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“ Until the next time,” adds Colonel Windsor,
who is somehow thoroughly annoyed at this
third presence. _ P
He means to speak lightly, but Mr. Inge has the skill of his laundress, and for his sublimely
an ear marvelously sensitive to jarring inflec- hopeless devotion to Miss McLean, but whose
tions; so without reply, he leaves the twain and conquest I wisely would not undertake; it
turns his steps toward the side entrance, smil- would be simply impossible; Mr. Randolph
ing rather queerly behind his thick mustache, McLean, who is sedulously courting the daugh-
and whistling now and then as he goes a bar or ter and the influence of the Panes; my good
two of “ Love Among the Roses.” friend, Mr. Inge, whom I like too thoroughly
Lyt and Colonel Windsor halt a moment at ever to think of loving, and Colonel Windsor,
the piazza steps, either side of which great ole- superlatively unexceptionable, but, like the best
anders, the pride of the green-house, toss pink, Western lands, ‘covered with pre-emptions.’
plumy, almond-scented sprays throughout the Beyond doubt, it i.s a nice lot.”
summer. Standing on the topmost stone, the ‘ lam not so sure about the ‘pre-emption’
broad white stream from the lighted hall, show- par'. Do you believe he is engaged to Norah?"
e. But Bernard, who was already seated at they “ made up ” again, forthetime being, their Jeannie looked so slight and childish to talk ot
table when she came in, only gave her a dis- 1 lives were blighted, and it was her duty, accord- “taking care ” of anything. , ,
tion allotted money for lack of brains, whereas, ; Vere.
my/(dur must have both; Major Bethel, whom I the table Wueu sue came m, oiuy gave uer a uis- uv« »eie uuguieu, auu u was uei uuij, accuiu- '““*“6 j o- nponle
revere equally as a magnificent monument to tant bow in response to her bright smile, and ing to all established precedent, to “mourn over Presently, leaving Alice with the old PI’
ii t^ii t j — ’ '— —' applied himself, with the assiduity of a mariner the ashes of buried hopes." She mourned for the young folks strolled into the garden.
freshly-rescued from shipwreck, to the contents about an hour (_it seemed three', and then sud- a large, rambling, old-fashioned place with ^^
of his plate. For had not Algernon met her at aenly remembered that under all circumstance, diamond and heart-shaped beds,
the door, and had she not given him the first
smile, and stopped to speak a few low words ?
Thanking him for the care of her locket, per
haps, which was exactly the truth, though not
whatever cost, her pride must be kept up.
Bernard must never know—never—that she was
sufi’ering. She must mix with the busy world,
and fores the smile to her brow, and the gay
v..— - __ surrounded
with box that once had been trimmed and evenly
kept, but during long years of neglect, except
for Jeannie’s slight, though willing fingers, had
become overgrown and irregular. Beyond the
ing her radiant figure against the dim dusk
world, with the flowers nodding above her head,
dropping odorous kisses in her fluffy, tangled
hair, what wonder is it that the Colonel’s eyes
grow raptured at the sight, or that Inge, watch-
ing from his shadow-covert, thinks almost aloud:
“lam not without the company that misery is
said to love.”
CHAPTER XII.
TREATS OF DIVERS THINGS.
four o’clock, Friday afternoon.
lUll CLii Li ivlt c Llitr oLllilvJ lu Lit. A Ulo" ) dUtl tile uccuiuv v w ,kul * * M ... ~ j
in the sense the injured lover imagined. Syl- word to her lips, though beneath, her heart was garden was a small, though flourishing orchard,
via’s face flushed, and a look of pained surprise breaking. And so, with a yawn—that she meant the glory of which consisted ot an enormous
came into her eyes at Bernard's marked cold- l'ora eary sigh ’—she rose trom her despair- Scuppernong vine, now heavy with clusters ot
ness, though in a little while she forced herself ing attitude, and, after an attentive survey of luscious grapes. Thither Jeannie led the way,
to believe his manner was merely accidental, the glass—her hair must not be dishevelled, tor and soon the trio, beneath the long and shaded
.. . „„ and to talk and laugh as gai !y as ever. After the sake of appearances—she wrapped herself in arbor covered with the vine, were laughing,
“Colonel Windsor, do you mean? Rumor the meal was over, however, lie came up and her panoply of pride, and descended to mingle eating and filling a basket with bunches ot deli-
savs so.
