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UJJHY SOUTH ■
ALMOST A FATAL STEP;
—OK—
The Heirs of the Mil
lionaire.
CHAPTER III.
hal’s first visit to tanglewood villa.
Hal Halstead pauses as the view breaks upon
him. The massive gateway, the graceful trees,
the lordly mansion, the statue-grouped fountain.
What a stately, oriental picture they make.
•These people were certainly rich before, or
hAve received some other legacy,’ mentally cal
culates Hal.
What a pity Theodcre Earle could not have
have heard it and enjoyed another congratula
tory self-delusion.
‘I sent them word I wos coming. I hope no
thing happened to the message. But 1 see no
signs of anyone stirring,’ continued Hal, with
a little thrill of trepidation. ‘I wonder, I do so
wonder what Evangeline Earle is like.’
But he marched in boldly, and passed into the
pillared vestibule.
The servant was evidently all readiness to re
ceive him. The brightly varnished dooi swung
open the moment his hand touched the bell,
and with all due solemnity he was ushered
through the long hall, which gave such a defi
nite, although at the same time scarcely recog
nizable impression of extreme newness.
The servant pushed open a door, and Hal was
in a long room, very rich and grand-looking at
thefiist glance. A tall gentleman, clothed in
broadcloth with the very finest gloss, and a
‘portly lady in an equtlly shiny black satin, with
scintillating earrings and breastpin ablaze with
supposed diamonds, advanced to meet him.
•My dear Mr. Halstead, I make you welcome
to Tangle wood Villa,’ said the gentleman with a
flourish of the white hand on which shone a
ring of such mammoth proportions that, had it
been pure gold and genuine diamond instead ot
was-lied, filling and paste, might have cost a
snug little fortune of itself.
Hal Halstead bowed with a becoming ssnse of
the importance of the occasion, and ventured a
slight remark concerning his pleasure at making
the acquaintance of the high and mighty pro
prietor of Tanglewood Viila.
•Dont speak of it, my dear sir, don’t mention
it. True greatness is never puffed up, but al
ways benignant and condescending. This, my
dear Mr. Haltsead, is Mrs. Seraphina Earle.’
‘A pompous old fellow!' inwardly commented
Hal, while he turned with a gracious bow toward
the braad figure from which shone the lustre of
the satin and sparkled thesplendor of California
diamonds.
Mrs. Seraphina’s eyes were dropped languid
ly. She crossed her fat little tejeweled hands
across the imitation lace of her berthe, swept
him a graceful little courtesy and lisped in a
soft languid voice:
•I am so happy to meet you, so happy. It is
quite affecting, and so romantic. Dear Mr. Hal
stead, 1 knew we shall all adore you. You will
be such a l right star in our luminous circle. Oh,
it is so delightful1
As Hal shook her hand he was ungallant
enough io repeat mentally;
‘Wnat a downright simpleton !'
His high expectations being slightly drshed,
he glanced apprehensively around the room.
He had seen Mr. Earle the pompous, and Mrs.
Earle the sentimental; what would he find in
Miss Evangeline Earle if That was a question to
come hcrae rather more closely- It was some
thing of a relief to discover a little postpone
ment of the answer.
•Ah, you are looking for our dear Evangeline.
Sweet, unconscious child ! We allow her to fol
low her own innocent desires. Yon shall see
her presently,’ lisped Mrs. Earle, shaking her
head just enough to set the earrings a-twinkle.
‘Seraphina, my love, considering that it is Mr.
Halstead I think you might be gracious enough
to take him youiself to Miss Evangeline. No
donbt Mr. Halstead will appreciate it. He will
see that it is more honor conferred to be con
ducted into the presence of bis betrothed by
Mrs. Earle herself than to be escorted by a hum
ble menial.’
As he spoke thus, Mr. Earle drew op his tall
figure to its stateliest height, and locking down
upon the young man with the benignant, pat
ronizing condescendsion of an emperor.
Hal bit his lip to conceal a smile cf amuse
ment, although vexation was last getting upper
most in his mind. *
•Oh, yes,’ tinkled Mrs. Seraphina’s gently-
modulated voice. ‘I will go with him. He shall
see the d&rliDg in her uiconecions grace. I
know very well where to find her. Come, im
patient lover, come and look upon your lovely
mistress.’
