[tleted a face of peculiar lovliness. She 
 was rather tall, yet her tigure was beautifully rounded, and 
 like a piece of statuary in curves and lines, as she stood 
 near the mantel, with one elbow resting ujion it. She 
 moved gracefully forward as Charlie entered, extending 
 lier right hand. 
 
 " [ am very glad to see you, and feel deeply grateful 
 that you have come," she said, as he seated himself. 
 
That bruisin' lad o' (JREystonk lodge. 107 
 
 " I don't know that I am entitled to an} urcat amount 
 of ijratitudo," he answered, cohll-v. 
 
 " I expect yon are very much surprised to see me here, 
 hut r thought it hest to see yon. Cliarlie, niy Pennsylvania 
 hushand "^s dead I '" 
 
 Had any otlier lady announced to one hushand living 
 that another husl)and had jnst died, with her flippant tone, 
 he would have heen shocked ; but, nothing that Mamie 
 might say, nor her manner of expressing it, coidd evei- 
 shock him now. 
 
 " When did he die ? " he asked. 
 
 '• About three months ago," she answered. "I could 
 not he prosecuted now Charlie for marrying yon w hen he 
 was living,, could I ? " she asked, playing with a tassel upon 
 her wrapi»er. 
 
 " His death does not purge the bigamy," answered 
 he. '■' But the statute of limitations in Pennsylvania bars 
 the prosecution of the oft'ense after five years. More than 
 that time has elapsed since you married me, so you stand 
 in no danger of ever being prosecuted." 
 
 " I am tree now, am I? " she asked. 
 
 " Perfectly so," he said. 
 
 "• Well now, here. You have heen the i.oblest and 
 truest man that God ever created towards me, and 1 will 
 never forget you for it. T know I am utterly unworthy of 
 you, but if yon think it is our duty not to part, I will 
 re-marry you to-day, and endeavor to do my full <lut} as 
 your wife." 
 
 " That can never be," he said quietly. * " In the iirst 
 lirst place, we were not joined together as man and wife, 
 l)ecause you had a lawful husband living, so it is rather our 
 duty to part. Again, you make this proposition out of 
 gratitude, which I could never feel at liberty to accept, even 
 if there was no other impediment to prevent our being 
 reunited. But there is an obstacle now which I could 
 never overcome. I have learned to love another woman." 
 
108 THAT bruisin' lad o' GREYSTONE LODcBl 
 
 " Then you can marry her and he happy, can't you? '" 
 she asked. " Cliarlie, I know you think I am all levity and 
 nntrustworthy, V)ecanse you have cause to think that of me; 
 hut as God is my witness, I long to see yon ha])pv. I know 
 I deceived you cruelly, turned you from a wayw'ard, happy 
 boy into a soured, [irematurely old man. I deserve pun- 
 ishment, and had T fallen into the clutches of ordinary men, 
 I W(^uld probably be languisliing now in the walls of some 
 prison, undergoing m}' just deserts. You have kept silent 
 at the expense of your reputation, for time and again 
 ]>ersons have come to me and offered their sympathy, 
 de})l()ring the fact that I should have been married to and 
 deserted b}' that awful ' Bruisin' Lad O' (Tireystone Lodge.' 
 I hated myself for listening; I longed to cry out and tell 
 them the truth, but I was too selfish. I say therefore, I 
 would make any sacrifice for your happiuess. Any woman 
 could trust herself to you, because \'ou would die before 
 you would injure a hair of her head, Henceforth, I shall 
 not accept a dollar of your hard earned money, but shall 
 get my aunt to keep me until my circumstances are such as 
 will cTiable me to take care of myself. When 3'ou first 
 heard of my deception you would not listen to uie ; you 
 would not hear a single extenuating circumstance. I could 
 not l)lame you then ; I do not now. But since you have 
 softened towards me a little I want to tell you that I acted 
 as I did because I loved you better than life itselt. Who 
 could hel[) loving you ^f they once knew you ? Every 
 silent moment which you have endured on my account has 
 been richly showered with the tenderest thoughts and 
 feelings of my heart. I would have done anytliiug ; com- 
 mitted any sin to have gained you, because, Charlie Met- 
 calf, from the first lK)ur I ever saw you, you have been the 
 idol of my girlhood, the lord of my womanhood. You 
 know I am telling you the truth now. You have told me 
 that you love the other wonum. T know you will win her, 
 and I also know how gently and kindly you will deal with 
 
TtiAt BRUrsiN* LAD o' (IREYSTONE LolxjR. 109 
 
 liwr and liow happy she will bo; but sin- will never love 
 you as I, nor would she saeritice what I did to live with 
 you for a short time. Kven with all my love for you, 
 which will soon wither from want of care, I wish you every 
 hap}>iuess, every Joy in your new tound treasure, and 
 (yharlie, if y(^u cannot love me won't you j't least pity me 
 and say you forgive me ? " 
 
 She bowed her head until it rested \\\>()U her arm lying- 
 on the tal)le. Her frame quivered and then sliook. 8he 
 was sobbing. 
 
 Tears flowed freely down the cheeks of the Bruisin' 
 Lad as he rose and walked to where she was sitting. lie 
 bent gently over her and placed liis hand u[)on the waving, 
 shining tresses. 
 
 " Mamie," he said, with a broken voice, " don't blame 
 yourself. I am ver}' glad you have beeii so candid, and as 
 treely as I hope to be forgiven, I forgive you for any and 
 all wrong you ever did. If necessary, I would have con- 
 tinued on in silence before a breath of sus[)ici()n should 
 have rested on your name. It is all over now. You are 
 young, clever and beautiful. .\[ake your ])eace with Ilim 
 in whom we live and move and have oui" being, and you 
 will yet be happy. If I can ev^er do anything for you, and 
 3'ou will let me know, I will accomplish it if possible. And 
 now it is best for us to part, so let me say good l)ye." 
 
 She raised her head slowly. Throwing her arms 
 around him, she kissed his brow, cheeks and lips. 
 
 " Good bye, Charlie," she sobbed. ''(tIo away at once 
 and God bless you." 
 
 Metcalf moved slowly from the room. He glanced 
 i)ack at the bowed figure, and silently uttered a prater for 
 her happiness. 
 
 That evening at seven fort.y-flvo, a lady closely veiled 
 left upon the east bound train. She was Mamie Metcalf, 
 pursuing her way back to Baltimori' with a sad heart and 
 dark future path before her. 
 
llO THAT HUrTSTN* LAD 0* GREYSTONE LODuE. 
 
 On reacliiiig the Sylvester mansion Metoalt' ini|iiire(l 
 for Frank, bnt found him out. 
 
 When (lordon went in search of Julia, he was sure she 
 had gone to pa Sylvester. She generally went to him in 
 her troubles with ma Sylvester. He was perteetly devoted 
 to his girl, and spoiled her even more than his wife. 
 
 Gordon found out what particular Ijuilding he wa.s 
 superintending with his force, and directed his footsteps 
 there. It was almost on the outskirts of the town. He 
 went into two or three bare rooms but found neither ]iu 
 Sylvester nor Julia. Presently, looking down the hall he 
 spied a white skirt in a room at the other end of the build- 
 ing. He walked in that direction as fast as his feet could 
 carry him. When he entered the untinished door she 
 looked up, and a joyful light filled her eyes. Xot one 
 glance of that light escaped him. As he ap})roached she 
 rose, and her face became suffused with blushes. In 
 another moment, regardless of pa Sylvester, he said : 
 
 " My darling, I have come for you." 
 
 "• If I am worth having, take me," she replied softl}', 
 looking unutterable things out of her large dark eyes. 
 
 In one moment he had her in his arms. As she nestled 
 against him she diminished in bulk until she scarcely looked 
 half of her ordinary size. Whether it was the contrast by 
 his manly figure or that she disappeared in some kind of. 
 miraculous way it is impossible to sav. 
 
 "You dear, sweet, generous, brave little darling I " he 
 whispered, between the kisses. 
 
 "You mean, sneaking, underhand, handsome old (lior- 
 don ! " she returned, witli the prettiest kind of a tace. 
 
 Again he pressed her to him, and again she disappcai-ed 
 in that mysterious, peculiar kind of way. 
 
 "Oh lor!" she exclaimed, "pa is here. Say some- 
 thing to him." 
 
 " Now in a minute, dear," he uttered softly, as he put 
 her through that vanishing process a third time. 
 
THAT bruisin' lad o' greystone lodge. ni 
 
 " Mr. Sylvester," said he, releasiiiii; Julia at last, ^ your 
 (laughter has consented to make me happy. Give us your 
 consent V" 
 
 " It seems you two have tixcd up the matter so com- 
 pletely that you scarcely need any assistance," he replied in 
 a dazed ^vay, 
 
 "• But pa, dear pa," said the gii'l, placing her hand 
 through his arm ; '' say it is all right, won't you ? I*a, I 
 always love<l you so dearly, you were ever nice and kind to 
 me, say you won't mind I " 
 
 I am sure as you have already settled it I ought ncJt to 
 interfere without a cause," he answered lovingly, as he 
 lookeddown upon her. 
 
 " Mr. Sylvester, allow me to add my entreaties to 
 hers," smiled Gordon. " I am sure I can satisfy you as to 
 myself and family." 
 
 " I have no doubt about that, Mr. Gordon," replied 
 pa Sylvester. " Well, let us go home now, Julia," and 
 here pa Sylvester's face lengthened considerably, " I am 
 somewhat doubtful as to how your ma will take this, "^'our 
 ma is a tine woman, Julia, but she has peculiar notions at 
 times." 
 
 " I am afraid Mrs. Sylvester will oppose our [)lans," 
 said Frank. " She doesn't like me very much. She has 
 already ex[)ressed an opinion very decidedly against my 
 attentions to Julia." 
 
 "Who gave you permission to call me Julia":"' she 
 asked, looking archly at Gordon. 
 
 " Just took it so," he laughed, 
 
 " I*a, you do \'our best with ma,'' said Julia, siding u]> 
 to him with one of her sweetest smiles. " Pa, you are a 
 ilear, sweet old pa, and if you will back us strong, ma will 
 give in. Poor ma ! She is Just as good and nice as she 
 can be, and I love her so much." 
 
 ■ " I will do the best I can," he said, dubiously, " but 
 
 you had Ijest make up your mind to some opposition, my 
 
112 THAT BRUISIN' LAD o' ftREYSTONE LODGE. 
 
 (Icar. Vour ma is a sjtlciulid woman, but she do.es not like 
 to give in." 
 
 When they reached the front gate, pa went in first. 
 The young people lingered a moment at the gate in the 
 twilight. Gordon once more took her in his arms and she 
 vanished so greatly from sight that her white dress skirts 
 were alone discernible. lie raised her dear, sweet, little 
 face to his and kissed the rose-bud of a mouth. 
 
 " Julia ! " called her ma. 
 
 " Oh goodness ! " she cried, jerking herself from Gor- 
 don's 'arms. "I wonder what ma wants." 
 
 " I'll take your part this time, dear," he .said, as they 
 walked towards the piazza. 
 
 "Julia, Mr. Archer wants to see you," her mother said 
 coldly. 
 
 " Where is he, ma ? " 
 
 " He is in the parlor." 
 
