At Love's Cost

A faint smile curved her lips and shone in her eyes, and Stafford was

so fascinated by the sudden gleam of girlishness that he had to bend

and pat Bess, who was planting dusty impression on his trousers in her

frantic efforts to gain his attention.

"I did nothing; in fact, as I walked away I was fuming because I

couldn't help you--couldn't do more."

"You did help me," she said, gravely; then she looked across the lake

to Sir Stephen's "little place." "I was admiring that new house. Don't

you think it is very beautiful, rising so white and gracefully above

the lake?"

"Ye-es," said Stafford, "Rather--conspicuous, though, isn't it?"

She laughed suddenly, and Stafford asked, with surprise: "Why did you

laugh?"

"Oh, I was thinking of my father," she said, with a delicious

frankness; "he was quite angry about it this morning. It seems that it

is built on our land--or what was ours--and he dislikes the idea of

anyone building at Bryndermere."

"So should I," said Stafford, laconically.

"And besides," she went on, her eyes fixed on the great white building,

so that she did not see his embarrassment, "my father does not like the

man who built it. He thinks that he got the land unfairly; and he--my

father--calls him all sorts of hard names."

Stafford bit his lips, and his face wore the expression which came into

it when he was facing an ugly jump. He would have shirked this one if

he could, but it had to be faced, so he rushed it.

"I'm sorry," he said. "My father built it."

She did not start, but she turned her head and looked at him, with a

sudden coldness in the glorious eyes.

"Your father--Sir Stephen Orme? Then you are--"

"I am his son, yes; my name is Stafford Orme."

She gathered her reins up, as if no comment, no remark were necessary,

but Stafford could not let her go, could not part from her like that.

"I'm sorry to hear that Mr. Heron has some cause of complaint, some

grievance against my father. I can understand his not liking the house;

to tell you the truth, I don't care for it much myself. Yes; I can

understand Mr. Heron's annoyance; I suppose he can see it from your

house?"

"No," she said, simply. "This is the only part of our land from which

it can be seen, and my father never comes here: never leaves the

grounds, the garden." She paused a moment. "I don't know why you should

mind--except that I said that the land was got unfairly--I wish I had

not said that."