“I am sure she likes Major Bethel best.”
“I am not; for to do so, one must be the
sickliest of sentimentalists, which Norah cer
tainly is not, but, on the contrary, admirably
wide-awake and practical.”
“What do you know of the Major that you
have such a spite against him ?”
said gravely:
“Will you take a little walk with me? Are
you well enough?”
She glanced at him in bewilderment, while
again the color rose to her face. What could be
the matter with Bernard? He was “not him
self” at all. But with all her childishness,
Sylvia was proud—too proud to ask an explana-
with the ceaseless crowd below.
Alice,” whispered a soft voice that night, as
cious grapes. *
“Well,” said Sylvia after awhile, “ it is about
according to olden custom, the elder sister bent tunc to go in. „
over to imprint a good-night kisS upon her dar- . w< ? M 1 .??®.* 0 , ^ 1 i s '
ling’s lips, “Aljce, you need not be afraid of my ; sa ' c J J 0al ) nle > as ^ hilip hft e( l th 0 basket filled
vinor tnn • I mm nprpr npi'fir crmncr tn hp mar- ^ itll th<? tempting fruit.
Elmridge,
There is unwonted stillness about the place. A
huge white cat suns herself on the front steps.
The flower-bells ring fairy chimes, undisturbed
is like trying to breathe from an exhausted re
ceiver. Colonel Windsor has an equal polish,
yet one soon perceives that there is a man under
, ,, , ,. t. . - „ u i , it. It may be somewhat selfish, often wrong-
by tbe gay chatter that usually breaks up the headedi and a trifle intolerant> yet stm one wh s 0
sleepy quiet of this time. Within, the mis ress can j m p ress and influence those about him; and
ol the house, fresh from her after-dinner j hftve too d an 0pinion of Norah - s under .
sleep, goes noiselessly up the stairs to the cool, standing to think tbat she fails to appr eciate
darkened room where Lyt, just rousing from a j the positive ness of real qualities. Of Major
ong restful sleep, answers a query as to her Betbek r only know that h ^ called at our ho ^ se
health; several times last year, when she was spending
“Spite? You are mistaken altogether. Major tion, and she only answered quietly:
Bethel is a very Brummel of manners and pol- “Yes, if you will wait while I go up-stairs for
ish, but beyond that, all inanity; talking to him j my hat.”
And in a few moments they were walking in
somewhat constrained silence down a path lead
ing to a secluded portion of that indefinable
region known as “the grounds.”
“Oh ! as well as ever. The chili was hardly
worth noticing, any way.”
“I am glad to hear it. Doesn’t your head
ache ?”
“Not at all.”
And then there is silence for some time, while
Lyt’s fingers thread the brown, wavy tangles
scattered over her pillow, and Mrs. Marcy rocks
slowly back and forth with an air of languid
ease she is far from feeling. If, as Thackeray
says, all good women are match-makers, then
surely is Mrs. Marcy entitled to rank high
among the saints. She is none of your coarsely-
outspoken, intrusive, obtrusive, insistant sort,
but rather an accomplished tactician, a consum
mate engineer, who grades, so to speak, the
Avernian slopes into such ease and attractive
ness of declivity that people go perforce down
them of their own gravity, or of sheer inclina
tion. It is one of her three ruling passions,
and she makes it almost a fine art, and has some
most admirable theories regarding it. Lyt has
been an object of interest to her ever since she
reached womanhood, and with any one else so
inscrutably fastidious, she would long ago have
lost heart and patience—for had she not evaded
or rejected a dozen most eligible offers ?—hut
somehow she has a peculiar pride in, and rever
ence for Lyt, which makes her all the more
anxious to see her suitably settled. Twenty-
eight is high time to be married. Mrs. Marcy’s
experience of life has shown her many cases
where the mills matrimonial of the gods ground
slowly, and also ground exceedingly small at
last as to results. There was Agnes Odell, who
refused a future Congressman at twenty to
marry at five-and-tliity a farm-hand ten years
her junior; and Miriam White, who wouldn’t
even listen to Judge Flyn, so constant was she
to her dead love, for whom she wore black five
years, and nearly cried her eyes out, married
at thirty a boy of eighteen, who spent her for
tune and broke her heart; and poor Sarah Eton,
who in her youth disdained ordinary lovers in
waiting for the prince, and at last was fjvin to
become Mrs. Claypool, tbe step-mother ot eight
wretchedly bad children; and Lucy Glover, who
might have had a merchant-prince if she could
only have overlooked a wart on his nose, at last
accepted a one-eyed schoolmaster. That poet
was not far wrong who sang: ’
«* Old maids at forty-fire grow giddy.”