 " I don't want to see him one bit. He is so hateful," 
 she said, irritably. ' 
 
 '•Go in and see him at all events," said ma Sylvester. 
 
 " Yes, go in and speak to him anyhow," urged Gordon. 
 
 Julia placed her handkerchief and hat upon the hall 
 stand, and, with a i»arting smile, went into the parlor. 
 
 "Miss Julia, how are you ; haven't seen you for a 
 month of Sundays," he said, jerking himself up from his 
 chair. 
 
 Julia heartily wished that it would be two months of 
 Sundays before she saw him again. 
 
 " I am well," she answered, coldly. 
 
 " Nice weather we are having ? " 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " Need some rain." 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 Then there was a pause. Archer sat u[ion his right 
 hand, and rubb<^l his leg with his left. lie doubled up his 
 riirht foot under his chair. 
 
THAT RRUISTN' LAD o' r.KEYSTONE LODGE. 113 
 
 Hu caiiK' i'lilly with tlic iiitt'iitioii of (locluriiii^ his love, 
 atnl haviiit:; it out with her, us he told u fellow coiunide 
 while he was eoverini^ a root". 
 
 " Miss Julia, what about our tri[> to the Springs," he 
 asked. 
 
 " Dou't know." 
 
 " Aro you goinij ? " 
 
 " Xo." 
 
 " Won't vou allow ruv to take you out? " 
 
 " No." 
 
 -Why not?" 
 
 " Because." 
 
 " Because what ? " 
 
 " Xothing." 
 
 " Miss Julia, you look very sweet." 
 
 "Mr. Archer!" 
 
 '•Well!" 
 
 " It" you dare t(j use any such expressions as that to me, 
 I will be under tlie necessity ot" leaving the room," she said, 
 tiring u[t. 
 
 " Don't kick so hard," he said " Miss Julia, the 
 trutli will out. I— I— love— " 
 
 It didn't out in this case though. Before he had 
 scarcely g()tten the word from his lips she Avas upon her 
 feet, her eyes darting a look which fairly withered him. 
 She was furious. Wasn't she Frank Gijrdon's property ? 
 Di(hi't she belong to him ? If her love belonged to the 
 stylish, genteel, clever, insoaciatit Frank (Tror(h)n, how (hired 
 this lout to name such a word to her. For a moment 
 utterance failed her. At last she said : 
 
 " Mr. Archer, you will please never say such a thing to 
 me again." 
 
 " But, Miss Julia, if I love— " 
 
 '' Mr. Archer! " she interrupted. 
 
 " Love—" 
 
 " Stop this instant," she cried indignantly. 
 
Ill Til AT BRUISIN' Lad o' (UIEYSTONE lodce. 
 
 CniAPTEU XITI. 
 
 Tlic time slipped ipiickly h\\ ar,<l the dav euiiie at last 
 on which Metcalf purposed to visit VAxmi. lie spoke Init 
 little of his pro[)Oscd trip, and wiu'ii he hoarded the train 
 that Saturday uiorniu;;- Gordon and Julia were the only 
 persons who knew anvthinu* of his whereabouts. 
 
 '^ If I h)ve— " 
 
 " If you don't hush," she aii:ain interru})ted, " I'll — 
 I'll—'' 
 
 '' Do what ? " he asked, after waiting for a completion 
 of her sentence. 
 
 There was a pause as the color sutfused her cheek. 
 
 " As I was saying, I can't help it if I do l<»ve — " 
 
 " I'll call Mr. Gordon if you (h)n'r hush, that's what I 
 will do," she said, imperiously, stam[)ing her toot, 
 
 " Gordon — what has he got to do with it?" he asked, 
 in a da/.ed sort of way. 
 
 Suddenly his face Itrighieiied. 
 
 " I know what yon mean now ! " he crietl, tiiumphantly. 
 •' You are goiiig to get him to chamition yon, are you 'i I 
 wish you w^ould. How I would love to pommel his tine 
 head ! He never worked in his life. I would knock some 
 of those citv airs out of him. As I was proireeding to say, 
 if I love—" 
 
 " Good night, Mr. Archer," slie said, moving away. 
 She looked hack when at the door, and saw him standing in 
 the middle of the room see-sawing the air with l)otli tists, 
 as if he was giving Gordon a sound druhhing. 
 
THAT HRCISIN' lad 0* (iHEVRTOXK LODOE. 115 
 
 Al)()Ut twelve d'c'lork 111' ste])po<l t'roiii tlir ciii's :it Ktiia. 
 ivosa told liiiii wlu'iv she lived, so he set out at oiiee to tind 
 liei' home, whieh \va- on the eastern suhiirhs of the city. 
 IJetoro i;oinir far he t'omid that lie ha<l some pretty stiiK hills 
 to pull. At last he came to the forks of the ro;id. and dis- 
 covered that he ii.id not the iJjhost of un idea wlii'-h to take. 
 Piiusini:: and dehatinii' which was correct, a lady came up — 
 a larije, stout, line lookinu;- indiv'idual. She stopped too. 
 
 "(•an you tell me wliicli road we take here to reach 
 Mrs. Gooch's I '" she asked. •' I knew tlr- way lonic time 
 aifo, but have for<j;otten it.'" 
 
 '' I want lo iind the way mysell',"" answered he, takinLT 
 offhis hat to the lady. 
 
 "' [ think we take the left," she said, moviuii- down that 
 lirancli of the road. 
 
 They wulked up a stecj) ascent until they came to a 
 house. There u man informed them that they had taken 
 the wron«i' roud. iietrsicinii" their stejts, tliev soon Li'ot into 
 the riglit way, and in fifteen minutes were U'oinu" up the 
 rocky lane near Mrs. Gooch's. 
 
 "What a fearful climb I "she cxelaijned, ."^toppiivx a 
 moment and puffing; ;ind blowino;. 
 
 The Bruisiir Lad did not think the ascent so awfully 
 steep. lie concluded it must be the lady's maicniiicent pro- 
 portions wliich caused her such intense e.\*ertion. Never- 
 theless, gallanfry demanded acf|uiescence on his p»art. 
 
 "It is extremely steep, and then it is so wan^i," he 
 said, smiliuii: jtleasantly as she tried it affain. 
 
 " (^Misin Klrnira Ueynolds should take my visit as 
 ([uite a compliment,"' she said, lanii^hinir, as they ])aused 
 before a u'ate at the side of a lionse constructed of plain 
 Itoards. Charlie stopped l>ecanse she did, yet lie looked 
 wonderiuii'ly at lier for so dointr. She understood him, 
 
 " There is a bad do<:; here," shu lan<j:he(l. 
 
 " You don't say so ! " he cried, in a mock alarmed 
 voice, '• I prefer leaving my card for him." 
 
110 THAT hruisin' lad o' (;reyst6ne lodgk. 
 
 " I will liollow," she said. " Elniira I " she cried. 
 
 " Bow — wow — wow," barked a doer, rushing out from 
 a back building", followed bv two or three chihb-en. 
 
 " Sick'em, Shocko, sick'eni I " thev cried, as the dog 
 rushed towards the gate. 
 
 One of the little boys became so much amused that he 
 rolled over and over again in the grass, while Metcalf 
 laughed heartily as the Fat Lady ]>oked through the bars of 
 the gate at the dog with her umWrella. 
 
 " (^ome back children, go in the house I " called out a 
 lady, stepping from the door of the back house and throw- 
 ing a sun bonnet over her head. She came to the gate in 
 a few moments. Metcalf could see that she was very much 
 Hurried. s 
 
 " Sallie, I am very glad to see you; come in. ITow are 
 3^ou, sir; walk in," she said, looking at Metcalf 
 
 All proceeded in and were soon seated in a cozy sitting 
 room. 
 
 " T hope you do not consider mo an intruder," said 
 Cyharlie. " I supi)Ose you are Miss Rosa's mother. Metcalf 
 is my name." 
 
 " I have heard my daughter speak of you, sir," she 
 replied, stifHy. 
 
 Metcalf took a good look at her as she sat bolt-upriglit 
 in her cliair. One thing was elearly palpable. She was not 
 exi»ecting them, and their arrival disconcerted her. Her 
 black dress was covered here and there with spots of Hour, 
 and her neck was in that collarless condition which all 
 female necks cannot stand. Her boots were unbuttoned, 
 and the leather fittings across the inste[) hung oxer on the 
 sides. As much as the Bruisin' lia.l was charmed witii 
 Rosa, candor com[>elled him to admit that her mother, like 
 uia Sylvester, only in a diifereiit way, was a jx.'culiar jter- 
 sonage. lie thought none the less of her on that account, 
 because it is only that class of peojile who know l)etter and 
 
TtiAT IJRUISIN" lad o' GREYSTONE LODtiE. 117 
 
 fail to do better, wliora we blame for not beini? what they 
 should. 
 
 " Sallie, Avhj didn't you all let me know you were 
 coming," she said. 
 
 Metcalf took the "all'" to himself, as she looked at 
 him when she said it. 
 
 " I wrote Miss Rosa I was eominu' — didn't slie say 
 something to you about it ? " he asked. 
 
 '' She did mention it, but I think she believed you were 
 jesting," she replied. 
 
 " I will ask her what was in the letter to make her 
 think that," he said, smiling. 
 
 " Mr. Metcalf," spoke up the Fat Lady, " you must 
 not say anything about the letters." 
 
 " Why ? " he asked, surprised that the Fat Lady should 
 have made such a remark. 
 
 She looked at Mrs. Reynolds. Mrs. Reynolds looked 
 at her. Telegraphic dispatches seemed to be conveyed 
 between them by these glances. 
 
 " Because," went on the Fat Lady, " Rosa has an aunt 
 who does not like for her to receive letters.'' 
 
 " Where is Miss Rosa ? " asked Metcalf 
 
 " She is at her usual place of cni[»l()yment,'' replied her 
 mother. 
 
 "I tell you how to do, Elmira," went on the Fat Lady, 
 who seemed to be full of resources. " Let Mr. Metcalf go 
 over and get Rosa and bring her home. 
 
 " Rosa might not like that," suggested her mother. 
 
 " I'll take the chances, Mrs. Reynolds," said Metcalf. 
 " Give me the number oi the house where she is employed. 
 
 For a moment she demiu'red, but on being urged by 
 the Fat Lady, at last consented. Taking it down on a piece 
 of paper, he bade them good morning. 
 
 He was a little amioyed at Rosa's thinking he was jest- 
 ing about coming. lie wrote her \ery i>()sitively that he 
 would be down, and could not recall any act (»f his whieh justi- 
 
 k 
 
ll'S THAT Rltrisix' LAI) ()■ (IREYStONK LO!)(;R 
 
 li('(l lit'i" ill tliiiikiiiii' tliiit lie would jest wliere she \v;is con- 
 eenied. lieiiebiiii;' tlie hotel, lie called for iiai)er and ink, 
 and wrote her as follows : 
 
 '' I am here. I went over to yonr house witli your 
 cousin Sallie, who is tliere now, ^ut you were out. I 
 understand you said I was not in earnest ai)out eoiuin<4' 
 down, hut I fail to comprehend your reason for saymy; that. 
 Now that I am here I w^ould like to see you. May I hnvc 
 tlu; )»leasure of escortino; you home this afternoon ? I will 
 call at the store any hour you may susrtrest, or if you prefer, 
 will wait until you ii'o home and see you there. 
 
