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Jean’s Winter
in the City.
BY STEPHEN BBENT.
CHAPTER IV
So the Rivers’ were going to ‘receive,’ and
there was a general flutter among the fashion-
ales, when it was known. They knew what a
princely affair it would be, for money wr s never
spared by the rich merchant. But a few had
seen Jean, so curiosity was added to the general
expectation, rife in each heart. The all imporj
tant night arirved at last. Lennox Holmes was
never very particular about his dress, but for
once, he was as careful as the veriest dandy.
Was he not to see that queen of beauty, whom
6ven Gordon Palmer praised ? So he brushed
his hair up, and he brushed down, tied his cra
vat in five different ways, before it suited him,
put in two pink rose buds for a buttonhole bo-
quet, took them out and tried white ones, finally
deciding on a dainty knot of white violets. He
had been in an agony of impatience, ever since
thi.t first night, when Palmer promised to get
him an invitation, begged his friend to go with
him before the ball, but Palmer refused.
‘No you must wait, and in the meantime cul
tivate patience. If you knew how sadly you
were lacking in that cardinal virtue my young
friend I feel persuaded, that you would try to
improve.’
•Confound patience?’ was Lennox's reply.
‘Gordon you are enough to irritate a saint.’
He was forced to wait, patiently or not, and
although he went to the theatre, and two or
three bal's, he did not see Miss Rivers.
With all his trouble in dressing, Mr. Holmes
was not at all satisfied with his appearance, and
with a gloomy expression, he went into Palmer’s
room.
That gentleman sat placidly smoking, his
feet reposing among the books and papers, on
the table.
‘Just as I expected,’ said Lennox. ‘Here it is
nine o'clock and you sit smoking, that everlast
ing cigar ! Why don’t yen get readj ? ’
•Plenty of time yet Lennox; clear that manly
brow of yours, and we will have a social chat;
but first allow me to compliment you on your
fine appearance to night.’
Lennox frowned.
•Don't chafe Gordon, I feel bad enough al- i
ready.’
•Why I never saw you look better; but I see
that there is something preying on your mind;
so I wll say lo more, but prepare for the sacri
fice.’
Mr. Palmer looked very handsome in evening
dress, and he knew it. He was not as vain as
might be expected, but mortal man, could not
endure to be Fortunes pet, for twelve years,
without having an unmarred sense of his perfect
fitness, to fill any position.
The whole front of the Fifth Avenue mansion
was one blaze of light.
Threading their way through the crush of peo
ple in the hall, Palmer and Lennox Holmes,
went into the reception room, where Mr. and
Mrs. Rivers were receiving their guests.
‘You are late Mr. Palmer, said the lady of the
house.
•Yes Madam, force of circumstances,’ paid Mr.
Palmer, with the air of telling the perfect truth.
‘Allow me to present my friend Mr. Holmes.’
Lennox bowed profoundly. They received
him very graciously.
•Your father was a friend of mins Mr. Holmes,’
said the host, and he shook hands warmly with
the young man.
•1 renumber Mr. Holmes,’ said Mrs. Rivers.
‘That was a pleasant summer at Coltham five
years ago.’
Lenn< x’s face beamed radiantly, and Lis good
humor was restored. The wide folding doors
between the reception-room, and the large double
drawing-room was thrown open, revealing the
dancers.
•Where are the young ladies Mrs. Rivers?’
asked Palmer, with a glance around the room.
‘In the other room dancing Mr. Palmer—ah
Mrs. Notting,’ to a lady in blue velvet and pearls,
‘I was just beginning to fear that you were nut
coming.’
‘So goes the world,’ said Mr. Palmer to Len
nox, as they wended their way to the draw
ing room. ‘Mrs. Rivers and Mrs Notting cordi
ally hate each other, yet they meet like the best
of friends, Such is life.’
This moralizing was entirely lost on Lennox,
whose eager eyes were searching through the
crowd, for that fair face, faintly photographed
on his memory.
•Where is Miss Rivers Gordon ? ’ he asked
eagerly. Tell me please.’
•No I want you to stand here in the doorway,
and look around and see if yon cannot recognize
her yourself.’
