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of Elimwood, and the faithful old time piece
struck the hour of midnight before they thought
of retiring.
CHAPTER IV.
Where is an author in the world
Teaches such beauty as a woman's «ye!
[Shakqpwrt.
The bright rays of a December sun were
sparkling upon the frost-covered leaves, and
peering through the crevices of the closely
shut blinds of Miss Ada Dalzelle’s chamber, be
fore that young lady awoke to consciousness of
the things of the outer world, or thought of ex
changing its luxuriant charms for the company
of the family in their morning repast. In the
•omfortable breakfast room, the stately mama,
in a very becoming morning robe and coquet
tish little cap, presided with her usual dignity,
while papa hastily swallowed his fragant cup of
mocha; for breakfast had already been detain
ed half an hour for the pretty laggard up
stairs.
‘Ada must be more punctual,’ said the
prompt and business-like Dalzelle, ‘ I had an
engagement for teu, which I am now unable to
fulfil;’ and glancing at the little French clock
on the mautle, hastily buttoned on his over
coat, and gave orders for his herse to be in
readiness at the gate.
‘Poor Ada feels fatigued this morniug, after
her journey, ’.returned Mrs. Dalzelle, apologeti
cally, for she could not endure the slightest
censure of her pet.
‘ And will be fatigued for the next six months,’
growled Ben. ‘ I only wish that I had the
chance of traveling about as Ada has, I could
come from C —- tweuty times without keeping
breakfast waiting two or three hours, and hav
ing everybody in the house waiting on, and
pitying poor Ben.
‘Ben!’ and Mrs. Dalzelle shots dart from
her eyes on the offender, which indicated plain
ly her meaning, whereupon Ben dropped his
head, and went on sullenly regaling the inner
man, his appetite in no wise affected by the re
buke, which came too frequently to be grieved
over. In his bumble opinion, mama and Ada
sometimes arrived at such a pitch that patience
ceased to be a virtue, aud speak hia mind he
would, though experience might have taught
him the futility of such a measure. He being
nobody but ‘Ben,’ whose proper sphere was at
school all day, and in bed all night—the only
places proper for awkward boys of fourteen —
it was deemed irnpertineut in him thus to re
buke the conduct of his sister.
* I wonder what sister Ada has brought for
me,’ and little Linnie slid from her chair, aud
jerked the bib from under her little fat chin. —
* I’m going to see.’
* You needn’t,’ whispered Charley, another
‘awkward boy’ of twelve, ‘ Ada’s a touch-me
not this morniug, and might d/op to pieces jf
you trouble her;’ but Libnie had already made
a progressive ncovemeut towards the door,
when mama laid her baud ou her shoulder:
‘ Listen, Ada must not be disturbed,’ and
Louisa was called to take Linnie to the nursery,
and curl her hair over, receiving at the same
time a sharp rebuke for leaving it in such a
* horrid plight.’
Louisa caught up the pouting child, who re
strained her screams, until reaching a safe dis
tance from tnama. Even little Linnie knew the
rigid discipline of Mrs. Dalzelle, a*4 the inflex
ible will which would not brook contradiction.
‘Miss Ada, Miss Ada,’ called Minerva, tt.e
smart looking maid of Ada, as she stooped
over to awaken her drowsy mistress, ‘ it isKune
to get up, master has gone to town long ago,
and breakfast is over fuWy an hour.’
‘Did mama send you?’ asked Ada, slowly
opening her eyes and yawning. Receiving au
answer in the affirmative, she thought fit to
comply, and as her little white dainty feet
touched the bright roses of the velvet tapestry
carpet, she shrugged her pretty shoulders, and
was half-a-mind to plead headache for the rest
of the morning, but ou second thought deter
mined otherwise, aud told Minerva ‘ for mer
cy’s sake to hurry with her dressing gown and
slippers.’ Then throwing herself into the soft
cushions of the arm chair that sat so invitingly
before the comfortable fire, she gave herself up
to the skillful hands of Minerva, who commenc
ed operatioas on the luxuriant braids of her
mistress’ dark hair.
