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ML O S T.
A Great English Story.
BT JO EX C. mrCKD, ACTHOB OF “ BY THE BOAHSE
CHAPTER XX—Contixted.
Some evenings after that scene by the Tha
Zollwitz stood in bis room and loo
around. His books were arranged for packi
trunks already filled. The ;walls loo
| mournfully on the despoiling process, knowing
| that they would soon lose that inmate whose
| musings, many sorrows, and few joys, they had
shared. Zollwitz stood there, having just freed |
himself from the signs of his dusty occupation— I
fresh and gladsome, like a warrior ready for '
life’s battle, and eager for the fray. His figure
j was reflected in the glass, straight and noble— 1
such as nature should give us more of—coming
from an old stock, dating back to the union of
a princely German dame and a Slavonian land
holder; dating back to that early history of Ger
many when the kingdom of Poland lorded it '
high and mightily over Silician dukes. There
was a bright line of Zollwitz to be counted, but
brighter than all shone the light of that one
who fell by the side of Duke Henry II. the Pi- 1
us. on April 9th, 1241.
Zollwitz stood there, in the glow of the even
tide. In his veins coursed the daring and hot
blood of the ancestral father, in his soul lived
the gentler influence of the ancestral mother.
Would he belie their name, or conquer that evil
demon, and crush the curse that his own parents
had left on him? Zollwitz lifted up his eyes,
one deep sigh escaped him, one light pressure
of the hand to the heart; and then, with manly
courage, Eros went to find his Psyche.
Ethel, in white muslin dress, looked general
ly at that time after her favorite plants in the
conservatory, trimming them and nursing them
daintily. The Darners were not fond of rushing ,
about every evening, and many a one was spent
at home in home occupations. Zollwitz went
down, his heart beating. The conservatory was
in a nook built out sideways from the drawing
room—a nook of its own, having a charmidg
reading-cabinet attached to it There was Psy
che in white, flattering, like her typical Greek sis
ter—with butterfly wings over her flowers. A
shadow fell,land Eros stood by her side. They
both knew each others presence; they spoke not,
—did they breathe? So they stood Eros and Psy
che, for some minutes. Then Zollwitz began in
tremulous but manly accents, his mother tongue
known sufficiently to Ethel, giving forth the
words of those heart-pulsations:
“ I love thee—thou art my heart's choice; for
thee I will strive. Oh wait thou for me T
Stillness reigned in that conservatory, and
clearly came back the words “I wilL”
There stood two souls united forever; and—
who would bolieve it ?—not an endearment pass
ed. From Ethel’s hand did Zollwitz take the
flattering blossom. Once more he whispered
“ Oh, wait thou for me!" and was gone.
Harry found Ethel on that same spot a quar
ter of an hour later.
“ Are you a stature, Ethel ? How beautiful
you look to-night! how large and glorious your
eyes shine! Ethel, there is a tear-drop in one of
them! Ethel, what is the matter?”
Ethel felt she must give some vent to
new feelings, some active demonstration,