Lenncx looked down the long, brilliant room.
There were blondes in white, blondes in pink,
and in blue, but not one that resembled Della
Rivers, as he remembered her—yes—stay—
•Who is that talking to Sir Angus Lynn, Gor
don?’
‘Who indeed ! ’
Mr. Holmes looked again, and fell hopelessly
in love. It was Della Rivers, he knew now, and
the old boyish passion tor her awoke in his
heart only tenfold stronger. He felt insanely
jealous of the heavy Englisnan. and longed to
call him out, for daring to approach her with his
senseless gabble.
‘Of course it is senseless,’ he muttered half
aloud.
•What is it Len ? ’ in quired Mr. Palmer. ‘You
are scowling at our English friend, like you
could murder him. Gome, I see how it is, so
we will venture nearer if yon can stand it.
Della Rivers never looked more like a
daughter of the goes, than she did that night.
Nothing could have been more becoming than
the pale, silver green silk, under filmy white
lace, with emeralds round the snowy throat and
Blender wrists. There was unmistakable pleas
ure in her face as she greeted Mr. Palmer, a new
brilliance in her lovely eyes.
You came at the eleventh hour. I bad just
decided that you were not coming at all.’
•The saints forbid that I should mi6s it, said
Gordon smiling. Then he introduced Lenncx.
‘You remember my friend,’ he said, discreetly
leaving out the young.
Miss River's superb eyes were lifted to the
young man’s face, and she laughed.
•Lennox Holmes? Certainly, I never forget
old friends.’ She held out her hand, which
Lenncx clasped longer than was absolutely ne
cessary.
He found his tongue, and murmured some
thing about the happiness of being remembered
by Miss Rivers.
•Miss Riveis! you have grown very formal,
S ince the days when we played on the sands at
altfaam,’ and then in her graceful way she in
troduced him to the Baronet. The two men bow
ed at-flly, instinctively lecognizing each other as
rivals, and then Lenncx said:
•Will you dance the next set with me Miss—
Della?’
Miss Rivers consulted her tablets.
•Yes I believe I have no engagement now.*
Palmer was an amused spectator of the little
play. He saw how far Lenncx was gone. In
deed ! any one could have read that in his flush
ed, eager face. Palmer pitied him.
•Poor Lennox he is doomed to dfsappoint-
- ment. He has no chance at all against the
Baronet, for where is the woman, that would
give up a title for love ? and it is patent to all
observers, that Sir Angus Lynn is ready to lay
his title at her feet.
WritiDg his name on Miss Rivers’s ivory tab-
letts for a quadrille Mr. Palmer went around the
room in his leisurely way, bowing right and
left to old acquaintances, until he reached Mrs.
Carroll’s chair. Mrs. Carroll was one of the
leaders of society. A stately old lady in black
velvet, diamonds and rare old lace, like a queen
of some past century. She was generally sur
rounded by a crowd of admirers, for her conver
sation was well worth listening to.
There was a kindly heart beating under the
haughty exterior, and she welcomed Palmer
warmly.
•When did yon return from Chester, Gordon ?’
she asked, making room for him near her.
‘Nearly a week ago.’
‘And you have not called on me ? Why is that ?’
•It was not through neglect, believe me. I
have a young friend with me trom the South,
hence. I have been fully engaged.’
•Well, I will pardon you this time; and now
tell me, have you seen the young debutante ?’
‘Yes, Madame, I have met her twice.’
‘Isn't she lovely ?’
Mr. Palmer opened his handsome eyes, feel
ing as nearly surprised ts he ever did. He had
never thought that Jean was very beautiful.
•Do you think so ?’ he inquired.
‘Yes, she is so fresh, so sweet, like a wild rose
just opening, that it mak< s my old heart ache to
think of her losing it all in this world of sham
and deceit. It s so hard to come out of the fire
without being hu.t.’
Whatever Gordon Palmer thought, he kept to
himself. He was not given to expressing his
feelings, and if the sweet young voice and dark-
brown eyes haunted him, no one knew it.