She laid the plump fingers, with all their rain
bow sparkle of pseudo gems, on Hal’s arm, and
nodded archly toward the door,her fat little face
looking so alsurd with that sentimental ettempt
at playfulness, that biting his lips would not
serve Hal in the least, and he was fain to draw
out his handkerchief and cough vigorously in a
suspiciously spasmodic fashion,
But he followed her in silence, while Mrs.
Seraphina tripped as lightly as so substantial a
body would admit, across the hall and through
a rear door into a sort of shaded court yard,
with tasseVed paveu ent, made not of marble
or stone, but with wood covered with a sort of
cement which Mr. Earle pronounced to have
quite the effect of marble.
Putting her plump finger upon her lip, Mrs.
Seraphina stole on, and presently made a pause
and turning to him with a little sigh of triumph
pointed out to him a very charming tableau.
For there, reclining earelesiiy on a gay shawl
thrown down on the pavement, with the fine
background of the noble old trees, the stately
pillared vestibule, and the really exceeding
graceful as well as elaborate fountain, was a slen
der, girl sb figure, clothed in simple white mus
lin with a bow of pink ribbon at the neck, and
-a blossom or two in the shining black curls of
hair. Such a relief it was to the glare and glit
ter and fussiness of Mrs. Seraphina, that, cool,
airhole white drees, that quiet, unpretending
figure.
AimCst unconsciously, Hal Halstead drew a
long breath of relief.
A garland of neglected flowers was lying be
side her, but her eyes were bent downward. She
was entirely absorbed by tie book lying open
beside h6r>
•Evaiigelino, dearest/ called Mrs. Seraphina
when she had given the young gentleman plen
ty of time for admiring the pretty tableau.
Slowlv the ringleted head was lifted, and the
dark lustrious eyes darted past the pretty fig
ure of Madame Seraphina and seemed to devour
the face of Hal Halstead. ....
She rose slowly and languidly and came to
meet them.
•This is Mr. Henry Ha’slead, my love. Mr.
TTalstead, M ss EvaDgeline Earle.’
U Hal bent over ibe lovely band with unfeigned
gallantry; his eyelids downcast, his heart all a
^The calm, dark eyes of Evangeline Earle, on
contrary, slowly s,arched over bis face and
t ?n a pretty accurate idea of bis character.
Mrs Serapbina, with a little silvery tinkle of
, “Se? trotted away out of sight.
a1 .?om so pleased to meet you,’ said Hal, in a
little?mba«as=mentstill, as he g’anced at the.
slender figure and calm, beantiful face beside
him.
•Is that mere conventionalism ? Do yon know
I have thought sometimes that it must be heart
ily vexatious to you that such a person as Evan
geline Earle exists? Otherwise, yen were so
untrammelled, so free to waader where you
list and win the fairest possible bride.’
|Could I find a fairer? Might not such quest
bring me back to this spot ?’ returned Hal, with
a rather gallant bow. 'But how is it with you ?
If the chain frets on one side, it may chafe on
the otter.’
‘It is different with a woman,’ answered the
girl, gravely. 'Ste cannot roam away, she re
pairs to be sought out, and her’s is oftenest an
ideal one. Besides, I have been kept in S3clu-
sion for your coming.’
She said this without the slighesc look of em
barrassment, not a wave of color on the clear
cheek, not a quiver of the dark fringed eyelash.
It was Hal who blushed. An awkward silence
ensued, which was broken by her silvery, even
accents.
■Bat I am keeping you here. Will you go in
yonder, or come with me to my favorite bower ?’
•Whichever yon like.’
•Then it will be the bower, by all means. It
is something to escape the silly chattering and
the bombastic absurdities you must fortify
yourself against when in the drawing room of
Tanglewcod Dell.’
Hal lifted his eyebrows in astonishment.
•What a very transparent face yon have,’ sail
Evangeline in amusement. 'Did you think I
should try to gloss them over, t.s they have done
their surroundings ? Thank you, no sir, not
at all. I shall try to be honest as I can. They
are relatives of mine, I know;bnt does it follow
that I must endorse their vagaries? On the
contrary, I protest against them with all my
might, but for all the good it does I may as weli
be silent.’
