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[For Tbe Sunny South.]
LIVES
I>r<llc-at«*cl to 111** Lady Who Could not Join
in th** Fourth of July Olebrat ion, 1875*
BY K. C. WAKELEE.
Bank! back! 1 cauuot take the hand
That’s proffered to ruy clasp.
Red with the blood of mauy a brave
And falieu son, who nobly gave
His life my hearth and home to save
From the dire foe man's grasp.
Let those who can, ring forth to-day
Pa an and jubilee;
The martyred dead, a spectre band,
Marshaling fr<>m the spirit land,
With saddened mien aud warring hand,
Are gathering with me.
“Peace!” *Tis an unavailing cry.
These may be peace when they
Blot out the round of bitter years,
The days of waiting and of fears.
The nights of watching and of tears,
That wore our lives away.
“ Forgive!” To kneel and kiss the dead
W T ould be but mockery,
If we the tatal blow had given;
The captive, with bis chains unriven,
May be to many a semblance driven,,—
Forgiveness must be from the free.
“ Forget!” Aye, would to God we might;
But crush them as we will.
The wreck, the ruin aud the wrong,
Like giants bound with withes, are strong—
Like watch-fires smoldering, ere long
Kindie on each high hill.
[For The Suuny South.]
SUMMER FLIRTATION.
BY FLOY FAY.
CHAPTER I.
Seek not to know the future—
Be happy while you may.
A fresh, young voice was singing merrily down
in the rose-garden, while leaning against one of
the great old oaks of Belleville grove stood a
young girl waiting and listening.
“Come, Blanche,” she called, at length; “you
would charm the nightingale itself, but my pa
tience is exhausted. How much longer do you
suppose that I will wait ?’’
“Behold me,” cried the gay girl, bounding
over tbe lawn to meet her. “I come, the fair
Flora, goddess of spring !”
“I must say,” remarked her companion,
“ that you’ve wasted a great deal of time making
yourself beautiful, when that irresistible young
man cannot possibly arrive till to-morrow;” for :
the young lady had her basket and her little
white apron filled with flowers, and had adorned
her garden-hat with long, graceful sprays of j
yellow jessamines, while little clusters of pale [
tea-roses were nestled in her pale-blue dress, and
drooping over her yellow hair. “Besides,” grum
bled her cousin, “ I've been waiting ages for :
those flowers, and since I’m to be your only ad
mirer, my young goddess, it is quite painful to
see you waste your energies in this manner.”
“Alas! time has not taught you patience,”
laughed Blanche Carroll, in her mischievous
tones; “but I’ll promise, my dear Vincy, to do
my best to improve you in this respect before
the summer is over. Now, here is our dear old
seat;” but while Blanche sank down upon the
little rustic bench deep in the shade of the grove,
Vincy stood looking backward over the dewy
lawn they had just traversed, to the long white
house seen through the green foliage, with its
wide piazzas and open windows, to the flower-
garden at its side where the roses were unfold
ing their bright buds in the early sunshine, and
she turned to her cousin with sparkling eyes
and a little sigh of satisfaction, saying
“Ah, Blanche ! pleasant things do happen oc- , ,. ,
casionally in one’s lifetime. Two weeks ago, I 8econds disappeared among the trees in the
“I don’t think you are so much a ‘coward
at heart’ as you are a simpleton in mind,” re
marked Miss Blanche placidly; hut here Vincy
t roused to sudden wrath, made a diversion by
dnigging her from the bench by means of her
! long, light hair, and making wild confusion of
j the hat and flowers.
“ Hear me out,’ she laughingly expostulated
) from her lowly seat on the grass. “If you'll
I say you’ll marry this young Croesus and Ches
terfield combined, I’ll not quarrel with your
feelings. For Heaven’s sake, just reflect that
you can travel in Europe and take me with you,
that you can have the pleasure of entertaining
me for a winter in Washington, and don’t talk
to me about ‘infatuation,’ my dear; its out of
place and unnecessary.’’
“Blanche, it’s sinful to be so mercenary,”
| sighed Vincy. “I didn’t think much about the
future at the time I promised, because father
wanted me to so much, and I hadn’t had time
then to consider the cost.”
“My dear girl, I thought you'd been ‘count
ing the cost’ of things all your life, and that now
yon needn’t. Vincy,” she continued with great
emphasis, “I consider it my mission in life to
make you keep your word in this matter. If
you don’t you’ll repent it all the days of your
long lifetime.