•I see that 6he is destined to be one of your
favorites,’ he said,with an amused smiled. 'Hap
py Miss Delare. I—’
Mrs. Carroll tapped him lightly with her fan.
•Don't begin one of your sarcastic speeches;
this little girl, with her innocent face, is sound
and true to the core.’
Palmer bowed.
•Whatever you say is true; and now, may I in
quire, where is the young lady ? I havn’t seen
her since I eame in.’
‘She was dancing just now. Go find her, i
will excuse you.’
Jean was sitting alone in the recess of a win
dow. She greeted Mr. Palmer with a bright
smile. AmoDg so many strangers he seemed
like an old friend.
‘How is it you are here alone, Miss Delare ?
Are yon tired already ?’ he asked kindly.
•Oil no, Mr. Palmer. I am waiting* for Mr.
Carew to bring me an ice.’
Palmer was ready to acknowledge Mrs. Car-
roll right in say fog that Jean was lovely. Her
face, usually so quiet and colorless, was faintly
flushed, and her eyes were starry in iheir soft
brilliance. Her dress was floating, crapy white,
with crushed roses in the dark hair and belt.
Simply, daintily dressed, and carrying about
with her the subtile charm of utter unworldii-
ness. Palmer, the cynic, allowed his eyes to
linger on her with s methfog more than mere
admiration. It was not love; but something
quite fatherly or eldir-brotnerly (elder brothers
never take so much interest in their sisters.) Mr.
Carew brought the ice, and leaning 1 ack in his
seat, Mr. Palmer quietly watched Jean to see
how she would treat him. There wis none of
the little airs or graces girls generally affect
She was perfectly natural.
•But she may be only a better actress than
others, said Doubt. *111 see,’ thought Mr. Pal
mer, compressing his lips.
‘If I am not too lae, and your card is not full,
I would like the pleasure of one dance, Miss De
lare, he suid, a e Jean rose and took her part
ner’s arm.
She handed him her tablets.
There was but one dance left, a waltz, and he
pi t his name down for it. In laughte. and plea
sure the hours passed. Palmer was not addict
ed to dancing and devoted himself to Mrs. Car-
roll, who was one of the few people he really
liked. After supper, he claimed his dance with
Jean. She was as bright and fresh as early in
the tvenfog.
‘I see you are not tired,’ he said, as they took
their places on the floor.
No, thfogs that I ei joy do not tire me,’ she
answered, lifting her eyes to Lis. There was
no more time for talking then; but after the
waltz was over they took a turn in the conserva
tory and Mr. Palmer said:
‘So the things you enjoy do not tire you ?’
‘No, not like those I dislike.’
‘Do j ou ever read people’s characters, Miss
Delare ?’
•I try.’
‘Will you please tell me then, the opinion
yon have formed about these people here.’
Jean hesitated.
‘I do not know how to commence, Mr. Palmer,’
Bhe said, shyly.
•Well, yon see that benevolent looking man
talking to Mrs. Carroll. He is a great banker.
Do you think he is charitable and kind.’
Jean shook her head gravely.
‘No, not very; but it is not my light to judge
and please do not ask me wLat I tLink about any
one else.’
‘Is it not just as well to speak as to have it in
your heart.’
‘No,’ she answered softly, ‘the thoughts that
are left unspoken are not half so hard as those
that are spoken. Sometimes we cannot help
thinking, but one can help speaking. Every
body has some good in them.’
‘Yes, but bow miserably small the amount is
sometimes,’ he said, bitterly. ‘For this show
and glitter, men and women sell their souls.
Money is the god that is woishipped, end never
were a people more devoted at the shrine of their
patron saint than these are*’
They had stopped near a tall stand with greeD
vines clinging around it and were looking
through the doorway into the ballroom. Jean
sighed. Was she to find nothing but doubtand
distrust wherever she turned? Her companion
read her thoughts and said:
‘You must forgive the outbreak. It is not of
ten the inner neture rises to the surface, but I
feel unusually black to-night, which acoounts
for it. I will*not take the veil from before your
eyes, but let it drop gradually.’
‘You could not do it,’ she said, simply. ‘I
shall always search for the goodness in anyone’s
heart, the bright spots and leave the dark ones
alone.’
