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VOLUME 11. |
l)Y C. R. HANLEITER.
P © E T P, Y □
“ Much yet remains unsung.”
SPRING.
When brighter suns end milder skies
Proclaim tiifc opening year,
What various soundsofjoy arise !
Wliat prospects bright appear !
Earth and her thousand voices give
Their thousand notes of praise;
And all, that by his mercy live,
To God their offering raise.
Forth walhs the laborer to his toil,
And sees the fresh array
Os verdure clothe the flowery soil
Along his careless way.
The streams, all beautiful and bright,
Reflect the morning sky ;
And, there, with music in his flight,
The wild bird soars on high.
Thus, like the morning, calm and clear
That saw the Savior rise,
The spring of heaven's eternal year
Shall dawn on earth and skie*.
No winter there, no shades of night,
Profane those mansions blessed,
Where, in the happy fields of light,
The weary are a t rest.
r siLMMS—ros—Maßiiismun i ■■■—
§IILI©T[EE) TALE®.
OUR LIDA, OR THE MOCK MAR
RIAGE.
[We have not room for the opening par
agraphs of the following beautiful story, by
that hesl of American lady writers, Mrs.
Ann S. Stephens. They are not, however,
important to the understanding of the plot,
and we have concluded to publish it with
out them rather than forego our desire to
present it to our readers. The story opens
with u very pleasing sketch of the washer
woman and her daughter, Lida, who, until
she was sent to the village to learn the mil
linet’s trade, assisted her mother in her la
bors. We commence where the writer
and her youthful companions first missed the
society of Lida in their washing-day sports.]
A change fell upon our washing-days;,
the old woman came as usual, but, alas !
Lida, dear Lida, no longer helped us to
gather sticks from the drift heaps, or allow
ed her ringing laugh to set the birds a chirp
ing, from sympathy, in the pine woods. Li
da was an apprentice now—learning a mil
liner’s trade on Falls Hill. It was a sad
loss to us. We went down to the hollow
two or three days after her desertion, with
a desperate resolution to be happy in spile
of her absence. We laughed louder than
ever; ran races like so many greyhounds;
frightened the pinfishes with pehhle-stones;
and tried every expedient to make the day
seem natural; but it was like dancing with
out music, or a gteen flower with the sun
shine excluded.
It was a disappointment to us that Lida
never came through the pine woods to her
work. She lived in a little one-story house
close behind C’aslle Rock. It was a solita
ry and beautiful spot, far from any highway;
and Lida went to Falls Hill through a foot
path which ran across the pasture lots,
spreading away from the high banks which
formed our valley. But sometimes the
young girl would start early, and come with
her mother for a few moments on Monday
mornings ; but she seemed more thoughtful
than formerly, and there ‘was something
peculiarly sweet in her smile, which was
more beautiful even than her pure, bird-like
laugh. Her complexion settled into that
clear pearly white which carries the idea of
mental purity with it, while it indicates per
fect health quite as ttuly as the richest
bloom. Her eye* were very changeable,
and shaded by the longest and most jetty
lashes you ever saw ; while her little mouth
was bright and red as a ripe strawberry.—
When she smiled much, a dimple settled on
her cheek and round her mouth, like the
.shadow of a honey-bee when hovering round
•a lily; and when Lida was seventeen, and
had begun her apprenticeship, it was plea
sant to observe liovv lovely the child had
become as she approached the threshold of
wnmaubotul.
The milliner’s shop where Lida worked,
was in the second story of a dry-goods store,
near the Episcopal church. There were
two rooms in front, separated by a narrow
entry; and as Mias Smith, the milliner, al
ways took a remarkable fancy to fresh air
whenever lawyer Gilbert was in the oppo
site room, and insisted that the door should
,be left open, Lida wo* sometimes hours to
gether that she could not lift her eyes with
out knowing that a young man, rather hand
some, and with singularly fine eyes, sat with
in the adjoining room ; though she never
looked directly at him, or could see the least
indication that he took any advantage of
Miss Smith's liberality regarding the door.