 Yours, yestf'rday, to-day and forever, 
 
 CiiAs. Metaalf.'" 
 
 Metcalf had no idea how she would like the endiiiu; of 
 the note, but as it was the truth he wrote it, and sealini^ 
 it, sent it by the hotel porter. 
 
 Waitinii; for the re[)ly, he wondered what she would 
 would say. Someliow or other ho felt that she would allow 
 him to call and take her home, because .she was not that 
 stamp of girl to be ashamed of her employment. He knew 
 he was not a little excited when the boy returned wMtli tiie 
 answer, l)ecause his tinkers trembled as he tore open the 
 envelo[)e. Pushing his hat back on his head, he read : 
 
 " I am really mad because you didn't let me know cer- 
 tainly you were coming, but I am delighted to find that 
 Sallie and yon are here. I will allow you to escort me 
 lioim.' with pleasure this eveniiiii-. Excuse haste. 
 
 IJOSA." 
 
 " P. S. — Don't call here until six o'clock, because // 
 can't get off before then." 
 
 A smile rippled across the Bniisin' Lad's face as he 
 read the postscrijit. Of course, in her haste she wrote "it " 
 for"!." Clearly it was a mistake, because her dictation 
 and expression were uiiusuall}' lia]>i\\' in her letters. But 
 the mistake was so funny, the " it can't get ofl"" so cute, 
 that his smile ripjiled broader and broader, until he was 
 laughing softlv to himself lie thought that she was tlie 
 
THAT IJIUISIX" LAD ()* (5REYST0NK LODCi:. 11!' 
 
 most natural, iii!i;eiin()iis, uiiaiivctcd and swi^'ctcnt " it " 
 lie had ever known in his lite. 
 
 lie went out tiien to see something of the city, luit 
 during the whole time hung uhout that part where she was 
 at work. lie liked her^all the more tor not being asliamed 
 to meet him at the [)lace of her em[)Ioyuient in her every 
 day Working costume. He went halt a dozen times at least 
 to the hotel to see what hour it was. Every lady's hat he 
 saw was duly ins[)ected, and he wondered it" Rosa trimmed 
 it. It she jdid, he longed to have been in the hat's place. 
 But the longest time slips away after awhile. It was fifteen 
 minutes to six the last time he went to the hotel, so lie made 
 preparations to go up and escort her home. 
 
 Xearing the store where she was at work, the IJruisin' 
 Lad began to get excited. Tliis middle aged man with 
 nerves like steel, who never lost his presence of mind under 
 any circumstances, walked [)ast the door of the establish- 
 ment twice before he could compose himself sufhciyntly to 
 go in. Recognizing his own heart beats and cpiickened 
 jiulse, he was jifraid every one in the store would know 
 about them too. At last, composing his features, and con- 
 trolling his heart the l)est he could, he walked in. The 
 lirst [)ers()n he saw was Rosa, standing between the counter 
 antl window in a kind of sipiare space. 
 
 She came forward gracefully and easilj-, and liy the 
 most consummate tact, assisted greatly in relieving him of 
 his emi)arrassment. 
 
 Metealf could see she was glad to see him. Her s}iark- 
 ling eye, blushing cheek and overflowing smile told the tale, 
 strive as she might t(» conceal it. He scarcely knew which 
 showed the riciiest color, her cheeks or a lovely shade of 
 pink ribbon she held in her hand. 
 
 Xever in the walls of any palatial mansion, by the side 
 of ->ome fair belle, was he half so ha[)py as standing in this 
 little corner — he looked into tlie artless, smiling lace of this 
 iuijenuous maiden. 
 
120 THAT bruisin' lad o' (Jreystone lodge. 
 
 Foj' fluj time l)ciii,u' it \v;i.s like a rlreani: the little space 
 ap[)eare(l iilled with love ; tlie hats, ril>l)ons and trininnni^s 
 iiii|)rei>;nated with love; every breath of air whispered love, 
 soiiiidiiiii: lil«^ tlie musical notes of an yEolian harp miles 
 away, played on hy vibrations of wind, sighing love, and 
 she standing before him, with her natural, ingenuous num- 
 ner, l(joke<l as if she was l)orn for love. 
 
 To him slie was the whole female sex, none others 
 existed. Looking ujton her, it seemed tliat he had loved 
 her from eternity ; that he wa.s born for that pur[>o.se and 
 she created to fill every void in his heart ; that his love had 
 never been awakened before, in order that its wealth, 
 strength and purity might be given to her alone. He 
 looked into her ayef^ with an intensity which seemed l>ent 
 u]»on gauging every beat of" her heart, while she shyly 
 returned it with an innocent, guileless ex}>ressi()n, knowing 
 that he would only guage a heart worthy the noblest and 
 highest love wdiich man could bestow upon woman. 
 
 Presently he lieard the musical tones of her voice, as if 
 they were " over the hills and far away." /jlradually their 
 sound came nearer and nearer until he heard them right at 
 his ears. 
 
 " Why didn'tyou bring Julia with you," she was saying. 
 
 " Gordon would have gone into convulsions," he said, 
 " if she had come." 
 
 " You don't mean — " 
 
 " Yes, I do mean," lie interru[tted, with a signilicant 
 glance. 
 
 "Well, lam surprised!" she exclaimed, pausing a 
 moment in her occupation of placing a piece of ribbon in 
 the show case. " Xo, I am n(it so sur}>rised either. Things 
 were looking in that direction when I left there." 
 
 " You are like the person who loses an old relation," 
 he laughed. '' "^'ou would not have been surprised at his 
 death any [)articular time, but when he died you were 
 shocked." 
 
THAT BRUISIn' LAD o' GREYSTONE LODGE. 121 
 
 " That's it exactly," she said. " But isn't that rather 
 contradictory ? " 
 
 " I should say so," he rei)lied. 
 
 " Mr. Metcalt", please excuse me, I didn't mean it, but 
 I have been keejiing y^u standing all this time," she said, 
 with a contrite look, 
 
 " It doesn't matter, you have it to do," he answered. 
 
 " Oh, but I am different ! It is my duty," she said, 
 " See that stool over yonder at the end of the counter ? 
 Take that and sit down until I get these things put a^way, and 
 then we will go." 
 
 " I don't want to," he pleaded. 
 
 " But you must," she ordered. 
 
 " Suppose I won't ? " he asked, 
 
 " Then I'll make a face at you if you don't," she said, 
 looking saucily at him. 
 
 " And if you do, I will kiss you if I have to run you 
 in one of these bandboxes to catch you," he laughed, 
 
 " Mr. Metcalf, you are mean enough to do anything. 
 Go now and take that stool, and mind, don't you get in 
 anybody's way." 
 
 She pointed towards the seat in an imperious manner, 
 and Metcalf, that Bruisin' Lad O' Greystone Lodge, who 
 was never known to obey anyone in his lite, Avho invariably 
 had his own way, it mattered not the cost, walked obedi- 
 ently to the stool and took his seat. There he sat watching 
 every one of her movements like some great mastiff would 
 gaze at his fragile mistress, ready to Ijound up at her call, 
 or place his head upon his paws when ordered by a simple 
 motion of her hand, never once removing his eyes from her 
 countenance. This powerful sensation you call love is the 
 most mysterious thing in this world except — a woman. 
 
 After wdiile Charlie saw her go in a l)ack room, and in 
 a moment return with her hat, gloves and sun umbrella. 
 
 " Come on now," she called. 
 
 In a second he was by her side. 
 
122 THAT BRUISIN' LAD o' GREYSTONE LODGE. 
 
 " Let me take your umbrella," said he. " Look here ! 
 What did you mean by saying you didn't believe me ?" 
 
 " I didn't say — I mean I didn't think you were coming," 
 she said. " I thought you were only jesting."' 
 
 " Well, you stop thinking on that subject," he growled. 
 
 " Now you are getting in one of your old teasing, 
 mean tits again," she said, drawing on her gJoves. "Come 
 —let's go."" 
 
 They wended their way down the street oblivious to 
 all. How happy they were. The whole world was pleasant 
 to them. The rough, ragged street, crowded with hot, 
 dusty pedestrians, was a walk of pleasure ; the bridge span- 
 ning the Cressida river a network of fairy visions; the 
 water rolling beneath, but a mirror to retiect their liappi- 
 ness as they stood over it, oijc asking the other what each 
 would do if either should fall in ; the rugged road beyond, 
 up the steep ascent a pathway of roses, along which they 
 trod leisurely, stopping ever and anon to [)luck a wild 
 dower or look into each other's eyes and say those soft 
 nothings so precious t9 themselves, so — foolish to a cold, 
 callous, outside world. 
 
 When they reached the lane leading to her aunt's house, 
 they paused a moment to get a glimpse of the setting sun. 
 
 " Miss Rosa, what do you generally do on Sunday," he 
 asked. 
 
 " Sunday school, church ; dinner, cliurch ; supper, 
 church," she replied. 
 
 " You get pious on Sunday, then."' 
 
 " Not so much a matter of piety as going around. It 
 is the only day I have and I go out to see something of the 
 world and its wife." 
 
 " Can I go the whole rounds with yon to-morrow ? " 
 he asked. 
 
 " Everything ? " 
 
 " Yes, everything, including dinner and sujiper."" 
 
 " Why certainly, if mama is willing." 
 
THAT nRTTISIN' LAD o' GREYSTONE LODGE. 123 
 
 By this time thoy liad reached the little gate leading 
 into Mrs. Gooeh's inclosure. They stood looking over the 
 surrounding hills as their to[is reflected the variegated colors 
 made hv the rays of the setting sun. The hills clothed 
 with all their summer verdure, the huilding and glittering 
 church spires standing forth like so many towers and hat- 
 tlemonts in some feudal age; the cloud-flecked, red horizon 
 stretching away to the hills beyond, illuminated by a glaring 
 ball of flre sinking gradually into unfathomable depths ; the 
 lovely face of the dark-eyed maiden radiated by the invisi- 
 ble zone of love, all caused the Bruisin' Lad to feel as if he 
 was in some enchanted paradise of pleasure. 
 
 Both were equally impressed with the scene, and 
 neither spoke for a moment. Theie is v time like this in 
 the lives of many, when the heart is so tilled with unspeak- 
 able pleasure that the mouth dare not give forth an utter- 
 ance tor fear the enchantment may be dispelled. 
 
 " Beautiful, isn't it ? " he asked, in a voice re-echoing 
 the impression upon his heart rather than seeking an}' 
 answer to the question. 
 
 " Lovel}'," she returned, in the same absent way. 
 
 Presently he turned his face towards hers. Their eyes 
 met tor one moment. Her's drooped with a quivering 
 expression ; his turned again towards the west. In that 
 look the Bruisin" Lad and Bosa Reynolds knew that they 
 loved each other with that higher and purer love which 
 never passeth aAvay. 
 
 Xeither uttered a word. . A tigure of sj^eech at that 
 moment to express what either felt would have been sacri- 
 ligious. Each knew it and was silent. Both intuitively- 
 recognized that the strength and character of the love they 
 possessed was as lasting and impregnable as the old, old 
 hills they gazed upon, and that the one could be swept 
 away as easily as the other. 
 