•But if there are none ?’
‘No one is so black as tl at.’
Th<ir eyes met steadily for an instant, then
both smiled. Palmer pitied tha innocent, un
tried child and longed to turn the clear eyes
away before they were ever opened to life as it
is.
•You know nothing about the world, child,’
he said, in much the same way as he would have
spoken to a little school girl in pinafores.
Jean never thought of asserting her dignity as
a grown np young lady. Th< re was something
in the grave, half tender voice that carried her
back to the days when her father was wont to
mildly reprove her. Indeed, Mr. Palmer was
old enough to be her father, she reflected, with
a glance at his face.
•No, of the real, real world, I know but very
little, bnt there is a faith in my soul, foolish it
may be, that tells me I shall not suffer bitter
disappointment in this, my first glimpse of high
‘A wilfnl woman will have her way. I have
tried to lead yon into the light, bnt yon persist
in walking in darkness, so be ib’
Jean raised her eyes quickly, bnt she was
Smiling, and she said *
Ignorance is bliss, Mr. Palmer.’
Swiftly the hours fled and the ball ended.
Jean had been properly presented to the world
and it had received her well. Her piquant
graoe, her frarkn* si, and the vein of originality
that marked all she said, gave her a place in
stantly, and the little halo of romance that en
circled her as the poor French artist's daughter,
only added a new charm.
CHAPTER V.
‘And did you really eDjoy it as mnch as you
expected to, Jean ?’
It was < leven o’clock and Miss Rivers sat be
fore her dressing mirror, while her maid brr sh
ed out the lengths of her lovely hair. Th pearl
fair face showed no sign of the night's dissipa
tion. She looked as fresh and unwearied as if
there was no such thing as dauefog until far in
the ‘wee sma’ hours.’ Her complexion was per
fect as the coloring of a rose leaf and neither
tanned, freckled, or turned a sickly pallor.
Jean lay curled up in an armchair opposite
her cousin, her dark head leaning down and her
face resting on one slender hand. She looked
tired and colorless, with faint purple rings un
der the brown, shadowy eyes.
•D ssipation does not agree with you,' Mrs.
Rivers said, looking critically at Jean, when she
first came from her room.
‘I believe not aunty; but my complexion is
generally of a saffron coior. Don’t feel uneasy.
Iam (Xtremely healthy, despite my bad color.’
She was up even later than the others, for with
the glamor of the evening’s pleasure still over
her brain, she wrote a long letter to Miss Grey,
describing her ‘coming out,’ and a gleam of
daylight was shining in through the closed win
dows, when she laid her tired, little head ou the
pillow. At her cousin’s question she lifted her
head and said.
‘I enjoyed it more than I even expected.’
‘Well, I am glad you did. The whole thing
was horribly liresime to me.’
‘Why, how could it bt? I never saw any one
look so radiant.’
‘Oh that is the way we must look in soci
ety.’
Jean lay back on her chair.
‘I own, that I am shamefully ignorant of the
ways of the world-but if I did’nt want to go to
parties I would’nt do it.’
‘Yes you would if you was forced to do
it*’
‘I cannot see what forces you.’
Della, wonderingly.
‘Fashion my dear.’
There vas a silence. Miss Rivers went on
with her toilet, putting on a soft white cash-
mere, trimmed inblue, and fastening a sprig
of white hyacinth in her hair.
‘And you danced with Sir Angus Lynn?’ she
continued at last.
•Yes, twice.’
‘I saw the envious looks, less fortunate ones,
cast at you. How do you like him?’
‘Not at all. He is so oppressed with his own
gm.tt ess.’
Della smiled a little triumphantly.
‘I see you are already losing some of that sub
lime belief in every body’s goodness, that you
professed to 1 ave.’
A wave of color displaced the pallor iu Jean's
face.
‘No, I have not. We may dislike people with
out losing faith in their goodness. Sir Augus
Lynn may have a large elements ef kindness,
and goodwill in him; bnt I think his ways are
disagreable.’
