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WATER LILLIES. A STORY OF FLORIDA BY MAItY E. BRYAN. (Concluded.) . Laurie stood before her lookiDg-glass reflect ing. She had dressed herself in pale lilac muslin and wore a water lily in her hair and one upon her bosom. The mirror reflected a graceful throat aDd shoulders and haiidsome features, yet the lady frowned upon her image, for her keen black eyes saw too well the stamp of passee in the slightly hollow cheeks and com plexion like a rose that winds and suns have begun to fade. Spite of the care she took of herself and the beautifying cosmetics she used, her freshness was gone and she knew it. She was six years the senior of her fiance who was walking the piazza outside with such quick steps. Three years ago, when he was new to woman’s wiles, she had flattered and petted him intc adeclartion of love, impulsively uttered one night when she was more than usually charm ing and speedly ripening into an engagement through her good management. He was the nephew of her stepmother (now dead,) and heir to a fortune upon the demise of a doating old nncle. It was this magic of money that proved his open sesame to popularity, for had he possessed no golden expectations, his landscapes, though tenderly painted, and his sketches though grace ful and realistic, would have lacked recognition by the public. Being connected by marriage with heirship and his rising reputation made him seem an ‘eligible’ in the eyes of the belle, who had been blase in flirting, waltzing and conquest making while he was a verdant school boy in his teens. Having trifled with her opportuni ties, she found herself with waning prestige and grown uneasy as to her matrimonial out look. Handsome still and with many well- practiced fascinations, she was not wanting in admirers and Bulhven had been surprised into his proposal by her asking his advice 'as a brother.’ She had been addressed by a rich, elderly merchant whom her father wished her to accept. She had no love for him, oh no not a particle, and cared nothing for his money, but he was so fond of her and it was so sweet to be loved. She had felt so alone in the world since her mother's death and her father’s second marriage. What could a young man, untaught in woman's ways, do when such beautiful moist eyes were lifted to his and red lips said it was so sweet to be loved and so sad to feel alone?’ Ruthven was two young and chivalric to be proof against such an influence and his warm protest burst out before he was well aware of it, and was accepted and sealed as a bona fide p*c- posal by the artful beauty. The fulfillment of the engagement had been postponed till Iiutb- ven returned from a two year’s study of art abroad. Since his return he had seemed shy some way and Laurie remembered that only once had he spoken of marriage and that was when she herself reverted to it, by telling him her father wished her to be married in June as he wanted to visit some relatives the ensuing month. She recalled now, in a sudden flash ot recollection, how he had colored and looked confused when she mentioned her father’s wish. True after a moment, he had put her hand to his lips and murmured something that was meant for an expression of delight, but she felt plainly enough that the joy was by no means ecstatic. Still she determined not to release him from nis engagement. She loved him with that vehement, jealous, hall-fierce passion that often comes to coquettes, when their reign is nearly over as a retribution. She had a sicken ing consciousness that he did not love her—that his attachment had never been more than a boy ish fanoy, born of her flattery and fascination, and soon withering like all shallow-rooted things. ‘But I will never give him up,’ she said clinching her hand and setting her white teeth, (that few would suspect were artificial) as she leaned on the dressing case and looked darkly at herself in the glass. ‘His fancy for this little country girl shall never come to anything, will put a stop to it this very night—I will show them both ’ Then she paused and her cunning, calculat ing nature resumed its sway. ‘Violence and vehemence will only make things worse,’ she concluded at last. ‘I must try other means,’ She stood for a moment, her brow corrugated with thought, then swiftly crossing the passage she stood at the door of Spera’s room. She had heard her enter there a short time before. She saw her now, Bitting dejectedly by the window that opened on the garden, her forehead drop ped upon her hands that were folded on the window sill. A soft rap on the door was un noticed, a louder one brought her to her feet, coloring and cashing the tears from her eyes. Laurie affected not to notice them. ‘Are you not going to sing with me to-night, little one ?’ she said, putting her arm around her. ‘Come.’ *Oh ! you must excuse me, Miss Laurie, I don’t think I could sing a note tc-night. I am not quite well, I ’ 'We stayed too long on the lake, in the after noon sun. I have a headache myself.’ jjfnn ? But yon look so pretty to-night What a lovely locket. I have never seen it before.’ ‘No, I have seldom worn it; it makes me sad. It was given me by a dear schoolfellow who had a sorrowful fate. See, (touching a Bpring that opened the locket) this is her face. Lovely is it not ? and so infantile and eonfiding, Poor child ! it was her fate to fail in love with a man of the world, engaged to another woman whom he loved, though manlike he could not resist the temptation of flirting a little with a pretty unsophisticated girl like my poor Sophie. He was only amusing himself with her as he would with a pretty child or an affectionate kitten. After awhile he tired of the pastime and drop ping little Sophie, devoted himself wholly to the lady whom he soon married. She was one of his own set—accomplished, with congenial tastes, his social equal and a fit companion, which Sophie was not, being only a sweet, sim ple little darling—not over strong in mind or body I think, or she would not have pined over her disappointment until she fell into a deoline and died. It vexed me to hear the man she had loved speak of her afterward with a kind of con temptuous pity, as ‘a weak little thing. But it is the way with men, they do everything to make a woman play the simpleton over them, and are the first to laugh at her folly and gush ing readiness to believe in their trilling. Spexanza lifted her little head proudly, her eyes flashed—there were no more tears in them now. The story (trumped up for a purpose) had touched the sensitive consciousness it was meant to sting. . ... . .. ‘Your friend uas weak,* she said with spirit, •I should have despised myself ior loving such a man, and at once thrown him cu. of my thoughts. A man’s love is not everything in the world, even to a woman. If I could go out and take my part of the work and action of the world, love might go a begging for me. 1 would go too, if I was only better educated. Oh, if I had a little money, only a thousand dollars, to go to some school, and then fit myself lor work and business of some kind 1 I would ask nothing better. If I bad Buch a sum I would be happy Laurie had thrown open the blinds of the win- that opened upon the back piazza, where Buthven was walking restlessly as he smoked his after-supper cigar. She heard his steps pause close .0 the window, attracted involun tarily by the passionate earnestness with which Spera was speaking. She knew he had caught the last sentence the girl uttered, and while a thought darted into her mind, she said in a tone clearly audible outside: ‘I wish from my heart I could make you hap py by giving it to you then, dear Spera. It seems hard that with so many thousands iu the world you should lack just one to make you happy. I shall ask papa to give, or ' ‘Oh no, do no such thing,’ cried Speranza, coloring furiously ‘I never thought of making myself a charitable object in your eyes. I only spoke of what I wished were mine in my own right, I am no beggar. ‘Who said you were, you proud little thing ? I only wanted to lend it to you, until you and somebody were rich enough to pay it back,’ Laurie said, rising and kissing her.’ ‘Never mind I may help you yet nolens volens. I am going now to find what Buthven has done with himself. Come into the sitting room presently, and help me sing Bobert Adair.’ A moment after she moved softly to Buthven’s side where he stood leaning against a post of the piazza, forgetting his cigar in conjecture over the meaning of Spera’s words he had caught through the window. Laurie laid her hand on his arm. ‘I bring you a token’ she said, showing a little embroidered cigar case. ‘Have you forgot ten that tonight is an anniversary? Three years ago, I saw you for the first time. It was one of our reception evenings you remember, and you were tired to death with your journey and re fused to go in the drawing room and be lionized. So, we managed to pass off your cousin for the literary star, while we smuggled you into the sitting room and gave you tea and muffins. You oheeks were red as apples, and next morn ing you remember that long fever set in and we had to sacrifice your handsome curls before you were convalescent and well enough to go with us to the springs. ’ ‘I remember well, and I also remember who tended me so kindly in my convalescence.' Buthven said touched by the remeniscence and by the tenderness in Laurie's voice. He had been expecting something quite diflarent—a regular tempest in fact—and this balmy sweet ness was a great relief. The bravest man is cowardly when it comes to facing the ‘fury’ of the ‘woman scorned.’ ‘I have been waiting here ever so impatiently for you all to come and enjoy the fragrant cool ness out here,’ he said. ‘I went in to see Spera—poor little dear. She has just had a note from young Farley. They are lovers you know but too poor to marry, and her uncle is too stingy to give them anything. A thousand or two dollars would set them up so she said just now and I could not help offer ing to try to get it for her. I could persuade papa to give it to me, under pretext that I wanted to buy new dresses or to go to the springs this summer.’ There was a silence of somo minutes. Ruth ven ooald not doubt her story, even though he had reason to believe her standard of truth not a very high one, for had he not overheard Spe- ranza’s words that confirmed Laurie's asser tion? ‘You have a kind heart Laurie’ he said at last his voice husky and constrained. Presently he spoke again. ‘When are we going home? It is getting quite warm here; and this is the tenth of May. I shall have to leave yon if you stay many days longer. Business calls me away.’ ‘We can go day after tomorrow. Papa says he will leave with the advent of the first mosquito, and here is a fellow buzzing around our ears this minute.’ The next day Laurie roused her father from his state of mild apathy by declaring that the mosquitoes were evidently going to swarm and that she felt symptoms of inoipient chills and fever. ‘Dear me,’ ejaculated the invalid, thoroughly discomposed. ‘Yon had better pack up and let us be going, my dear. This is a quiet place: the milk here is very good, and that little girl with the outlandish name makes the lightest Graham bread I have eaten, but if we are to have chills ! But yes, I /Kite felt an aching in my bones lately, and you had better go and pack up, Laurie, and be sure you put my Liver Begulator and my bromide and Digestion Help at the top of my va lise.’ This permission to evacuate Lone Hall was ex actly what Miss Laurie desired, and before her father had time to repent having agreed to leave behind the unadulterated cream and feather- light bread of the farm house, she had the trunks packed and strapped and carried into the hall, ready for an early start in the morning, having hired the somewhat rickety carryall and the spring cart of uncle Vale to convey them selves and baggage. Laurie kept near her ‘dear little friend’ all that evening. Perhaps she was determined to forestall sentimental adieux and awkward ex planations. But she need not have troubled herself. Her story of the evening before had wrought its work upon Speranza. No daughter of the Vere de Vere's could have been more coldly reserved and impenetrable than this little sensitive plant of the Florida wilds. If her hand trembled a little as she poured the coffee for them next morning, nobody ob served it, and if her face turned white as her linen collar as Buthven shook her hand at part ing, he was too agitated and unhappy to notice it. and Lanrie generously looked another way. One thing, Spera saw, however. He wore at his button bole a lilly bud, the stem bound with a thread of blue. It was the flower she had vain ly reached for—the flower for whose sake she had wagered a curl and lost a kiss. He had tak en care to gather it and had tied about it a thread from the blue fringe of her shawl. So they went, and Lone Lake echoed no more to laughter and dipping oars, and the old farm bouse settled down to its monotonous summer quiet and held no more traoe of the visit of the City strangers than it did of the butterflies that haunted the April flower-beds. But a trace was left—in the heart of the little maiden that dwelt under the orange tree shad ows. Undine had fonnd her soul. Love and grief had darkened and deepened the violet eyes and hidden themselves in the shadowy depths. The unrest became almost too strong to be suc cessfully struggled against and the strife within stole the color from the pink cheeks of the once happy dreamer. At last came a change. One day near the end of Jnne, nncle Lane bronght a letter from the office—a rare occurrence that had only happen ed once or twice within Spera’s reoolleotion It was given to her to read while her uncle and old Hager stood and listened in grave expecta tion. It was from Mr. Hunter, and its pith was the request that Miss Vale would send him her receipe for makibg Graham bread. There were two items of news. My daughter Lauri was mar ried last week. I miss her greatly. She knew just how much bromide I needed at night, and just how to season my soup. Buthven Holly came into his property a month ago by his un cle’s death.' It never rains but it pours, thought uncle Lane when on his next visit to the little town built up around the railroad terminus, he brought back a package that had come by ex press directed in care of the storekeeper with whom he did business—but sent—to Miss Sper