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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 INSTINCT print