And Evangeline shrugged her graceful shoul
ders.
Come, and I will show you my arbor. It is
one of my protests, by the way. Uncle Theo
dore wanted it a Chinese pagoda with gilded
bells to tinkle in the breeze, or as a slight con
cession to my depraved taste, a Greek temple.
But I stoutly resisted and had my way. I made
the gardener twist some stont osiers and I staid
by while he set them up. See what a darling
little rustic spot it is, the one bit of genuine na
ture in the place.’
She glided into a little rustic bower hnng with
a fragrant canopy of training leaves, and a great
cloud cf blossoming rcses.pale pink, deep crim
son and snowy white, and sank down upon the
pretty seat made from a gnarled tree trunk,
and motioned him to follow her example.
‘Well,’ said she, presently, ‘you are just what
I expected to find you. You are very good and
very wise, ^ am snr ®\ „
You are entirely different from my anticipa
tions,’ retu rne d with an arch smile, but still
unable to 8**11 the little flatter of excitement, as
he sat watch* p C graceful creature, who sat
toying with the roSfS and looked calmly and
composedly into h* 8 ^ aee w*** 1 her soft dark eyes,
while she talked on in an original, spirited, pi
quant style q3t» novel to the young man, who
had known .familiarly but two women, his
straightforward, earnest mother and the impnl-
warm-beared, utterly unsophisticated
"young lady w h° 8at before him, betray
ing in a dozen ways constantly her high-bred
notions, her Parisian education, her wonderful
self command, was quite another sort of person.
Simple-minded, pure-hearted Henry Halstead,
had kept closely to hi 8 studies while in the uni
versity. and since tad been quietly erjoying
himself at home without once caring for plung
ing ffifb sehiiety. So a uViuMRu woman, Rkcvhiff
Evangeline Earle,flashed upon his startled sight
like a star, and was just as much a mystery to
him. But a very enchanting one, it mast be
admitted.
•I wondered what you expected to find me, a
vapid, sentimental doll.or a stiff, awkward piece
of pomposity ? One or the other, I’ll be bound,’
she said, laughing a little, soft, gurgling mur
mur, quite as unlike ordinary langhter as was
every thing else about her peculiar and original.
Tt was i a*her a matter of negation. I had no
positive impressions. I did not expect to find
yon as graoous and free spoken, nor so well
bred, nor so —pardon me—*o very beautiful,
and above all, so unlike everybody else.’
Hal made this little speech rather hurriedly,
and at its close the color rushed to his honest
fare in waves of crimson.
Evangelide Earle sat there looking as fair and
cool and calm as a lily, and quite as lovely.
With her fair head a-droop, her clear, dark eyes
just lifted attentively to bis face, and those pret
ty dimpled Augers plucking idly at the crimson
rose'spray. She listened smilingly, and ans
wered readily:
•l r on have strung me a pretty ebain of compli
ments, but the last is the best of all, I am glad
you do not think me commonplace. I conld not
endure to seem to you just like everybody else.’
There was a pretty, delicate flattery, more in
the soft glance of the lustrous dark eye, than in
the words themselves.
Hal was a man, and had his inheritance of
masculine conceit. This sparkling draught held
to his lips tasted of nectar, and his eyes spark
led with satisfaction and delight.
‘I find you irresistible and charming,’ said he,
impulsively. ‘I consider myself a wonderfully
fortunate fellow.’
And reaching forward to pluck a spray of the
roses his hand touched hers, and a thrill ran
through every nerve.
•Take some of the white ones, too,’ said she.
Stay, let me make you a tiny boquet of them,
my first gift to you. I will try and spare yon
any thorns.’
And adroitly twining two branches together
ehe fastened them to his breast .and looked up
when it was done with thet ineflibly sweet be
wildering smile into his face.
Hai kept the lit tie hand prisoner and talked
some sort of dreamy nonsense. Ho could not
remember afterward a single word of it. He
only knew that he seemed to be revelling in a
L ind of blissfnl intoxication, and that presently
she said:
by
•I am very glad that you are not distressed
j this condition of Mr. Allen’s will. I fancied
that it might be you had met and loved tome-
one else. 1 am sure that wg shall be very com
fortable and happy, and the home we shall build
and the establishment we shall keep up will not
belike this of my Uncle Theodore’s, will it?