‘I declare, Minerva, it is delightful to be at
home once more; it is such a world of trouble
to do one’s hair up nicely, and to dress without
assistance. Bat that abominable Madam La
ment would never consent for man-a to send
you with me. I uever felt half dressed, aud
know I must have looked shockingly ugly, ex
cept occasionally, wheu. I went home with the
Bryons. They each have a French maid, but I
would not give you for both of them; they are
forever chattering like magpies, and doing your
hair into all kind of fantastic knots, and pow
dering your face until it is as expressionless as
a piece of chalk; somebodg said my lilies and
roses could not be improved by art.’
‘ No, indeed, Miss Ada, and you couldn’t look
ugly, no matter how you was dressed. Every
body says my young mistress is the handsomest
lady in the land, and all the young gentlemen
were dying for you to come back, and I heard
Dr. Green tell mistress the day after he came
from the chy that.you were breaking every
body’s heart there, and you know preachers
never tell stories. The way 1 came to haar it,’
she continued, ‘ was this: you see mistress, she
rung the parlor bell, and Thomas, he had step
ped out, aud I had to answer it—and just as I
THE SOUTHERN FIELD AND FIRESIDE.
was coming out I heard yosr name mentioned,
and just made believe that the curtain had
come unlooped, and stopped to fasten it back. 1
* Did he say that,’ asked Ada, with the most
lively interest.’ s
‘ Yes, indeed,’ replied Minerva, ‘ and a heap
more too;’ and Minerva was hurriedly ran
sacking her prolific brain for another sweet
morsel, when the door opened and admitted
Mra. Dalzelle.
‘ What, not dressed yet!’ and Mrs. Dalzelle
raised her jewelled hands in petty astonish
ment. ‘What will Reinhold think of you?’—
He and Jennie have already been waiting for
ten minutes in the back parlor, and Jennie is
looking as frash as a May rose, after her morn
ing ride.’
‘ Already I’ and Ada sprung to her feel with
more alacrity than she had exhibited before
that morning. ‘I do wish the Ralßtons would
not have such old-fashioned notions. I have
no doubt that they breakfasted by candle light,
and consider the day now half gone. Get my
dark crimson merino,’ she said turning to Mi
nerva, who had just given the last touch to
her glossy hair; she remembered that Jtein
hold bad once said it was very becoming to her
style of beauty.
‘Not that,' she said, as Minerva was about
to clasp a delicate coral necklace, and taking
up her jewelry stand, selected from its treas
ures a small goid anchor, with a Latin motto
inscribed, and pinning with it a narrow black
velvet around her swan-like throat, turned to
the mirror to see the effect.
‘ This is real nice,’ and Ada made a graceful
Parisian sweep between the large mirrors of
her bureau and wardrobe. ‘ I think mama you
displayed elegant taste in furnishing ray room,’
and sho glanced aronnd on the dark polished
rosewood furniture it contained.
‘ I am glad you like it,my dear,’returned her
mother; * your papa thought me rather extrav
agant, bat I knew Dothing leas would suit your
fastidious taste.’
Well might Ada’s taste be gratified, for
everything was perfect, from the massive
French bedstead to the Parian marble vases,
carved in the most delicate workmauship, and
filled with the rarest exoties that the conserva
tory afforded.
‘You must at least drink this coffee,’ said
Mrs. Dalzelle, as she raised the cup fYora the
tray that Minerva had just brought. ‘Why,
child, you are really nervous. I had no idea
before that you bad ‘ nerves ;’ you must learn
to conquer that foolish weakness of trembling
at*every little occurrence; by the time you live
as long in the world as I have you will see the
folly of it—and your color is too brilliant for
morning—you should reserve Buch pretty
blushes for evening.’