‘You are persistent, so we will drop that sub
ject for this time. What do you think of Lennox
Holmes?’
‘That he is the most pleasant young man, I
ever saw.’ —'■*—* - — -
‘Why Jtat.! more so than Mr. Palmer?’, with
an inquiring glance, and a faint uplifting of the
lovely brows.
‘But he he is not young,’ said Jean hesitat
ingly, and feelfog that sensitive color hurrying
in her face again. After a slight pan: e, given
to contemplation of the grey clouds, seen from
the window she continued:
•Cousin, dont you think Mr. Holms likes you
very much?’
Della laughed out right.
Jean yoi are—well I do not know which;
whether a great diplomatist, or a little ignora
mus. Of course Lennox is my friend. Why do
ask.’
‘Because you treated him so kindly, that I
thought you must like him very much.’
She never thought of her cousin flirting, and
Della did not tell her it was only idle amuse
ment to her. She merely said:
-Lennox and I, played together when children,
and last night was the first time, that I have
seen him in five years,’
A servant tapped on the door ‘Mrs Rivers
says, if you are dressed come to her room-’
Della frowned slightly, pinned some gerani
um leaves in her cousin’s dark hair, and said:
‘Come on Jean, let us see what mamma wants,
it is an invitation to something though I
daresay.’
It was tickets to the opera.
‘You ought to feel complimented Jean,’ her
aunt said smilfog. ‘Your uncle gave me those
tickets this morning, and said he would go with
ns, as he wanted to see how you would appre
ciate the new Star.’
‘I do feel highly complimented aunt,’ with a
flush of pleasure. ‘You are all so kind to me,
that I hardly know how to thank you.’
Er joy yourself my dear: That is all thetkanks
we ask.'
‘And really Jean, I see no cause for gratitude.
In exchange for my kindness, yon lose all your
innocent unworldliness, grow hard, and indiff
erent, and in vnlgar prose, will begin to look
out for the ‘main chanoe,’ said her cousin. ‘I
expect myself to he sacrificed, to lift onr name
yet higher in the social world.’ She looked at
he r mother, a faint sweet smile on her lips; but
a bitter undertone in her musical voice.
Mrs Rivers frowned.
‘I wish yon wonld’nt talk snoh nonsense Del
la. Yon will make Jean believe that we are
nothing bnt heathens.’
‘Heathens! Great heaven mamma! How can
yon slander the poor idol worshippers so. Why
the Gnehres, kneeling in adoration to the snn,
are not half so wicked, ta we so called Chris
tian.’
There was a hidden canse for her consin’s
cynical bitterness, Jean knew, and she often
wondered what it was.
There were nnmerons callers during the day,
among them, Sir Angus Lynn, Mr Palmer, and
Lennox Holmes. Jean was talking to Mrs Carroll,
when the last named gentlemen were announ
ced, and after playing his devoirs to Miss Riv-
e.s, Palmer went over to where they were.
‘Am I welcome?’ he asked looking at Jean.
•Cerlainly,’ answered Mrs CarrolL ‘When
was Gordon Palmer ever unwelcome*’
‘Many times I am afraid. My vanity forbids
my telling the exact number.’
•Well my friends it is best for onr vain na
tures to be checked sometimes.’
‘T’is that thought, that supports me through
the trials and disappointments of this world.’
Jean raised her eyes to the oool impassive
face, meeting the steady, searching eyes barely
for a minute. She knew he was trying to read
her thoughts, and resented it. Putting on an
expression of great indifference, she leaned back
on her seat, toying with a velvet leaved rose. A
faint amused smile crossed Palmer’s face, and
leaning forward he said:
•Will yon give me that flower, Miss Delare ?
Yon are marring its beauty by snoh rongh treat
ment.’
•But I would rather keep it, Mr. Palmer’—with
a defiant sparkle in her eyes. 'Besides, it is
withered; I will get you a fresh one from the
table.’
•By no meats. It was only out of charity for
the poor flower that I asked you for that one.’