Mins Smith wai a town-bred, dashing
milliner, rather social, and ready to impart
information regarding former requests in
town, even to her apprentice girls, so long
as thoy were content to admire and wonder
at a respectful distance; but amid all her
condescension she never once allowed “ our
Lida” to forget the immeasurable distance
that existed between a bleach-box and a
wash-tub. She sat before her two appren-
E jFamilg JletoGUtfjier : Bffcotelr to mteratuve, agriculture, fatmcatlou, jFordfin an* Bomrcttc SntrUtficnce, tot*
tice gills, with one foot resting on the top
of u bonnet-block, twisting up little bows of
ribbon, and admiring the effect, like Calyp
so among her nymphs—that is, supposing
the goddess had ever condescended to be
come useful without the least shadow of ne
cessity, as Miss Smith affirmed was the case
with herself. Sometimes the lady would
quietly steal a glance through her Mack
ringlets to observe if the lawyer were re
marking the elegance of her position ; and
as the gills seldom lifted their eyes in that
direction, it was easy to indicate the force
of the charms by exclamations of “ Dear
me! I wonder why Mr. Gilbert is always
looking tliis way! What can he find so in
teresting ? I really wish lie would not sit so
exactly against the door!”
Had the girls looked toward the lawyer’s
office at such times, they would have seen
him tranquilly poring over anew volume
in paper binding, with his back toward the
door, his chair balanced on two legs, and
his feet resting on the edge of a table cov
ered with law-books in sheepskin backs,
perfectly lyitarnished, a pail of boxing
gloves, a flute, quantities of writing-paper,
and pens without number. If Mr. Gilbeit
really w-as attracted by the bold, black eyes
which were so often bent upon him, or the
beauty of a neck more than usually expos
ed when the weather was warm enough for
doors to be left open, he was enough of a
lawyer to avoid the observation of witnesses
to his delinquencies; and though Miss
Smith’s evidence passed very well before
her elder apprentice, and dear, unsophisti
cated Lida, it was good for nothing in a court
of law, and no damages were likely to fol
low.
It would have been a very unprincipled
tiling in the young lawyer, had the deep
flounces and pretty caps, which Miss Smith
set for him, taken effect—for he was alrea
dy engaged to a young lady who had just
returned f\'om boarding-school in New-
Haven ; and the fine old homestead, which
stood a little hack from the church, embow
ered in a grove of oaks, and with an old
fashioned flower-gaiden attached, was at j
that very moment tumultuous with the noise
of workmen who were pieparing it for the
reception of a bride—lawyer Gilbert’s bride.
Once or twice Mr. Gilbert did actually
lift liis eyes from the paper-bound volume,
when his position admitted of the effort with- 1
out too much trouble, and looked earnestly ‘
into the milliner’s room ; but as Miss Smith
leaned her bead, and cast a side glance
through the interstice thus made between
two of her longest curls, she saw that his :
eyes were fixed, not on her, but on the droop- j
ing lids and dark lashes of Lida, the wash- i
erwotnan’s daughter.
He might well gaze on the innocent pic- I
ture of that young girl, as she sat on a low
stool, bending over her work with her dark
hair twisted in a single massive braid around
her finely moulded head, her tiny foot creep
ing out from the fold* of her calico dress,
and her small hand fluttering about the tose
colored silk she was sewing, like a bird
coquetting with a flower. And the milliner
might, indeed, experience an uncomfortable
sensation as she turned her kindling eyes
on the unconscious possessor of so much
loveliness —especially as lawyer Gilbert nev- j
er turned a page that afternoon without |
stealing a look at the gentle girl from over .
the top of his volume.
The next morning Lida was banished to
a front window directly nut of range with
the door. The prettiest prospect imagina
ble lav before it ; and the poor girl was de
lighted with the change. Bred to the fields
as she had been, it was so pleasant to look i
up from her work now and then, and rest 1
her aching eyes with a glance at the green
trees, and the cool blue sky beyond. She
was very grateful for the change in her po- :
sition, and thanked the milliner so sweetly
again and again, that the lady really began
to applaud hetself for having done a kind
action—a sensation which, from its extreme
novelty, must have been exceedingly agree
able.
