""'■■■''-'"■'lili PS 172<> te lib 190? LINIVERSITV OF CALIFORNiA SAN D;tCO 3 1822 01214 0828 \ I >«•«•«•*«•«-••»«•«•< r LIBRARY UNIVERSITY Of CALIFORNIA . SAN DIEGO I C-V. ^ f 3 1822 01214 0828 /^g" CELIA E. GARDNER'S NOVELS. NEW EDITIONS JUST PUBLISHED. 1. STOLEN WATERS—" Stolen Waters are Sweet " $1.50 2. BROKEN DREAMS— A Novel in Verse . 1.50 3. TESTED— A Story of Woman's Constancy . .50 4. RICH MEDWAY'S TWO LOVES . . .50 5. A WOMAN'S WILES 50 6. TERRACE ROSES 50 7. COMPENSATION— A Story in Verse . . 1.50 8. A TWISTED SKEIN— A Story in Verse . 1.50 9. HER LAST LOVER 50 10. WON UNDER PROTEST . . . . 1.50 Sent free by mail on receipt of price, by G. W. DILLINGHAM CO., PUBLISHEBS, NEW YORK. TESTED; OB, HOPE'S FRUITION. A STORY OF WOMAN'S CONSTANCY. BT CELIA E. GARDNER, A0THOB or "aiQLm WAXBBSt" "bboksn dheaus." "Bicb usDWAn I'wo Lorm" **rn» M the tested gaU.« NEW YORK: G» W, DiUingham Co., Publishers^ Entered accordlni^ to Act of Coofrress, In the Tear 1874, bjr G. W. CARLETON & CO^ la the Office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington, D. C. Entered according to Act of Congress, In the Year igoa, by CELIA E. GARDNER, In the Office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington, D. C Tesied, tapt. JOHN M. ADAIH, m BBmoiaaAiKc *r fti«AlAHT "WMI SMA' HODBa" 0» THB Pi AVB in T«KEV •* True and "Tested " Friendship of the W0XK IS INSCRIBED, WITH HAHr KIMBLT JmoVOHTS, yriSHBS, flxCOLLKCTIOMS CONTENTS. I.— Exhibitioa Day. ti IL — Home and Friends 23 HL — An Evening in Boston 85 IV. — Returning Home — The Stranger 51 v.— A Little Difference— llie Twilight Walk 64 VI.— The Excursion 83 VII.— The Language of Flowers , 106 Vm. — A Significant Demonstration 124 TX. — Happiness — Disappointment. 141 X. — Indignation — Coquetry 150 XI.— The Return— Sad Hours 157 XII.— The Unexpected Gift— The Party i70 XIII.— A Cruel Disappointment—" I love yoa " 182 XIV.— A Parting Gift— Farewell 198 XV. — Berrie's Journal— Hope deferred. 207 XVI.—" The Desire cometh " 819 XVn.— Contrasts— A Betrothal 234 XVIII.— A " Schoolma'am "— Letters and Bepllea 241 XIX.— A Declaration. 851 XX.- -Letters— An Arrival 259 XXI. - Some Nonsense — Ezcursiona ad libitum 269 XXI L — An Unexpected Meeting — Another Betrothal 281 XXIII.— Doubt— DiBappoin'.,ment— A Wedding 293 XXIV. — Changes — Bereavement — A New Home 803 XXV.— Old «xd New Friends 813 XXVI. -A Day Out— Reminiscences 328 XXVII.- A Siipificant Painting — Restored Confideae*. ... 885 I ooNTEnrra. Xivni. — A New Aoquamtamo* — An Invitation 844 yrnc —Sleighing- -A Rejected Offer— Co ntrasti and Com- forts 854 IXX.— Eetumed from Abroad— Mutoal Donbta 864 TTXT — ^Another Proposal— Aroidance. 383 XXXII. — At Cross-purposes — Despondence 893 XXXin.— Christmaa— Betrottial 401 XXXIV.— The Night before the Wedding— Married and Off. . . 416 TTTV — •gomo Ayaia— " Hepe'i FmitJoa" IM TESTED; OR, HOPE'S FrDITIOS CHAPTER L EXHIBITION DAT. ** And out from the gardens merrily troop The maidens so loving and fair, And on to the trysting-place they go, And I must be with them there." JoSEPHDfB POIiZiAJUk •HE tappy sunlight of a morning early in July threw itself boldly into the embrace of a cluster of maples, in the tasteful grounds of a ladies' seminary in fair New England, and peeping through the veil of trembling leaves with which the stately treei were decked, coquetted gaily with the shadows beneath, and in wanton mirthfulness gazed i'^to the laughing eyes of the lovely cluster of girls grouped in every variety of picturesque attitude upon the green sward below, kiseed the rosy lips and cheeks of one and tOh 10 EXHIBITION DAT. other, A>AiI evc-rtiied the fa'r young heads wi:h Jiademi brilliant as molten gold. A soft breeze woke the sighing leaves to musit, and lifted the flowing tresses oi the happy party of girls, while now and then a rippling laugh, ringing clearly upon the still morning air, rivalled in its sweetness the triumphant songs of bright-winged birds, swinging gaily from their cradles above, and thrilling all the balmy air with witching melody. Beyond the extended view of lawn and garden loomed the " argus-eyed " building which had been the dwelling-place of several of them for many years, iti white walls glisteuiiig in the rays of the morning sun, while the thick dark leaves of the ivy that festooned many of the open casements, glittered as if crested with all manner of precious stones, as the gathered drops of dew caught the reflected glory of the gorgeous old monarch of day, riding serenely above in his chariot of concentrated fire. The central figure of the group seated beneath the whispering maples, was a tall brunette, robed like her comjianions, in the ordinary school-dress of neat print, with small white collar, and coquettish apron of the game snowy hue, in which was gathered a quantity of beautiful flowers still glistening with the dews oi morning, and which threatened to leave her dainty apron in anything but a spotless condition. Flowers of every hue and variety, whose mingled fragrance rendered the air they were breathing heavy with perfume, reposed in delightful confusion in her hafitily improvised basket, but her slender fingers wepf BXniBTTlON DAT. 11 rapidly assorting and distributing theiu Vj her compaik ions, the while her merry tongue kept time with hei active hands. Queenly in figure, haughty in feature, and dominant in character, she was a leading spirit in all the mischief that had been planned and executed during the p&it months and years of busy school routine ; but, like a number of her fellow pupils, she would, ere the day should close, receive her certificate of graduation, and bidding farewell forever to the merry days of school girl life, anxiously await what the future might have in store. She was seated on a large, moss-covered boulder, looking in her proud uprightness of figure every inch a queen, while her companions were disposed around her as fancy or indolence might suggest, awaiting pa- tiently her distribution of the floral treasures with which her lap was filled. Some were leaning carelessly against the massive tree-trunks around, one or two were half reclining on the gi-ound, regardless of the light dew that still gemmed the verdant sward, their elbows buried in the long, rank grass, and their dimpled chins resting on their soft pink palms, while one sweet girl, the youngest and fairest of the group, leaned over the Queen Flora of the occasion, pulling the long tresses that floated over her shoulders, pinching the cheeks already pink with the rosy flushes of health,, or snatch- ing from her apron handfuls of the beautiful flowers it held, and shaking the dew drops that lingered in their cups all over the ha'ighty but now smiling face, while Helen alternately laughed and scolded, as her little £»• in KXEIBITloN DAT. Torite each moment devised some new method of ing. Fair and fragile as the flower whose name she bore, •weet Lillie Danforth was still full of life and merri- ment, and a general favorite in the school ; while the proud Helen Harrington, although in all respects so totally unlike her, was her bosom f riojid and confidant. " Helen, my Queen," she murmurs, in the midst of a shower of kisses which totally interrupts the sentence on her companion's lips, " violets and rose-buds for me, yon know ; ' sweet violets heavy with dew.' " " Keep still, you saucy girl, or you shall have noth- ing but a daisy and dandelion. Maud, can't you keep this child quiet for five minutes, while I finish assort- ing these flowers? She torments me half to death 1 " said Helen, addressing one of the monitors of the school. Maud shrugged her shoulders expressively, but made no reply, while the " child " in question twined her arms around the neck of the scolding girl, and leaning a pink and white cheek against the darker one at her side, said caressingly, " Now, Helen, dov^t be cross with me, and I'll be the goodest little girl as ne\er was; and you shall have poppies and marigolds for your )wii dusky tresses, but violets and rosebuds for me, you know, my Queen 1 " and a hug which half strangled the girl completed the sentence. ^ There, there 1 do take your violets and rosebndi, and give me a minute's peace ! " exclaimed Helen, half petulantly and half laughingly, as she began hastily palling out, and tossing on the ground, rick elustera of Ike flowers in question. EZmBITlON DAT. 18 "There* Lillie," she added, "that frii. give joi somethini^ to do, to pick them up ; and yoa know Satan always provides mischief for idle hands. That's what the trouble is with you, I fancy. Here, Maud, are pan- ties for you, heliotrope for xlnnie, and roses for you, my * queen rose of the rose-bud garden of girls.' Fannie, what will you have, pinks or poppies ? By-the-way, where ia Berrie Burton this morning, and what shaU 1 keep for her ? " " Oh, Berrie is poring over her lessons, as usual,*" returned Maud. " The poor child learns with such difficulty, and she is so afraid she will not pass the ex- amination creditably to-day, and receive her diploma. It would be too bad if she should fail, she has tried so hard to keep up with her class." " Oh I what does it matter if she doesn't graduate with special hcnor? She is highly accomplished in music, and with her pretty face, and her father's money, her future is certain to be a happy one, whether she knows that two and two make four, or not. Oh, dear 1 I wish I had been born rich instead of handsome I " with an impatient shrug of her sloping shoulders. " A ichoolma'am's destiny is not delightful in prospective, whatever the reality may prove." " Beauty and wealth do not always bring happiness, Helen, they say; and your destiny, after 4II, may prove even more enviable than Berrie's. Some gal lant knight will come along ani rescue you from tLa school-room before long, perhaps," laughingly. " Seri me an invitation to the wedding, will you ? " "Yes, you shall be chief bridesmaid, Miss Maud. 14 EZEIBITION DAT. and the sooner he makes his appearance ihe better If you come across any one with plenty of cioney> who is desirous of throwing himself away, just send him over to me. But I do envy Berrie sometimes, her future seems so very bright. But what would she like for flowers, do you think? how will this scarlet gera- nium do ? " "Admirably! it will just suit her. But hark I theie is the eight o'clock bell, Helen Harrington ; we shall be dreadfully late;" and gathering up her dress to protect it from the still damp grass of the lawn, the