“Well," said Vincy, “ you talk like all the rest.
My family are certainly unanimous,” she con
tinued with a sarcastic little smile.
“Well, I call this ingratitude to a kind Provi
dence. I call this casting pearls before swine,”
said Blanche, with upraised hands and eyes.
“And I’ll just tell you, I won’t be called
‘ swine,”’ cried out Vine} - , laughingly indignant,
springing to her feet. But just here a youthful
scion of Africa stepped before them, exclaiming
in great excitement:
“ Oh. Miss Blanche, come quick to the house!”
“ Well, Lamartine,” inquired that young lady,
“ by whose authority do you invade our peaceful
retreat and disturb our reveries ?”
The boy stared a moment blankly at the ques
tion, then, full of his news, replied:
“Your ma done sent for yon, ’cause her
brother done come with his leg broke and a
doctor!”
“ Bless my soul, I wonder if thats so!” ex-
! claimed Blanche as she sprang up and sped
| away over the lawn, while Vincy made her way
more slowly to the back of the house and gained
I her room unnoticed. There was great confusion
j down stairs for a time, and Vincy sat by the
! shaded windows, wondering as to the cause of
j the accident and the sudden arrival. Presently,
Blanche found time to run up and report:
“ It’s all owing to Bert's foolishness in jump-
| ing off the train,” she said. “His leg is not
broken, but he has sprained his ankle badly,
and cannot walk at all. Of course, ma is in a
I happy state of excitement over him. She has
i him reclining on a lounge in her room., and is
j flying round him with wines and cordials, and
poor young Dr. Wells who came out with him
is beset with questions as to his probable recov
ery. By the way, it occurs to me that people who
get their ankles sprained invariably fall in love
with somebody, and I do hope in this case it won’t
be with me, as he’s my step-uncle, or with you,
Vincy, for you are engaged. I implore you not to
flirt with him, for you ought to be on your good
behavior, now that your time is so short. Oh,
I forgot! I came to tell you to go down and en
tertain the young Dr. Wells, who is now in pos
session of the front hall:” and here Miss Blanche
made her exit as rapidly as she had come in.
“I shan’t go down,” mused Miss Carroll, left
alone; “and as to Mr. Bert Harley, I will not too
readily offer my sympathy and society to that
afflicted young man. I have not forgotten that
last summer, having arrived here too late to meet
me, he said ‘he congratulated himself on hi“
escape, and was heartily glad he had avoided the
trouble of making love to me!’ Well, I’m a
changed girl,” she reflected with a sigh. “I’m
sure I don’t care what people think of me now;
aud as to love-making, it's odious—I don’t want
any more of it;” then, recollecting that Blanche
would soon be calling her down, she caught up
her hat, stole down the back staircase and in a
that either I or Bert Harley would come to grief
if ever we met. Somebody is going to come out
of this with disappointed hopes, etc., and I don’t
know who it will be—Horace, Bert or I. Xous
verrons." So she turned to her book—but not to
read. Visions of Bert's saucy blue eyes would
rise up before her, and she would stop to won
der if he really supposed she had dropped the
rosebud on purpose. Then she made up her
mind she wouldn’t assist in amusing him during
his convalescence. Then she wondered if he
wrote poetry now as he did last summer.
“Vincy,” said Blanche that night, as the two
sat together on the moonlit piazza regaling poor
Bert with all forms of gossip: “Vincy, don't,
you wonder if Horace Dent is not sailing this
beautiful night upon the Bay of Naples?”
“Well, Blanche,” she responded, “to put it
mildly, it is immaterial to me who is on the Bay
of Naples this night, so that I am here at Belle
ville.”
:
CHAPTER n.
Swiftly sped away the summer days at Belle
ville. Such sunny weather, fresh bay breezes, j
rich sunsets and starlight nights were certainly
never known before. And, of course. Bert re
covered rapidly. Vincy, seemingly forgetful of
her late resentment, daily assisted Mrs. Carroll
1 to spoil him, and Blanche looked on the while j
! with sometimes a glance of anxious displeasure, '
I and sometimes a look of grim determination
which her pretty face had seldom worn.