a month with me, and that on more than one
occasion they were ostentatiously absorbed in
each other; but that may have been done merely
to make us rustics gape and stare. In the light
of later events, I should say she was in fun, and
he very much in earnest.”
“Well, get up and put on your prettiest
looks. I told Ella if you were well enough we
would drive down there to tea, and we ought to
start before six.”
“ Oh, dear.' what shall I wear?”
“White, with blue ribbons, and your hair
flowing and caught back with tea roses.”
“If you please, no. That would do for sweet
simplicity and sixteen; instead, I mean to be
severely elegant in black grenadine, with my
foamiest laces at throat and wrists, and just one
white rose in my hair, whose darkness shall be
likewise set off with a silver arrow.” A toilet
which gave a preternatural brilliance to cheeks
already—spite her disavowal—bright with fever.
When it is finished, she runs down to the par
lor for a final grand survey in the tall mantel
mirror, before which she turns slowly around,
noting critically the fall of each fold, the sweep
of e mb outline, then makes her image a deep,
smiling curtesy with,
“ I think you will do, Miss Canmore.”
“ So do I,” says a grave voice, and Colonel
Windsor stepped in from the porch, where he
had witnessed the whole performance.
“I am glad to have my opinion so endorsed,”
Lyt says, with an unembarrassed laugh. “It is
rare for me to look so well as I do this after
noon—but how came you here? If I had not
thought myself alone, I should hardly have
given such audible expression to my vanity.”
“I came to take you to Daneville, provided
you were well enough, and would go with me.”
“I will go with pleasure, but Mrs. Marcy is
not quite ready.”
“Don’t wait for her,” calls her husband; “I'll
see that she gets there. Go right along. You’ll
catch up with The others down about the Bluff
Siting.” Y \ ^
It Lyt has an especial and particular weak-.
neks beyond all others, it is for stylish and
tasteful equipage; and the most severely criti
cal could find no fault with that into which
Colonel Windsor so carefully handed her. The
vehicle is simply perfection, equally in the ease
and elegance of all its fittings, while the horses,
And, albeit, Lyt is in some respects the sensi- j whose small ears, basin faces, fine, clean limbs,
blest of women, in others she is unpractical as pigeon-blue coats, and silvery manes and tails,
a child, and with so many fearful examples to j bespoke alike the purity and rarity of their
the contrary, where is the ground for hope that, Eastern blood, would be hardly matched in
setting aside the doctrines of necessity, she 1 breath, speed, or action. The Colonel bought
may not some day be the victim of a like infat
uation? Acting on this fear, Mrs. Marcy has
made a bold move in her friend’s behalf, but
not all her conscious rectitude of purpose can
keep down a certain nervous tremor as she
thinks of the announcement she must make to
her guest, whose eyes are very penetrating, and
who, once conscious it was there, would take a I
mischievous delight in breaking the web and j
spoiling the meshes of the most finely-spun j
and delicately-woven bymenial snare, even j
though it were spread with the best intentions j
in the world.
Presently Lyt half rises with:
“If I am going home to-morrow, it is high !
time my trunk was packed.”
“No need to be in a hurry,”says Mrs. Marcy. j
“My way to keep out of a hurry is always to
begin in time. The consciousness of my scat
tered belongings would be about as tormenting
as the toothache, should I have them go until
the hour I must leave.”
“Well, the fact is, I thought this morning
you would not be well enough to go, so wrote to
your mother that you would stay a week longer.”
“She will not get the letter until Monday.”
“Yes, she will. Job Dane started ont cattle-
buying, and said he would go by and leave it
there.”