 Silently, almost sacredly he placed her umbrella against 
 the fence. He turned and retraced his steps towards tlie 
 
l24 THAT BRUISIN' lad o' GREYSTONE LODGfi 
 
 city. As liis figure receded into the darkening shadows of 
 twilight — silently she walked into the house. 
 
 When Metcalf readied his hotel he found his cousin 
 and another gentleman waiting to receive him. 
 
 "Where have you been?" asked Malcolm Greame. 
 '* We have been waiting here for an hour." 
 
 " When did you reach town V" inquired Metcalf of his 
 cousin, Greame. 
 
 " I arrived this evening. I saw your name upon the 
 liotel register. We want you to make u}> a game of three- 
 ball billiards ; I tbld the fellows you were a crack player, 
 so you must sustain the reputation gone ahead. 
 
 Metcalf reflected a moment. Billiards meant cham- 
 pagne, and in all probability a niglit's carousal. He now 
 felt a distaste for such things. A better, purer, and higher 
 impulse Avas fast growing in him since he learned to love 
 this girl. His thoughts soared after something which would 
 make him grander and nobler in all things. He made u[) 
 his mind to take no part in the game. 
 
 " Greame, I don't feel equal to playing," he said, kindly 
 yet tirmly. 
 
 " Why, what's up ?" 
 
 "Nothing." 
 
 Greame looked at him in astonishment, and turning 
 upon his heel, left with the rest. 
 
 Do not think that Charles Metcalf was an abstemious 
 man about these things. To the contrary, at one time he 
 was just the reverse. No person had been fonder of pleas- 
 ure in every way than he. A selfish gratification of every 
 want was what caused his talents to lie hidden. But now, 
 for her sake, he wanted to soar aloft ; to make himself in 
 every way worthy of her. 
 
 Sitting by the window in his room, he thought a great 
 deal about her. In every imaginable way her face came 
 before his mental vision, conjuring up the noblest desires in 
 the mail's whole nature : thus drawing in conflict old estab- 
 
THAT BRUISIN' LAD o' GREYSTONE LODGE, 125 
 
 lished, selfish lialnts,* with new-born, better and hiiiher 
 impulses : 
 
 Some thought wrmirt rise and eome to vipw 
 Whispering, "now, tills course pursue." 
 A gentler oue tlieu took its place. 
 And held aloft her conq'ring face. 
 
 Some old time wish would want its sway, 
 And long to go the old time way, 
 But, like the moon chased by the sun, 
 The new thought comes, the old Is done. 
 
 Witli gratitude and heartfelt praise. 
 He sees recede those old time ways. 
 Encircling 'round this new born thought, 
 Shine the gems thus newly wrought. 
 
 'Midst those gems with purest light. 
 Like some central jewel bright, 
 Shines her face so free from guile, 
 Beck'ning with its winsome smile. 
 
 Beck'ning how? Ah, with that grace. 
 Which purest hearts ere lend the face! 
 Beck'ning from the old time days, 
 Beck'ning now to higher ways. 
 
 The moon mounted hiii:her and higher. The stars 
 changed their position. Everything l)ecaiue quiet, and not 
 a murmur broke the absolute stillness of the night. 
 
 Metcalf thought and thought. At hist he rose to retire. 
 He was calmer and more peaceful now ; the inun had 
 fought the battle. The love of the frail little woman, rest- 
 ing doubtless now in slumber, conquered. Charles Metcalf, 
 before retiring, did something he had not done for years — 
 he knelt in prayer. 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 Sundaj' was ushered in clear, bright and beautiful. 
 The Bruisin' Lad was over at Mrs. Gooch's Ijctimes to get 
 Mrs. Reynold's consent to go the rounds with Rosa. There 
 
l2(j TilAT nKi'ISTN* LAD 0* (JREYStONfi LOt>GE. 
 
 was no trouble on that score ; so about nine o'clock Metcalf 
 and Rosa set off, as lively and cheerful as a pair of crickets. 
 
 They had a thorouo:hly enjoyable day in every way. 
 The reserve hitherto existing had been blown away by yes- 
 terday evening's revelation to them, and he fell into the 
 position of ackowleged suitor, which she tacitly accepted. 
 Little quarrels al)Out how the umbrella should be carried ; 
 disputes about the various wild flowers along the way 
 were all indulged in, with arm pressing against arm, and 
 the utmost freedom. Acts of j»roprietorship l)egan to 
 crop up. 
 
 " Mr. Metcalf, put your hat back over your head," slie 
 said imperiously. 
 
 " Why so ? " 
 
 "Because you look so mucli better with it pushed back 
 tluui hanging low over your hrow." 
 
 The hat was proj^erly adjusted and the change ap|)roved, 
 after a critical examination. When they reached the 
 church Metcalf said that he was going down to the hotel 
 wliile she attended her class in the Sunday school, and 
 A\'oul(l return to take her to church. 
 
 " No, you go with me to Sunday school," she said 
 imperatively. 
 
 So he went in without a murmur, and watched the 
 whole proceedings until the class was dismissed. 
 
 Metcalf smiled to himself as he thought how this 
 untutored little woman ordered him around, and what a 
 pleasure it was to obey her slighest wish. He wondered 
 what John Gordon and other old friends would say if they 
 could see him quietly sitting through a Sunday school pro- 
 ceedings, because ordered to do so by a seventeen-year-old 
 miss. At least, they would smile at the transformation. 
 
 After Sunday school he expressed a desire to go and 
 hear Doctor Warburton preach. She quickly consented, 
 and left her own church. When there, they made a 
 
THAT BRUISIN' LAD O' GREYSTONE LODGE. 127 
 
 ix'iiiurkably hiuulsome pair, as they stood using tlie same 
 liyiunal, and sat shoulder to shoulder. 
 
 During one of the jtrayers he was first struck since he 
 had known her with her l)eauty. Leaning the right side 
 of her face on the end of the book, the front was turned 
 towards him, with the long sweeping lashes,- G-recian nose 
 ami rul)v mouth, rounded chin and perfect neck. There 
 was a little pout on her mouth, produced by the pressui*e of 
 one side of her face on the book, that was simply ravish- 
 inur. How he loncj^ed to touch it with his own. Kneeliuij 
 at the second prayer, her face was in a ditlerent position. 
 He bent over and whispered to her : 
 
 "■ Put the side of your face on the book again." 
 
 Slowly and easily the face was turned until it occupied 
 the same position again, and the Bruisin' Lad was allowed 
 to feast his eyes to his heart's content. 
 
 In the afternoon and at night he was with her again, 
 and one thing taught him how enraptured he was. Although 
 by her side all day, he never experienced the least ennui; 
 was charmed and amused all the time, and constantly found 
 something about her different from what he saw in other 
 ladies. 
 
 That night, just before leaving to go back to the city, 
 the Fat Lady asked him* to inform her when he would 
 return to Shirly. He told her the following afternoon. 
 She announced her intention of going at the same rime. It 
 was then arranged that Mrs. Reynolds should take the Fat 
 Lady to the station and the Bruisin' Lad go by for Rosa at 
 Miss Limstone's just before the train left, so that both Mrs. 
 Reynolds and Rosa could see them off. The Bruisin' Lad 
 noticed during the evening a decided coolness towards him- 
 self on the part of the Fat Lady and Mrs. Reynolds. 
 
 During the day, while Rosa and Charlie were ha[t[»ily 
 treading the pathway of love, tfie Fat Lady's mind was 
 ruminating about Metcalf. She felt more and more certain 
 that she had heard something about him. First, she recalled 
 
128 THAT BRUISIN' LAD o' GREYSTONE LODGE. 
 
 the fact that he used to drive by Lancing Court House in a 
 (lashing, wild way, and the inhabitants called him some- 
 thing. Then it dawned upon her that he was the Metcalf 
 who had spent the large estate ; and finally her memory, in 
 a cloudy way, brought home the fact that he was the gentle- 
 man who married the lovely lady from Pennsylvania. Her 
 hands went up in holy horror at the thought of her female 
 relatives receiving a gentleman who was married, and she 
 instantly sought out Mrs. Reynolds and imparted this infor- 
 mation to her. They held a council of war against Metcalf, 
 reaching the conclusion that all intercourse must cease, until 
 full inquiries could be made. The Fat Lady would go at 
 once to Shirly, and consult ma Sylvester, the oracle in the 
 family. 
 
 That evening, subsequent to the Bruisin' Lad's dei»art- 
 ure and while Rosa was retiring, her mother came into her 
 room. 
 
 " Rosa, I wnsh to speak with you a moment." 
 
 " What about, mama?" 
 
 " Mr. Metcalf," she answered. " Rosa, have you ever 
 written to him ? " 
 
 " Yes — one letter and a note," she answered. 
 
 " Get them back at once," she said. "Rosa, be very 
 careful what you say and do con!;eri)ing him." 
 
 " Why, mama ? " she asked, evident surprise <lepicted 
 upon her countenance. 
 
 "• Because I tell you to. I will give you my reason 
 afterwards." 
 
 " Very good, mama," she said as she proceeded to 
 disrol)e. 
 
 Mrs. lieynolds instantly reported the subject of this 
 conversation to the Fat Lady. "And," slie said, "when 
 Rosa asks for a return of her letters, he will see that she 
 does not like him, and will go away never to come back 
 again." 
 
 " Of course," assented the Fat Lady. 
 
THAT BRUISIN' LAD o' (JREYSTONE LODGE. 129 
 
 It (lid not seciii to occur to cither one of the ladies that 
 liosa could demand the return of those letters in a manner that 
 Avould scarcely cause a ripple upon the intercourse between 
 lierself and the Bruisin' Lad. She was only seventeen 
 years old, and she would, of course, obey her mother; not 
 a single time, though, did it occur to her to wound 
 Metcalf 's feelings by so doing. 
 
 The following day, while they were going to the station, 
 Kosa approached the subject. 
 
 " I want you to promise me to do something," she 
 said. 
 
 " Yes, what is it ? " 
 
 " Give me back the letter and note I wrote you." 
 
 " You are the quintessence of meanness," he said, 
 hiughing. " Make me promise to do the last thing I 
 would care about ]jerforming." 
 
 " You Avon't care," she said, saucily. 
 
 " IS'ot a bit," he said, ironically. " But what are your 
 reasons ? " 
 
 " I have a good reason," she said, earnestly, " which I 
 will tell you the next time I see you." 
 
 " Will you promise me one thing? " he asked in return. 
 
 " Why certainly," she replied. " What is it? " 
 
 " Answer me three questions truthfully," he said. 
 
 "What are they?" 
 
 " Have I done or said an^'thing to cause you to make 
 this request ? " 
 
 " That you haven't." 
 
 " Is it because ;you do not wish any correspondence 
 between us ? " 
 
 " Ko indeed," she said. " Your lette-rs give me a great 
 deal of pleasure. " 
 
 " Do your reasons extend so far that you think my 
 letters should cease ? " 
 
 " I am sure they do not — whenever they do I will let 
 you know." 
 
130 THAT BRUISIN' LAD o' GREYSTONE LODGE. 
 
 "Under these circumstances your lettert^ shall come 
 back to you at once." 
 
 " Thank you," she said, simply, 
 
 Metcalf never thought once of pressing her for a reason 
 why she wanted them returned. He knew some extrinsic 
 power had been brought to bear, and that she would tell 
 him at the proper time. She used the same naive simplicity 
 in doing this that she exhibited in every one of her acts. 
 