At last came July, and with it a crowd of gay, ■
j light-hearted young visitors from town, wllo
failed, however, to distract Blanche’s thoughts
from the impending calamity which she foresaw,
presence of mind, and nearly falling from her
lofty perch at this unexpected contretemps.
:‘I beg yonr pardon for my intrusion.” he
continued, with an amused smile, “but since I
am here, permit me to remain and assist yon
down when the shower is over.”
“ Certainly,” she returned, the mischief flash
ing back into her laughing blue eyes. “I sup
pose I have special ownership in the tree, as I
was first in possession. Allow me to offer you
that hickory »tnmp, and beg you will be seated.”
“Thank you,” he returned, politely, taking
the seat designated.
“May I ask.” he resumed, “if you had much
trouble in getting up there?”
“Well, yes,” she returned; “I may as well
own that I slipped off the first limb three times;
but I am quite secure at present, thank you.
When did you arrive, Mr. Dent ?”
"I see you are surprised at my coming on
without any warning,” said Mr. Dent, coloring
visibly. “I can give no excuse but that I felt j
irresistibly impelled to leave Rome and set sail
for my ‘ain eountrie;’ and arriving in New York
a few days ago, I felt inclined to come on with
out writing, and I have no reason for that
either. ”
Miss Blanche wanted to say something saucy 1
about his being “irresistibly impelled,” but 1
somehow could not express herself with her
usual readiness. “Vincy is the blindest idiot I
ever saw,” she thought to herself.
Here the sun shone out, and the clouds grew i
bright, ttie patter of the raindrops died away, I
and Mr. Dent rose to render Miss Carroll some i
“I knew you perfectly well,” he replied
quickly, “and still I repea* that you base it in
your power to put an end to this, and if you will
not, then three lives will be wretched—Vincy’s,
Bert’s and my own.”
Blanche glared through the eyes of her pretty
silk mask, but his were hidden in the heavy folds
about his face, and the light was dim besides.
So then she gave it up, and leaned trembling
back into her comer of the carriage.
“Come, Blanche, he went on, throwing off
the troublesome disguise and bringing into view
the black eyes and bewitching dark curls, “ if
you’ll only run away with me to-night, every
thing will settle down beautifully. Vincy told
me all about Bert the morning after I arrived
when we took that horseback ride together.
She begged me to release her, and this I did
without serious pain, for I’d already fallen in
love with the wicked little girl I saw in the beech
tree. ”
“ But mother ! What will she say?” breathed
Branche faintly.
“ Why, she loves me dearly,” cried Horace,
with modest fervor. “She will be truly relieved
to have it ail end without further trouble. If
you don t, darling, we will have shocking times
in another week. Don’t you see, Blanche,” he
went on more hurriedly than ever, "that this is
the only way of escape. Poor Vincy so fears
and loves her father she will entirely obey him.
His will is her law. If things go on so. I must
stay and marry her, for she has not courage to
refuse me. and I cannot turn my back on the
young lady and run away by myself. Then she
assistance in descending. This was done very j loves Bert, and I love you, my darling.’
gracefully, notwithstanding she slipped from
and determined to move heaven and earth to I the lower branch in precipitate haste, and was
borne safely to terra firma by Mr. Dent's arm.
Blanche never knew what she said to Mr.
prevent. But necessarily preoccupied as she
was with her guests, naughty Vincy had the ad
vantage. Vainly did poor Blanche grow eloquent i Dent, or what he said to her on that walk home.
1 She was in a strange kind of dream. This was
the “hero” then—Vincy’s intended. All other
ideas were crowded out of her mind except that
she thought him irresistible, and vaguely won
dered at Yincy's indifference.
When they reached the gallery, and Vincy
rose to meet them, the two girls had changed
complexions—Vinev’s rich color faded into pal
lor, and Blanche's clear white cheek glowing
crimson. The betrothed pair met almost for
mally. Bert surveyed his handsome rival with
and then turned to watch Vincy in
the old way, striving to gain the smile she was
wont to give him. \
The evening passed in dancing and laughtei - .
as usual, but all felt something was wrong, and
Blanche could not even guess from Vincv’s be
havior whether she was reconciled or distressed
by his arrival. Long into the night did Blanche
ponder the question, counting the “ wee sma'
hours ” one by one, till she grew angry with her
self asking over and over again, “ What did she
care for it all ?" but never answering the ques
tion. even to herself.