“He started—let’s see—three days ago, wasn’t
it ? How did you know then that I’d have a
chill this morning?”
“I did not know it, but all the rest are going
to stay, and I am convinced the party cannot
afford to lose you.”
“And chose the logic of accomplished facts
to convince me likewise?”
“Its the only kind you’re amenable to. Don’t
be vexed about it, Lyt. Wash told me this
morning, when he came for Norah, that Mr.
Inge’s and Colonel Windsor’s horses had been
sent out from M (splendid turnouts, both),
them in New York two years ago, paying there
for a price that compeers deemed almost fabu
lous; and they have come to know instantly his
hand and voice, so that, although they stand
almost statue-like until the word is given, when
it comes they are off like a whirlwind.
(TO BE CONTINUED.)
[Written for The Sunny South.]
Ethel, the Wanderer;
OR,
THE DOUBLE HERITAGE.
BT BAMT DRAKENN.
[NTMVERELLE. ]
CHAPTER XIII.
With knit brows and measured footsteps,
Bernard Ralston, the next morning, was pacing
alone the broad hall of the hotel. It would be
hard to describe his thoughts—they were of a
mixed character; but wounded pride and self-
love, indignant and bitter feeling, were upper
most in his mind. That Sylvia, who had seemed
to love him so entirely, whom he had trusted so
completely in spite of her playful little coquetry
of manner, should prove false to him, was a
thought that wounded him to the quick. In
spite of his contempt for De Yere, he had al
ways been a little jealous of him. Though men
in general are endowed with no small share of
conceit, especially where women are concerned,
and each in his soul believes himself the most
fascinating of his sex, yet, by a strange paradox,
when they become lovers, they evince the most
unaccountable jealousy of almost any masculine
creature who is at all friendly with their object
of adoration—even if the masculine creature be
decidedly, in the lover's estimation, his own in
and that you girls must hold yourselves in readi- ! ferior. A reasoning mind would agree that the
ness to go anywhere at all times, as there were 1 mere fact of a woman s choosing one man above
The silence remained unbroken until they had
reached a rustic seat beneath the shade of a
thick-foliaged sycamore; then he said abruptly:
“ I have brought you here to have a quiet
talk, away from ail those prying gossips.”
“Very well; begin at once,” she answered,
seating herself demurely, but with a mischiev
ous twinkle in her eye; now he was going to ex
plain his absurd behavior; she was dying with
curiosity to hear him, and she was not as yet
deeply concerned. But how dreadfully stern
he looked—like a tragedy hero! He did not
give her long to wonder, however—he broke ab
ruptly into the subject.
“Sylvia, I have borne your intimacy with De
Yere long enough, and will Lear it no longer.
You have known all the time how very displeas
ing it is to me, and have yet persisted in it.
For an engaged woman, your conduct, to say
the least, is extremely singular, and I demand
that you cease all intercourse with him at once.”
For a moment, Sylvia sat amazed at the idea
of anybody speaking this way to her; she, the
petted child of luxury, who, with the exception
of Philip’s boyish lectures,had never had a scold
ing or a cross word in her life. Then she rose
to her feet, her face crimson and her eyes flash
ing, and said haughtily:
“ I do not understand you ! What right have
you to speak to me in this way ?”
“What right have I?” with a short, bitter
laugh. “Why, I thought a while ago you had
given me the right—that I held a place in your
estimation a little superior to your other ac
quaintances; but recent discoveries have made
me think differently. ”
What recent discoveries? What could he
mean? She had been up-stairs in her room,
sick and innocent for the last three days.
“I repeat that I do not understand you. Will
you be kind enough to explain yourself? A
prisoner at the bar is at least allowed to under
stand the charges against him before he is tried
and condemned.”
“Sylvia, yon know what I mean. Why do
you pretend to be so innocent? There is no
need of any explanation. -What I require is that
you return Algernon DeVere’s picture, end break
off from him.entity.”
“Anjp whett I feqnire is to be treated like a
lady,
I liav(/ Yere’s
pictui'y 1 ’"™^!? u ftve led.-rjt my IPFends, any of
them, topffoxjp*,.*.. ... Jfcabre commands. ”
Ob"!*h*w he wishedJlhat he had not made that
promise/to Ethel, thatAe might openly reproadh
her with/ her treachery. But after all, she muft
understand whSt he meant. She had deceived
| him once, and of course would deceive him
again.