 " I don't mean to be vain," he said, " but what will you 
 do after I am gone ? " 
 
 " I am going straight to the pcstoliice and get your 
 letter you wrote and read it. I know the one sent on Fri- 
 day is there, because I have not received it yet." 
 
 " I hope you will be amused by it," he said, laughing. 
 
 " I like your letters. They tell so much news and are 
 so jolly," she said. 
 
 "I like to give you pleasure and amusement. I can 
 never repay you for what you have done for me," he said, 
 earnestly. 
 
 " What is that ? " 
 
 " You are influencing me towards a higher and better 
 life than I ever led before." 
 
 "You wrote me that, Mr. Metcalf, but isn't it more 
 than I am entitled to ? " 
 
 " ^o, I do not think so," he said, as they reached the 
 station. 
 
 The Fat Lady and Mrs. Reynolds were cooler than 
 ever to Charlie. They scarcely said a word to him as they 
 sat on the benches in the reception room waiting for the 
 train. When it thundered up Metcalf found a seat for the 
 Fat Lady and then stood on the steps of the car talking to 
 liosa. Finally he stepped down upon the platform in order 
 to say something he did not wish the others to hear. 
 
 " Rosa, let's go," said her mother. 
 
 " Yes," said the Fat Lady, " you had better start. 
 The train will leave directly." 
 
I 
 
 THAT BRUISIN' lad o' GREYSTONE LODGE. 131 
 
 111 ;in instant Charlie Metcalf became That Bruisin' 
 Lad O' Greystone Lodge in feelings when these ladies 
 deliberately inaiKruvred to l)rcak in npon a simple pleasnre 
 which could not have possibly harmed anyone. Whenever 
 he took an opposite stand against a person, he was never 
 satisfied with holding his position simply, but he became 
 very aggressive, and was so nasty and disagreeable that 
 one moved as far as possible from him. He made up his 
 mind to say what he wanted, and determined now to take 
 her ott. 
 
 "• I have something to say to you alone," he exclaimed, 
 with that steely gleam coming in his eyes. 
 
 Any refusal on Rosa's part or objections liy Mrs. Tiey- 
 iiolds or the Fat Lady would have brought the (piestioii 
 from the Bruisin' Lad's lips at once: 
 
 " What are your reasons for objecting ?" 
 
 Mrs. Reynolds saw it ; the Fat Lady felt it, and Rosa 
 knew it. The latter moved aside with him as he handed 
 lier the nml)rella which he was carrying for her and had 
 forgotten to give her. 
 
 " What do you wish to say ? " she asked, looking softly 
 towards him. 
 
 " I wanted to say that if vou think I had better not 
 write to you I will not do so. I have so much conlidenee 
 ill you that nothing you could ever do would make me 
 tliink less of you, because I love you more than any 
 woman — '" 
 
 "Don't speak (piitc so loud," she interrupted, raising 
 her finger until she almost touched his lip. 
 
 " Love you more than any woman I ever met," he fin- 
 ished.' 
 
 " You talk so loud," she said, as wave after wave of 
 color passed over her cheeks, and her eyes looked softly 
 into his. 
 
 Having said his say, the Bruisin' Lad took his position 
 again upon the steps of the train. 
 
132 THAT BRUTSIN' LAD o' GREYSTONE LODGE. 
 
 " Come on Rosa, it is time we were goiiioj," said Mrs. 
 Reynolds. 
 
 " Yes, we can't talk any more," assented the Fat Lad}'. 
 
 "Don't go nntil the train leaves, Miss Rosa," urged 
 Metcalf. "' Don't go hack to that hot, stnfty store until yon 
 are oldiged. Miss Limestone sai<l you couhl stay until 
 after the train left." 
 
 " Oh Mama, wait until Sallie goes before we leave," 
 she said. . 
 
 Mrs. Reynolds looked many things at Metcalf, in 
 which the Fat Lady heartily joined. lie looked over Mrs. 
 Reynolds at Rosa all the time. As the train pnlled out 
 from the station the last face he got aglim])se of was Rosa's. 
 That was Just as he wanted it. 
 
 " She'll do," he muttered, taking a seat and replacing 
 his hat with a traveling cap. 
 
 Those words uttered by many persons might have been 
 almost meaningless ; said by the Bruisin' Lad they meant 
 that if he did not see her for ten years he would have im- 
 plicit faith in her. He was satisfied that in every position 
 she took, duty would be the governing motive, and that was 
 just the line of conduct he would have her adopt. 
 
 Pursuing his way to Sliirly, he had ample time for 
 tliought. He understood the machinations of the Fat Lady 
 and Mrs. Reynolds just as well as if he had been told. 
 Further, he keew before sundown this evening that ma 
 Silvester and the Fat Lady would l)e scheming together to 
 break up all intercourse between Rosa and himself. He 
 was satisfied that in a measure they would accomplish it. 
 In that case he would have to wait — that's all, because he 
 no mo'^e doul)ted Rosa's abiding faith than he distrusted 
 holy writ. He would watch events; believe in Rosa before 
 everything; pursue his occupation with all his vim, and 
 look to no other goal than a marriage with her finally. 
 
 The Bruisin' Lad was a consummate judge of human 
 nature. This knowledge resulted from the application of 
 
THAT BRUISIN' LAD o' GREYSTONE LODGE. 133 
 
 Ills quick, grasping mind to the various kinds of natures 
 he came in contact witli during his extended travels. lie 
 had reasons, too, for trusting that knowledge. He scarcely 
 romemhercd a single instance in which his quick perceptions 
 hud failed him. Intuitivoly he knew, ma Sylvester could 
 not he trusted along auy line • which diverged from the 
 natural course of her desires. Whilst generous to a fault 
 in some things, she was seltish in others. For one reason 
 alone he felt sure she would use every means in her power 
 to cut liim oii' from all intercourse with Rosa, and that was 
 — she regarded the Bruisin' Lad as one of her leading ring 
 horses, on account of his admiration for her. 
 
 Ma Sylvester was devoted to admiration. She desired 
 the attention of every man who came in her way, and 
 would flirt nineteen to the dozen. She liked to he told 
 that she was liandsome ; that she was clever ; that she was 
 heautiful and fascinating, and she had no use for any one 
 v.'ho did not think her ditferent from the rest of her sex in 
 everything. The Bruisin' Lad, knowing she was married 
 and seeing much in her to admire, had on several occasions 
 expressed this admiration. She, therefore, in many little 
 ways had shown that she regarded Metcalf as her especial 
 appropriation, and had been very restive more than once 
 because he did not bow down sufficient!}- to please her. 
 She boasted often of the tact that she managed her coterie 
 of admirers just as an equestrian scientist governed his 
 trick horses in a ring. When the Bruisin' Lad found that 
 she regarded him in even the light of a possible admirer, 
 he had nothing further to say than ordinary ci^^lity 
 demanded. 
 
 When he reached Shirly he had not been in the house 
 two hours before he heard some one approach the parlor 
 door, in which room he was sitting. 
 
 " Excuse me, Mr. ^[etcalf, for intruding upon you, but 
 I understand you have just returned from Etna, and I 
 wanted to see you just a moment'" spoke Mrs. Sylvester. 
 
134 THAT BRITI8IN* LAD 0^ GRElYSfONE LODGE 
 
 " Certainly ; take a seat, won't you ?" 
 
 '' Xo, T will stand," she said, closing the door behind 
 her. " Mr. Metcalf, do you think you liave treated me 
 right ? " 
 
 " Wliat do you mean, Mrs. Sylvester?" he inquired. 
 
 " Didn't you write to Rosa every day, and didn't you 
 go down to see her Saturda}' ? '' 
 
 Metcalf was astounded to be thus taken to task by her. 
 At first he could not divine what she meant. At all events 
 he determined to be guarded. 
 
 " I have not informed any one what I have been 
 doing." 
 
 " Didn't you write letters to Rosa ? " ^ 
 
 " I wrote some," he answered. 
 
 " Yes, and one of them was twenty pages. T can even 
 tell you what you said in it. Ah ! I know all about what 
 yon have been doing." 
 
 " Then you must have read it Ijefore I sent it," he 
 retorted. 
 
 The Bruisin' Lad knew she had read none of his letters, 
 knew that she would not stoop to such a trick. But the 
 accusation did the work he intended. 
 
 " I take that as an insult I " she exclaimed " The idea 
 of my reading any one's letters! I would scorn to do such 
 a thing I " 
 
 " Well, as Miss Rosa would be incapable of showing a 
 gentleman's letters, you must have seen this one ere it left 
 here," he said, sending the shaft home this timj. lie knew 
 before many moments self-exculpation would give him the 
 information he wanted. 
 
 '■'■ Yes, and Miss Rosa is the very one who told 
 al)Out it," she said. 
 
 " I don't l)elieve it." 
 
 " Then how could it be known ? " 
 
 " I don't know and care less." 
 
THAT BRUISIN' LAD o' fiREYSTONE LODGE. 135 
 
 " Do you meau to say that you are not in love with 
 Rosa ? " 
 
 " I have not told any one that I cared for her." 
 
 " You know you love her ! " she said angrily. '' You 
 ought to be ashamed of yourself for telling Rosa that you 
 l(jve her, at the same time talldng as you did to others." 
 
 " How did I talk to others ? " 
 
 " You told them that you liked them ; that they were 
 handsome and clever." 
 
 " I say the same now," he said, smiling in spite of 
 himself. 
 
 " I know what you have Ijeeii doing ; how many letters 
 vou have written," she said. " I know also about her usk- 
 ing you to return the letter she wrote you. See ! I am 
 posted. And I want to say this : I am going to watch the 
 matter, and if I tind yon have been false to any one, I will 
 make you pay for it ! " 
 
 That was a threat which surprised the Bruisin' Lad on 
 less than it angered him. He made up his mind to check any 
 such language for the future. 
 
 " You are a married lady, Mrs. Sylvester," he said 
 slowly, as if measuring every word before uttering it. " If 
 I were to make love to every woman in the universe it could 
 not concern you, unless, relying upon promises of miue, 
 you had made up your mind to leave your husl)and's roof 
 and care. Do you recollect my having entered into such 
 an agreement ? " 
 
 For a moment she was dumbfounded — utterly amazed 
 — so much so that her tongue refused to speak. The 
 Bruisin' Lad had a remarkably plain way of putting things, 
 and a disagreeable, grating manner of getting rid of them. 
 Finally she recovered her self-possession enough to speak. 
 
 " Mr. Metcalf, have you lost your mind ? What do 
 you mean by speaking so to me ? Surely you do not know 
 me ! Do I recollect any such agreement ! Why, such an 
 
136 THAT bruisin' lad o' greystone lodge. 
 
 idea, one way or the other, never entered ray head! " she 
 exclaimed, looking downright horror-stricken. 
 
 " Nor (lid it ever enter mine to be dangling around 
 you, staying soft nothings and leaving that kind of court 
 which you see so many fools giving to married ladies of this 
 day," he said emphatically. " If in the zenith of your 
 wonderful imaginary powers such an idea ever entered your 
 brain, I simply wish to disabuse you of it. The mode I 
 referred to a moment ago is the only way by which an 
 unmarried man could be false to a married lady. Since 
 you disclaim the existence ot such a state of things between 
 us, I am at a loss to discern how I have been, or ever could 
 be false to you — except in your imagination. By your 
 accusation made, I should presume that you deem oxery 
 man false who fails to pay you just such attentions as you 
 desire, to say nothing of liis wishes on the subject." 
 