What was her surprise to find, on descending
to breakfast the next morning, that Vincy and
Mr. Dent had been out horseback riding for
more than an hour, and had not yet returned.
“ That girl would flirt if to-day were to be her
last oh earth,” she remarked, quite savagely, to
Bert.
Bert gave her a sickly smile, as if hope and
fear were warring in his manly breast, and
walked away.
Blanche was out of all patience.
“If she meant to go on so over that Dent, why
did she flirt so remorselessly with Bert ? Poor
fellow ! It’s a shame —I won’t stand it!”
Nor were her rufiled spirits soothed Alien
Vincy rustled into the breakfast-room a few mo-
and persuasive when she could beguile her
cousin into a tete-a-tete at odd times; vainly did
she remind her of her absent fiance, waxing in
dignant as she sung his praises and upbraided
that young lady for her inconstancy in the very
strongest language that her vivid imagination
could invent. Vincy took it quietly—so quietly
that Blanche quite marveled, knowing her im
petuous disposition so well.
So the days passed on. Pretty, stately Madie
King and the young Dr. Wells (who had returned ; uially. Be
to pay Bert a week’s visit' indulged in a digni- j gloomy eye
fled, slow flirtation—taking little twilight prom- '
enades and wearing each other’s flowers. Lively,
merry Armantine DuPre, with Blanche for a
kindred spirit, took mad gallops across the coun
try with various attendant Cavaliers from town.
Bird-nesting, hunting up gipsies with a rash im
pulse to know the vailed future, got up ice-cream
parties and tableaux, theatricals and impromptu
masquerades, fruit suppers on the lawn, or bet
ter still, when tired of concerts in the parlors
and dances in the hall, they had real glorious
games of blind-man’s buff in the grove by moon
light; and all the while Vincy, in Bert’s eyes at
least, grew lovelier each day; and he would sit
in his chair on the gallery, or on his sofa in the
hall, and with a beautiful and growing indiffer
ence to all the world beside, would watch her as
she mingled with the rest. So it was only right
and fair that she should sit in the cool, shaded
parlor one morning, while the rest were having
that inevitable croquet outside, and read to him
the book he was finishing that day. “ Miss
Vincy,” he had said, “this is something you
must read to me. I cannot do it justice by my
self.” So she took the book from him, and sink-
in to the great crimson “ sleepy hollow ” by his
side, read, in a voice musical and low’, “Lily’s”
letter to “ lienelm Chillingly.” She had read it
all before, and the remembered sadness and i ments later, accompanied by her cavalier, both
didn't dream of such a blessing as a whole sum
mer nt Belleville.”
“ I’m glad to see you are beginning to revive
already,” replied Blanche lightly. “ Truly yours
is a hard case.”
“ There are still many sorrowful things In life,
But the saddest of all is loving."
“Don’t apply any sentimental nonsense to
me,” said Vincy. “As to love, I have not learned
it yet.”
“All the worse for yon, then, my dear. Now,
the truth is, I am more than delighted to get you
here, Uncle Carroll is such a crusty old bear
about letting you leave him—hush ! it’s so—and
I pride myself upon my diplomacy in the mat
ter. I’ve been thinking.” she continued, waving
a spray of jessamine, with much emphasis—
“I've been thinking for some time that you
stood in need of a little sensible advice from me,
and you should consider it a special providence
that you have such a friend and counselor, will
ing to lead you in the way you should go.
“Well,” laughed Vincy, “agreed, then, that I’m
lacking in ordinary judgment, and should hum
bly ask for an intelligent opinion upon the pres
ent ‘ momentous crisis.’ What would you kindly
advise?”
“I should just ask a few questions.”
“ Proceed. ”
“First, then, yon haven't been flirting much,
have you ?”
“I think not,” Viney replied reflectively.
“You see this engagement of mine is such a
source of elevating pleasure to my father, that
he cannot keep his satisfaction to himself, and
so he confers with all the family over the fortu
nate circumstances of the case, and it is pretty
generally known everywhere, of course. People
seem to expect me to sing, ‘ My heart is over the
sea,’ and have given me up to my happy des
tiny.”
“Well, now, I'm truly glad of that. You
don't seem to realize, Vincy, that it will never do
to flirt at this stage of affairs. What do you
mean by looking so doleful ? Where is the young
hero who is traveling in ‘furrin lands?’"