“There is no use evading the question,” he
exclaimed. “ Once for all, will you cut De Yere
or not ?”
“I will not.”
“ Y’ou shall,” he cried fiercely’, grasping her
hand as she was about to turn away; “ you shall
not leave this spot until you promise me.”
He was stung almost to madness by what he
thought her stubborn deceit and double-dealing.
To do him justice, he had no thought of trying
to break his bonds —to be free. It is true, that
unconsciously to himself in these last days, a
siren’s voice had charmed his senses; a siren s
beauty had enthralled his spirit, but Bernard
Ralston was the soul of honor, and at this mo
ment he had no thought of Ethel. If he had
never seen her; if through some other source
Sylvia’s imagined treachery had been discovered,
he would have been just as indignant, he would
have acted in the same way. He had so loved
her child like innocence, her truthful simplicity;
and the thought that she was false—that her
guileless candor was only a mask, and that the
pure-white flower he had cherished nursed a
Ridden worm at its close, was a torture to him.
But Sylvia, of course, could not read his
thoughts; she did not know the treachery that
had been at work, and, for the first time in her
gentle life, she was really very angry.
“Mr. Ralston,” she cried, with passion almost
equal to his own, “how dare you act in this man
ner ! Let go my hand this instant, and since
your rights, as you call them, have the power to
make you so very disagreeable, it is better for me
to withdraw those ‘rights’ altogether. Hence
forth,” she added, as he dropped her hand, “we
are acquaintances—nothing more.”
He stood still and watched her as she walked
slowly and proudly back to the house. He had
not expected it to end like this; he had expected
tears and penitence, and a full confession and
solemn promises of reformation, and instead had
been met with angry indignation. To be sure,
now that his temper was cooling, he reflected
leaving you; L-'.mi never, never going to be mar
ried !” *
ried!” , * But at the end of the arbor she paused, and
“Ah!” cried Alice wifh a q’tiick, glad start, looked around. They were upon an eminence
“ do vou mean\hat you and Bernard have broken which commanded a view ot the whole tarm;
O g-o-’ Ak i • the orchard, the quaint flower beds and the low,
“Yes, we have Lftvken off,” withadismal sigh, brown house on one side; the vegetable garden,
“but I don’t see whv you are glad. I did not with blackberry bushes along the fences, the
think mY troubles would ever give you any plea- cor F , , an “ Ibe broad cotton patches with
sure!” ' * their wealth ot snowy balls, which even now the
“Your troubles? Y'on know, mv pet, they pickers were busy gathering in, on the other,
are always mine. But I cannot help thinking “It we should have to give it up," she said
that this is for the best. You are so young, so tremulously, “ oh. Sylvia, we could not live
very voung to think of marriage, and though without our home.
this affair may make you feel badly for a time, . ** . t you won t have to give it up, said Syl-
you will aknowledge that it was for the best after ' l!1 triumphantly, “because Mr. Delimit - said,
awhile ” only last night, that he was almost certain you
But why as these words “after awhile” passed would win the case against that man, and / am
her lips, should Alice’s voice falter, and her e prtain. 1 know that with Mr. Delmar on your
cheek grew ashy pale—though in the dimness of f u ' e > y° u nee d not be afraid, Jeannie: you don t
the room Svlvla saw it not? What dark thought
was conjured up, what terrible meaning lay in
those simple words, “after awhile,” Sylvia did
not guess.
CHAPTER XIV.
“Make haste, Miss Jeannie, run up stairs and
I fix; deres a whole kerridge load o’dem white
I folks from the spring cornin’ up the yard !” cried
' Miss Jeannie Raine’s sable assistant Josephine,
poking her wooly head into the kitchen door,
where Jeannie, with a huge apron on, and her
sleeves rolled up, was busily engaged in mould
ing the whitest and prettiest of biscuit.
“Oh! Josephine!’ she cried in dismay, hold
ing up two little flour-covered hands, “what
can I do? I am such a sight, and these rolls
have got to be made up !”
“ Let dem rolls alone, honey, Jest as soon as
I let de folks in de front dor, I’ll come finish em.
know how learned he is.”