Bpoaker ran swiftly toward the house, followed speedily by her companions. Let us enter the large exhibition hall of the semi- nary some hours later, and take a quiet view of its in mates and the proceedings then in operation. The visitors' seats are filled to overflowing, and although ?» large number of extra chairs have been brought in, to accommodate the influx of lookers-on, many are yet standing, and those who were fortunate enough to ob- tain sittinsrs are crowded to the utter exclusion of com- fort ; for these annual exhibitions of W- Seminary have been for many years deservedly popular. The dewy loveliness of the morning has developed into a sulky, sunburned day, and windows are thrown to their widest extent to catch the faintest breath of iiir that may be stirring, while innumerable fans keep in a continual tremulous flutter the floating laces and ribbons that adorn their fair owners. The air is ex- oeedingly oppressive, and heavy with the fragrance that floats from the drooping flowei-s which not onlj EXSIBITION DAT. ll deck the fair members of the school, Int are placed ia every available spot in the spacious apartment ; whiifl mauj of the broad window-seats are covered with pota of scented plants or trailing vines, which, climbing to the very apex of the lofty casement, lean down to caress their lowlier neighbors, or bask in the ardent rays of the sun, as it peeps through the open window, and drops its golden gleams athwart the blush and bloom below. The pupils of the school are ranged on elevated seats, erected for the occasion on either side the plat- form, the youngest on the uppermost, while on the lowest yet most conspicuous seats in the room are placed the graduating class, ten in number, awaiting with eagerly beating hearts, flushed cheeks, and spark- ling eyes, the awarding of the prizes for the year, and the hardly won diplomas, which should sever forever their connection with the witching days of school-life. For who does not know that even the discipline and routine of school has a subtle charm all its own, and the memory of which no after triumphs can render ftiight but pleasant and delightful I Who looks not back to the days spent in the pursuit oi knowledge with a tremulous smile of pleasure at the recollection, a sigh of regret for the bursting of the airy bubbles of fancy which had then seemed as Bubstantial as beautiful, or a tear for the friends then BO intimate and dear, of whom " Some are married and some are dead ? " Who does not remember, with a touch of the old amusemcHt, some daring breach of discipline O} mad prank in the hueh of night, when Id EXHIBITION DAT. they were supposed to be sleeping the sweet sleep ol youth and innocence ; or, with a thrill of the olden pleasure, those golden days when, with trembling hearts an^ cheeks a-flush with triumph, they proudly stepped to the master's desk to receive the preciouf prize which amply rewarded them for their previouf hours of toil and application. At the head of the graduating class of to-day alto our queenly acquaintance of the morning. Miss Helen Harrington ; her dark hair bound in heavy coils around her shapely head, her haughty mouth dimpling with smiles of gratification and pleasure, and her regal form robed in simple white, unornamented, save by the broad sash of pink and the lovely carnations of the same hue that loop her dress and nestle among the bands of her lustrous purple-black tresses. Jewels of the purest water and most magnificent settings would become her royally ; nor does the simplicity of her present attire proceed from an aversion to the orna- ments that most young girls admire and covet. She is no exception to her companions in this respect, but, unfortunately, as she has intimated in the conversation of the morning, her means are limited, and forbid the accessories to beauty which her taste would suggest and crave. Nothing would satisfy her ambition save the rarest and purest gems, and as these are absolutely unattainable, she will wear no ornaments save the beautiful blossoms which Nature, with such lavish hand, showers aiound her. She is the only child of a widowed mother, who wai left to a life of loneliness in the flush v>f youth and EXBISmON DAT. 17 happineBS, and who has been enabled only by much exertion to give her daughter the necessary edatation to fit her for teaching, that she may lighten somewnat the burden of poverty which has been theirs for bo many years. As may be supposed, the proud girl looked forward with anything but pleasure to the day when she must assume the duties of school- mistress, although at the same time she felt impatient to be able in some degree to assist one who had made so many gacrifices for her, and spared no love or labor that could conduce to her future welfare and happiness. Maud Lester, the second in rank in the graduating class, is a brown-haired, brown-eyed, graceful girl, ■with no claims to the beauty which is the except k)n rather than the rule, but with a face pleasing for itt intelligence and usual expression of grave yet captivat- ing sweetness. Her parents are in comfortable circum- stances, and she has never known a real want ungrati- fied ; yet her tastes are simple, and her ambitions legitimate and innocent. She is a sweet girl, mild in temper, quiet in manner, and with great depth of char acter, and truth and firmness of principle. She, also, is simply dressed, in some thin material of a pale-lav- ender hue, with the pansies Helen had selected for her in the morning drooping from her hair and the bosom of her delicate, close-fitting dress. I^ittle Li Hie Danforth is not in the group, as she ii to remain still another year as pupil in the schoo. her companions are leaving to-day. The remainder of the graduating class are all cshil dren oi' wenlthy parents, but, with one exception, h»v Xi EXKmTTTON DAT. 'mg no part to play in tlic foi-flicoming :jarrative, Deed no particular mention here. They ae fashionably dressed and resplendent with jewelry — brooches, ear- drops, lockets, chains, bracelets, and rings flash in the afternoon sunlight, as now and then a stray beam Rhoots athwart their forms. The exception before mentioned is my heroine, Miss Berrie Burton, casually referred to by her fellow- pupils in the morning, but not as yet introduced to the special notice of the reader. I can close my eyes now and see before me the face and form of one seen but rarsly, yet never forgotten — for the picture I shall paint is no vision of the imag- mation, however fictitious niay be the scenes and inci- dents related in connection therewith, but the imper- fect sketch of one I scarcely knew, and whose face first met my eye in a scene similar to the one I have been attempting to describe. A form somewhat below the medium height, yet beautifully moulded and rounded ; hands and feet of diminutive proportions ; a small, grave face, nearly oval in contour, and of a clear, untinted olive in color- ing ; a small, sweet mouth, with slightly pouting lips of a vivid crimson, which every one who knew her had an irresistible desire to kif,s; and eyes of a lustrooa black, large, full, and expressive, shaded by lashes of the same sable hue. Too large for beauty, some main- tained they were, yet capable of a softness and sweet ness of expression very attractive at least, and U some dec'dedly captivating. But her crowning beauty wai her wealth of soft dark hair, which swept her dusky EXHIBITION DAT. If •honlders in countless numbers of ringlets, bright, and §mooth, and flossy as rolls of unwoven silk. No de- scription can do justice to its marvellous beauty, and no other bead 1 have ever seen has been so royally, peerlessly crowned. She was dressed in a light plaid silk of neutral tinti, with low bodice and short, lace-edged sleeves, and whose severe simplicity was unmarred by ornament of any style or description. Not a jewel glittered on hei taper, pink-tipped fingers, on her smooth round arms, or fair uncovered neck ; not a flower blushed in her floating hair, or on her pulsing bosom ; not a ribbon fluttered from any portion of her attire ; but she sat there, that golden afternoon, among her gaily decked companions, ornamented alone by the peerless jewel oi her own rare loveliness. As has been intimated, she was no scholar, although not wanting in application and a desire to excel, and it was only by continued and extra effort that she had been able to keep pace with her companions, except in music, of which she was passionately fond, and which was ai easy for her as were her simplest tasks to her compeers. She had a clear, sweet voice, of no marvellous power or compass, but which she used so naturally and unaf- fectedly one could not choose but be charmed. The piano was to her a dear companion, and few young ladies of her age and instruction presided at it with so much of grace and skill. But the exhibition is swiftly approaching the close. Lessons have been recited, declamations have been ap^ predatively listened to, essays have been read, song» M EXHIBITION LAY. have been sung, and now but a few more exeroiiei intervene before the distribution of prizes and award- ing of diplomas to tho graduating class of to-day. " Carryejo Home the Sheaves. — Mis8 Mavd Lm- ier^^ announces the master, and the young lady comei forward, and with exquisite intonation, and voice mod- olated to the plaintive sweetness of the words, reads, amid the breathless hush of the audience, the beaati* f ul little poem : ' ' List I oh, list to the reapers this quiet summer ev«, CJathering in the harvest, binding up the sheaves. Liat to the rush of the sickle, cutting the goldea cfimiB ; Sinewy hands and hardy wield them not in vain. Deep in the valley the sunset glows on the glistening leaTMi, ■Jhines on the dark-browed maidens carrying home the sheaves. ^' Kissed by the breeze and the sunshine, loved by the flowen an4 birds, Heart in whose wild recesses beautiful dreams are stirred, Stands the fairest of reapers, red lips slightly apart, While gushes of plaintive music flow from her o'ercharged heart. Sings she, ' Oh, Hfe is dreary here on these summer eves, j I grow so weary, weary, carrying home the sheavea ** ' For the whirling rush of the sickles, quivering throngh m$ brain, •tirs up a world of fancies, never to sleep again . I dream of courts and castles, gateways of gold and pearls, Laurel wreaths proudly resting on the brow of the peasant girl. Life ifl so very dreary here on these summer eves, I grow BO weary, weary, carrying home the Hheavea t I' ^ Thoughts that are bright, yet painful, straggle witUn m$ breast; life ia both sweet and bancfn? -I am not like the EXHTBITlOir TAT. %\ Wtrald 1 oould word my longings, Bimder this weary i Ply from this quiet valley, thesb theavea of golden grain t Life is so very dreary here on these summer eves, I grow BO weary, weary, carrying home the sheaves.