‘Dear Jennie,’ and Ada threw her arms
around her old triend in inmost approved and
affectionate manner. * I\mi so glad you carao
early, I was almost dying to see you, and must
offer a thousand apologies for keeping you
so long, but I thought this morning that, as un
packing was such a disagreeable task 1 had
better attend to it at once; but time flew by
unawares. I-had no idea it was so late,’and
Reinhold received one of the most iuu¢ of
smiles; and as his eye rested ou the gold an
chor that confined her velvet necklace, he
thought himself doubly repaid for waiting twice
that length of time. The little trinket had
been his college badge, which he had given to
Ada, telling her playfully to hold last to his
anchor of hope, for the school boy's admiration
and affection bad but increased and strength
ened with passing years, aud he was now the
acknowledged suitor of Ada Dalzelle. lie had
told her truly that she was his first and ouly
love; no other face had so wholly embodied
his idea of the beautiful; no other voice bad
ever fallen on his ear in such gentle accents,
and to him no other heart appeared so pure,
and child like in its tender love as hers.
That morniug, in searching through his port
folio he drew from a secret corner a small
package, and he smiled as he looked upon the
familiar con ten ta —a small braid of dark hair,
tied with blue ribbon, aud ou a slip of paper,
written in little cramped characters:
‘The memory of our love *Lall be,
As chaugelee* as the eedur tree.
Ada.’
lie folded it up carefully, and returned it to
its biding place. It had been given to biq|
when be left home six years before, when the
hair, the Hues and writing filled his idea of the
beautiful, touching and perfect—and now be
would keep it six or twice six years longer, to
prove that their love was still as fresh and
greeu as ‘ the cedar tree.’ k
‘ 3he does look queenly,’ thought.Jeunie as
the words of her brother on the proceeding
evening recurred to her mind. They are cer
taiuly weli-matched as far as appearances are
concerned ; and she glanced from the beautiful
girl to the handsome form of her brother. But
somehow, aw»y down in the corner of Jennie’s
henrt there was a little niche, that Ada with
all her beauty and fascinations failed to nil.—
She was her brother’s confidant and counsellor,
though several years younger than him. She
inherited her mother’s discerning and penetra
tiug powers of mind, and had told him plainly
that she considered Ada haughty and heart
less.
Ada uever appeared more charming in the
eyes of Iteinliold, and Jenui— awhile tinder the
liduence of her bewitching manner—thought
that she might have judged her too harshly.—
The two dialled gaily for several hours, and
when returning home Jennie listened with
more hopeful anticipations to the glowing pic
tares of future happiness that Reinhold with a
masterly hand sketched on the unsullid leaves,
still folded in the bosom of futurity.
The only drawback to his happiness was
that his mother disapproved of his choice. It
is true, she did not openly oppose it, but do as
he would at times her sad face would fall as a
shadow on the bright object of hialove, but be
would as hastily turn from it to the enchanting
one of Ada.
‘ Mother’s standard of perfection is too high,’
he would argue to himself. It was true, Ada
was very gay, but that was only natural; be
knew that she did possess a tender heart and a
great deal of feeling, for he remembered well
having once found her weeping bitterly over
the sorrows of a poor little heroine, and even
he could not entirely dispel the sadness, al
though be remained two hours. He did wish
that she had a little piety; it was such a beau
tiful trait in the female character; but abe
would have, he felt certain of that, when once
under his mother’s influence. Mrs. DalzeHe
was such a fashionable woman that she had no
time to devote to religious matters; but once
his wife, and his mother wolild then be the
model for her future life. There was one
bright side to his picture. His father
pleased, and had not a single objection to of
fer ; in fact, had teld him that he had selected
Ada for his wife since they were children, and
thought no young couple would begin life with
better prospects; and his father thought,
though be did not express it, that their united
talents and fortunes would make no meagre
combination.
So Reinhold was determined to be happy,aud
felt that the holidays would only pass too
swiftly, for Ada would not return to the city,
and he keew that the monotonous life of a stu
dent would be dull indeed with only occasional
glimpses of his soul's idol. •
CHAPTER V.