anza Vale—to Spera of all beings in the world, who had never got a letter in her life. She opened the package With trembling fingers; out fell a heap of crisp bank notes and fell flutter ing to her feet like antnmn leaves. She looked down at them in a bewildered, half-scared way. ‘There’s a letter,’shouted uncle Vale in strong excitement, and he picked up a folded bit of pa per, and handed it to her. She opened it and took in its contents with a hurried glance. It was from a lawyer in a distant city, who wrote that he took pleasure in enclosing her two thou sand doi-ars, which he said came into her pos session as a bequest from a deceased friend of the family, whose name was to remain un known. Speranza read the lawyer’s communication over and over again. She looked at the pile of bank notes which her uncle was eagerly count ing out. ‘I t is a mistake or a hoax,’ she said. ‘Oh, who is th ere to leave me money, or to know how of ten I have wished for just such a sum.’ She had forgotten expressing that wish once to Miss Hunter, and she was not aware that Buthven had overheard her. Uncle Vale was in a state of unwonted excite ment. Could the notes be counterfeit ? He mounted old Whitey at once, rode back to town and satisfied himself that they were genuine. ‘And t jey were sent in a regular business way too, Spery. Direoted to you; care of Mr. Simp son, and Simpson knows the lawyer and says he is a tip top fellow—the biggest dog among them law fellows in the city. ’ ‘But who could have left me all this money?’ Spera asked, looking down at the treasure Un cle Vale had deposited in her lap and feeling herself a second Aladdin. ‘It must have been some friend of papa's in old days. Mother said he made so many friends in the war, he was so brave and good.’ What to do with the money was the next con sideration. Speranza was not long in making up her mind. Slighting her uncle's advice to ‘buy the ’j'ining farm, marry Bill Farley and settle down to sheep raising,’ she determined to go at once to some good institution of learning and improve her mind by earnest and syste matic study. She packed her few personal ef fects, bade a tearful adieu to Uncle Vale, to ‘Bill,’ to aunt Hagar and to dear old Jap, who seemed oonscious that his best friend and playmate was going away, and left Lone Lake to enter upon a new phase of life, refusing to let herself be dis couraged by her uncle’s grave head shakings and his prophecies that she would repent throw ing away the good luck that had dropped in her path. Every hour of the two years, she passed in A seminary were improved with all that could be affected by iudustry, genuine love of learning, and silent but strong ambition. When she left the institution, she bore with her the highest honors of her class, and such words of praise from teachers and influential friends that she found little difficulty in obtaining a place in the public schools of the city. Her passion for literature still remained and she found it a relief in the intervals of her teacher3-work to write little sketches for a new periodical, whose vigorous scholarly tone pleased her. It bore no name at its mast-head, its E litor concealing his personality, though he could not disguise his characteristics of shrewd ness, strength and originality that marked his articles on the E litorial page. There was a vein of humor too that Speranza liked and a broad charit able way of looking at the life and ways and opinions of his fellow men that made her figure to herself a person of good heart as well as of strong sense—doubtless a man of middle age with the amenities of a happy home—wife and children—to temper the cynicism that might come from looking at the world with such keen, deep-seeing eyes as he evidently possessed, He in turn did not know the true name of the ‘fair contributor’ who sent him the gracefn sketches—finished studies of life—under the signature of Lily Harte. He thought this her real name at first, but being unable with all his researches to find snch a person, he began to en tertain doubts and finally asked her point-blank in one of the little notes they had begun to ex change (he figuring vaguely as ‘editor’) if she had not transgressed the stereopyped rule of no incognita to the publisher? Iu her reply she ad mitted that she had, pleading the force of exam ple, since he persisted in remaining a 'veiled prophet’ to his patrons aQd begged leave still to shelter herself behind her pen-name for the present That latter clause gave him hope that she would make herself known at some future time, aud Lily Harte’s sketches still brightened the paper and Lilv Haiti’s notes still came like a bouquet of violets from time to time to the office piquiDg the curiosity of the Editor no lit tle and making him somehow, by their sweet womanliness, turn from proofs and exchanges