* *' Maiden, thou art not lonely ; many like thee there are, Stifling their aspirations, still with their souls at war. All through this life's great harvest wander a sorrowing trala, Knowing full well their mission, but wearing a closing ohaia. Many the hearts that are saying, this quiet summer eve, ' Oh, I am weary, weary, carrying home the sheaves I ' *' Maiden, we all are reapers, workers in this great strife ; Let us not then be sleepers, but on to the spirits' life. Ood hears our cry, my sister. He will gather the ripened grain Up in His broad heaven-gamer, where life will be free from pais Wait, with no thought of sadness, till on some heavenly eve, Oome we with songs of gladness, carrying home the sheavea." The rapt hush of the audience f«r some mo ments after the last word had thrilled with its plaintive music the balmy summer air, testified even more tiioroughly to their appreciation of the poem and iti exquisite rendering, than did the perfect storm of ap- plause that succeeded. A few strains of mutiic hushed the tumult at last, and after an elaborate prelude, Miss Berrie Burton, with unaffected grace and witching •weetness of expression, sang the then popular and beautiful air, "AVlien the swallows homeward fly." Then followsd the valedictory by Miss Helen Harring^ ton, which by its forceful eloquence and touching allu- •ions to the hour of parting won the admiration of all, and drew a tear from many a sparkling eye. When the applause which succeeded had at length di^ out, the master arose, and in a few well-choMoi %% BXniBTTION DAY. words, and voice tremulous with emotion, expr eooo d his gratification at tlic credit they had done him dnring the hours of exhibition, and his regret at parting with ■o many of his pupils, to wh:m, in the past years of in- timate association, he had become so greatly attached. Then announces his pleasure in presenting to the suo* cessfnl competitors the prizes before him, of which Miss Helen Harrin2:ton heads the list and receives the firs^ awards for English essay and general scholarship, MisB Maud Lester deservedly receives the Elocutionary prize, and Miss Berrie Burton, to her intense surprise — for in her modesty she has never dreamed of being 80 honored — is called forward to be presented with an elegantly bound musical album, for her manifest luperiority in vocal and instrumental music. Then each of the young ladies of the graduating class receives her diploma, a prayer closes the exercises, and the pnpils mingle with the visitors to receive the congi^tu- lations of friends on the success of the affcemoon't «Bp tMtainment. CHAPTER IL HOME AND FRIENDS. " This ifl her h And them the friends whose love doth make Bta days all srmshuie ! In whose hearts Her face is sweetly mirrored ; — in whose thooghts Her name in softest music rings Till backward floats the echo sweet To her own guileless heart." 0. &e. rOFTLy fell the veil of night over the beautifn town of Bristol, E,. I., wrapping in its misty loveliness the heaving waters of the bay, the lux'irions foliage of the countless numbers of noble old trees, whose branches often interlaced above the broad and regular streets of the handsome old town, the fine residences of the aristocratic portion of its denizens, and the tasteful gardens around them, whose blushing beauties seemed to exhale a richer fragrance as the dews of evening moistened their velvet lips, and the darkness bid from sight their loveliness of form »ud ^/olor. In the parlor of a handsome house on one of the fin- 14 BOMB ANP friends: Mt streets, was gathered a group of persons whvMe ftMr- tunes are somewhat intimately interwoven with the loi of those to whom the reader has a}ready been mtrc^ duced in the few preceding pages. A lady somewhat past the middle age of lifCj WM seated in an easy chair near one of the open windowi ; her busy fingers occupied with some fancy knitting which seemed to employ her thoughts as well as her hands, as she kept her still handsome dark eyes fixed intently upon her work. A round matronly figure it was, swaying back and forth in the easy rocker, the brow placid and smooth, and the lips wearing a pleas- ant, but apparently pre-occupied smile. In truth her thoughts were far away from the present scene, with motherly pride and affection dwelling on her absent loved ones ; her eldest bom and only son, who ha^ ^ef the paternal roof in search of fortune an^ fre6ent. The little girl was dressed in white, with BOMB AND FRIENDS. fg •Mb and ribbons as scarlet as her own sweet lips, and betrayed in evory word and motion how thoroughly she had been spoiled by every member of the family sircle. Seated by her, and alternately teasing and talking to her, was a gentleman of about thirty-five years ; tall, well-proportioned, and somewhat distinguished in ap- pearance, with an abundance of light waving hair, large, dreamy blue eyes, and a heavy, llght-hued mustache, shading lips whose expression and smile were so rarely sweet and fascinating as to soften somewhat the lines of sternness and hauteur which were plainly discern- ible in other portions of his aristocratic face. Yet a shade of sadness sometimes darkened the blue of his dreamy eyes, and sweeping over the handsome Saxon face, hardened the sweetness of the lips into an exprea- »ion of rigid weariness and pain, until '' Yon manrelled if a face bo sad, At any time had smiled." Just now we see him in his most attractive guise, ab he unbends from his usual dignity to his little compan- ion, while smiles of amusement light his handsome iyes, as he listens to her merry prattle and apt returns to his teasing remarks. Across the room, seated at the piano and running her fingers carelessly across the keys in an absent or pre-occupied manner, is the eldest daughter of the house, Miss Isabel Burton, who, though decidedly attractive in manner, possesses little of the beauty which is lav- ished so freely on both her younger sister*. Her liair t 96 BOATE AND FRldNDS. \% fine and dark, but Landed smoothly back from a Bomewhat low brc .v ; her eyes arc less beautiful in fonn or coloring than those of either of her sisters ; and her month, though ripe and rosy, is a trifle too wide for beauty. Still, she is pleasing and attractive, and bai never experienced a want of friendship or attention from either of the sexes. Leaning against the instrument, and conversing with her in low and flattering tones, is a gentleman much younger than the one beside the window, and in every respect totally his opposite. Dark, full bearded, of medium height and size, and with a flattering and def- erent manner so pleasing to most of the opposite sex, he was exceedingly popular in society, and for his gajp good-humor a welcome guest in nearly every home- circle which he chose to enter. "Now, Mr. Adair, if you don't stop pulling mj curls, I'll tell my mamma," said the little beauty at the window ; " and she'll, she'll — " " Well, what will she do, do you think. Miss Ilattie ? " inquired her companion, with another playful pull of the tempting ringlets. " Box your ears, I guess, as she threatens to do U; me when I step on the flowers, or tear my dress, c« drop my jelly on the table-cloth." " I suppose she only threatens, eh ? " returned ttc gei:tl(;man, laughing. '•' That's all I " with a lowered tone and arch glance a'^'ose at her mother. " Because y3u see when the»*e is a prospect of anything else, I run aw&y, and the next time shd 6ee& me she has ^orgotten all about it Bella HOME AND FRIENDS. VI •colds me too, sometimes, but Berrie never Joes. Do fou know my sister Berrie, Mr Adair ? " ** I haven't that honor, Miss llattie ! What sort of a borry is she? a straw-berry, black-berry, hoUy-beny, M what ? " "She isn't either P'' returned Miss Hattie, pout- ing at this ridicule of her favorite sister. " She'a A real pretty young lady! prettier than Belle, or Jennie Wardell, or I either ! She's the very prettiest of the family, everybody says, and I love her dearly.'^ "Prettier than you, is she?" said her companion, highly amused. " Well, that might be and not be very pretty, might it not, Miss Vanity ? " and again the flowing curls received a gentle pull. " Belle Burton, isnH Berrie real handsome ? " called the indignant child; and her sister arose and came smilingly forward at the summons. " What's the trouble, llattie ? " she inquired. " Are you and Mr. Adair quarrelling again, as usual ? " The gentleman smiled as he returned : " This young lady maintains that she has a sister Berrie who is de- cidedly the flower of the family, and is highly indig- nant because I presumed to suggest that she might be Bven prettier than Miss llattie herself, and yet not be very beautiful." " Hattie is very fond of her sister, and has an ex- alted opinion of her beauty ; I believe she is generally considered very pretty," replied Miss Burton, smilingly. " Then he said, too, that she was a black-berry, or hoUy-berry, or feomething ! " pouted the child. " Well, she is rather dai'k like the rest of us, that's t %$ BOMB AND FRTBNDB. fact ! " returned Belle, with a little i-^aIcaI JitglL " And holly-berry wouldn't be so biid a name for h« either. So don't pout, Hattie dear ! Don't you know Mr. Adair is only teasing you ? Wait until your sister ie at home, and perhaps he will adini:^ her as much m you desire." " Is the young lady expected soon ? " he inquired, in- differently. " Oh, yea 1 we hope to see her to-morrow erenin^. She has been in Massachusetts at school for some time, and expects to graduate to-day. Mamma and I wished very much to aitend the exhibition, but could not leave home very well just at this time. You are sure to like my sister, Mr. Wright I " she continued, ab- ruptly turning to the gentleman who had followed her from the piano, and was then standing near her, playing with her fan, which he had taken from the table. " I have not a doubt of it," he returned somewhat lazily. " She must be pretty and agreeable also, to judge from the remainder of the family, whose ac- quaintance I am so fortunate as to have made. Don't you think so, eh. Miss Ilattie ? " " If I say ' yes,' Mr. Adair will call me Miss Vanity. Oh, there's pa 1 " and with a hour 1 she was out the window, and running down the walk was lifted up to receive the expected kiss, and then with her hand la hie, walked demurely by her father's side as he ap proached the house. Mr, Burton was a tall, pleasant, inteUectual -looking man of gome Hfty-five years, and as he entered the par>^ HOME AND FRIENDS. Sf lor, 4nd having greeted his daughter's nsitors, irow a chair near his wife and sat down with Hattie on hii knee, he said, " Well, wife, I suppose we may expect to see Berrie here with us to-morrow night. I hopu she will have passed a good examination to-day. We'll be glad to see her home again, won't we, pet I She has been gene a long time." **' Pa, may I go to the depot with you I I can't wait till she gets way up to the house before I see her. May I, pa 1 Oh dear I I wish she was coming to-night I Say, pa, may I ? " " Why yes, dear. I don't know why you shouldn't, if your mother is willing." ** Belle, there comes Jennie Wardell and Mr. Mal- vern," called Hattie, and Miss Burton stepped through the low French window to meet and welcome h^ friends. The new-comers were a tall, light-compie^OLel vivacious young lady, about Miss Burton's age, and a gentleman decidedly plain-looking, but with a bearing proud and high, and a manner by turns haughty and suave. Both were well and fashionably dressed, and appeared to be on the best of terms with ea^h othei and the world in general. "Why, where is Berrie?" inquired Mlsm "Waraeii^ as she entered the parlor. " Oh, we do not expect her until to-morrow ere," was replied. " The school does not close until late this afternoon." " Why, I thought she was to arrive to-day, and came ap this evening ex oresely to see her. I expect she has yO HOME AN'. FRIENDS. grown very pretty since I saw her. Yon know I WM ont of town the last time she was home." " I do not know that slie has changed much," Misa Burton returned, " except that she may be a little taller and more womanly. We always thought her rather pretty^ though perhaps we look at her with partial eyes." " Oh ! yes, Berrie was always a little beauty, and when she enters society I expect will create a decided sensa- tion ; then you and I will have to stand aside, I sup- pose," with a little laugh and coquettish glance in the direction of the gentlemen. " I am sorry she has not arrived, but she will be here in time for the sailing party next Tuesday, will she not ? You are going, Belle, of course I " " 1 am not so sure 1 What is it ? I have heard not^iing about it as yet," Miss Burton replied. '^ What ? Has neither of those gallant young gen- tlemen told you anything about it? " She looked from one to the other inquiringly, and Mr. Wright returned in the lazy manner he sometimei assumed : " Scarcely, Miss Wardell ! as I, at least, am vet to be enlightened myself in regard to it, and though af course I cannot speak for Mr. Adair, T presume he i8 as ignorant as I am, or he would douttiess have al- ia dad to it." *' 1 have heard ncthing of I't 1 " Mr. A.iair quietly ran *rked. *' \rell I I wonder where all you people have been for the last day or two I have heard scantely any- tking else. We are to charter a sloop — a steamer it EOME AND FRISNDS. JX too f«Bt and modern — and ran down to Newport, gt) on board the old ' Constitution' that is lying there, visit the fort and other places of interest, dine at one of the hotels, and return by moonlight. "Won't it be gay 1 Of course you will all go, and Berrie too I We can't get along without her." " Why yes ! it would be very pleasant, I Bhould think," Miss Burton replied, " but who has the man- agement of the afEair, and how should wo all go nnlesi we are invited ? " " Well, I don't know much more about it myself— you see my own information is soon exhausted — bat supposed, of course, all our immediate circle were to go; if not, I am sure I don't care to. How is it, Henry, don't you know something more about it ? " Misa Wardell continued, turning to the gentleman who had accompanied her. " Mr. Thurston and Frank White spoke to me about it," he replied. " Said it was all arranged, and men- tioned those who were to be invited. I believe all the present company were included in the list, and I sup- posed most of them had been spoken to about it. Doubtless they will send out formal invitations in a day or two." "Oh, I ccncluded that was already done!" re» marked Miss Wardell. " Why ? Have you received one ? " inquired Misi Burton. "Well— no — not exactly; except frcm Henry here, and that was not very formal." she returned laugh- ing, but blushing a little also; "but I supposed the n HOME AND FRIBJfDB. gentlemen had, and were to invite what ladiei tlMf ehoee.' " Well, it is a delightful sail, and I preeume nona of Clia girls will be averse to accepting gach an mTiter> tioD," said Miss Burton, laughingly. "When did you say the affair was to come offf" Inquired Mr. Adair. " Next Tuesday, I think, wasn't it, Henry ! " " Next Tuesday morning, at nine o'clock, ii the time appointed for rendezvous, I believe." After some more discussion of this and kindred •ubjects, the whole party arose to take their leave. " Give my love to Berrie when she arrives, and toll her I shall run up to see her as soon as possible," Baid Miss Wardell, as she kissed Belle at parting " How nice it will be to have her home all the time." "Yes I we are all anticipating it very much," »aid Belle, " especially Hattie, who is very impatient for the time to arrive, and has talked of nothing else all day, scarcely." " Keall}' I I have a great desire to see the yomig lady I have heard so frequently mentioned this even- lEg," said Mr. Wright. " You may count on a call from me to-morrow evening, if my presence so 8O0n after her arrival will not be an intrusion" " Oh, not at all, I assure you I An d Mr. Adair, shall we not see you also I " " Thank you. Miss Burton, I should be most happ> to call, but I intend to run up to Boston to-monow^ consequently it will not be in my power to do lo, as ] •hall not return until the following day." *' Very well I ^Then yoa are at leifiire then, w« /iall expect to Bee you." " Thanks 1 1 shall certainly do myself the honor to uall soon," he returned. " Oh, Belle, give us some music, please, before wo go 1 " and Miss Wardell sat do^m as if assured that her informal request would be granted. " Please excuse me to-night, Jennie. I am not in a musical mood. Berrie will give you something worth while when she gets home, I expect She ia the musical one of the family, you know ! ** " Miss Berrie again 1 " exclaimed Mr. Wright, laugh- ing. " What an important personage she muBt be ! Aren*t you curious to see her, Adair f " " Exceedingly I " that gentleman replied, with hii fascinating smile, and after a few more last wordt the visitors took their leave. Mr. Adair and Mr. Wright walked slowly and almost silently together to their hotel, each occupied with sur mises as to the *>er8om.j.ty of the young lady of ^hom they had heard so much dnr ug the evening ; while Miss Burton closed the piano, drew down the blinds, pausing to note the rare loveliness of the perfect night, and having turned out the lights, passed up to her own cosy room, where her little sister, in all the flush and sweetness of childhood's peerless beauty and in- nocence, lay dreaming away a few of the hours thai must elapse before she should see, once more, her long absent and favorite sister, unconscious that ere the heavy fingers of slumber should again close her starry eyes, her little heart would be swelling with the grief of r u nO}fE .IND FRIENDS. dlMppointcd affection and hope, as reai and poi^ttAnt to the loving heart of the child, aa would be life't ftfter triali to the matarer mind ai.d sejiaibilitiei ol tht wcnuui. CHAPTER m. AN EVKNINO IN BOSTON. ** A rednndantly Bensaons nature, eaoh ■rer patent to beauty." OWXN MSBSDmL 'HE clock in the hall of the seminary had jnflt struck the hour of nine, and alone in her own little room for the moment, Miss Berrie Bmion, still in holiday attire, knelt before her open trunk, placing therein the last of the numerous articles of wearing apparel, which for the last hour or two had been scattered around the room — spiled on every avail- •ble chair and table, while dresses of various colors and textures were thrown in a promiscuous heap on the low, white bed. Her fellow pupils had been running in and out all the evening, and she herself had made more than one flying visit to the adjoining apartments, but all seemed to be at present occupied in their own rooms, and Ber- rie was left alone. One or two dresses folded ready for packing itil] M AS BVENiNo nr BOSTOir. Uy on the floor by her side ; while she, pausing ia h«f occupation, with a dreamy smile on her scarlet lipi *nd in her large, dark eyes, with her elbow resting on tba edge of her trunk, aid her cheek in her hand, sat dreaming of the home and friends so dear to her, &n4 which she hoped so soon to see, unconscious that her name was on every lip and in every heart in that loroi spot, at that very moment. How pleasant it is to go Jiome^ after a prolonged and perhaps unwilling absence 1 With what a glad, sweet thrill beats the heart at thought of the loving and joyful welcome awaiting it there ; the almost tearful kisses of the happy mother, the glad embrace and fer- vent " God bless you 1 " of the gratified father, the laughing, loving greetings of sisters and friends, as they all crowd around, eager to catch every tone, word, and smile of the long-absent wanderer. What an infinitude and variety of questions are asked and answered, what an inexhaustible amount of information is imparted, all in the smallest possible space of time, while cour- tesy is totally disregarded, and every one is speaking in a breath, each seeming more desirous than the other to testify their joy in the glad reunion of hearts at well as hands. Truly, " Be it ever bo humble, thereat no place like hoire." Miss Berrie's anticipatory reverie was interropted by the entrance of her friend, Maud Lester, who, seal- ing herself carelessly on the edge of the open tnm^ exclaimed : " Oh, Berrie, I have just the nicest plan tn propoM^ and I want yon to say yes in advance. Indeed, I ghaS Air SYENIHQ ly BOSTOIf. 17 Bot take no for answer, so promise before I arfold it, that you will do your part towards carrying it out." ** I don't know, Maud, about making promises in tke dark ; disclose your mysterious plan, and if it is nicey ft/9 you assert, you may be certain I shall say yes to it if I can. What is it ? 