1 Often have I lifted
To iuy lip the cup of mirth,
When the beautiful and gifted
Crowded round the festal hearth.'
\
Mrs. Dalzelle prided herself upon her enter
tainments, and no ‘ mixed’ assembly ever con
gregated within the charmed portals of her
magnificent residence. No one need hesitate
or inquire ‘ who would be there,’ whee a per
fumed card of Mrs. Dalzelle was handed to
them, for her parlors were the rendezvous only
of those who claimed to be tne elite of the so
cial circle, and this evening, though all was
bleak, dark, and cold without, all within was
warmth, gaiety and splendor. ‘ Sofas ’twas
half a sin to sit upon,’ and, carpets *of work
manship so rare that made you wish that yon
could giide over them like a golden fish.’ Wit,
intellect and mirth ruled the hour, and added
to this was the charm of music, to the lively
measures of which gay feet kept time. The
light from the numerous chandeliers, shed their
beams on ‘fair women and brave men,’and the
silvery laugh and busy hum of many voic*a
fell on the ear. Mrs. Dalzelle, in her rich bro
cade and diamonds, appeared but little older
than her daughter, as she moved in the midst
of her assembled guests.
* What a Bweet young* man Bryon is,’ re
marked Elia Ware to her tete-a-tete companion,
* aud what a lovely foot, I don’t believe that it
is a particle larger than mine. Julia Hinton
is almost dying about him, but I think abe
might as well relinquish her claims, from what
I heard him say about A da'Dalzelle.’
Ella did not add that she was as warm an
admirer of the ‘ lovely’ footed youth, as the
young lady of which she spoke.
‘He does not appear to notice any one to
night, except Mrs. Dalzelle,’ responded her
companion. ‘ He has followed her like a shadow
the whole evening. I heard him say a few
minutes ago, “ what a magnificent woman Mra.
Dalzelle is." Perhaps he is trying to win har
favor to obtain that of her daughter.’
‘You are mistaken though: don’t you know
that Ada and Reinhold Ralston are engaged ?
but don’t breathe it. Ada told me in a pro
found secret; she does not want it mad# public
yet, as they are not to be married for three
years; and she said she had no idea of being
laid on the shelf all that time. You know an
engaged young lady is a mere nonentity in
society. They receive little attention, and they
are always stupid and uninteresting. I’m
very thankful that I am not engaged.’ and Ella
looked very serious ‘ Now it is different with
k married ladies ; they are nearly always lively,
and the young men think them perfectly charm
ing. Mr. Bryon said to me to-night that noth
ing afforded him more pleasure than to flirt
with a pretty married woman.’
‘ I wish he would make use of that express
ion to Mrs. Dalzelle. I should like to see him
wither a little under one of her looks. Who
is that young lady by the window that Alf.
Hinton is talking with ?’,
‘ Why, don’t you know who that is ? She is
Arthur Bryon’s siater. Isn’t she pretty V
‘Not remarkably so,’ returned her compan
ion. Her face is rather too suggestive of a
pumpkin smothered in snow.’
‘ Wall,’ retorted Ella, * I don’t consider my
self enough of a beauty to criticise people in
that style. I think she iB the prettiest young
lady in the room, decidedly. Ada Dalzelle not
excepted, though she does look very well in
that delicate rose-colored silk, and those white
t
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japouicas in her hair. Dress makes a great
difference in some people.’
* That is true, though one is not compelled to
use a microscope to discover it in every in
stance.’
* How snappish,’ thought Ella— ‘ but old
maids are always so, and I would not be sur
prised if Miss Eliza was not twenty-two.’
‘ Do look how benignly happy Reinnie Ral
ston appears, standing in the recess of the
window, taking a general survey of the apart
ments just as if he was thinking who should
be the fortunate sprite to receive his next at
tention.’