•• Well. I suppose you must know all about it,
or I shall have uo peace,” replied Vincy, leaning
against the tree, aud looking down upon the
self-constituted “Queen of Flowers” with a fine
expression of resignation.
“ The truth is, then, that I very much wish he
would remain a traveler in ‘furrin lands’ for the
rest of his natural life, and I would gladly ex
press the wish more openly if I dared.”
“ Yincv ! Vincy !” cried Blanche, staring at
her aghast; “ do you know what you are saying?
I did not really think you were crazy— indeed,
I didn’t! You wish him never to return ! You
are positively insane to talk that way when your
word is given, and you cannot take it back in
honor. Why, you admit you admire him; you
own he is handsome as a prince; you know he
talks like an angel, has inherited possessions, :
loves you devotedly, and if you give him up.
there are no words in the English language to
express your stupidity.”
“Now. wait,” said Vincy, getting up before ,
her in her determination to be heard. "Blanche,
you always express yourself too strongly. I
don't mean to say that I'm going to break my
engagement, and bring upon my head the right- ,
eous indignation of all who are concerned, and
all who are not. I was only thinking that I was
not much infatuated with my knight errant,
and sometimes I think I would give the world
to be wholly free again. But, of course, I don't
(dare to break my word. I begin to think I’m '
;a coward at heart. ”
grove.
An hour later, Mr. Bert Harley lay on his sofa
trying to sleep. Blanche and her stepmother
had at last consented to leave him to his repose,
with his couch wheeled close to the window and
the long Venetian blinds half unclosed to let in
the breeze. Lazily, sleepily looking out upon
the lawn, though kept awake by the pain of his
sprained foot, Bert suddenly saw a radiant vis
ion approaching. Beautiful, Viney was in any
dress or on any occasion: bat this morning, as
she came down the slope in the broad sunshine,
with her garden hat tilted over her wealth of
wavy bronze hair, her cheeks bright with more
than their usual eriidfeon glow, her great brown
eyes sparkling as she raised them for a moment
in the direction of Bert's window, he secretly
voted hers the loveliest face he had ever seen.
He raised himself upon his elbow in sudden for-
pathos of the story came back to her as she read
unhappy little Lily’s farewell, and tbe
thought of her own darkening future smote her
heart with a sudden and bitter pain. There was
a change in her voice, and her downcast face
grew white as she read the last few words, so full
of a despairing love, so tender, so hopeless:
“ You remember the little riug ?
Oh: darling, darling!"
A hand fell on hers, and looking up, Bert’s
face was white as her own.
“ Vincy, Vincy !” he said huskily, “ stop before
it is too late for us as well. Will you dare to say
you have not forgotten him in these weeks since
we met?”
Far-famed flirt as she was, all her bright,
read}’ little speeches failed her now, and her
great brown eyes were bright with tears as she
j looked up.
“I have never thought of him since you
j came !” she said at length; and then hated herself
! immediately for saying so much, as she felt her
! hand more tightly clasped.
But Bert’s face wore a look of supreme satis-
| faction which he vainly tried to conceal as
Blanche's skirts rustled along the hall at this
| moment, and Blanche’s face appeared at the
j door.
“ There’s a carriage full of us going up to town
| right away, and you’re to come with us, Vincy,”
getfulness of his recent calamity, and as her : observed the intruder, authoritatively.
step fell upon the piazza, he hid a mischievous j
smile under his dark moustache, and called j
aloud in no very faint tones, “Blanche!!
Blanche! come here.”
A sudden impulse moved Vincy, who stepped ;
hastily forward, and opening the blinds, she j
stood just inside the darkened room, in the
stream of golden sunshine that entered with her. ’
Somewhat disconcerted, she was at her nnex- ;
pectedly close proximity to the interesting young
sufferer on the lounge, but managed to say:
“ It is not Blanche—I will call her and send
her to you at once.”
"Don't go,” he murmured, affecting great
physical exhaustion as she was closing the win
dow after her. “Don't go; I only wanted some
one to bring me a glass of water, but the sight
of Miss Vincy Carroll would make me forget it.”
“I'm sorry to introduce myself to you in your
present weak state,” said she, mischievously
smiling at him through the open lattice, “for,
as I remember, the infliction was more than you
could stand last summer when in remarkably
good health. Blanche!” she said, entering the
hall, “your brother, or cousin, or uncle, or
whatever he is, calls aloud for some water, and
you must take it to him.”