 "I thank you, Mr. Metcalf!" she cried, drawing her- 
 self up in a dignified maimer. " I do not wish the atten- 
 tions of anyone who does not give them freely of his own 
 accord. Nevertheless, you will see that I shall find out every 
 line you write ; ever3'thing you do." 
 
 " Probably you may. If Miss Reynolds, as a dutiful 
 daughter, conceals nothing from her mother, certainly she 
 is not to blame lor her parent's indecant exposure of things," 
 he said. 
 
 " Elmira didn't tell me anything," she said. 
 
 " But you derived the information from your cousin 
 Sallie, the Fat Lady. She got hers from Mrs. Reynolds. 
 She has just come from there and you have seen her since." 
 
 " I am not going to tell you who wrote or told me," 
 she said. "But you need not blame Elmira, because she 
 hasn't done anything. If Rosa wanted her letters back, it 
 was not through her mother's seeking, but her own. It 
 nuiy be surprising to you, but Elmira doesn't wish her to 
 correspond with anyone, because she informed me that 
 Rosa was engaged to a gentleman in Washington. She is 
 
THAT BRUISIN' LAD o' GREYSTONE LODGE. 137 
 
 going to bt! iiiurried to tluit man, and it" f were in your 
 place I would not bother myself about a lady who cared 
 nothing for me, and was going to unite her fortunes with 
 tliose of another. You will never marry her in this world." 
 
 With that parting shot she left the room. She really 
 believed that the matter had been so delicately managed by 
 Mrs. Reynolds that the api)lication made by Rosa for her 
 letters, was ample foundation on which to ground the 
 assertion that she cared nothing for Metcalf. So well did 
 she think the thing had been conducted that she really 
 thought Charlie must see the matter in the same light. 
 
 But Cliarlie, already acquainted with the true standing 
 of matters, looked through neither Mrs. Reynold's, the 
 Fat Lady's nor ma Sylvester's glasses. He viewed the 
 whole thing through those given him by Rosa when she 
 asked for her letters, and took her words as she uttered 
 them, her acts in the panorama as she went through each 
 one, with her ingenuous, true manner, and not as the 
 others would have him look upon them. To apply a trite, 
 but homely saying to the subject, Rosa hedged beautifully 
 on the whole crowd by her candor to Metcalf She duti- 
 fully followed her mother's instructions, yet in such a 
 manner as not to convey a false impression on the Bruisin' 
 Lad. 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 About a week after the discussion between ma Sylvester 
 and the Bruisin' Lad, Mrs, Reynolds accosted her daughter 
 one morning just before she started to the place of her 
 usual avocation for the day. 
 
138 THAT bruisin' lad o' (jreystone lodge. 
 
 " Rosa, yoM must never speak to that Mr. Metcall" 
 ui^aiii. Did he return vour letter ? " 
 
 " Yes— hotli." 
 
 *•' Is he writing to you now ? " 
 
 " Yes, mama ; he writes as usual." 
 
 " Then write him to-day not to send any more of his 
 letters. Tell him that you don't wish to receive them." 
 
 " Mama, why shoidd I do this ? " 
 '" Because T tell you to," replied her motlier in a com- 
 manding tone. 
 
 " You told me to get my letters hack, mama, and I did 
 so. You said you would give me a reason. You have not 
 done so yet, and now you want me to stop his letters. 
 Mama, I enjoy them very much, indeed, and I faney he 
 likes to write them. Tell me now, why he should not con- 
 tinue to write them ? " 
 
 " My dear, that man is a scoundrel — a deceitful villain. 
 He is married and has a wife living. 
 
 " Mr. Metcalf has a wife living ! " exclaimed she, 
 every particle of color receding from her cheeks. "Mama! 
 you have lost your mind ! Charlie Metcalf might have 
 heen married once, hut he is single. Of course he is, mama! 
 hecause he lives all alone." 
 
 "I tell you, he is married. His wife is in Baltimore 
 now. I know what I am talking about. Everybody says 
 he is married, and to prove it, I have a letter here from your 
 aunt Sylvester, who says a friend of his told her. More- 
 over, he has been talking about you — " 
 
 " Talking about me ! " she interrupted. " I don't 
 believe it. What did he say ? " 
 
 " He said he didn't care anything about you — that he 
 never loved you." 
 
 " Did aunt Sylvester write you that ? " she asked 
 slowly. 
 
 " Yes: here is the letter." 
 
That fiRiiisiN* lad o* greystone lodge. 139 
 
 "T don't want to see it — stay, yes, I will read it," she 
 said, reaching out her hand for it. 
 
 Iler mother handed her the letter, wlii(di she opened 
 and read as follows : 
 
 " Shirly, July 15th, 1884. 
 Mv Dear Ej>mira : 
 
 I think T ought to write you about a certain gentle- 
 man rooming at my house who has been writing to and 
 visiting Jvosa. He is a married man and is a very peculiar 
 l»erson. I will call him Smith, and when you wTite«3'ou 
 call him the same. We must be very careful what we say 
 say and write, and not let any one know w^hat we are doing. 
 He says that he is willing for anybody to see the letters he 
 wrote Rosa, and that he cares no more for her than the dirt 
 ujider my buggy wheel. You cannot rely upon him. You 
 had better be careful that Rosa neither writes to him nor 
 receives his visits. Write soon. 
 
 Your aft'ectionate sister, 
 
 Jennie Sylvester." 
 
 This was from the oracle — the leader par excellence of 
 this family. But even in that composition, the untutored 
 girl with her sharp feminine instin(;t, traced feelings so 
 strong that the truth in a measure was covered, even to her 
 mind. The part alhiding to statements made by him did 
 not affect her at all, but the saying that he was married cut 
 her to the quick. She handed it back to her mother without 
 a word. 
 
 " What have you to say now?" asked her mother 
 jeeringly. 
 
 " Nothing, mama; except I believe there is some ex- 
 jtlanation about his being married. T no more believe he 
 has a living wife who has any claims upon him than that T 
 am married. There is such a thing as a divorce, you 
 know." 
 
 " You would marry a divorced man, would you ? " 
 
 " Mr. Metcalf has never asked me." 
 
 " At any rate you write him as soon as you reach town 
 that you yv^ant no more of his documents." 
 
140 THAT BRUISIN' LAD o' GREYSTONE LODGE. 
 
 " Yes, mama, I will," answered the girl, turning wearily 
 away and putting on lier gloves. 
 
 In a few moments she was traeing her way towards the 
 city. She had taken the Bruisin' Lad's part, nevertheless, 
 she suffered intensely. Once or twice she ahnost staggered 
 walking down the little lane. From her habyhood to this 
 moment she never knew such emotional suffering. She 
 realized slowly but surely how closely the Bruisin' Lad had 
 entwined himself around the tendrils of her heart; how 
 inexpressibly dear he had become to her ; how her love for 
 him permeated every fibre of her heart, and was the govern- 
 ing power of her existence, Avhich all the rest of her nature 
 bowed down to and worshipped. Dull, hopeless despair 
 seemed to sieze her soul as the words of the Poet Laureate 
 rang in her ears : 
 
 " Too late, too late, ye cannot enter now." 
 
 Mechanically she pursued her way, thinking and think- 
 ing, until her brain seemed to be on fire. She came presently 
 to the bridge and her heart swelled as she remembered how 
 bright and happy they were, crossing there a short time 
 back. As the city came in full view she longed to flee and 
 l)e alone. She shrank from human gaze. Her suffering 
 was so acute she thought anyone could read it. Reaching 
 the railroad crossing, the early east bound passenger train 
 passed, preventing her from walking -over the track for 
 some moments. Watching it pass, the rumbling of the 
 coaches caused her i>ain ; each revolution of the wheels 
 seemed to l)e crushing out all life and happiness, and 
 mangling — ruthlessly tearing her heart into pieces. She 
 stood it the best she could, nonetheless she bled sorely. 
 
 But youth combined with the pleasures of hope, react. 
 She commenced to think aV)out the matter as her love 
 directed. The open, brown eyes of the Bruisin' Lad; his 
 clear-cut features; his gentlemanly bearing and digjiified 
 demeanor negatived the idea that he would be guilty of so 
 dishonorable an act as to seek the affections of any lad}' 
 
tHAT BRUISIn' lad o' GREYSTONE tODGH. 141 
 
 when he was married and living witli a wife. Why didn't 
 lie ever mention it ? Why didn't somebody in Shirly know 
 something about it ? Why di(hi't he visit her or wljy 
 wasn't she sometimes with him? 
 
 Then his looks, his soft, gentle manners, his earnest 
 tones and consistent acts, all pleaded in his behalf. eTnst 
 before reaching the store she said firmly to herself: 
 
 " I don't believe he has any wife, legally or morally, 
 nor will I ever belicA'e it unless he tells me so himself. He 
 may have been married, but for his present state there is 
 some explanation." 
 
 This kind of faith comes but from two sources: recti- 
 tude of i)rinciple on the part of the believer: the highest 
 type of human love for the person believed in. 
 
 Reaching filestore she sought for writing materials. 
 She would follow the commands of her mother about stop- 
 ping the letters. 
 
 Oh, how disagreeable it was ! Only a few days ago 
 she had walked out of this very room with the handsome, 
 elegant Metcalf, amid the glances of her associates. How 
 distingue he always looked ? How neatly and tastefully he 
 dressed ? He talked differently from anyone else — had 
 that quiet, easy, elegant, genteel manner which always 
 bespeaks birth. The young ladies remarked upon it ; she 
 had often noticed it. Maybe even now those very girls won- 
 dered why she should liave received a married gentleman. 
 What would she say if they asked her about the matter ? 
 
 Through all she belie\'ed in the man and was true. 
 
 She took up her pen. Could she write him that lie 
 must stop writing because she didn't want to receive them ? 
 Could she write him that she was tired of his letters and he 
 must cease sending them ? Xo, she could say none of these 
 things. She would simpl}- write the truth. Taking up a 
 piece of paper, she wrote : 
 
 " Etxa, N. C, July 17th, 1884. 
 
 Please don't write any more letters for I cannot receive 
 them. Rosa," 
 
142 TI'IAT BRCTSIN' lad o' GRElrSTONE LODGfi 
 
 That was true, and she felt that the Bruisin' Lad would 
 understand that she could not receiv^e them. Tliere was no 
 '.'ontradiction in this assertion to that made to him when 
 she saAv liim that she was glad to get his letters and enjoyed 
 -them. She sent this to the office and determined patiently to 
 wait the development of results. 
 