1 am all curiosity to know," re" turned Berrie, smiling. " Oh, you can if you choose, and you must choose," with a little imperious toss of her head. " You know," ihe went on, " we shall not be likely to see each other again for a long time, and I don't feel like parting with you just yet, so I want you should stop in Boston to-morrow instead of going on home, and spend at least a day and night with me. Don't say no, yet," as Ber- rie opened her lips to reply. " Ned will be sure to meet me at the depot, and I will send him down to your brother's office to let him know you are in town, and he will come up and spend the evening ; and we'll have Alice Havens, and Carrie Andrews, and Tom Harding, and one or two others in, and have a gay time generally ; or else all visit some place of amusement, if there chances to be any worth attending just now ; or, better yet, perhaps take a moonlight sail down the haibor — ^you know the evenings are beautiful now. Somiithing at least to remember our farewell to school- days by. Come, say yes, Berrie, you know I will not accept a refusal." " Oh, Maud, i should like it so much I " Berrie re- turned regretfully. " I always do have such a pleas ant time at your house ; but they will expect me at home, and I fear be greatly disappointed if i do not 18 Alt BVEKINB IN I08T0N, go. Hattie at least will, and I preanme the reil ftlflo. So I am afraid I shall liave to say uo, after all,* with a Bmile and pressure of the hand Ma;id in her earnestness had laid on hers. " Indeed, though, you must not I You can write t lote home and tell them about it, and it will be ail right. You know they will have you all the time when they once get possession of you, so you see I mean to keep you while I can." " But perhaps you can't," laughed Berrie. "'Possession is nine points of the law,* they say, and if I don't keep you it will not be my fault. Be- sides, you will see your brother, remember I Isn't that an inducement ? " "You know I am never disinclined to go home with you, Maudie, I always enjoy it so much! I would like to see Charlie again also, and mother would be pleased to hear directly from him ; still I am afraid I ought not. Hattie will fret so if I do not make my appearance to-morrow night." "Oh, she will survive it, I guess. Write a note to her especially, and that will console her perhaps. Little girls always like to receive letters, you know." " But I have placed all my note-paper in the very bottom of my trunk," expostulated Berrie. " Well, mine isn't packed yet ; come into my roonr and write your note." "Wait until I finish putting m tneee things," aa Haud was drawing her away ; and she began hastily to place the folded dresses at her side in the alitsady nearly filled re:^ptacle. CTndemeath them all was one JUf EVSNnfQ IN BOSTON. 99 of her school books which she had overlooked, and tacking it dowu at the side cf the trunk, she exclaimed in a tone of relief: "There goes the last of school 1 If I am not heartily glad I am through with it, no one ever was. I am tired to death of study, and don't think I shall want to see a book again, for a month at least*" " What I you that are so fond of reading, disgusted with books ? " laughed Maud. " Well, I do like to read, but I learn so abominably hard, that I don't feel as if I could commit to mem- ory another word of anything as long as I live ; and T think I'll be content not to read any either, for a time Well, I believe everything is packed now, excepting the dress I have on, and that I will leave until mom- ing." " Come, then, and write your note ; " and tnming down the light, the two girls left the room, and pio ceeded to Maud's apartment across the corridor. The morning dawned bright and lovely, and the young ladies, having taken a regretful leave of the remainder of their schoolmates, with many a promise of correspondence or future visits, were early en route for Boston. The short and pleasant ride was speedily accomplished, and scarcely later than ten o'clock in the morning, the domes and spires of the lovely Tri- mountain city arose to view, and they were whirled into the Eastern depot, to find, as they had anticipated, Maud's brother Edward, or Ned, as he was always called, awaiting their arrival. " Well, Miss Berrie 1 " he exclaimed, soon after their greetingt were over, " how do you find yourself aftei 10 AS BVEirnrQ nr bobtos. the fatigues and trinmphs of exhibiticn S gradaAted with the highest honors, I Buppoee 1 I am reallj de- lighted to see you, my bonnie 13errie, but there ia no train for Providence in an hour or two yet ; you had better go home with us, and wait until to-morrow be- fore you continue your journey." " JuBt what she intends to do, Master Ned 1 bo put Ds in a carriage, and run down to Charlie Borton'a office ; tell him Berrie is in town, and ask him to come 'ip to dinner this evening." " Why, my dear sister, do you suppose I can leave you, and our little Strawberry here, so soon after your anivaU There will be time enough to see Charlie after I have taken you home. Here's a carriage, jump in, and then give me your checks." He handed them in, and while the young ladiet were arranging themselves comfortably for the drive, Mr. Lester walked off to attend to their baggage. He was a very agreeable young gentleman of about twenty- five, very like his sister in personal appearance, al- though somewhat more lively and jocular in manner, and one of the most audacious of young gentlemen in his intercourse with the ladies, although ever retaining for them a thorough and gentle respect. He and Ber- rie had always been warm friends, and flirted desper- ately whenever they were together. Whether anything jnore serious than a little passing amusement was in- tended by it, I presume neither had ever thought to inquire. It seemed perfectly natural for thenn to co- quet with each other, and both recognized the other'i dobility and purity of heart and character. AH EVENUfQ IN BOBrOJf. 4] "Well, girls 1" Ned exclaimed, when tbey wer« fciirly «7i route for their home in the Higolands, " what do you propose to do with yourselves this afternoon and evening ? How will you exist without your be- loved lessons ? " "Lessons! don't mention them !" returned Berrio, with a laugh, and shrug of her sloping shoulders. " We have forsworn lessons forever ; left them all be- hind us at the seminary ; pray do not remind us that we ever were school-girls ; I for one vsdsh to ignore the fact entirely. So ' Let the dead past bury its dead,' I beg of you 1 " " Oh, my dear Strawberry, please excuse me 1'' with a comically deprecating manner. " I will never men- tion school again." " See that you do not," laughed Berrie. " For if ever any one was disgusted with it, I am 1 " •' May I be allowed to inquire again, young ladieSy what your plans are for the day or evening ? " returned Ned meekly, and twirling his thumbs in pretended bashfulness. " We have no settled ones," Maud replied ; " haf 't thought of two or three." " And those are — " " To have some company at home, visit some place of amusement, or take a sail by m'^orlight down the harbor." " The sail would be very pleasant," answered Ked, " but the notice is too short to get up a party and en- gage a steamer; so we shall be obliged to lay that project aside, unleaa you like to go in row-boat»." AN EYENiyQ IJ^ P08T09. ** No, I thank yon I " lauglied Berrie ; ' for thooglk k Wilt- water bath miglit be refreshing this warm weather, I have no fancy for discovering how the bottom of the bay L)ok8 on close inspection ; at least until I have beec home once more, and seen my dear manmuL So count me out on that, please ! " '" The Bail is impracticable, then. And as to amuse- ments," Ned continued musingly, " there is a passable entertainment at the Howard now — nothing, of course, like the winter plays, but very good for the season, nevertheless. Then there is — let me see 1 this is Wed- nesday, I believe— yes, there is a baud concert on the Common this evening. Gilmore's band officiates, and they have a fine programme advertised for the occasion." " Oh, let it be the concert, by all means 1 " exclaimed both the girls in a breath. " It will be much pleasanter than to be shut up in a warm, close theatre. We will leave home early, and take a stroll around the Public Garden previous to the concert ; it must be lovely now, and you know we haven't seen it since we went skating there last win- ter I" concluded Maud, "And Ned, you had better tell Charlie to come up at half -past five. I will coax ma to have dinner a little earlier than usual to-night, •o we need not be obliged to hurry." "Very well! do you mean to take any-one else along ? " " Why yes," — hesitatingly, " Alice Havens and Tom Harding I guess, if they are not engaged." " Strawberry, I shall have the pleasure of escorting AH 8 Vie If ma ria bobton. 