Directly before Lida’s window was a close
ly trampled greensward, divided by the
highway as it curved up from the valley.— |
Opposite stood a huge willow tree, with a
profusion of delicate foliage drooping over
its heavy branches to the ground. Behind
this tree was a two-story house, white as a j
snow-drift, and surrounded by those thickets;
a light portico was over the front door, and
around one of its slender pillars a single
honeysuckle-vine had twisted itself like a
wreath. Tlie house was so near that Lida
could almost count the crimson blossoms
from her scat by the window ; and when a
young girl would come into the poitico with
a book, which she never used, Lida would
ply her needle with great diligence, and j
blush to be so earnestly regarded by the
most accomplished and haughty girl in out
village. She knew that this young lady was
the intended bride of Mr. Gilbert, but nev
er dreamed that : t was his presence near a
window, with his flute, that drew Miss War
net’s attention to the building. Poor Lida!
in the innocence of her heart, she was be
ginning to think that the boarding-school
graduate had taken a fancy to her, and was
desirous of an acquaintance.
In order to interest lawyer Gilbert, Miss
Smith had already exhausted all positive
means of attack. She had sent to his room
for a volume of Byrott, she doated on his
poetry, it was so soft, and would be*o oblig
ed if Mr. Gilbeit favored her with a loan of
MADISON, MORGAN COUNTY,. GEORGIA, SATURDAY MORNING, APRIL 29, 1843.
Cliilde Harold, or Manfred, or any of his
comedies.
Mr. Gilbert teturned answer that lis co
py of Byron wassentto Miss Warner, scross
the way.
Miss Smith’s compliments agnin-"Yfouhl
Mr. Gilbeit oblige her by playing that love
rly air once more —Miss Smith was so de
lighted with it.”
Mr. Gilbert unscrewed his flute, laid it on
the table, and then returned his most re
spectful compliments to Miss Smith, but tlie
physician bad forbidden him to practice
more than fifteen minutes at a time, under
any circumstances.
Tlie milliner could hit on no other device,
so she gave an additional flounce to bet
dress, let down a ringlet of more subduing
length from her hair, moved her work-table
decidedly opposite the door, and had resolv
ed on a seige, fehe success of which must
depend on her own personal attractions;
when Lida became an apprentice, and was
banished to the window.
Dutingthe four days that followed tlie
punishment intended for Lida, Miss Smith
was in fine spirits. Mr. Gilbert not only
looked towatd her more than twenty times
a day, but on one instance he paused in the
entry passage, and took a step toward the
door, as if tempted to enter. But he chang
ed his mind, and in a few minutes Lida saw
him cross the highway, enter the white oor
tico opposite, and sit down by the young
lady who was loitering away tbo morning
in its shade.
The next day it rained, and every thing
looked dull and miserable. The water
drops pattered ceaselessly against the win
dows, and the old willow stood on the green
with its branches drooping to the earth, like
the plumage of a great bird that could find
no shelter. The work-room was cold and
cheerless. Miss Smith sat by her table, dis
appointed and cross. The moist air, which
swept in from the entry, took the stiffening
from her silks, and if she closed the door,
all hopes of seeing the lawyer were at an
end for the day. She would have submit
ted to the faded lustre of her goods, hut
when tlie damp had taken her ringlets out
of curl, and began to chill her neck, she
hung a shawl over her shoulders, tore up a
bonnet pattern to roll her hair in, and put
lirifl on tho ivni'Kl rf with lit*r altar.
td looks, ordeted the doors closed, and de
termined to moke a miserable day of it.
A knock at the door.
“ Come in,” said Miss Smith ; “ Lida, go
and get that black crape bonnet you altered
yesterday, the boy lias come after it, I sup
pose.”
Lida had scarcely time to lay down her
work, when the door opened and Mr. Gil
bert walked quietly into the room.
Miss Smith blushed crimson, dropped
her shawl, and seemed tempted to com
mence depredations on the curl-papers forth
with. Lida took up her work again, and
Mr. Gilbert sat down amid a torrent of com
pliments from Miss Smith, and began to tutu
over a volume of Byron, which lie bad
brought in his hand.
He had done himself the pleasure of
bringing the hook which Miss Smith desired.