 While Rosa was writing lier letter, Mrr^, Ileynolds was 
 indicting one, too. Hers was to ma Sylvester. The con- 
 tents were to this eflect : 
 
 "Etna, X. C, Jnly ITth, 1S.S4. 
 ^^Y Dear Jexxie : 
 
 I did not receive your letter until last evening. I 
 jiever had any use for that fellow Smith. What docs lu' 
 mean? He is a deceitful wretch — a monster, to talk as he 
 did to you. I have pai't of the letters he wrote yet. I luade 
 a fire with some of them. When I come up I will let you 
 see them. He is a designing wretch. Rosa cares nothing 
 for him, iu)t even enough to bring the flowers he sends her, 
 home. She only Avrote him ;i letter asking him to stoj) 
 writing to her. We half way expect him down here, hnt 
 if he comes she will not receive him. You are right; we 
 must not let anyone know anything about what we are 
 doing, but be as ([uiet as possible. I don't care much if 
 you tell that fellow what I think al)Out him. I boite to see 
 you soon. 
 
 ^'our affect, sister, 
 
 Elmika Reynolds. ■■ 
 
 This letter she sent to the office by Joe. Assuming 
 ma Sylvester's letter as a composition of truth, Mrs, i^iw- 
 nolds could scarcely be Idamed for the tenor of hers. She 
 firmly believed her daugliter was being sought after b}^ an 
 unprincipled villain, and tliat it was her duty to protecr her 
 from him in every way slie could. But it nevei- once 
 occurred to her to do Metcalf the simple Justice of demand- 
 ing an ex]»lanation from him as to all these things she 
 heard. 
 
 None of the Bruisin' Lad's friends had e\er known 
 him to refuse to exitlain anything which could be reason- 
 
THAT bruisin' lad o' grbystone lodge. 148 
 
 al)ly required of him. While she was pondering over this 
 matter Joe came in from the office with a letter for her. 
 
 " Where did you get it, Joe? " she asked, wondering 
 who sent it. 
 
 " From the postoitice ; where else do you reckon, 
 mama? " 
 
 "Who wrote it, do you suppose, Joe?" she asked 
 again, turning it over and over again. 
 
 " How can I tell, mama, as I have neither opened nor 
 read it," said the little girl. 
 
 " Well, I'll read it — go out and play, Joe," she said, 
 hreaking open the letter. 
 
 " Yes, mama," said Joe. "If you have any difficulty 
 in reading or understanding it, call me and I will spell it 
 out for you." 
 
 Already she was reading it. 
 
 "Shirly, July 16th, 1884. 
 Mrs. Elmira Reynolds : 
 
 My Dear Madam : 
 I write to know if you will be so kind as to accord me 
 an interview on next Sunday. I have something in connec- 
 tion with myself which I desire you to know, and which [ 
 do not choose to leave unsaid any longer. A reply will 
 greatly oblige Yours very truly, 
 
 Charles Metcalf." 
 
 She was very much surprised at tliis epistle, and won- 
 dered what he wanted to say to her. She was sure he had 
 some sinister or ulterior motive in view. Moreov^er, if he 
 came there again, peoples' tongues w^ould wag, and that 
 would be the worst thing which could happen for liosa. 
 On the whole she preferred to have nothing to do with 
 him. She would write and tell him so. She g(jt out her 
 writing materials and wrote this letter : 
 
 "Etna, July 17th, 1884. 
 Mr. Metcalf : 
 
 Yours asking for interview has just been received. It 
 will not be agreeable to give you the desired interview. 
 Do not write to my daughter aiiymore. I object to it. 
 Respectfully, Elmira Reynolds." 
 
144 THAT BRUISIN' LAD o' (iREYSTONE LODUE. 
 
 She sealed and .sent this letter. When she did that she 
 placed in the hands of the Bruisin' Lad the very artillery 
 he wished to use against ma Sylvester. She said Mrs. Rey- 
 nolds was having nothing to do with it ; that Rosa was the 
 one objecting to any intercourse with Metealf. The same 
 ihiy on which Rosa wrote the Bruisin' Lad that she could 
 not receive his letters, Mrs. Reynolds wrote that she 
 objected. The latter, hy this move, checkmated ma Syl- 
 vester, and threw the game at the Shirly end completely in 
 the hands of That Bruisin' Lad 0' Greystone Lodge. 
 
 CHAPTER XVL 
 
 Ma and pa Sylvester were seated in their piazza late 
 one evening, enjoying the cool mountain atmosphere after 
 an extremely hot day. There was an unliappy, soured 
 expression upon her countenance at which pa Sylvester 
 glanced furtively and unseen every now and then. Accord- 
 ing to her idea things were all wTong, and she was sure no 
 one could right them except herself. 
 
 In the iirst place, Frank Gordon had turned 
 o,ut to he not a mere penniless adventurer, as she 
 would have him he, hut the son of Doctor E. A 
 Gordon, of Weston, one of the most elegant and wealthy 
 gentlemen in the State of North Carolina. Ma Sylvester 
 knew^ that while she could laud it over the Shirly folks and 
 her connections, she could no more put on airs before those 
 cultured ])eople than she could travel the world in eighty 
 days. Already she felt the contempt with which she knew 
 the Westons would look upon herself and surrounding from 
 a letter Julia received. The old doctor wrote that whilst 
 he recognized the great social gulf between herself and his 
 
THAT BRUISIN' LAD o' GREYSTONE LODGE. 145 
 
 son he was willing to bridge that on account of Frank's 
 haj)i)iness. Not a word did he say about her faiiiily ; neither 
 a good wish nor an expression as to the future intercourse 
 between the two. Ma Sylvester would have broken up the 
 alliance at all hazards, but the young people, supported by 
 pa Sylvester, routed her. They had made all their plans to 
 }»e married in the fall, and at last she tacitly consented to it 
 because she was powerless to offer resistance. 
 
 " Cheer up, ma," said pa Sylvester, "and do not look 
 so gloomy. You can't expect to keep the girl always with 
 you." 
 
 " If she had chosen properly we might have had her 
 always with us. But we will lose her now sure enough. 
 Precious little those proud Gordon's care about mingling 
 with us ! " 
 
 " Well, you ought to consider Julia's happiness before 
 all. She is just as happy as the day is long, and he cer- 
 tainly is a gentleman. Jennie, we can't run over those kind 
 of people to save our lives. Their superiority is stamped 
 upon them. Make up your mind to bear it as well as you 
 can, and comfort yourself with the reflection that Julia 
 takes her place among those fine folks at the beginning of 
 her life, to associate with whom you have been striving all 
 of yours." 
 
 The modest John Sylvester, the modest contractor, had 
 shoals of good, hard, common sense in a modest way, which 
 he invariably exhibited in a modest manner. 
 
 " Everything goes against me," she proceeded mourn- 
 fully. " Nobody cares for me, and I am always in some- 
 body's way. Every body seems to be happy, while I am 
 miserable." 
 
 " Yes, some one does care for you," he said, patting 
 her shoulders affectionately. " I care for you, and a great 
 many other people love you. Very few persons have more 
 admirers and friends than you. Cheer up ! and to-morrow 
 I will carry you dow^n and you can pick two nice dresses 
 
146 THAT BRUISIN" LAD (^REYSTONE LODGE. 
 
 for yourself while you are ordering Julia's wedding 
 shindig." e 
 
 "Trousseau, Mr. Sylvester! " she exclaimed, severely. 
 
 " Well, whatever you call it." 
 
 " Yonder goes that Metcalf now with Gordon," she 
 said, her lip curling. " I am going to l)reak: up Frank's 
 associating with him." 
 
 " My dear, that's just where you make a mistake — 
 endeavoring to do everything to suit yourself. That's well 
 enough among your own kith and kin, hut other people 
 won't stand it. I wonder what they are reading? " 
 
 " Some letter, I suppose." she replied, absently, as she 
 watched them go up the street. 
 
 When the Bruisin' Lad returned from Etna he took 
 Gordon into his confidence, feeling lie needed some one to 
 consult and advise with. They were just returning from 
 the postotfice, where Charlie received Mrs. Reynold's reply 
 to his letter. He was at that moment showing it to Gor- 
 don, who listened with much interest, and, occasionally in 
 a patronising manner characteristic of rnen in his eligible, 
 position, suggested what should be done. He was much 
 amused at the Bruisin' Lad writing Mrs. Reynolds about 
 the interview, and her reply. 
 
 " She put her foot in, and no mistake," laughed Frank. 
 " I tell you, Metcalf, you can turn her down nicely. Just 
 write her that her daughter has already requested an end to 
 all, and, therefore, her objections are unnecessary and her 
 fears groundless. These women are always g'etting their 
 feet in it in some kind of fashion. I say! did it ever strike 
 you that the Etna girl is a deuced sharp one ? She has 
 managed things wonderfully well. Nine-tenths of the 
 female sex in her situation would have either wounded you 
 fearfully or resisted lier people. She is a peculiar genius." 
 
 " I have been struck with her breadth and grasp of 
 mind several times," said Metcalf, his eyes filling with a 
 soft light. 
 
THAT BRUISIn' lad 0* GREYSTONE LODGE. 147 
 
 " Well, what are vour iilans now ? " 
 
 " I shall write James Metcalf all about it — reply to 
 Mrs. Reynold's letter — go and haA'e an interview with Rosa, 
 and see what she will say." 
 
 " I would let nia Sylvester know that the Washington 
 chap is nowhere, so far as Rosa is concerned." 
 
 " Not until after I see the latter. You see, she may 
 not marry me on account of my misfortune." 
 
 " But aa I understand it, you never have been married. 
 You may be a subject of pity, but surely not of blame." 
 
 " I know that." 
 
 " Isn't it awful, old fellow, to have everyone think you 
 are married, when as a matter of fact you are not ? I would 
 have kicked long ago." 
 
 " Not if it subjected the lady to a criminal prosecution, 
 you wouldn't have done so," said Charlie, quietly. 
 
 " Strange ! you didn't tell the girl about it," remarked 
 Frank. 
 
 " I have never had an opportunity. When I see her 
 next I will tell her all, and if she will promise me never to 
 forget me then all will be right, and as soon as she is of age 
 I will claim her." 
 
 " You won't do the romantic then and elope with her, 
 provided she is willing." 
 
 " She is too high' a woman to consent to any such pro- 
 ceeding unless forced,'' said Metcalf " Xo, I will wait. 
 All I want is her word at present. I never loved any other 
 woman, and it is a life time matter with me." 
 
 " Metcalf, I couldn't wait that long. It seems to me 
 that next fall will never come. I am going now and iind 
 my sweet, little vixen and take a walk." 
 
 " She cleaned up ma Sylvester, didn't she ? " laughed 
 the Bruisin' Lad. 
 
 " Whipped her all to tits," grinned Gordon, "My 
 Respected Parent has consented to receive her, and all will 
 go as merry as a — " 
 
l48 THAT BRUISIN' LAD o' GREYSTONE LOtG^. 
 
 " Don't say Marriage Bell — it is such a common 
 speech," interrupted Charlie. 
 
 " Well — as a Strawberry Feast," lau2:hed Gordon, 
 moving away. 
 
 Metcalf went into thcinclosure and walked towards the 
 piazza. 
 
 " What are you smiling at so," he incjuircd, as he dis- 
 covered Mr. Sylvester sitting upon the porch, very much 
 amused about some thing. 
 
 •'What do you suppose is coming to pass?" he 
 inquired. 
 
 " I am sure I can't tell." 
 
 " Why, Miss Eliza Langdon is going to be married." 
 
 " She ain't ! " he exclaimed. 
 
 " Yes, she is — and guess to whom ? " 
 
 Metcalf thought for a moment 
 
 " It must be Sisson," he said, laughing. 
 