4S yoa, of coiiree ! " \ritli a killing look from hii merry brown eyes. " Oh, 1 suppose I shall have to take you, or be beaa* less I ■' was the saucy reply, as the driver drew up be- fore a neat little cottage, half-covered with climbing roses and honeysuckle, and surrounded by tasteful and well-kept grounds, on one of the pleasantest streets of the beautiful Highland district, then called Roxbury ; while hasty feet ran down the gravelled walk, impatient hands threw open the carriage door, and losing arms clasped the necks of both the girls in equally joyous greet ing. " Maud, dear, you have come at last, haven't you ; T have been waiting so impatiently for the past hour. Ajid Berrie, I am ever so glad to see you 1 " exclaimed Maud's younger sister Emma, a pretty, sprightly young girl of fifteen, while within doors a welcome awaited them from Mrs. Lester, equally warm and earnest, if somewhat less demonstrative. The day passed very pleasantly and swiftly, bring- ing the early dinner hour, and with it Ned Lester »nd Berrie's brother Charlie ; — the latter a tall, well- formed young man of some twenty-eight years, with the same waving dark hair, lustrous eyes, and dusky complexion which characterized the rest of the family, but with the addition of a heavy moustache and im- perial of the same sable hue as his hair He was very like his sister in appearance, for, as berrie was wont to say, " there was no variety in then- family, they all looked alike, especially in the dark " He was some* what indolent and nonchalant in manner, with juat 44 -Ai^ STENING nr aOBTCN. sufficient indifference in his air to the ether lex, \M make hiu irresistibly fascinating, and was fast iivlniiiiig an enviable reputation in the profession which he had choeen. Dinner over, the four sallied out to take their even- ing amusement ; the couple invited to accompany them being engaged. Charlie took immediate possession of Maud, and Ned drew Berrie's hand in his arm, with a mischievous squeeze of her soft white fingers, ere he released them from his clasp. After a pleasant walk around the Public Garden, which was in its height of bloom and loveliness, » pause on the rustic bridge that spans the miniature /ake, a stroll through the hothouse, admiring its trop- ical beauties, and inhaling its rare and odorous sweet- ness, they crossed the street, and entering the noble old Common, were soon ensconced on the seats arranged for the accommodation of interested listeners around the music stand, where the members of Gilmore's unriv- alled band were already stationed to discourse sweet music to those assembled beneath the starry arches of God's azure-vaulted temple. A capital time and place for flirting, as the heavy ihade of the great trees around rendered them almost Invisible io those even in the immediate vicinity, and Master Ned improved the occasion to the full ; whisper- ing in the pauses of the mi sic, sweet speeches in the rosy ear so near his lips, as he bent his head to a level with the beautiful, peerlessly crowned one at his side audaciously pressing or raising to his Ups the fingeni ho contrived more than once to ensnare in hi« ini»> AU ETESma IN BOSTON. Aft rhievouB ^lasp, while Berrie blushed, laughed, Molded, •nd oner succeeded, unobserved by the others in tht indistinct light, to soundly box the impudent fellow'i ears, knocking off his hat in the attempt, which in the darkness he found it exceedingly difficult to recover, while his companions were indulging in a hearty langh it his expense. " Did it pay ? " whispered Berrie mischievously, when Ned again took his place at her side ; which bo ex- asperated him, that he exclaimed, " If it didn't it ahaUt you tantalizing girl I " throwing his arm around hef Iraist, and ere she was aware of his intention pressing his moustached lips to her cheek. " You saucy fellow 1 " she pouted, " I'll Dot sit by yon another moment I " and she attempted to rise, but Ned, with his arm still around her waist, held her down, while at every new attempt his clasp was only tightened, until in desperation she proposed a truce^ and agreed to remain in her seat if he wonld release her waist from his clasp. " Indeed, I am perfectly satisfied, as it is ! " he re< turned coolly. " Well, I am not, if you are I Charlie, won't yon make Ned behave ? " " I don't see how I can, Berrie, if you are powerless," Charlie returned indolently. " I am sure your influ- ence is far more potent than mine." " Does it pay to be saucy, my sweet Berrie ? " whim- pered Ned tantalizingly in her ear: but Berrie, noi caring to hear more about that, ex fanned petolantlr, ** Do be quiet I I want to hear the mnsic," as the er* AN EVEKING TN BOSTOIT. qnieite Btrains of an air from Il-Trovatore B^ted out on the echoing hush of the evening air. The concert closed at last with a grand medley oi national airs, and their subsequent careless stroll down Tremont Street was ended at Copeland's, which wm already nearly filled with lively, chatting groups, di*- cnssing strawberries, creams, and other delicacies of the season. Our party took their places at an unoccupied table^ »nd while waiting to be served by the busy waiters, amused themselves by laughing and sarcastic com- ments on the various groups around them. " That young green-horn over there," said Ned, " thai acts as if he hardly knew what to do with his cream, re- minds me of a country acquaintance of mine, who was in town here last summer. It was his first visit to the city, and of course he was fearfully green, and every- thing new and wonderful to hira. 1 had more fun in showing him the lions, than I ever did before in my life ; and as he did not mind being laughed at I in- dulged my amusenient to the full I tell you, Charlie, I gained nearly a pound a day while he was heio. Fact — all because I laughed so much, you see. Well, one evening we had been to Morris' Bi others — it waa early in the season, before they left town — and I had made my throat sore with laughing, not so much at them, as at my comical companion, and his original, ' deown east ' remarks, so I thought we would go in and tiave some cream, and try and cool off a little. I sup- pose the fellow never saw any before in his life, but he look a liberal spoonful at the first kasie, and as it wai Air EVENiNi, ry boston. 47 very solidly frczen, he foand it rather ocol for hii teeth, some of which were not of the best. Clapping his gieat, brawny hand up to his face, he exclaimed, * Golly 1 that's as cold as ice I can't you send it back, and have it warmed ? ' I thought I should die with laughing ; he did look so comical, squinting and grunt- ing over his aching tooth." While Ned was talking, a waiter had drawn near unperceived, and enjoying the story as much as the rest, forbore to interrupt the narrator ; but, when it was ended, he touched him on the shoulder, and asked him what he would like. " Creams for four I *' he returned. " What will you have, Berrie ? " Pine-apple, vanilla, and chocolate were choflen, and Ned repeated the order for them, wholly forgetting himself. " And you, sir 1 " suggested the waiter. "Me? oh, strawberry, of course," with a wicked glance in the lovely face opposite. The creams were brought, and silence for a time ensued ; until Ned, casually looking up, exclaimed ; " Why, Berrie, what are you blushing at ? your face ia aa pink as the contents of my saucer." Berrie laughed and answered : " Hush, Ned I I wasn't aware that I was blushing, I only happened to glance up and meet a pair of very handsome blue eyee, fixed intently upon me ; rather drea mily than imper- tinently thongh." ^ ioid your heart anfwered to the gknce^Aiiid lent 41 AN SVENINO TN BOSTON. lihe tell-tale blood to your cheeks, eh ? " laughed Gharlk teasingly. " Nonsense 1 " exclaimed Berrie petulantly, butbluih- ing still more rosily, as one will do when attention b eaUed to it. " Wluch one is it, Berrie ! shall I shoot hixn I " hk' quired Ned, tragically. " Oh, don't trouble yourself I " returned Berrie, laugh« ing ; " you might get knocked over yourself." Meanwhile, the gentleman in question, a tail, light- complexioned, fine-looking man, recalled to himself by the suddenly vivid coloring of the face on which his gaze rested, had arisen and left the saloon, and our party soon after followed his example, and took a car for home, well pleased with their evening's entertainment In the meantime, at Berrie's home, much disappoint- ment was felt and expressed at her non-arrival. Hattie went to the depot with her father, and Mrs. Burton, almost as impatient as the child, for her daughter's arrival, stood on the piazza awaiting their coming, when Hattie made her appearance alone. " Pet, where are your father and Berrie ? " she called, SB Hattie came slowly up the walk, supposing they had paused to speak with some acquaintances, and sent Hattie on. "Pa stopped at the post-office, and Berrie — Berrie didn't come!" and the child threw herself sobbing in her mother's arms. ** There, there, dear ! don't cry » :> ! " said the lady ■oothingly. " Your sister will come to-morrow, proW My, and then you will be just as glad to see her! '^ AN EVENING IN BOSTON 49 ** She won't either, I know I She'll stay in th> t h»t» fnl old Boston with Maud Lester for a week. Shi always makes her stay 1 " and the child's sobs grew more violent at the dark prospect she had conjured up. Mrs. Burton drew her in the house, and sitting dowQj took her on her lap, endeavoring by soothing words and caresses to quiet the grieving child, until at last the passionate sobs ceased. <' Why, what's the matter with Hattie ? Didn't Ber rie come?" inquired Belle, as she entered the room just as Mr. Burton appeared at the gate. " It seems not," returned her mother, " and Hattie ii inconsolable." " Well, it is too bad ! I am disappointed too. But never mind, dear, perhaps she will have written. Pa, have you a letter from Berrie ? " as Mr. Burton at that instant entered the room. "Here's a note for Hattie, and the handwriting looks wonderfully like Berrie's. I am sorry she did not come." « Just look, Hattie 1 Here is a letter fi'om Berrie all for yourself. Don't that make up for her not coming ? Shall I read it to you?" inquired her sister, aa djM took the note from her father's hand. " Yes I " was the faint reply, and Miss Burton openet^ the envelope and read as follows : <« W. Seminary, Tueaday Bt& " Mt deas littlb 8I8TKB 1 — " Now do uot cry yom pretty eyes out, my pet, because Berrie does not com« to-morrow night as you expect It is. too bad to disap- • so AN EVBNINO IN BOSTON. point yon bo, I know, dear ; but that naughty Mftud Lester declares she will not let me go until Thnredaj, And you know, Hattie dear, I shall not see her again for ever so long, while you will have me all the time when I get home. Beside, I want to see Charlie again, you know ; so forgive your sister this once, pet, and flhe will bring you something pretty and nice from Bofrton. " Ask mamma to let you come to the depot to meet me, and I will surely be there Thursday eve. — * Ck)d willing,' as pa bids me say. " Love to ma, pa, and Belle, and many kiasea to jonr own dear self, from " Your loving iiater, "Berrio." The letter seemed to have the desired effect, and Hattie was soon chatting as gaily as ever. Mr. Wright called during the evening, as he had expressed his inten- tion of doing, and also professed to be disappointed at not seeing the young lady of whom he had heard wo much, the precedicg evening, and whom he was really quite carious to see and know. CHAPTER IV. KBTUBNINO HOME — THE BTSAITOSB. ** He is complete in f eatare and in mind, ?^th all good graoe to grace a gentleman.** ^ SHAKS8PBAB& •* Oonfosion thrilled me through, and secret joy Fast throbbing, stole its treasures from my heart, And mantling upward, turned my face to crimson.** BXTBXS. 