Miss Smith was delighted—would Mr. |
Gilbert oblige her by reading a few pages,
if be was not too much engaged—she had }
been informed that he read beautifully.
Mr. Gilbert would be too happy, but the
light was so dim that he must sit by the j
window—so moving his chair with the self- j
possession of a man accustomed to haring
his own way—he sat down within a few j
paces of Lida. She did not look up, hut ■
the most delicate of all blushes htoke into ,
her cheek, and the young nian saw that her
fingers were a little tiemulous, as she bent
diligently over her work. He seemed busy
searching for a favorite poem, arid Miss
Smith took advantage of the oppoitunity to
let down a quantity of black hair, which the
mutilated pattern had failed to tender more
than wavy, and giving her flounces a light
shake, she dtew her chair to the window, j
ordered Lida to place a bonnet block for her
feet, and folding her hands with a graceful
languor, composed herself to listen.
It would he quite superfluous to say how
many times the sensitive Miss Smith lifted
her hands, and exclaimed— ” Beautiful!
Exquisite! Oh! how sweet!” while the
reading of Cliilde Harold went on; or to
give any description of the color which
glowed and deepened in the cheek of our
Lida, and the pleasure which filled those
soft eyes till they sparkled like gemsbeneath
her drooping lashes. But it is quite neces
sary to inform the reader that after this rai
ny day, Mr. Gilbert was a constant v : '- cr
at the milliner’s shop—that lie te 4( J Childe
Harold quite through, and when Miss Smith
solicited some of the Sooner poems, be look
ed ct Lida and. answered no—he would read
them to Miss Smith, hut not there. Miss
Smith was delighted with this indication
that her neighbor desired a tete-a-tete, and
Lida, who had heard Byron for the first
time—though she read more than most girls
of her age —was quite unconscious of the
compliment paid to her purity of character
in the denial. The lawyer had a large libra
ry, and there was no lack of books for peru
sal. Lida seldom spoke while he was read
ing, but it was pleasant for an indolent and
refined man like Gilbertto study the changes
of her sweet face. It was like a volume of !
” unwritten poetry,” which no one could !
read but himself. In less than a week his
easy chair was wheeled iuto the milliner’s
room every day, and he was quite domesti
cated among tlie straw trimmings, scraps of
satin, and pasteboard chips, that litteied the
floor.
A sense of aristocratic distinction is a re
markable pleasant feeling, but in order to
enjoy it perfectly, there must be sonic com
panionship. It was very pleasant mid agree
able for Miss Warner to return from a four
years’ residence at school, to be tlie richest •
and most accomplished belle of n country
village. It was pleasant to be engaged to
a wealthy and handsome young man like
Gilbert, but as she did not care for books,
bad no one but a widowed mother to be
stow the flattery which schoolmates barter
one with the other, as she detested all use
ful employment, it was to be expected that
her time must pass somewhat heavily, espe
cially after the first objects that presented
themselves when she went to lounge away
her mornings in the poitico, were the sweet
face of our Lids, bent over her work, by
the opposite window, and, just beyond, the
dark locks and white forehead of her own
affianced husband. Miss Warner was not
absolutely jealous, hut she was very idle,
and so, naturally enough, began to think it
just possible that the country milliner might
have received something worth looking at
from town. One morning she was seen
crossing the highway, elaborately dressed,
with <]licat<- peach blossom gloves on lier
pretty hands, and a deeply ftinged parasol
guarding her face from the sun. There
was a great deal of artificial grace in her
step as she glided over the green sward,
and the little affected knock which she gave
to the milliner’s door was eloquent of high
breeding. Then there w'as the patronizing
bend to Miss Smith, tlie gracefully extend
ed hand to Gilbert, and the quiet stare at
poor Lida, who sat blushing like a guilty
thing by the window. Gilbert touched his
lips to the peach blossom glove, hut when
he saw the supercilious look fixed on Lida,
he dropped it again, and a dash of color
swept over his forehead. AJiss Smith was
full of delight, exhibited all her finery, and
distilled more flattery into a conversation of
fifteen minutes, about blue ribbons and leg
horn flats, than was ever bestowed in the
same lime on those ladies who purchase it
by the year, in the form of “ a humble cont
linnion.”