And now you must call me Evangeline, and
not Mif s Earle, and may I venture to call you
Harry ?’
•Gall me anything you like, sweetest Evangel
ine, but it will take me some little time to re
cognize that name. It’s rather odd that no one
e ver called me Harry. I’m Halstead with all the
University, or 'Hal Hal,’ es the wild ones nick
named me, and at heme I am Hal to my mother
and Nannie.’
•Then yon shall be my Harry. I like it, too,
that no one else will intrude npon my privileges.
But realy, I suppose we ought to go to the bouse,
ttough I am extremely thankful our first meet
ing was not in that drawing-room.’
‘You shall have one of your own presently,
dearest Evangeline, and your own exquisite
taste shall famish it.’
Her eyes sparkled as she ventured:
Then you shall see what a drawing-room ought
to be. Couts qui conte. It shall be recherche. It
shall do credit to my Parisian teachings. The
beau monde shall bebold and envy. ’
•Mrs. Earle is comiDg,’ said Hal in a discon
certed voice.
‘Well, she has been remarkably patient, Let
us go out and meet her. unless you care to hear
a flowery dissertation npon the romantic piotnre
we make. I believe we shall make a rather good-
looking couple.’
She smiled gaily, as she glanced from his
manly form and handsome face back to her own
slender, graceful figure, then led the way from
the arbor.
Hal Halstead returned to his home believing
himself the most fortuflate individual in the
universe. His heart was as gay as his step was
light and buoyant.
His mother rose from her easy chair, laid
away her book and looked anxiously into his
face, as he came boarding into her cosy sitting-
room.
‘You are satisfied,’ she Faid, with a sigh of re
lief after her first, glance.
‘More than satisfied dear mother,’ replied Hal,
kissing her fondly in the exnberanceof his spir
its. ‘She is perfectly charming.’
‘And seem3 as good as lovely ?’ questioned the
cautious mother.
‘Oh, yes, that was the most subtle charm, aside
from her bewildering beauty. She is so candid
and frank. So perfectly hont.it as wel’ as well-
bred,’
That, Master Hal, was your fi, si mistake about
Evangelic Earle, but not the latt by any means.
‘And yon are happy mj son. It is 3uch a
relief. I have secretly dread this interview, j
feared to see von come home disgusted, or dis
appointed, with this young lady to whom yon
have beer, so strangely betrothed. I cannot tell
yon how thankful I .am.’
•Neither can I express my own satisfaction. I
think she is the one of all others who would
have attracted me, even had there bean no lie
of this 3ort. She i3 a wend-rail yonng lady,
mother. So wise so finely educated, so well-
bred. She will be the star of whatever circle
she enters.’
‘And the Earles are agreeable people, too, I
suppose.’
‘Oh they are so odd ! Sncb queer people, so
absurd. I was ready to choke with* laughter.
And Evangeline sees all their folly. She was
the first to allude to it. She spoke so contempt
uously of their weakness !’
‘Spoke contemptuously of those who have
been her foster-parents, at the first meeting, too
—ob, Hal ’ exclaimed his mother in an indignant
ton e.
Hal flushed crimson,
•Yon won’t wonder when yon see them. Evan
geline’s tastes are so pure and ’x.finod it is not
strange she despises their vulgar tinsel show.
She was such a contrast to Mrs. Earle in her
fussy ssriu and glaring diamonds. Her dress
was so unstudied and simple, that pure white
with only flowers and a ribbon.’
Mistake number two, Hal Halsfc-ad. Evange
line Earle stood half an hour debating between
piDk silk and white muslin, and selected the
litter, murmuring:
‘The pink silk is a darling, but simplicity will
have the most effect considering the contrast,
with such a character as they d escribe his to be.
I will play tho role of unsoph'stccatad inno
cence. First impressions ere everything.’
‘I see very plainly that yon have come home
a lover,’ said Hal’s mother, sailing fondly.
‘And surely I would not seek to disenchant you
if I couid. What are you doing with those
flowers ?’
•Putting them in water.’
■Bui that is Eau de Cologne. You are really
far gone, Hal. Give them to me.’