"Vincy,” responded her cousin with an ap
pealing glance, “how am I to pick strawberries : the past and future.
“I'm perfectly willing-” said Vincy, getting
j up with a readiness which Blanche secretly ap-
S proved; and the two disappeared together, leav-
j ing Bert to try how far he could walk without
J limping.
“ Something must be done,’’ mused Blanche,
in her room, recalling the tete-a-tete she had in-
' terrupted in the morning; but distracted by the
| talking and laughing around her, she took down
1 her sun-bonnet and started off on a solitary ram-
! ble through the woods. Deep in her medita-
] tions, she did not heed the few’straggling clouds
I that would now and then shut out the afternoon
; sunshine, till suddenly the patter of raindrops
I broke her reverie, and she saiv the coming sum-
i mer shower.
“ If it were not for this love of a blue muslin,”
she thought, “I would not mind it at all;” but
nevertheless, she started forward in great haste
for " the beach,” which was only a few yards off'.
“I’m not going to stand here for the next hour,”
i she reflected, reaching the shelter of its low,
thick, spreading branches. “Fin going up and
1 make myself comfortable;” apd so, after some
difficulty and one or two fruitless attempts, she
i swung herself up into the third branch from the
ground, and in triumph aud blissful security,
sat dangling her pretty boots and ruminating on
and go too ? Mary has been sent for ice, and
Martin has driven Dr. Wells back to town; so do,
like a dear girl, take it to him yourself. As he
is sick, there is no use to be so distressingly cer
emonious.
So a second time, Vincy stood in the light of
the open window, this time with a silver tray
and a heightened color.
•‘Iam sorry for your unfortunate accident,”;
she remarked as she stood beside him.
“So was I,” he answered; “I was desperately
sorry awhile ago. Will you forgive me,” he went
on, •• for the opinion I had presumed to form of
you before we met ? I changed it at the very first
moment of seeing you."
"I have not changed mine,” she said, pro-
vokingly; and just then, as she stood waiting
for the glass, a red rosebud she had fastened
at her throat fell suddenly down upon his arm.
She started, blushing in red confusion, while he
caught it up with a quick glance into her face.
“I’m sure I could not help it,” she laughed
out, interrupting him in something he was say
ing about “accepting the omen," and catching
up the glass, she took herself and the waiter out
of the window in dignified haste.
“ You may wait on your venerable uncle your
self, now, Blanche,” she remarked to that young
lady, passing her on her way up-stairs.
“This is a bad beginning,” she soliloquized
iu her solitude. “ I always had a presentiment
But what was that she heard ? Footsteps,
surely ! Yes, and there was a line-looking gen
tleman walking rapidly up to her shelter.
“Saints and angels!” ejaculated the girl;
“ don't I hope though he won’t see me ?”
For there he was, leaning against the great
round trunk, fanning himself with his straw
hat.
“ Oh ! what curls !” thought Blanche, looking
down on the clustering black ringlets in excited
surprise. “And save me ! the wretched man is
looking around to see if the clouds are disap
pearing ! If you want to know which way the
wind blows, any goose could see it is south, and
that is just aheai of yeu. Oh. dear!”
But all the time, Blanche sat still as a mouse
in her leafy hiding-place. Just then, however,
the young man turned deliberately round to in
spect the large tree that sheltered' him, and he
looked right up into Miss Blanche’s eyes with as
startled an expression as her own.
“Jupiter!” he exclaimed, in his surprise.
“No —Miss Carroll,” corrected that young
lady, gravely; and then, as her sense of the lu
dicrous overcome her, she broke into a merry
peal of laughter, which she quickly endeavored
to stifle.
“I have long been ambitious to make Miss
Carroll’s acquaintance,” replied the gentleman.
“I am Harry Dent.”
“ Oh !” she exclaimed, forgetting her usual
looking pleased and self-satisfied. Vincy, in
deed, was perfectly blooming, and met Blanche's
vindictive glances with the sweetest smiics in
return.
But Blanche couldn’t understand it at all.
Vincy was perfectly non-committal, and no en
treaty nor denunciation could make her say one
word on the subject. She only looked pleased;
and to say that Blanche was consumed with in
dignation would put it too mildly. Then, too,
Mr. Dent's behavior was incomprehensible.