to look at a life-sized pencilled face in the poit- foiio locked away in his desk and put side by side with another picture—a colored sketch sunset and a nook of blue lake-water starred over with watsr lillies, aud in its midst a little plea sure shallop with three figures—one—the love liest—a girl reaching over the water for a lily bud that she coaid not touch—her face, half laughing, half earnest, partly hid by the pend ant spirals of sunny hair—the same face of the pencilled stndy. Why it was that the notes from his unknown contributor suggested this face he could not have told, but so it was, and the circumstance heightened the cariosity he felt to see Lily Harte. At length, one day when there was to be a grand reception in honor of a distinguished Eaglish literateur, with music and readings to render it more attractive, he wrote to his corres pondent: ‘Though not one of society’s ‘curled darlings,’ I think I shall go to-night. If there was the faintest hope of there meeting you, and prevail ing on you to unmask, nothing, not even the imps (printers devils of course) could keep me away. Will you not come? And give me some token—a silent one if you will—of yonr identity. Wear a flower in jour hair—a pecu liar one—say a water-lily, which is my long-time favorite and your namesake, you know —your sphinx-name at least—what your true one may be let to-night make known to me.’ There was a postscript which ran: *As real water-lillies are a rarity in these ^Northern re gions and city limits, and as I detest artificial imitations, I send you a sure enough bud, very pretty and perfect, although grown in a conser vatory pond by an enthusiastic florist.’ From the perusal of the note, Speranza turned hurridly to the little pasteboard box marked to ‘Lily Harte’ which had also come through the mail. There, surrounded by moss, lay the pare and delicately fragrant bad. Lifting it out, and holding it np to tne light, Spera’s pale oheeks flashed softly ana she said: *1 will go and I will wear‘ it In that afternoon’s mail, there was a note for the Editor, which contained only the mysterious word: ‘Be it so.’ signed ‘Lily.’ He went betimes to the reception, His eyes wandered over the throng of elaborately dressed women, bat no looked-for token greeted his glance. There were roses and fuchsias, wreaths and sprays and blossoms innumerable—most of them muslin and tinsel, but no water i He was resigning himself to disapp^ eu. when he heard one ver-dressed young la* to an older one, aun or mother evidently, ‘I have been waiti.an hour for Judge Pink erton to coma,to.me tat he has not been near me since we first cam < in. He sits yonder, en grossed with that piece of sweet simplicity. I shall let him know Ian not to be slighted.’ The lady’s voice was sharp with anger, and our young Editor moved quickly eff, not wish ing to be the recipient of private grievances, but he took a look at the piece of ‘sweet simplicity’ sp contemptuously pointed out, and saw a lady sit ting in a windowed alcove, talking earnestly with his intelligent, elderly friend, the Judge, who bent towards her with deferential admiration. Her head was slightly turned from him, but he saw she was garbed simply in cream-white cash- mere, with soft laces at her throat, and a flower —yes, he saw it, as she turned—a water lily in her hair. His heart ^ave a quick bound; at the same instant, he caught Judge Pinkerton b eye and stepped up to him with audacious intent. ‘Excuse me, Judge,’ he said, ‘but there is a fair lady inquiring very anxiously for you.’ The Judge looked around, caught a flash from jealous black eyes, and rose at once apologizing to the lady in the alcove and hurrying off to make his peace with his exacting fiancee. The white robed lady rose leisurely and bent over the geraniums in the window, parting the blossoms of the great crimson panicles with her little nngloved fingers. ‘Pardon me,’ a voice said at her side. ‘You wear a token flower. There is not another water lily in the room. Do I at last see my un known correspondent ? ’ She turned and their eyes met —met with a sudden flash of mutual recognition. ‘Speranza—Miss Vale,’ stammered the excited Editor. ‘Mr. Holly’ exclaimed Spera, the blood rush ing into her cheeks, to desert them the second after, as his haad clasped hers and unspeakable joy and tenderness shone down upon her from nis brown eyes, But she gently withdrew her hand, presently. ‘And Laurie,’ she said, ‘where is she?' ‘She lives in Pailaielphia with her husband.’ ‘Hasband? are not you—is not Laurie your wifa ?' ‘No, thank the fates.’ ‘But I thought—’ ‘You thought we were to marry. So we were once. I asked her when a boy before I knew what love was. Fortunately for us both, Miss Laurie loved my fortune better than myself, and whea that was endangered by a lawsuit, (another heir turning up soon after my uncle's death.) She threw me over and married a rich merchant —a former suitor. The lawsuit was lucky in more than one way. The prospect of being poor set me to work using my wits and hands in earn est for self-support, and by the time a compro mise was effected, I had learned to be a worker in the human hive—not a mere dilletante. But you—tell me about yourself; and first ot all- are you married ?’ ‘No.’ ‘But Farley? I thought you were to be mar ried—’ ‘I never had such au idea—’ ‘Then you did not want the thousand dollars for—’ ‘Thousand dollars!' Her quick, surprised, suspicious look brought him instantly to his recollection and he said: ‘Oh, I mean —’ and proceeded to give such an ingenious aod voluble explanation that Spera was forced to believe that his reference to the money had been a mere, meaningless lajisus lin- giue. Aud not nntil she had been married to him a month did she find out that he was the ‘deceased friend of th6 family’ who had left her that op portune bequest. (the end ) U State which preferred; alsu ameunt wanted per month for services and expenses, business honorable, per manent. and easily operated, Write ns. SLOAN A I CO.. 306 George Street Cincinnati. Ohio. T HE SUBSCRIBERS still continue to carry on the busi ness of ENGRAVING ON WOOD in all its branches. Their facilities are such that they are enabled to execute all orders promptly and in every style of the art, upon the most reasonable terms vtiMU All kinds of book illustrations, views of buildings, ma chinery, landscapes, portraits, societies' seals, druggists' labls, newsmper heads, bill heads, etc., etc., drawn and en themost approved manner Good H11 .'witinfir Without a Teacher. What Hone Practice will Do. GASKELL’S COMPENDIUM Designed for self-instructioa in pennm&nship for both gentlemen and iadies, aud till ages, is a combination in four parts; viz: 1. Copy slips. 2. Ornamental sheet. 2. Book ol instructions. i*rice One Dollar post, paid. 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Prepared at the Laboratory of the Home Medicine Co., Philadelphia, Pa. Price per Bottle, 25c. Extra Large Size, 75c. JOS-For sale by Druggists, \ GENTS General Stores, and Agents, ii, WANTED. Sold Wholesale aud Retail by Hunt, Rankin & Lamar Atlanta, Ga. MUHSMIPCailEH Reduction of prices in the acknowledged “ Woman’s University of the South," and the pioneer of the higher education of woman : Board aad tuition, washing inclnded. for term 1 f five months, iu Collegiate Department, only j 77 60 Tui 'ii only, live months, in Collegiate Dep’t 0 00 'iti„u, five mouths, in Intermediate Dep’t i 00 on, five months, in Primary Dep’t it 10 ext session will commence September 5th. Every faciiity is afforded in this institution for the mo* efficient and practical culture in both the solid and orna mental branches of au education. 1 G. W. Johnston, late able“aud successful Preside”’ of the Brownsville Female College, has resigned his i" .don there to take the Professorship of Ancient Lai .ages in the Mary Sharpe. The entire Faculty is composed o skillful and experienced teachers. The Department of Music is unsurpassed anywhere. Good instruments furnished, and t)ie best of instructors. A superior vocalist lias been procured for the next year. For catalogue or further information, apply to the President. ~ ~ ~~ New style : Mr. Mehan writes: “I send you a specimen of my writ ing before and after usi^g your Compendium, which I consider the best thing of the kind ever devised." J. M . Meuan, Principal Ames High School, j P. O. address, Nevada, Iowa. Old style: style: * New style Z. C- GRAVES. “Yonr Compendium has been a great help to me. You will find enclosed two o! my autographs ; one written be fore and the other after using it.'’ A. S. Osborn, Grass Lake, Mich. Opinions of the Press. The wonderful advance made by persons using “Gas- kell’s Compendium” is a good evidence of the value of that system. Professor Gaakell is a gentleman who knows what he attempts to teach.—Illustrated Christian Week ly, New York. Has received the highest commendation from those who have, by its use, perfected themselves in the art of pen manship.—New York Evening Mail. This system seems to have won wide favor. Only fifty thousand have been sold.-Scribner's Monthly, New York. The art of elegant writing is here given in a nutshell. Any young man or woman can beoome a handsome writer if the directions as given are followed out.-Lowell (Mass.) Courier. THIS COMBINATION COMPLETE, will be mailed to any address, postpaid, for One Dollar. Registered Letters and Money Orders are perfectly safe, and at our risk. Address Prof. GEORGE A. GASKELL, Professor of Bryant and Stratton College. Manchester, Sew Hampshire, ♦Remember all letters are promptly answered. 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