Hal covered his confusion by asking:
‘Where is Nannie? I haven t seen her since I
came into the house.’
A faint shade crossed Mrs. Halstead’s face as
she replied, pointing to the litti^room leading
from-*! - roc-ca-
littijyroom lea<
lounge. She is
‘She is lying down on the lounge. She is not
very well. Ic-day, I must call in Dr. Seward,
for her strength and spirits have been failing
for some time.’
‘Poor little Nannie. I mist go and oomfort
her.’
And Hal accordingly walked softly across to
the lounge where Nannie lay within hearing of
all their conversation.
It wes a curly head which rested on the cush
ion of the lounge, but not heavy, glossy black
coi’s like the ringlets of Evangeline Earle.
There were little short rings of golden brown
clustering around a broad, white forehead, and
and it wa3 a pair of wide violet blue eyes, which
looked over to him through the silk brown
eyelash. A very sweet face it was too—gentle,
and guileless as a baby. The cheeks were pale
now; the lips compressed to keep back the sob
which was choking the delicate throat. The
eyes could net iwar his gf ze a moment., but fell
quickly to hide the gathering nvst. It was quite
another character from that of Evangeline Earle.
Iu the presence of the latter, he was mastered,
his will instinctively as to a superior. With
Nannie he was protector, mentor, lord, and it
was she who yielded ten der and ready allegiance.
A vague consciousness of this fact, was iu Hal’s
thoughts as he stopped and kir sed that pure,
blue veined forehead.
‘I’m so sorry, Nannie darling, that you're not
well. You’ve been shut np in the house so long
I shall take you off for a drive in the morning,
and see if the fresh breeze wont coax back the
roses here.’
And he patted h<t white cheek.
She put away his hand, repressing a little im
patient bitterness.
‘Don’t Hal, my head aches.’
‘I’ll briDg the cologne that has had the touch
of rose stems fresh from the hands of an houri.
It will be sure to have a charm.’
The poor wistful lips quivered. The slender
hands were spread over her face.
‘Ob, Hal, I wish you would go away. I am
worn out. I can’t bear any talking.
‘You poor, littlle dear ! You shail have Dr.
Seward at once. I am going for him now’
Nannie could not answer—the tears oozing
through the parted fingers. She turned her
face around as far as possible to the sofa back,
and kept silence.
Stupid Hal walked out to his mother.
‘I think you are right mother, Nannie must
have the doctor. I’m going for him, now. I
never knew her in such a strange way.’
Mrs. Halstead sighed, seffly bat like a true
woman, covered as well as she couid, the poor
child’s secret.
•She lus studied too closely on her music,
She's had an absurd idea of going away from
rs to teach music and earn her own bread.
Foolish darling! I tell her a daughter could
not be nearer my heart, and that I cannot give
her up. 'Her nerves have felt the strain and
given way. A little medicine will restore her
strength.’
‘Then the sooner she hrs it the better. We
can’t do without our siDgiDg bird. I’ve been
loDging to introduce Evangeline here, but I
want Nannie to be bright and happy when she
comes.’
Poor Nannie heard and choked down a sob,
The flood of tears was noiseless, and she did
not firce them back.
There was a direful weight upon that inDC-
cent loving heart; a woful misery throbbing and
beating at the tortured brain, and a little bodily
weakness had ended all power of controling her
self. Nannie lay there pale and mate, with slow
tears stealing one after another down her cheeks
until Hal bad left the room. Then she tottered
to her feet, and crossed the sitting-room with
wavering steps.
•Let me help yon, my child,’said Mis. Hal-
stead, inatendfr voice, and rising she threw
her arm around the frail little form, and sup
ported her upstairs to her chamber.
SHAKSPERE STUDY.
The Merchant of Venice,
BT W. H. P. .
The Merchant of Venice consists of two sto
ries ingeniously interwoven: the story of the
Bond and the story of the Caskeis. Antonio, a
a rich merchant of Venice, so the story of tli«
Bond goes, had ill his wealth invested in ‘ven
tures’ at sea. His friend and kinsman, Bassanio.
asked to borrow 3000 ducats to aid him in pros
ecuting bis suit to a rich hems. Antonio bor
rowed the money to lend to his friend from a
Jewish usurer, Shylock. The bond stipulated
that, in case Antonio did not repay the bor-
niCE'oy m-three ua on First;* mighl
cut a pound of fair, Christian flesh from his
debtor s body- A ntonio failed to refund the
money within the appointed time, and was im
prisoned by Shylock and brought to trial. How
he was rescued, is told in the story of the
caskels.