“Do you know?” asked Philip sarcastically;
“have you ever examined him ?”
Now, Philip was by no means an unamiable
young man, and was very fond of Delmar, but
he could not help feeling a secret kind of envy
of the learned lawyer, that fate had chosen him
instead of Philip Redword, Esquire, to be
the champion of this little country maiden.
She looked like a very troubled little maiden
now, and a stranger would have found it hard to
decide which formed the prettiest picture,
Jeannie with her hand shading her eyes, gazing
wistfully and lovingly upon the home she felt
was slipping away from her, or Sylvia leaning
eagerly forward, the sunny-brown curls tremb
ling about her to-night artistic face. It looked
like a tableau of Hope reassuring Trouble.
A stranger, I said, would have found it hard
to decide between the two; but Philip was not a
stranger—to Sylvia, at least—he was only a
cousin, and I don't think he even noticed Hope,
I am jest done all the scouring, and you run up
stairs and put, on your pink muslin and de sash be was so busy a dmiring Trouble’s dark eyes
too. Miss Jeannie. for uracions sake nnt dat on. and wistful face
There’s Mr. Delmar's horse,” said Jeannie,
too, Miss Jeannie, for gracious sake put dat on.
Dat are Miss Sylvia wid de curly head had on a
splendid striped one last time she was here; I
spect she’s got anoder one on now. Do let folks
see you know what’s de fashion too.”
The last part of this speech, Jeannie heard
with a laugh, as she ran up the steps to her room.
This sash was a continual bone of contention
between her and the dusky maid-of-all-work,
who taking a warm interest in “ de chile she had
most raised,” was fond of dictating to her, in a
parental way. The sash—the only one that
Jeannie possessed in the world—was a gorgeous
yellow satin affair, with large blue spots, which
had belonged to her grandmother, and was kept
as a relic. But in an evil hour ithad been shown
as they neared the house, “he must have come
in while we were at the grape arbor.”
Presently, through the open windows of the
sitting room came the sound of a voice, and Syl
via, a little in advance of the others, paused sud
denly and said:
“ Wait!”
We must retrograde a little to explain.
Delmar had ridden rapidly up to the house,
and with a look of glad eagerness on his face
that made it for the moment almost boyish,
leaped from his horse, and passed quickly into
the sitting room.
“Let me congratulate you, Mr. Raine,” he
to Josephine, who admired it intensely, and who j said, “ you need haveno more fears; that fellow
ersistently tormented her young mistress on
portent occasions to adf it to her, other
menu. Jeannie did notjtake long tip “fix
up ."J After plunging her face v ; ijnshed wijth the
heatfof the kitchen, into cold water, smoothing
the fcraids of dark hair, and exchanging her
trim calico for a fresh pink and white, lawn
with a tiny bow of the same color resting in her
hair, she descended, after a careful survey of
herself in the looking-glass, to make sure that
all was right, for our little Jeannie, though by
no means a frivolons devotee of fashion, was
equally far from being that exalted female cha
racter that haunts the atmosphere of certain no
vels, ahd who, though not condescending to
know of the existence of mirrors, ignorant of
even the color of her own hair and eyes, is always
described as very exquisitely and becomingly
dressed.
So Jeannie looked in the glass, and being suffi
ciently satisfied with its reflection, went down
to the sitting room; where Mrs. Eastbrook,
Philip and Sylvia were already established.
“ We expected to find Delmar here,” said
Philip; “he started off awhile ago, on horseback,
and we thought he had come here, but Mr. Raine
says you have not seen him.”
“Perhaps he went to Mr. Store’s,” said Jean
nie, “he goes there sometimes, to see about our
business.”
‘ • He is a very fine young man, ” this from Mrs.
Raine, “with a noble heart, to think of his
coming and offering to help us in our trouble, in
the way he did. It is a rare treat to meet such
a youth now-a-days; he is more like they were
when I was young,” shaking her head oraculous-
ly, for like most old people, she had a profound
he lawsuit ho
an bewildered'.
t. I ransacked
evidence, from
Stone has withdrawn his claim
“.Why, why,,I did not know)
beeAicommended,” said tbe old i
“ First, therp is to be no lawsu
some additionfal and conclusive
that other paper you found, and, armed with
that, went over to Stone’s to-day. He saw the
case was completely in my hands, and that he
had no shadow of a chance, and finding that a
lawsuit would only involve him in a useless
amount of trouble and expense, he consented, as
I said, to withdraw his claim entirely. I warned
him that you could, at any time, apply to me, so
he won’t trouble you any more.”