'lIE following afternoon, not far from three o'clock, a carriage rolled swiftly down Boylston Street, and drew up at the ladies' room of the Providence Depot. But before the driver could assist the occupants to alight, two gentlemen stepped up, and throwing open the door, handed the ladies out. " Come in, and I will get your ticket 1 " said Charlie " There is not much time to spare. Ned, you had bet- ter take her round to the cars." Ned obeyed orders, and they were standing on the platform when Charlie came up. •* Here are your ticket and checks, Berrie. Give mj loTe to aU at home." $% RBTVRNmQ HOMB-mS BTRAIfasn. " Good-by, Charlie 1 take care of yourself, writ* often, and come home as soon as you can." And Berrie threw her arm round his neck for a moment as he itooped to kifis her. " Good-by, Maudie dear ; don't forget me, and mind, I shall expect to see you in Bristol before the Summer is over, and I will send for Helen Harrington also." And two or three kisses fell warm on her friend's lipa. " Farewell, Ned ; my heart is almost broken at part- ing I" she laughed, and giving hija her hand, was fuming away, when he exclaimed : " See here, Berrie I I am not going to have any such partiality as that I " and suddenly drawing her close, Ve left a kiss on the girl's sweet lips. Berrie pouted, the rest laughed, and Ned smacked his lips with evident satisfaction, exclaiming, " That's good 1 I tell you, Berrie, stolen fruit is sweet, particu- larly strawberries ! " " Maud, what is the matter with Ned ? he gets more impudent every day I I hope now you are at home, you will teach him better manners, and a little more pro- priety," pouted Berrie. " I shall take him in hand, I assure you, Berrie," Maud answered laughingly. " And I expect when you lee him again, he will be a pattern of propriety." " Not if there are any tempting strawberries around, I am afraid," Ned returned, and Berrie hastened into the car to escape his teasing. A few moments later, when she sat chatting with the trio who still stood on the platform, she suddenly ex- claimed : ^ Maad,look around I There ib my blu»«jed MKTUBNINO HOMR THE BTBANOEB. 51 idmiror of last evening — the gentleman you wanted to shoot, Ned; this might be a good opportunity. I wonder if he is going on the train ! he looks u though he might be. Isn't he splendid, Maud I " with a teasing glance at Ned, who was looking daggera at him. At this moment the forward car started, the gentle- man leaped on the platform of another, and Berrie waved her last adieus to her friends, as the train moved slowly out of the depot, and she found herself fairly en-route for home. Notwithstanding her expressed aversion for books a day or two previous, she soon drew one from her bag, and for a tinre was wholly absorbed in its contents , but wearying of it at length, she let it drop in her lap, and looked up, only to encounter again the gaze of the blue-eyed stranger, wliose seat was directly opposite her own. Berrie colored and turned to the window, while the gentleman, ashamed of his apparent rudeness, took refuge in his paper, and Berrie was at liberty to look where she pleased. Wondering who he could be, and admiring him more than she would have confessed, the romantic school-girl beguiled the time with weaving many a romance, in which a gentleman with fair hair and handsome blue eyes figured conspicuously, although the modest girl herself took no part in them, save as a casual, but in* terested observer. Thus the time quickly passed until they reached Providence Junction, where she was obliged to change; and where she expected to lose her opposite neighbor, $i nETVRNINO nOME-TUK STliAITaEa. never doubting but Providence \v:i8 his destinaticc. W tome still more distant city. She had not noticed his leaving the car, and WM therefore much surprised, wlien, as she was stepping to the platform, burdened with her shawl, bag, and book, a hand was extended to assist her, a musical, gentle manly voice exclaimed, " Allow me 1 " and she looked up to meet again the glance of the fine blue eyes of her fellow-traveller. Remarking that it was " very unpleasant there for a lady," and relieving her of her shawl and bag, he led the way to the Bristol train, ensconced her in a com- fortable seat, and bowing, walked off to the farthef end of the car, before, in her confusion, she had hardly audibly expressed her thanks for his kindness. She saw no more of him during the remainder of the jour- ney, and frequently caught herself wondering if he had -eturned to the train he had previously left. About eight o'clock of the same evening, Miss oer- rie sat in the pleasant dining-room of her own dear home, with Ilattie, whose arm was around her neck, leaning against her chair ; while Belle, still at table, sat playing with her napkin and ring, asking and an- swering innumerable questions, and chatting gaily of the many trifling events which had occurred dming Berrie's absence. " Are there many strangers in town tbifl eummer ? carelessly inquired Berrie, after a few aomexitf' silence. •* Yes, quite a number." ** You know some of them, of ooorse I ** » RETURNING HOMR-THE BTRANQSR 5S "Yes, Beveral ; some very pleasant people. There are two or three young gentlemen staying at one of the hotels, who form very pleasant accessions to our so ciety." " Oh, I must tell you about a gentleman who came on the same train that I did, at least as far as Provi- dence ; possibly you may know him I I saw him first last evening at Copeland's, and he sat right oppoeite me in the cars, and when we exchanged at the Junc- tion he assisted me and procured a seat for me ; but after that he disappeared, and I do not know whether he went back to the Providence train, or came on to Bristol ; at least I saw no more of him. He was gay, Belle, I can tell you ; just my style ; " and Berrie laughed merrily. " Well, but how did he look ? " inquired her sister. "'Out of his eyes,' Ned Lester would say. Oh. Belle, he's a worse tease than ever ; and the moat im- pudent fellow you ever saw I He actually kissed me two or three times while I was there, and it wasn't the slightest use to get angry, for he was just as likely to repeat it until I was pleased again. He's a fearful tease ! " " Well, about your travelling companion I " "Oh, yes I He was tall, very light-complexioned, with a heavy mustache, and lovely blue eyes, with such a dreamy look in them ; and he speaks very prettily indeed. He is quite aristocratic-looking, and a little haughty as well." " I don't believe I know him," said Pelle musingly, " unleM it is Kngene Adair. He is somewhat lik« If RSTURNINQ HOME—TEE BTSAirOME. what you have described ; indeed, very like, octme tt think of it, and I believe he was to be in Boston yetteri day, and return to-day. I would not be sorprlBed if it were he," " Eugene Adair I " repeated Berrie. " What ■ pretty name 1 and it would just suit him too." At this moment the door-bell rang, and Miss BortOB said, " There's the bell 1 Hattie dear, run to the door, won't you ? " Hattie obeyed and returned in a moment, saying, " It was Mr. Wright and Mr. Adair, Belle ; they are in the parlor, and the gas isn't lighted." " Well, never mind, 1 can light it myself. Come, Berrie, come in and see if our friends are identical." " Oh, don't ask me. Belle I my hair is all in a musB, and my dress all dust, to say nothing of my collar and sleeves. I can't go in to-night." " Oh, you can run upstairs and dress in five minutes, or come in as you are ; you look well enough ; they will know you have just returned home." " Well, perhaps I will come in by and by, and show them what a dowdy sister you have got. Where i« ma, I wonder 1 " " Upstairs, I presume ; come soon, Berrie ; " and Miss Burton ran out of the room, while her sisteFS pro- ceeded upstairs to look for their mother. They found her in her own sitting-room, and after chatting awhile on various topics of mutual interest, Berrie said : " Well, I promised Belie I would go down after a little. They say everything depends on first impressions, but I fancy I shall not make a very ft^ BMTUSirnro home-thb stranqsb. h% Torable one to-night," with a little laugh, and eaieleM gmoothing of the tumhled curia as she passed the mirror. " Oh, you are well enough, my child I " said the prou'* mother, looking at her with eyes that could see no Cault in this her favorite daughter. Hattie had kept close at her sister's side all the eyen- ing and now begged to accompany her downstairs, and though her mother suggested it was bed-time, she was allowed to go, and entered the parlor clinging to Berrie's hand. " My sister Berrie, Mr. Wright I " introduced Misa Burton, and the gentleman, who was near the door at Berrie's entrance, bowed low over her hand, saying in his most winning tones : " I am most happy to meet you. Miss Burton, and already feel somewhat ac quainted with you, from hearing you so frequently mentioned by your sisters." " Yes ? " she replied smiling, but blushing a little also, " then you have the advantage of me ; " and she passed on down the room with Belle. " Mr. Adair, allow me to present my sister ; Berrie, Mr. Adair 1 " and as he clasped the little soft hand of the girl, and in low, cultivated tones, expressed hia pleasure in the meeting, she looked up to meet the familiar glance of the dreamy blue eyes of her late travelling companion, aad the smi:e which on his lipa •eemed so fascinatingly sweet. " I think / also may claim acquaintance with Misa Berrie, may I not) Not alone on tJie grounds that Mr. Wright mentions, but on those of pretrioui com- (8 BETUBNl^iO HOME— TEE STRAJ/BER panionship as well; even though it may haT» been Bomewhat silent," said Mr. Adair, gently. Bcrrie smiled, and hardly knowing what to reply, Bat down without answer, while the gentleman, taming to her little sister, exclaimed, " Good evening, Mifla Elattie, it is an age since I saw you I " bending aa deferentially over the tiny, dimp] jd hand of the child as he had done over that of he/ young lady sister. " Why, you saw me at the door, a little while ago," said Hattie, laughing. " Oh, so I did I but scarcely long enough to say how- do-you-do ; so please pardon my f orgetfulness." And resuming his seat on the sofa, f rojn which he had just arisen, he drew Hattie down l>oside him, and for a time seemed to be wholly occupied by the lively prattle of the little girl, while Jierrie entered into con- versation with her sister and Mr. "Wright ; the latter of whom was in his most suave and flattering mood, while he glanced from one to the ofiier of the three sisters, Boliloquizing : " So this is the beauty of the family, eh? Well, I must say their enthusiasm it thrown away, for I