Portia, a rich heiress, the same that Bassanic
was making suit to, had three caskets, one oi
gold, one of silver and cne of lead. One of them
contained her picture. Now the direction of her
father’s will is that she should marry the suitor
that chose the CEsket containing her portrait,
and none other. Bassanio happened to chocse
it, and forthwith he aDd the heireis were mar
ried. Bat just sfier the ceremony, the new?
came of Antonio’s imprisonment for the debt
that he had incurred for Bassanio’s sake. The
brilliant and learned Fortia, went at once tc
Venioe, the place cf the trial, and disgnised as
a lawyer, she managed to get the case put en
tirely into her hands. She so turned the law as
not only to free Antonio but also to have Shy
lock forfeit half his wealth to a Christian youth
that had eloped with his daughter.
The scene of the story of the bond is laid at
VeDice;of the story of the caskets, at Belmont.
Portia’s residence. These two stories are sc
thoroughly inlerwoven that through much o
the play one scene is given to one story, ana th<
next to the other, and so on. Both these storiff
are very old and both had occurred in sever*
shapes before Shakspere used them. Both an
told in the old Gesta liomanorum; as, in fact,
almost every old midaceval romance is. The ole
English poet Gower tells one version of the
casket story; and it occurs else in Boccaeeios:
Decameron; An old English ballad tells tb<
bond-story as the ‘emeitie of Germ etas a Jew ’
The whole ballad is quoted in Clark ai d
Wrights preface to the play.
Let us keep in mind the center characters < f
the play: Shylock, Portia and Antonio. Aron; d
these are grouped all the others - Thu3 abom
Shylock and Jessica and Lorenzo, Tubal am
Launcelot; about Antonio, the group of Veuo
tious, Salanio, Salarine and Grationo. Bassaoii
the triend and kinsman cf Antonio and the suc
cessful suitor of Portia is the link that concoct:
the two stories. The trio of friends of Antonie
and of Basranio, Salanio, Salarino and Gratiano
aioDg indeed with Launcelot and Tabco, m»k<
the fun of the comedy. In point of fact, Gra-
tiono is the fool of the play: but a casual reading
may net reveal it. For his character is one o :
the most finely drawn of all. These, then, are
the three centers: Portia ((he story of the cask
ets), Shylock and Antonio (the story of the
bond.)
The Merchant of Venice is one of the un
doubted plaj s of the great master. The critics
detect the work of no other hand in it. And ii
has always been one of the most popular o!
Shakspere's productions, keeping always its
hold on the stage as weil as upon the attention
of readers. Shylock has always been one of the
favorite roles of the great actors; and now
win Booth’s Shylock almost equals his Hamlei
in power of his wonderful impersonation, ftoi
have the editors and orit:'c3 ever tired of editing
and diccussiiig and praising this semi-tragic
comedy. It wasamong the fiist issues of the
Clarendon Pret s series and also of Mr. Rolle’s.
Neither has it escaped much dull sermonizing.
But happily it is beyond the power of ail the
critics and editors to desecrate it with their pon
derous learning. The ev* r increising legion o‘
them cannot dissect it until it become offensive,
nor condem it with their volumes of notes to
commonplace. So long as men delight in high
art, Shylock, the inexorable dog, Antonio, the
faithful friend and the brilliant and splendidly
versatile Portia will remain living existences.
The ‘lyric boy-atod-girl love’ of Lorenzo and Jes
sica is as immortal as their moonlight and as
tender as their music. This great piece of art
was born of genius auel it is beyond the power
of learned dulness to bury it. The sermonizing
editors may preach great truths from it, if they
■I will go to bed, dear Mrs. Halstead, if you
please,’said Nannie, trjing to hide her white,
suffering face from the pitiful eyes.
•Perhaps it is better. Let me unfasten your
dress. I will bring you a cup of tea, and keep
everybody away, so you can sleep if possible. I
can see how your head is throbbing by the veins.’