Ella Ware had in part rightly interpreted
his thoughts. He was feeling satisfied with
himself and the rest of mankind. ‘Well,’
thought he, stroking his silky moustache, 4 so
far I have obeyed the commands of Lady Fair,
to make my attentions general, to devote the
least portion of them to herself, and neither by
word, look or sign, exhibit any preference for
herself; and lastly, not to ask her to. sing more
than twice. Well, I have danced with Julia
Hinton ; held Miss Hume’s saucer of ice cream
while she nibbled with the ease and leisure of
a pantry mouse; fanned the languid Miss
Bryon—listening with a great deal of interest
to her account of her visit to Europe, the
Palais Royale, and the Empress Eugenie, to
whom it is said (so he says) that she bears a
striking resemblance. All of which I had
heard at least a dozen times before; then de
voted half an hour of my precious time to Miss
Lawrel, the “ authoress,” puzzling my pocr
brain to unravel her Latin quotations and
French phrases. Now, like Don Quixote, I
must start out in search of other adventures.
4 How unlike her brother Miss Ralston is,’
said Arthur Bryon to Miss Dalzelle. 4 One
would never imagine them to be so closely re
lated. I cannot trace the least resemblance,
though I have been trying for the last quarter
of an hour. She so exquisitely fair, while he
is directly opposite.’
* There is nothing very surprising in that,'
answered Mrs. Dalzelle; he is an adopted and
not a real brother.’
4 Indeed, I was not aware of that; I have
known him intimately for some time, and I
never heard him allude to the subject.’
4 That is very natural,’ she returned. * I
suppose the thought but rarely obtrudes itself,
that he is really not the son of Mr. and Mrs.
Ralston. He was taken by them when an in
fant of only a few months, and reared with the
same tenderness as their own child.’
4 What then is his proper name? If Ralston
is only that of his adopted father, it is rather
singular now that he has arrived at years
of maturity that he docs not assume his right
ful name, though I suppose pride of family
must.yield to love of money. Mr. Ralston is a
man of great wealth is he not ?’
A look of cold displeasure passed over the
face of Mrs. Dalzelle, as she replied, that
4 neither Reinhold or bis adopted parents knew'
ought of his family history ; he was found by
them in Paris, with no clue to his origin, ex
cept the name of Reinhold, which was found
marked upon soma article of apparel.’
4 lt always struck me that lie was a for
eigner ; now I can sec- plainly the politeness
and suavity of the French. But Reinhold is a
German uama—perhaps a mixture of both.—
At all events, Mr. Ralston has great reason to
be proud of his protege. He is a man of de
cided talent,’ he said with the most patroniziiig
air.
[to be coxtixued]
An Irishman who is just commenciug the
study of Italian, wants to' know how it is if
they have no W in that language, that 4 them
ebapa apells wagon ?’
Why is a man paying his note at the bank
like a father going to see his children? Because
he meets his responsibilities.
We have heard bad conundrums before, but
this takes the knife! Why is a snoring Judge
on the bench lika the first ship on record ?
Because snores, hark I
4 1 do wish I could be cured of lying in bed
so long In the morning,’ said a lazy Imsband,
lounging on his pillow.
4 Well, I will try the water-cure,' said his
wife, pouring a bucketful on him.
Put off repentance till to-morrow, and you
have a day more to repent of, and a day less to
repent in.
Life may be merry as well as useful; every
person that owns a mouth has always a good
opening for laughter.
The mind is never right 'but when it is at
peace within itself, and independent of anything
abroad.
Men often think they are very virtuous, when
nothieg but a full purse prevemts them from
stealing a sheep or robbing a ben roost.
4 Circumstances alter cases.’ Red paint, which
is an improvement to the looks of old walls, is
an injury to the cheeks of young ladies.
A person recently sent the death of his wife
to the Chicago Democrat, and added the follow
ing note:
4 P. 8. Just give her a little puff will you ?
Dean Swift truly says, 4 lt is impossible to
reason a man out of a thing that he never haa
been reasoned into.' • '0
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