The opera house was crammed. The new
Queen of Song was universally admired, and
whatever the future might hold she was having
her day. At the first burst of melody Jean’s
soul thrilled with keen joy. She sat white and
still, her hands folded over one another, and
her ey s fall of tears. It was so beatnifnl that
it carried her out, away from the world to the
very gates of paradise. One pair cf eyes saw
her emotion, and softened to almost gentleness.
The curtain went down amid a deafening shout
of applause and the stage was covered with
flowers.
•De Pascal exoells herself tonight,’ Jean heard
Lennox Holm s °ay to her cousin.
‘Yes, I think she is at her best,’ was the ans
wer. But I object to her acting so mnch; she
hi s a frantic way of rolling her eyes that makes
me nervous,' and Miss Rivers shivered a little.
Listening to th< se would-b9 critics, Jean came
speedily b ok to earth, and diseoveaed that Mr.
Palmer was speaking to her. She looked np,
her eyes still wet with a mist or tears.
•You pay a flattering tribute to De Pascal’s
genius,’ he said with an amused smile.
•How can I help it; it is so grand.’
•Yet you heard what our friends said. They
at least, could see and point out faults.’
‘Yes sir, I heard them’—a smile curving her
lip*>. ‘While they criticised I ei joyed.’
Their conversaiion changed, dritted round to
literature. Mr. Palmer seemed well acquainted
with literary people, said a great many sharp,
pungent things about them, bat for once was
jr.st.
‘You see Miss Delare, they have follies and
peculiarities just like other people, and often
some little thirg in their personal appearance
will lender them wretched. Once while travel
ing through Germany I fell in with an author.
He was a true geniu«, and wrote a great many
grand things, yet he let a large nose Spoil his
peace of mind.’
‘Jean laughed merrily, then said:
‘I did not know they were so sensitive. My
ideal of an author never descended to trifles.’
‘Yet ‘trifles light as air’ will destroy their se
renity.’
Miss Rivers baned back in her chair, serene
and lovely, smiling with maddening impartiality
on Lennox and the Baronet. She wondered
why Gordon Palmer took the trouble to amuse
and interest her cousin. It was an unusual
thing for him. When reviewing the evening,
Mr. Palmer was surprised himself.
‘It is because she is such an innocent, igno
rant child,’ he thought. ‘How her eyes can
light up.’
That night, as Jean was leaving the drawing
room, her aide called her into the library.
Jean, did I, or did I not, hear you express a
wish to take (’rawing lessons, the other day?’
I expect you heard me express such a wish,
Uncle John. I have a bad habit of wishing for
a great many things that I do not really need.’
Mr. Rivers smiled and stroked the brown hair’
‘Would you still like to take lessons, child ?
‘Yes sir, very muoh.’
‘Then to-morrow we will hunt np a drawing-
master. ’
‘But Uncle, I—-it is too expensive,’—the sensi
tive color rnshing into her face.
There was something in the half-drooping
face very much like her mother, and the grand,
st itely merchant gently said:
‘My little girl, it is not expensive to me, so
free your mind of that fear.’
Jeau began to thank him, bat he interrupted
her:
‘No, drvs’t tfcatih rut-; when yen get to bee
great artist yon mast paint me some pictures.
He seated himse’f at a table and drew Borne pa
pers ti wards him.
‘Go to bed now child. Good-night.’
Jean walked to the door, then tnrned, came
lack, and bending her graceful young head,
kissed her uncle. He looked up, pleased at the
shy caress.
•Thank you, my dear,’ he said simply, aDd
Jean knew Le was nit displeased.
Going up stairs, she stopped at her cousin's
door and knocked.
‘Come in,’ said Della.
She sat before the fire, wrapped in a drrssirg
gown, her golden hair falling below her waist in
a shower of light.
•Oh ! is it you, Jean ? I thought it was Sarah,
Roll up that chair and sit down.’
But Jean shook her head:
•No, thank yon, Della, I am going on to my
room in a minute. I just wanted to ask yon a
qnestion.’
‘Well, ask it child ;my ears are open to any in
quiries you may make after worldly knowledge.’
•Did Mr. Palmer ever write any ?
‘How? be more explicit.’
‘Did he ever write any books, or write for any
papers or magazines.’