 " You are right — ain't it funny ? " 
 
 " I wonder what brother-in-law Griswold has to sa}' 
 about it ? " asked Metcalf, laughing softly. 
 
 " Oh, she is doing it to spite him. They had a fnss 
 and she is determined Griswold's family shall have none of 
 her property when she dies. Sheer revenge ! " 
 
 " But isn't she rather too old to indulge in that kind 
 of revenge, with any probability of success ? " 
 
 " Hard to tell what a lady will do," said pa Sylvester, 
 sagely. " They will fool you every time, and alwa^^s do 
 what you least expect. By the way — Mrs. Sylvester wislies 
 to speak with you a moment in the parlor." 
 
 The Bruisin' Lad sauntered on into the room and 
 found her pacing back and forth as if very much excited. 
 
 "Mr. Metcalf, I want to see you just a moment. I 
 wish to apologize for the hasty expression I used to you the 
 other day. I have nothing to do with your matters, and 
 assure you that I will have nothing to say in connection 
 with Rosa and yourself." 
 
f HA* bruisin' lad o' greystone lodge. 149 
 
 " No apology is necessary, Mrs. Sylvester," he said, 
 kindly. " Don't worry yourself about it. I was sure you 
 said it hastily, and thought no, more about it." 
 
 " But as a matter ot'justice, I want to say tliis," she 
 went on. " Neither Sallie, Elmira nor I had anything to 
 do with Rosa's steps in this matter. She took everyone 
 herself, irrespective of advice from anyone — so you can see 
 that she cares nothing for you." 
 
 " Your theory about her caring nothing tor me may be 
 true," he said, smiling in a conlident manner. " But your 
 assertion as to facts is a total mistake." 
 
 His calm assurance in speaking, and contident smile 
 made her divine for the first time that she had probably 
 failed to reach the true facts in the case. 
 
 " Why, what do you mean ? " she asked, with a sur- 
 prised look. 
 
 " Your assertion that Miss Rosa did not wish to receive 
 the letters is contradicted by her statement to me that she 
 enjoyed them. Your statement that Mrs. Reynolds had 
 nothing to do with the matter is wrong, because I have her 
 letter stating that she did object." 
 
 "Well — I — never!" she exclaimed, as if her breath 
 was taken away. " I think Elmira has treated me shame- 
 fully ! She has not done me right ! She promised she 
 wouldn't say a word to anyone ! I have her letters saying 
 the girl didn't want to receive your letters — didn't care an}'- 
 thing about you ! That Elmira Reynolds is a mean woman I 
 Let me tell you how she treated my daughter Julia in 
 Washington — " 
 
 "■ Stop, Mrs. Sylvester," iuterrupted he. " I have 
 nothing to say concerning your personal difliculties with 
 Mrs. Rej'nolds, because I have nothing to do with them, 
 but she hasher end of the rope, too. It was but natural 
 that she should be solicitous about her ^laughter's welfare. 
 But she was misled by having certain statements written 
 her which were not placed in their proper light. I am 
 informed that you did that writing." 
 
150 THAT BKT^TSIn' LAD o' GREVStONE LODGE 
 
 She was speechless tor a moment. 
 
 " I never mentioned your name in a s^inijle letter I 
 wrote lier," she replied. 
 
 " Then that ends tlic discussion, if you disclaim it," 
 sjiid he, speaking in a kind of half contemptuous tone, as 
 he turned and left the room. 
 
 The Bruisin' Lad Avas simply inditferent now to any- 
 thing ma Sylvester could say. He knew she did write to 
 Mrs. Reyuolds, and used a tictitious name reyiresenting 
 him, and in her reply Mrs. Reynolds spoke of the same 
 name. Such evasion and subterfuge as that to couceal a 
 fact was nothing more nor less than a contemptible piece of 
 business in Metcalfs mind. 
 
 He went to his room and wrote a letter to his brother, 
 James Metcalf, informing him all about the matter. He 
 also penned another to Mrs. Reynolds, enlightening her as 
 to his true position concerning the matter in connection 
 with her daughter. 
 
 Having sealed and mailed these, he made up his mind 
 to go and see Rosa the third evening from this. He thought 
 once of writing and asking her to grant liim an interview; 
 1)ut he was sure she would refuse on her mother's account. 
 Finally he made up his mind to say nothing of the pro- 
 jected visit to anyone, but go on down in the evening, Join 
 her as she was going home and say what he wanted, hear 
 her reply, and return on the 12:40 train. 
 
 At the appointed time he left, without even letting 
 Gordon know where he was going. He reached Etna 
 {d)Out six o'clock. When he stepped from the train he 
 beckoned to a porter he knew — one who was trustworthy. 
 
 " John, I want something done."' 
 
 "What is it?" 
 
 " do u[) to ATiss Limestone's and find out if Miss Rosa 
 Reynolds is tlier(.% and wliat time she goes from the estab- 
 lishment to her residence in the evening." 
 
 " Yes, sir," he answere<l. '' Where will I find you 
 when I return? " 
 
THAT BKUISIN' LAD o' GREYSTONE LODfiE. 151 
 
 " In the reception-room, there." 
 
 In about ten minutes he returned. 
 
 " Miss Reynolds is up there and she goes iiomc about 
 lialfpast sixer a quarter to seven," said the man, sniihng 
 in a knowing manner. 
 
 " What time is it now ? " asked Metcalf. 
 
 " Twenty minutes past six," he replied, grinning again. 
 
 The Bruisin' Lad strolled towards the bridge over the 
 Cressida river. He determined to wait there until she carne 
 along and have his say where they looked over the railing 
 into the water. Arriving at the spot, he took his position, 
 and there came over his face that grim, determined look 
 which always shadowed it when his mind was made up to 
 }»ursue any certain course. But once or twice it relaxed, 
 and a smile spread over his features as he- thought how well 
 Rosa had managed the whole matter, and what a safe-guard 
 they created for themselves when they adopted perfect 
 candor. He became amused, too, when he thought of his 
 being her<^ in Etna, while Gordon and the rest thought he 
 was at Shirl}', on the street somewhere. Presently he 
 turned his face to the left and his heart gave a great, big 
 bound, which for a moment caused his pulse to stand still. 
 He saw^ her coming. How well he knew that graceful, 
 long, swinging walk — that well turned, tapering neck — 
 that rich coloring. He stood for several moments as if 
 entranced. She was almost at him before she looked up. 
 Raising her head when nearly o[iposite to him, she started. 
 First a glad, then a surprised look came in her eyes. 
 
 " You here ! " she exclaimed, pausing a moment. 
 
 " Yes, I must see you." 
 
 "Is it right?" 
 
 " I haven't the ghost of an idea ; I only know that I am 
 with you and therefore happy. Why did you ask for your 
 letters back? " 
 
 For a moment she looked dreamily away dowji the 
 river. 
 
152 THAT BRUISIN' LAD o' GREYSTONE LODGE 
 
 " You had better leave me, Mr. Metcalf, for mama 
 would not like it." 
 
 " I shall not leave you until you answer my question." 
 
 "Because I was told to do it by mama," she answered. 
 
 " Why did you require me to stop writing to you ? " 
 
 " Mama told me to do so." 
 
 " What reason did your mama give for making such 
 demands of you ? " 
 
 Again there was a pause as her head drooped. 
 
 " Because she heard you were married," she answered. 
 
 "Did you believe it?" 
 
 " I thought you might have been, but — but — " 
 
 " But what ? " he asked, as she stammered and ])aused. 
 
 " That there might be some explanation of the matter." 
 
 " Do you believe I am married now? " 
 
 She looked up frankly into his face and met his open 
 gaze. 
 
 " No, I do not," she said. 
 
 " Well, I am not," he said. " I will tell you all my 
 past—" 
 
 " Xo, no, no ! " she cried, looking at him with a joyous 
 face. " I have nothing to do with your past. Your present 
 and future is all I have to look to." 
 
 " Rosa Reynolds, you are the truest woman that God 
 ever created." 
 
 " Am I," she asked, looking into his face with her 
 usual guileless simplicity. 
 
 " I want you to promise me one thing and then I will 
 be satisfied." 
 
 " What is that ? " 
 
 " Promise me that in the troubles and difticulties we 
 have to face — amidst all the trials and hardships we have to 
 endure — that you will never forget me." 
 
 " I promise," she said. 
 
 " Spell those words on your lingers slowly, in order 
 that they may be engraved on your heart." 
 
THAT BRUISIN' LAD o' GREYSTONE LODGE. 153 
 
 Slowly, but gracefully, she spelt them out, looking 
 sweetly and trustfully in his face all the while. 
 
 " Thank you, dear," he said. " Now what shall I 
 promise you ? " 
 
 " Nothing," she answered, softly. 
 
 " Why not ? " he asked, drawing a little nearer to her. 
 
 " Because," she answered, leaning one arm on the rail- 
 ing, and looking at him so full of love and trust, " I feel 
 that your own love is the best promise I can have. Couldn't 
 you have thought that of mine without making me promise?" 
 
 The rebuke stung not less sharply on account of its 
 gentleness. He felt cut to the quick. 
 
 " Darling, I never doubted you," he said, with an 
 eager, hungry look. 
 
 " The word doubt should never be in the vocabulary of 
 love," she said, quietly. 
 
 How she turned the Bruisin' Lad down ! 
 
 " Do you love me then so much ? " he asked, wistfully. 
 
 Looking at him she said : 
 
 " ' I trust you, love you, for your own sweet sake, 
 Your noble mind and body, heart and soul. 
 
 Your fond devotion I will ne'er forsake; 
 But ever help you till we reaoh the goal 
 
 Of our united lives, and fondly take 
 Eternal comfort while the ages roll, 
 
 In the bright other life towards which we tend, 
 
 Where hearts ne'er separate— joys never end." ' 
 
 Her voice died away as she repeated the last lines. 
 The lights along the river flickered up ever and anon, as if 
 struggling for something they could not reach. During the 
 moment's pause after she repeated the verse, the Bruisin' 
 L'dd was deeply touched. Her clear-cut features were 
 almost death-like in their calm repose, as she gazed towards 
 the river. Metcalf at last found a love in this woman's 
 lieart which he had hungered after all his life, and which 
 met the most responsive chords in his. The sentiment, 
 purity and guilelessness, bubbling forth with it, captivated 
 the man's whole nature. Her surroundings were not the 
 most propitious for cultivation of the higher sentiments of 
 
154 
 
 THAT BRUrSIN LAD GREYSTONE LODGE. 
 
 any kind ; yet, she gave birth to a love which can only 
 exist in liearts of the highest capacity. Her very craving 
 for that purer field in which to nurse and rear her love, was 
 evident that her present surroundings were pulling her 
 downwards, while she longed to be soaring upwards. See- 
 ing no happiness except in the eternal union of their hearts 
 she uttered her cry for an existence : 
 
 " In the bright other life towards which we tend, 
 Where hearts ne'er separate— joys never end." 
 
 He turned towards her with his longing, loving glance. 
 
 " And when I come for you ? " he asked. 
 
 " I will come to you," she returned. 
 
 Without another word she walked away, as the 
 Bruisin' Lad looked into the shadows of the night and won- 
 dered why lie should feel so happy. 
 
 THE END. 
 
' ' ' ''''■■ 
 
 I