‘Oh. it throbs so,’ cried out Nannie, glad for
something to explain her tear-stained cheeks.
‘I cannot keep back the tears.’
‘Poor darling ! Try and keep up good cour
age, it will not last long; such keen pain never
does. Yon’ll be better presently.’
‘Perhaps I shall not—perhaps I shall die !
Oh, that I conld !’ burst forth hysterically.
‘Nannie, Nannie,’ exclaimaced Mrs. Halstead
in Ja reproachful voice. ‘Ton forget yourself.
You are speaking sinfully. Are you willing to
give my heart so cruel a wound? Never was a
daughter more closely entwined in a mother’s
heart than you in mine. Would you rob me of
the joy and oomfort of yonr presence ?’
‘Forgive me, my best friend,’ sobbed Nannie.^
‘I think I am half-crszed. But ob, you don’c"
know—yon cannot understand.’
‘You are mistaken, my precious child,’ said
Mrs. Halstead, folding the trembling form close
ly in her arms.’ I do understand it all. My
heart has bled for you—has even rebelled
angrily against my boy for fin<’i tg tb-s girl so
charming. But my poor wounded lamb, sharp
as is the trial, it has been borne safely, and con
quered by many a woman before von. Try to
look at it calmly and unselfishly. There is no
help for it. Hal wonld be bound in honor—and
you know very weli that such a claim would
never be put aside by him—to marry this girl.
It is very hard for you, very sad for me who
love you both so dearly. But let ns try to b?
generous, and forgetting our own pain, rejoice
that he can go to the altar with a glad heart Yon
and I will be all in all to each other, until time
shall have healed the wound, then, mayhap, I
shall have to study all this advice on my ovn
account, finding it such a sore trial to give you
away to another.’
‘No,’ whispered Nannie, ‘I shall never leave
you.’
But her sols had ceased. The sharply drawn
brenth was growing soft and regular—the arms
clung closely still—bnt it was quite evident tli«
worst paroxysm was over.
Presently the girl slid away to the pillow, and
lying there, smiled faintly as she said:
‘I am ashamed of my folly and ingratitude—
my more than mother ! Yon shall have no far
ther grief on my account. The weakness is
past* It is right that I should live only for you
who have been the most tender friend, the most
generous benefactress.’
Mrs. Halstead kissed her teuderlv.
'Heaven will bless yonr heroic efforts my dar
ling. We will both meet the trial bravely, and
give him up unselfishly.’
(To be continued.)
choose; but, high above all didactic dulness, it
stands ‘a thing of beauty,’ and ‘a joy forever.’—
The bibliography of Shakspere is indeed a gi
gantic bibliography, and may be numbered
by thousands of vo.umes. Toe list given here
are the most necessary, and it is made with es
pecial reference to the study (first) of the Mer
chant of Venice, edited by Clark and Wright.
(Macmillan and Co. 75 cts.) or, Ralfe’s Meicbant
of Venice ('Harpers-90 cts.)
Shakspere Primer, by Edward Dowden (D.
Applet *n and Co. 45 cts ) Tales from Shakspere
by Chas. and Mary Lamb (Harpers 3 vols. 25
cts. per vol- and also in Tanchnit editor of Brit
ish authors 00 cts. Abbots Shakesperian Gram
mar (Macmillan $2 )
Mary Cowden Clarke’s Concordance ($9) and
Schmidts S iakspere Lexicon (Very costly $15
or SIS) are necessary for very thorough and
wide study. In the way of cri i :isms, Hudsen’a
S'wfcepere and Edward Djwden’s large work,
‘Stmkspere, a study of his Mind and Art,’ are
among tho best. But criticisms ought always
to come last in order of study. Furness's new
variorum editions are com pie! e Sha tsperian en-
cylopoedias. Romeo and Jnlut, Hamlet and
Macbtth are the O' ly plays of his series that ere
yet published. Fleay’s Staksperian Manual is
useful chiefly to the critical student of tb« chro
nology of the plats Then there are the ten
thousand critics. But all these cannot come in
the reading of throe score years and ten. Jamas
Rtssell Lowell’s ‘Shakespere once more’ in
‘among my Books’ series, is one of the bfst es
says in our lilera'ure.
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