Miss Warner’s dignity was not of an or
der to withstand this incense to her vanity,
and even if her affianced husband had not
been a constant visiter, it is doubtful if the
honeysuckle portico would not soon have
been abandoned for the milliner’s room and
its gossiping freedom.
In less than a fortnight, the peach blossom
gloves were soiled by constant use, and if
Gilbert was a feature in the milliner’s shop,
his lady-love haunted it almost as regular
as he did. She thought Miss Smith “ such
a nice creature —such a dear, good soul—so
capable of appreciating true elegance of
manner—so very tasteful in her bonnets and
fancy caps !” It was beautiful to see how
condescending the sated Miss became, how
useful she made herself in snipping up lit
tle bits of satin, and how prettily she would
ask Gilbert if he did not think she would
make a good milliner, if she should not
learn the trade, P.nd other important ques
tions, which must have diversified the pas
sages of Milton and Young, which he was
leading, with on agreeable variety.
The jealousy which springs from affec
tion painfully aroused, cannot he divested
of generosity ; hut that which arises from
mollified vanity, is bitter and implacable.
It was not long before Miss Smith became
convinced that the gentle girl wlio sat listen
ing with such intense interest to every word
that dropped from the eloquent lips of law
yer Gilbert, was bis sole attraction to the
loom, and a few adroit words to his affisne
ed bride were enough to amuse her atten
tion to the damask color that came and went
in tlie poor girl’s cheek whenever young
Gilbert addressed her.
“Artful wretch!” muttered the future
bride, setting bet pearl white teeth passion
ately together as she spoke ; “ she think of
attracting him !” and with a slight scornful
laugh, in which the milliner joined, she be
gan practicing her steps in a distant corner
of the room.
Gilbert went home that night with his af
fianced bride, and the next day be sent in a
book for Lida, but avoided the “ir.tiliner’a
room altogether. The \'ou.;,g apprentice
only saw him as lie Glossed the green to
wutd the budding—bj s countenance was
very eor.QVts, and he seemed to avoid look
’•iijj towtfrd the window.
Just at night Miss Warner came in. She
took the milliner into a distant part of the
room, and as they conversed in low voices,
a scornful laugh now and then reached the
apprentice, who had become nervous and
sensitive, she scarcely knew why. Miss
Smith followed her visiter into the entry.”
“ It is well 1 mentioned it in time,” she
said, in a confidential whisper.
Miss Warner tore her glove as she at
tempted to draw it on.
“ A pretty speculation for a washerwo
man's daughter!” she said, with a curliug
lip.
“ But he cared nothing about her I” re
joined Miss Smith, a little anxiously.
“ No, indeed ; he was quite angry at the
I clarge, and consented to stay from your
! room forever, if 1 desire it.”
“ She would have made a splendid mis
tress for the homestead up yonder,” rejoin-
ed Miss Smith, with another low, disagreea
ble laugh ; “ it is almost a pity she failed in
hei aim upon it.”
“ Splendid !” exclaimed the bride, with
a light mocking laugh ; “ hut no, no—l
should not so much regard seeing him the
son-in-law of a washet woman, hut it would
break my heart to know that any one but
myself vias mistress of the homestead and
property.”
“Hark ! did you not hearsome one mov
ing in his office 1” said the milliner, listen
ing apprehensively.
Miss Warner listened a moment, and then
auswered, in a faint voice—
“ No—it cannot he. 1 saw him going to
ward the house just as I enme in.”
“ Let ns move away from this door—
there is no harm iti that,” whispered Miss
Smith, and they walked down the entry con
versing together. After a little, the sound
of their half-pre'tsed laughter filled the little
npnttment.
“It would be a capital joke!” said tlie
milliner.
“Just tlie punishment she deserves, pre
sumptuous cieature!” was the reply.
“ But can you persuade him to join us 1”
was the next question.
“He shall!”