Didn't he follow her to the piano often, leaving
Vincy to talk to other gentlemen outside ? Didn’t
he join her last night down by the gate, and
bring her some scarlet geraniums "to contrast
with her golden hair?” If Vincy disliked him
as much as she did, why did he stay? And poor
Bert! She couldn’t forget or forgive for one mo
ment Yincy's conduct to Bert, when she watched
Mr. Dent and herself stroll through the grove to
gether, or sing duetts together in evenings.
Justly, she thought, has some writer said that a
“handsome man who sings is the most fascina
ting of all creatures.”
But suddenly, all trifling was ended. Blanche
saw, with a kind of despair in her heart, Uncle
Carroll descend from the carriage and greet his
daughter and sister-in-law w r ith his usual self
consequence.
“Now is the time to try men’s souls,” she
whispered to Vincy a moment or two after ward;
and her cousin's face was pale and frightened.
“I thought I’d come down to arrange for the
wedding,” Uncle Carroll explained that evening.
“I think it would be better to have it down here,
and I suppose, sister, you don’t object. I pre
sume, Dent, that you have not let Vincy forget
it was fixed for the first of September ?”
“We have neither of us forgotten it, sir,” an
swered that gentleman; and then Blanche slipped
away, and sat for hours looking out into the
pale, cold moonlight; and then she saw Bert ;
gallop away down the road in reckless speed,
and she sighed and said, “Poor Bert!”
Oh ! how quickly the weeks went after that! :
How white and still Vincy grew, seeming op
pressed with a kind of dread. The rounds of
gaiety went on as usual, but Blanche seemed for
once in her life to have no heart for it.
One morning, finding Blanche alone in her 1
room, Viney came in hurriedly and shut the i
i door, and throwing herself down on her knees,
the poor girl wept bitterly on her cousin’s shoul- 1
! der.
“Blanche, this want of confidence between us
; has gone on too long already. Let me tell you
my trouble;” and then she poured forth her j
story, owning all that had passed between Bert
and herself. She said her father had taxed her
I with it, and solemnly declared, should she refuse
, Horace Dent, he would cast her off forever.
"He said I should never again enter my
home: my little sister should never know or
hear of me,” concluded the girl, in bitter grief.
“ My darling girl, you ought to make up your
i mind yourself. I cannot help you, but I’ll
| stand by you in heart and voice in whatever
' choice you make. ”
Maybe it cost Blanche an effort to say this, 1
but she said it bravely. There was to be a grand ■
J bal masque in town on the 25th of August, and i
that fateful day at length arrived. Our quar- [
i tette were going, and two carriages were in wait
ing at Belleville to take in the masqueraders.
, Blanche first appeared arrayed as a Spanish girl.
; Her false black curls were half hidden by the
folds of black lace that hung from the tall, pearl
I comb on her head. A heavy train of yellow silk
swept the floor. Viney followed in a pink dom
ino to be discarded in the dressing-room.
Handed into one of the carriages by a moorish
magician, Blanche was soon whirled away.
••Darling, it is in your power to put an end
to all this trouble and strife,” spoke the magi-
; cian in well-known tones.
Poor Blanche ! her heart beat wildly, and then
* stood still.
“It is Horace, and he takes me for Vincy.”
Then, making a convulsive effort to steady her
voice, she spoke: "I am Blanche; I am sorry
vou made the mistake.”
But no answer could Blanche give. His voice
sounded as if it come from an unreason
able distance. The rumble of the carriage-
wheels over the smooth road seemed like heavy
cannonading to her excited nerves. Then the
carriage suddenly stopped, and guessing where
they were, her head whirled and her heart stood
still.
“My brave Blanche, be yourself,” Horace
whispered; “ you have but one moment to decide.
Will yon marry me, or do you refuse me, here
and now ? Answer me !” and his voice was low
and hoarse.
Excited, frightened as she was, she could not
keep back the whimsical reply that rose at once
to her lips:
“How can I get married in this black wig?”
Without another word, he lifted her out.
"God bless you, bonnie Blanche,” said Bert
at her side, and the little pink domino clung to
her neck and whispered blessings, while Horace
hastily untied her mask, and threw back the
heavy lace vail.