Delmar did not tell all. He did not tell of the
look of baffled rage and hate the farmer’s hard
face had worn; of his clenched fists, and furious
threats to have revenge on the meddling lawyer
who had deprived him of his prey. But I do not
think the villain's curses will ever harm him,
for as he brought his glad news to the farm
house, a -white-haired man rose erect, though
trembling, from his chair, and blessed him. In
emphatic solemn tones he blessed the stranger
who had taken upon himself the cause of the
defenceless; the man who, from the turmoil of
his own busy life, had turned aside to hear an-
: other’s burden. And the heartfelt words of
that blessing, floating out on the soft September
air, was what Sylvia, reverently, had stopped to
hear.
(TO BE CONTINUED.)
1
ONLY A BABY.
1 when I
all others, with whom to pass the whole of her j she would have 1
compared with the models of the days
was young.”
“The idea of calling Mr. Dehnar a youth !
How exceedingly old she must be!” thought
Sylvia; but of course she was too polite to ex
press her opinion, and contented herself with
giving Philip a sly nudge, and whispering:
“There is a compliment for you, Philip, as
being the only representative of the ‘ youth
now-a-days.’ I am afraid you do not behave
yourself when you come out here.”
“Humph!” ejaculated Philip, not too well
pleased, for though of course the simple old
lady’s remark contained no allusion to him, they
made him feel uncomfortable.
“ What the deuce does she mean about the
young men ? What does she want them to be,
that he had been hasty and overbearing, and j I wonder?” he thought.
even perhaps nngentlemanlv; but still she ought “ Jeannie,” said Sylvia, “ this is our farewell
to have been so overwhelmed with confusion, so j visit. We are going away next week, and before
anxious to ma J -*■- ’ .....
now four spans in Uncle John’s stables that , _
couldn’t be heat; and there’s camp-meeting- : life, would sufficiently prove that she preferred | anger, and born it meekly. Unless—this idea for a month or two ? And why can’t she go with
Sunday, and a fishing party at Norton’s Mill him to all the rest. But I don’t think lovers | flashed suddenly upon him—she was getting us? That will he better still.”
Tuesday, and a grand exhibition at Lineville , reason generally; at any rate, on this subject. I tired of their engagement, and had seized this “ Thank you, Sylvia, I’d like to ever so
Thursday, and Ellen Dane’s dining Friday, I don’t pretend to explain the fact—I simply opportunity to break it. It was a humiliating [ much,” answered Jeannie; “but,” hesitating,
besides some talk of a party at Major May- j state it as it is. Ralston was not very vain (for | thought certainly, but the more he reflected, the j I’m afraid I cannot. I can hardly be spared
Lew’s- “ ’ ’ ' 1 J J - c ’ ”
“Stop, stop ! You make my head giddy
uch prospective gayety. I ought,
rateful for your determination
it, hut really, in spite of it all, I’d ' to Sylvia, and though he bored her sometimes,
one home.” j she was too gentle, in spite of her gayety, to re
shall take you in the carriage j fuse him. Bernard had sometimes begged her
perfectly trusty. Or, if you to be a little more distant with “that fellow,”
r elf will go with you. ”' shut She laughed at his “absurdity,” as she
so. I shall enjoy ! called it.
know; but I have However, his jealousy now had “confirmation
father and strong as proof of Holy Writ,” and he was de
termined to hear with Sylvia no longer. He
could not openly reproach her with her treach
ery without implicating Ethel, which he had
promised not to do, but he would, once for all,
.demAnd a cessation of her intercourse with De
was going to have a “ talk, a decided
her on the subject. He did not have
it is quite evident now that she prefers De Yere I might accept your friend’s invitation. It would
to me.” j do you good to have a little recreation, child.”