Gilbert was standing that night in the lit
tle portico of his bride’s dwelling. It was
a lovely evening—every tiling was deluged
with a flood of pearly moonlight, and the
dew lay like rain-drops among the crimson
flowers which shed a rich frangrance from
the honeysuckle vine. She was by his side,
his arm had been round her waist, and but
a few moments before his eyes had been
bent with tender and affectionate earnest
ness on her face, hut now his arms were
folded, and he looked almost sternly upon
her.
.” Do you really desire this, Louisa 1” he
said, in a deep, constrained voire ; “ would
you ever respect me again, if 1 could do so
cruel, so unmanly an act 1”
“ I will never love you Rgain, if you do
not!” was the petulant reply.
Ar. expression almost of disgust swept
over the young mail’s face, and his lifts trem
bled as he spoke.
“ Tell me, have you been to Miss Smith’s
room to-day I” he inquired.
-res—x win mere jun ai sensei, om
why do you ask 1”
” No matter ! Have you thought all this
over; are you resolute to deceive this poor
girlt”
“ Resolute!”
“ Anil you are willing that I devote my
self to win her affections 1”
“They are already given, without the
trouble of asking.”
Gilbert’s brow contracted in the moon
light, and the word “ Unwomanly!” was
smothered between his compressed lips.
“And you will assist tne —will tell her
that you resign all claims on my hand—on
tlie homestead and property I” he added,
with a slight and bitter emphasis on the last
words.
She did not observe it, but answered ea
gerly—
“ Yea—yes ; I will do my part to perfec
tion—how mollifying the truth will be when
she thinks herself Mrs. Gilbert and finds
that it is all a joke.”
“ But think of the shock it will give her
pride and delicacy—”
“Add refinement—pray, add refinement!”
said the young girl, scornfully ; “ pride, de
licacy and refinement are such common at
tributes to the daughters of our washerwo
men !”
“ You are only doing this to annoy me,”
said the young man ; “bo good night, you
will throw of!’ the cruel wish before morn
ing.”
“ Shall 1 1” re plied the girl, with a alow
bend of the head.
Gilbeit turned away, and taking up his
hat, was about to leave the house, hut ahe
laid her hand on his arm, and looked smil
ingly in his face.
“ They tell me the house is finished—will
you take me to look at it in the morning I”
“If you desire it,” was the cold and ab
stracted reply.
“ Well—l shall be ready at ten. Good
night!” a’,d gaily kissing her hand, the
yniihg creature glided into the house.
“It Teas her voice then, and she was plan
ning this design with that infamous milliner.
I would not believe my otvn senses, till she
confirmed them. But ahe will not persist
in any thing ao cruel—it is absurd to sup
pose so. If ahe does—if she does—l will
obey her.”
As he muttered these words, the young
man walked slowly from the house.
How melancholy poor Lida had heett all
the previous day—how many strange con
jectures had passed through her brain re
garding the remarkable absence of Mr. Gil
bert. They haunted her all night, and in
the morning, when she came along the foot
path through the fields, tears stood in her
eyes more than half the way. She had cast
many a sad, earnest gaze through the shop
window, before ahe saw Gilbert and Miss
Warner coming through the opposite por
tico. The sight made the heart struggle
with a throb of pain in Lida’s bosom, and
a mist came over her eyes till they could
scarcely discern the needle with which she
seemed occupied. They were coming to
ward the shop, and the sound of their foot
steps in the entry made the young girl trem
ble in her seat.
| NUMBER 5.
\YM. T. THOMPSON, EDITOR.
“ Come,” said Miss Warner, addressing
the milliner, “ put on your bonnet. We
are going up to the house, and want your
opinion.”
Miss Smith tan for her bonnet, and, for
the first time in her life, the young lady ad
dressed the rpprentira.
“ Get your sun-bonnet,” said she; “ you
can go with us.”
The blond rushed over I.uW toco, 1> A
she would have refused; but Miss Warner
whispered a word to her lover, and he press
ed Lida to go with such respectful earnest
ness, that she arose, tied on her little straw
cottage, and was ready to attend them long
before Miss Smith made her appearance.