“Vincy,” Blanche said, w’hile her own voice
had to herself the same far-away sound—“Vincy,
one of us must elope to-night, that’s plain. I
think it is rightfully your place, not mine.”
“ No. no !” said Viney, shrinking back behind
Bert's shoulders: “ I caunot—I dare not!”
“Come, said Horace,” and queenly Blanche
swept up tlieehurch beside him bravely, though
her face showed deadly pale beside the glowing
gold of her dress A few solemnly-spoken words,
a few low responses, made them one till death.
Then Blanche walked with Vincy into the little
vestr-yroom to put on the traveling dress that
wily young lady had provided when she fainted
quietly away on the stair-case in the comer.
However, they reached the ten o'clock train in
time, and Bert and Vincy bade Mr. and Mrs.
Dent an affectionate adieu, and then went home
to “face the music.” We will not describe the
scene that followed when our young couple
went in, finding the old people quietly enjoying
the evening breeze on the piazza.
Mrs. Carroll showed no surprise or disquiet
ude at the news—no doubt having been taken
into the plot by Mr. Dent.
Uncle Carroll stormed, of course, but made no
objection to Bert taking the bridegroom's place
on the coming wedding-day—remembering that
he himself had spread everywhere the report of
his daughter's approaching marriage, and pride
whispered it was the only resource. So he soon
learned to bear the disappointment with tolera
ble philosophy, and Mrs. Carroll was a Arm ally
of Bert.
So, on the night of the first, there was a grand
wedding at Belleville,—Vincy looking the per
fection of earthly beauty in her floating clouds
of white tulle and orange-buds, and Blanche
(who had returned, of course,) regal in trailing
folds of satin and glistening pearl—a more be
coming costume altogether than she had worn
the week before at the altar of St. John’s.
It was a nine-days’ wonder, of course; but the
change of grooms was considered satisfactory,
and the brides looked none the less lovely.
Booth, Surratt, Jackson.
I The Washington correspondent of the Augusta,
i (Ga.) Chronicle & Sentinel, in a recent letter, says:
However much John Wilkes Booth may have
! erred in assuming the assassin’s role, for which
j good men must in all time denounce him, there
! is no doubt that his distorted intellect made
| him believe that he was performing an act of
| patriotism. While Booth has been severely ani-
I madverted upon from time to time by Southern
j journals and people generally for his rash act,
i there are those in the North who regard him as
! “a^great hero.” A young New York lady stated
| to me that she revered the memory of Booth,
and would freely give her own life if she could
j call into being the young actor. “I would es
teem it an honor to kiss his foot were he alive,”
she exclaimed. I met a Christian statesman
the other day, and asked him if he could in
form me where Mrs. Surratt was buried. “In
deed, I cannot, sir,” he responded. “The
killing of that woman was murder, and all the
waters in the Potomac could not whiten the souls
of her murderers.” “But were you not in the
Senate at the time, sir, and might you not have
interceded for her poor life?” I asked. “Judg
ment had fled to brutish beasts, sir, and it
would have taken a man of more courage than I
possessed to have even suggested that she be
pardoned,” quoth the ex-Senator. John Surratt
married a Virginia lady last year, and is now
teaching school at a village in Maryland, about
twenty miles hence. Miss Surratt married a
treasury clerk, but immediately after the nup
tials he was dismissed from the department.
The daughter of Jackson, who shot Col. Ells
worth for tearing down the Stars and Bars from
his hotel, is a clerk in the Postoffice Depart
ment. She received her place through the in
flnence of Col. Mosby. Some time since she
was discharged, but upon hearing of it, the
President — put this down to his credit —in
structed Jewell that this worthy young lady was
to be retained as long as he was President. I
guess Miss Jackson will not oppose a third
term.
Wabts may be removed, says a celebrated phy
sician, by rubbing them night and morning with
a moistened piece of muriate of ammonia. They
soften and dwindle away, leading no such mark
as follows their removal with lunar caustic.
A colobed organization in Dayton has decided
! to forgive its clergyman for betting on three-
card monte and losing $90 of festival money.
! One of the deacons remarked: “We is all hu
man, and the game is werry exciting.”
Unbounded patience is necessary to bear not
i only with ourselves, hut with others whose vari-
' ous tempers and dispositions are not congenial
with our own.
Jealousy is only the art of tormenting your
self for fear you should be tormented by an-
j other.
INSTINCT print