This bitter blow to his vanity, though it made “That’s what I think,” claimed in Sylvia,
him feel still more hurt and resentful, had the i “she needs recreation decidedly. Beg your
effect of lessening his self reproaches, and \ cousin Caroline to stay a long time, Jeannie. By
Did you ever think how much difference “only
r _ r , , a baby’’ can make in a home? There is a hapey
contempt for the youth of the present age, | surprise in the story of life. An angej. of hifpe
and love, in the form of an innocent babe,, has
chosen the house and its inmates for its own* and
what one of these inmates is not as proud and
happy as a king, from grandpr»tately and tall,
through the long list of relative^Rdown to the shy
maid-of-all-work ? All is happiness in that house
hold where baby has begun to crftw and laugh,
and hold out its chubby little arms^to tiie^oving
embraces and caresses that awaits it on every
side and at every movement. The parents are
plainning for its future, when alas! baby no
longer holds out its hands to have its place on its
mother’s bosom. Daily the little form is waiting,
and daily the cheeks lose the glow of health.
Weaker and weaker it grows until, finally, the kind
doctor tells them: “Hope no more ; prepare for
the worst!” Night after night watchers come with
words of sympathy and offers of help ; but whoever
watches through the long, dark night, the mother
never leaves the loved one’s side, till wearied unto
death, she must seek rest. At last they tell one
another in hushed whispers, “It will soon be over,”
and they waken the house with tearful words.
Baby is dying! Dying in the arms of a kind old
neihgbor. See how tenderly she holds the little
form that will soon be lifeless. How anxiously
she notes every changing expression, but no! more
the mother kneeling at her side,
picture the agony of her soul, the misery
nes as she prays that it may be permitted
to pass away peacefully. Her grief is greater than
that of the husband and father who so tenderly
supports her. His grief is more for the being be
side him; the wife of his heart, the mother of his
child. The stillness is awful. It is broken only
k4 amends for her conduct that we leave, I want you to promise to come and see
e* cknowledged the justice of his me at home. She can: can she not, Mrs. Paine,
putting him gradually in a more comfortable j the way, is n’t she the Caroline Hays who was at j b y the sighing of the forest trees around, and the
frame of mind. Madame Beraine’s school once?” j rushing of water at the not far-distant falls. It
And Sylvia, angry, excited, but more than’ “ l'es, she left about three years ago, and after- J j s broken—no, not broken, for that low wail from
anything intensely bewildered, while the hot wards married Daniel Turner, the blacksmith’s tke mo ther’s heart seems but a mournful and not
indignant tears swelled up beneath her eyelids, ; eldest son. Were not those Turners related to une xpected accompaniment. Baby is dead! There
Ethel Grant?” . . . is no loud wailing, but who can, who dares measure
“les, Mr. Turner is Ethel s uncle, but she tke j r de ep grief! Next day there will be a quiet
has not seen them for a year or two. They funeral) and baby will be laid in 5ts laat re ^-
^'i 1 , . ,, , n , place. There will be one more grave in the family
“They did, answered Jeannie, “and Daniel r , _ _• .. ..‘““'““‘“J
walked, as we have said, in dignified slowness,
back to the house, and up to her room. Then,
taking off her hat, and bathing her flushed face,
she sat down to be woman’s usual solace—tears !
a She could not understand the charge Bernard . .
however, until that afternoon, for , had brought against her; his accusation about and cousin Caroline too. But Daniel and cousin ’
"old as Ethel informed him, was viip.tnre was wranne/t in the (tartest mvsterr. I Carrie are enrninrr nevt month to stav with US. V.
hat morning, Sylvia did not ap
until dinner-time. — 0 - 0 —. — ^ . *r— ■ i - . 0 --
friends and admirers flocked ated—and of course she was wretched. j Carrie always lived with us until her marriage,
aer to express their joy at her ; Lovers who quarrelled, always were wretched and can take care of the house and everything : The Tampa Tribune says there are five hundred
.iety they had felt, etc., and ! (in novels, at least, from which most of her j as well asl.” | head of cattle now at that place awaiting shipment
re profuse than any, was De ! knowledge was gleaned), and though sometimes j There was a perceptible smile all around. 1 to Havana.
lot, and avacancy in our hearts that time can but
ease. I say in our hearts, for it was my home
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