The homestead was a large and superior
old mansion for a country village. Its ma
terial was heavy, and touched with the
brown tinge of age; the trees around it
were majestic, and its shrubbery luxuriant;
its furniture was that of another century,
old fashioned and massive, hut Gilbert had
interspersed it ’ with chairs and tables of
lighter and more recent model; and the
gloom which low ceilings give to an apart
ment was relieved by tall mirrors and mo
dem windows, which were cut from ceiling
to floor. Altogether, it was the dwelling
which a domestic and studious poison would
have preferred above all others.
Liila had never seen any thing half ao
splendid before, but there was a heavy feel
ing at her heart which mere novelty could
not dispel. She followed her conductors
up the broad stairs, heard them admire the
bulusteis of dark mahogany, and walked
tl rough the chambers like one in a dream.
She was pale, bewildered, and sick at heart,
almost for the first time in her life.
There was one room on the first floor
which Gilbeit had fitted up exclusively for
liis bride. It bud but one bay window,
which o| ened upon the most verdant nook
of the old-fashioned garden; and this win
dow tequited no drapery', sot an immense
white rose-tree was trained along the case
ment, till a profusion of thick green leaves
and snowy blossoms drooped like a curtain
over the upper part, and when the sash
was open a storm of fragrant leaves fell like
snow-flakes all over the rich old easy chairs
and moss-like carpet which decorated the
rt om. On a curious little table, with legs
1 O . trJ <1 •**•*! tagatk— IM~
Serpents, lay a guitar, with n azure'ribbon
just attached, and as yet unused; a superb
old book-case, crowded with neatly bound
volumes, stood opposite the bay window,
and a little French work-table, perfectly
new, occupied a corner close by.
Miss Warner flung herself oh a seat, and
taking up the guitar, began to ti isle with the
strings, as she turned with an unpleasant
smile toward Lida.
“ How would you like this room for your
own 1” she said.
“Mel” said Lida, faintly; “I have nev
er dreamed of living in such a place as this.”
” But you can live here if you like/’ re
plied the milliner.
“ My mother was well off oftce, and she
would not let me ‘live out’ for any thing,”
said the apprentice, for she could only ima
gine that Miss Warner wished to engage
her for “ help,” when she should fake pos
session of the homestead ; “ besides, 1 am
not strong enough for very hard work !”
“Oh, we didn’t mean that,” replied the
milliner; Mr. Gilbeit wants a wife, and as
this lady here has taken a fancy that he likes
you rather better than be does her, she is
quite willing that he makes you mistress of
the homestead, instead of herself.”
“Don’t say so—it is cruel to joke in this
manner !” said the bewildered girl, turning
very pale ; *’ I am sure, quite sure that Mr.
Gilbert never thought of me!” Lida spoke
hastily, but in a faint voice, and she had a
look of troubled doubt in her eyes, ss if she
almost hoped they would contradict her.
“ But he does tliitik of ybii--he told me
so last night!” said Mbs YVatiier; “ and if
1 am willing to give him up, what harm can
come of it ?”
” And could you give him up 1” said Li
da, clasping lifer small hands with an ener
gy which bespoke her astonishment that any
one could resign, of her own free will, a
being so perfect.
“ Ob, Mr. Gilbert is not the only agreea
ble man on earth,” replied the young lady,
removing the azure ribbon from her neck,
and laying down the guitar ; “ I am per
fectly willing to resign him at any moment
—so prepare for thb w edding to-morrow, if
you like !”
As she spoke, Miss Warner end her com
panion glided from the room. Lida had no
power to follow, she was confused and
streugthless, a mist came over her sight,
and sinking to a seat ahe coveted her face
with both hands, and remained in a state of
mental bewildeimenf, almost unconscious
of the solitude which surrounded her.
Miss Warner anJ the milliner met Gil
bert in the hall, and both were laughing as
thoy n o rd toward him.
” We have btoki-n the ice for you,” said
Miss Warner; “she is in the little room
yonder, quite prepared for a proposal.”
“ And you are really determined to carry
this hoax to an end I” inquired the young
law’yer, gravely.
“ Oh ! by all means,” was the reply ; “ it
really is ridiculous, the idea of her believ
ing us. I wish you had seen her clasp those
hands, and wonder how I could give you up.
Go-go! befi r; she takes it into her bend
to follow us. But I S3y, Gilbert, do remove