Now allow me a question. Why do yon wish
to know ?’
‘Because he seems so familiar with literary
people, their habits and peculiar ways.’
‘YiS, years ago Mr. Palmer wrote a great deal
for magazines. It was before Mrs. Dunleath
stepped in with her shining gold.’
‘Who is Mrs Dnnleath, cousin ?’
•Why do you take such an interest in the mat
ter, J an?' inquired Della, almost sharply.
The clear, truthful eyes looked straight down
into hers.
‘I suppose because Mr. Palmer has been very
kind to me,’ she answered without a suspicion
of what her consin meant.
‘Excusemy rather rnde question, Jean,I might
have known why yon did it without askfog.
Mrs. Dunleath is Gordon Palmer’s aunt A very
rich woman, a very grand woman, and one who,
to my thinking, spoiled his life. He was poor,
bnt had fine talents, and if let alone would have
made a name among the literati of onr land. I
was a child, and knew bnt little about it at the
time, but papa and Mrs. Carroll told me of it
afterwards.’
Jean was very mnch interested, 1
‘Did yon eve r read any of his writings, Della?’
‘Yes, papa has a pile of o.d magazines some
where. If yon would like to look over them, we
will unearth them to-morrow.’
•I would like it very mnch. It will seem so
qneer to read the thoughts of a person I am ac
quainted with.’
‘Is there anything else, Jean ? If so, let me
know, I am ready at any time to draw on my
little stock of knowledge for yonr benefit.’
‘There is nothing else to-night, cousin, thank
yon. Good-night.’
Jean gave a half-hour to her reflections that
night. All her life she had been given to dream
ing and bnilding castles in the air. That dream
ful side of her nature was an inheritance from
her father, who lived and died in poveity, simply
because, with hiB mind fixed on the glories of
the futnre, he failed to nse the opportunities of
the present. The disposition to spend her life
in idle dreams was checked by Miss Gray, who
impressed the necessity of work on the child's
mind.
‘No matter what sort of rk, my dear, so it
is honorable,* the kind old lady would say.
‘We were not pat here to be idle. There is a
mission for every one, and if we never try to
find what it is, the good Lord will not forgive
us.’
Truly, James Delare did right in taking his
child to her mother's aunt Homely and simple
in her ways, aunt Debby always tried to do her
duty, and though she loved Jean, as only a wo
rn an can, who is Mono in the world, she did
not needlessly humor aud spoil her, but brought
her up pure, honorable and filled with a tender
rtvennee for religion. She had never been
wholly satisfied at the farmhouse. The country
life was so horiibly dull and flat, when compar
ed with the restless,changeful life spent in wan
dering over Europe with her lather. There was
no outward sign of discontent. She loved her
aunt and would not wound her by complaining.
She meant to live out her life to the end at ngly
Cross Corners; be buried in the churchyard,
and have Jean Delare aged seventy-five’ put ou
the wooden headboard. What glad relief ! What
a rush of li bt into her soul, when the letter
from New Yoik came. Her mind was in a whirl
of pleasure and regret.
Pleasure at the thought of a change, regret
that she would have to leave Miss Grey alone.
She instinctively knew how dear she was to the
old lady, bereft of ailotlnr earthly treasurer
Nestled among the cushions of her chair, Jean
went back over it all in a grave reflective way,
and coming on down, she thought of her rela
tives. Her uncle was kindness itself, and the
girl felt her heart go out to him in real affection.
Her aunt was a woman of the world. She loved
her husband and daughter after a ielfish fash
ion, but had no great depth of character. Del
la s way of thinl fog was the result of her train
ing. She was not half so selfish and worldly
as she tried to make people believe, and Jean,
going below the outer crust, found real woman
ly goodness in her heart.
A t-ir ali, Jean found that a fashionable life
would not satisfy her, and seen from a distance,
Cross Corners was not quite so disagreeable. As
she laid her head on her pillow a Bible verse,
that her aunt had often read, drifted into her
mind. ‘Keep thy seif unspotted from the world, ’
aud info the fairy land, the words followed her,
guidfog her through dark shadows into light.
[TO BE CONTINUED.]
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