Jewel Weed

Madeline turned upon him sharply.

"Mr. Early," she said, "it isn't wholly courteous in you to take

advantage of my being alone with you in your own domain to speak to me

in this way."

"I beg your pardon," Sebastian answered. "It was a wholly unpremeditated

expression of what has long been an ardent desire. I did not mean to

speak, but your own words seemed to break down the barriers of my

passion. I could wish that you would permit me to put it in the form

which my heart prompts; but perhaps you are right. Your fine sense of

the proprieties must be my rule of conduct. I shall only trust that I

may soon find a time to speak when I shall not offend your delicacy,

and when, I pray, I may not offend your heart."

"Neither now nor at any other time should I advise you to go any

further," said Madeline laughingly, for it was hard to take the bombast

of Mr. Early very seriously. He made her think now of a sort of pouter

pigeon. And Sebastian remained only partly satisfied as to the effect

which he wished to produce. He wanted to give her something to think

about, and so make way for the more impassioned wooing that he was

resolved should follow. He was convinced that to stand alone with him in

the midst of his splendors would make a strong impression on the mind of

any sensible girl. The great hall was certainly a place to capture the

imagination--not only from its stately proportions and the mellow

coloring that melted into shadow in the far-off roof, but from the

multitude of smaller details, the intricate carvings, gathered abroad or

made under Mr. Early's own eye, the few priceless paintings, the great

jars whose exquisite decorations blended their richer tones with the

deeper shades around. In a wide alcove was gathered a collection of

portraits of distinguished men and women, statesmen, artists and

literati of this country and of Europe, and each picture was accompanied

by an autograph letter to the well-beloved Sebastian Early. It could be

no small thing to contemplate the possession of this house of

notabilities and of the man who had built it up around himself. This,

Mr. Early meant, should be the artistic opening of his campaign. And

Miss Elton had laughed.

There was silence for a long minute, and Madeline, glancing nervously at

her host, saw that his face was grave and that his eyes were fixed upon

her in a melancholy way. She began to feel uncomfortable.

"I think I must be going now," she said.

"You have not told me whether I am to keep the tapestries," Mr. Early

humbly objected.

"Oh, I couldn't possibly decide for you. But they seem to harmonize

beautifully with this room."