can- not see but either of the others will compare favorably with this newly-fledged young lady, just from boarding- BchooL To be sure, her haii* might be very handsome, if the curls wen not quite so tumbled, the mouth ii certainly very sweet and kissable, and her smile reveala white and beautiful teeth. But her eyes are rather too large to suit my fancy, and her dress, to say the least, is decidedly unbecoming. Atter ail, that may be the trouble. I will w^t antil I see her ii^ (>Feiung- RBTURNINO HOME- THE BTRxtfOEB. {f ireB8, and recovered from the fatigne of traTelling, before I judge of her beauty. She is certainly verj easy and graceful in manner, for so young a girl, and 1 presume I may like her much on longer acquaintance." And Mr. Adair, having seen her in one of her hap- piest moods the night before, was thinking that Misg Berrie was not so lovely in travelling costume as she had appeared to him in her pretty toilet of the pre- ceding evening. A tasteful and becoming dress enhances the charmf of even the most beautiful ; and probably Berrie had never looked so plain in her life as she did this even- ing, in her high-cut travelling dress of plain grey poplin, Tmrelieved by the slightest vestige of color; the narrow collar and sleeves of unomamented linen, being fastened alone by small gold studs and pin. While her sisters, both dressed in fleecy robes of white, with vivid scarlet ribbons, which were exceedingly be- coming to each, were undoubtedly looking their best ; and Hattie's handsome, drooping curls, although not to be compai'ed to the wondrously beautiful hair of her sister, being this evening carefully and prettily ar- ranged, presented a pleasing contrast to Miss Berrie'i tumbled ringlets. But Mr. Adair, at least, could but admire the free- dom from vanity the young girl had shown by making her appearance in the presence of two gemlemen, whom she met that evenmg for the first time, without spending a previous hour or two before her mirror, wr&nging her toilet, and attempting to render herself lltractiye to the eyes of her sister's gentlemen guests. IK) RBiaitNJNO HOMB-THB BTBANGBS, ** Well, Mi88 Berrie, are you glad to be throngh with •chool i " inquired Mr, Adair, iu a pause of his tfiim*' ted conversation with her little sister, * I assure you, yes," she laughed, ** Althonfh Mf Bohov l-days have been very pleasant, yet I am ezoeed- ingly tired of study ; " with a little arch toas of tht pretty head. " But not of books in total, I conclude, to jndge from your apparent absorption in the one yon were reading on your homeward journey. May I ask whftt interested you bo deeply ? " " A volume of Owen Meredith's poems, presented to me while in Boston," she returned. " ' Lucile ? ' " he interrogated, briefly. " No, sir, the ' Wanderer ' ; I had perused it p»- viously, and was merely looking over favorite pass** ges," " You have read ' Lucile ' ? " " Not as yet, but I intend to soon, and expect it tt surpass even the * Wanderer,' " she returned, warmly, "You like him?" ^^ Exceedingly ! More than any other living podk And you ? " "Yes, I admire him. He is very gifted, and ttt^ presBes hie sentiments gracefully and musically," il^ turned the somewhat loss enthusiastic gentleman. "Yes," sa^d Berrie hesitatingly j " but I do not thii^ in that lies his greatest charm or power." "No? May I ask the expression of yoor viewa tw men came up the steps. " Good evening, ladies 1 May we be permitted to join your promenade ? " said Mr. Wright gaily, whilt Mr. Adair silently bowed his greetings. " I think we will go in, instead," replied Miss Bcu^ ton. " I believe we are tired of walking, are we not^ Berrie I And the air is becoming rather chill." And Belle leading the way, they entered the pleasant par- lor, which evidenced Berrie's presence in the profusion and careful arrangement of flowers, which graced tables, mantel, and piano, showing in their skilful grouping, not only the taste, but the love of the gath- erer for the frail and fragrant beauties. " By George 1 " thought Mr. Wright, as Berrie sat down in the full blaze of the chandelier. *' Miss Ber- rie has improved wonderfully since she sat in the same place twenty-four hours ago. She bears off the palm of beauty to-night, truly, although Miss Burton is looking unusually well. What magnificent hair! What plump, round shoulders 1 What a pretty hand and arm, and how exceedingly becoming her dress! Egad 1 she is lovely, that's a fact 1 Who would think dress could make such a difference ? " and Lis manner assumed a shade more of respect fcr, and flatteiing deference to, the girl whom the arts of the toilet bad BO greatly improved As to Eagene Adair, his manner, if in any way altered, seemed a little more reserved and distant, • trifle less winning and fascinating than it had been ob TEE TWILIGHT WALK. M the prcvioue evening. Ho did not choose aift friendi for their beauty or elegance of person, and thoagh hia artist eye ever dwelt with pleasure on that master- piece of a Divine Sculptor, a perfectly beautiful woman, mere surface loveliness had no power to win from hira either respect or regard for its possessor. He had learned by bitter experience that a lovely face may hide depths of deceit, vanity, and untruth below, may be but a beautiful mask to conceal corruption and heartless cruelty beneath. "We received tickets to-day for the excursion of "which Jennie Wardell spoke a few evenings since," remarked Miss Burton in a pause of the conversation. " You were also favored, I presume ? " " Yes. That, in fact, was our object in coming up to-night — to ask that we may have the pleasure of car- rying your shawls, holding your parasols, and taking care of you generally. Wasn't it, Adair ? " said Mr. Wright, laughingly. "I believe your statement is correct," Mr. Adair quietly returned. Then turning to Berrie with hig winning smile : " I think Mr. Wright has appropritied your sister for the excursion, in anticipation at least Shall I have the pleasure of attending you ? " "Thank you, Mr. Adair; I shall be pleased to a..- cept your escort if I conclude to go, which I have somt ioubt about doing." " Indeed % I should think you would find it pleaa- ani, you have been absent so long." " That is partly the reason why I think of declining the invitation " said Berrie, laughing a little. " Many YO THE TWILIOHT WALK. of «Qy old acquaintances seem almost /ike dtrangim, uid I have no pleasure m the society of persoA to whoDDi I feel indifferent." At this rather pointed remark Mr. Adair turned coldly away, and Miss Burton interposed with, " What ijB that Berrie is saying ? " " That she thinks she will not join the excursion, as she does not like strangers," returned Adair quickly. Berrie saw at once that he had taken her random rem&rk personally, and blushingly attempted to explain or apologize, but, of course, only made the matter worse. " I am afraid, Mr. Adair, you thought me personal in what I said. I assure you — " "No apology is necessary," he coldly interposed. " You are not to be blamed for disliking those whom you do not know." " I was merely attempting to explain, not apologize," said Berrie, a little haughtily, vexed that he should lo misconstrue what she considered an innocent re- mark, and privately determining that she would not accept of his escort after that, if she decided to go at all. It was evident a quarrel, or misunderstanding, to say the least, was imminent, even in this early stage oi their acquaintance ; but Miss Burton, who did not ap- pear to notice any unpleasantness, again came to th« resci'e. " Not going ? Of course you are I She has been attempting to talk like that all day, Mr. Adair, bat I would not allow it. Strangers, indeed I the friendp THE TWILIOIIT TALK. 71 ■he has known all her life ! Berrie alvf Ays '^aa afraid of strangers," she coiicluded, laughing. " I am not afraid of them," Berrie returned, still a little vexed ; " but I confess I can see little pleasnre in •pending a whole day with a set of people one doei not care for. If I go it is only on your account, Belle and you must not urge me to be over-agreeable to any but our immediate friends." " Excepting your escorts, of course. Or may we hope that you class them also with your immediate friends ? " said Mr. Wri":ht, suavelv. " Making the exception you have named, of course," returned Berrie politely, but utterly ignoring the lat- ter clause of his remark. Mr. Wright smiled and slightly shrugged his shoul ders, but made no reply ; and Mr. Adair was just then exceedingly occupied with a book of photographs he had taken from the table. " 1 think we shall go," remarked Belle. " Berrie will change her mind before then." " My mind is not settled as yet," returned Berrie, " so there will be no necessity for a change. 1 merely intimated that it was doubtful about my going, rather than decidedly declared that I should not." " By the way, it seems it is postponed until Thurs- day. I believe Mr. Malvern said it was to come off on Tuesday, did he not?" inquired Miss Burton. " Yes. But they were so late in sending out theii invitations, that they decided to defer it a few days— supposing you ladies might desire to make some prep arations, I presume," repUed Mr. Wright. If Fffif TWTLTOHT WALE. Eugene Adair had by this time concluded that hi was somewhat hasty and unreasonable in appropriating Miss Berrie's careless remark to himself, and thought It time to make some amends. Therefore, looking up with a pleasant smile, he inquired, " Is this your brother, may I ask. Miss Berrie ? " She glanced at the designated page of the open album he held, and answered briefly in the aflSrm- ative. " I saw him with you at Copcland's on the evening preceding your return home, did I not ? " " Undoubtedly. "We were both there," she returned somewhat more pleasantly, her vexation having in a measure passed away, and recalling with a heightened color the peculiar glance her eyes had at that time carelessly met. Mr. Adair noted the rising flush, and with a little pang thought of the merry fellow who had seemed so devoted to the girl on the evening referred to, but hii ■^oice did not betray it as he returned : " Do you know I wan certain it was you when 1 first saw you, from your resemblance to your sisters, whom I already knew, although I was aware that you were expected home on ^hat evening. Your brother is very like you." " Yes 1 " she returned, " we all resemble each other, I believe." " Exceedingly 1 " said Mr. Wright. " The resem- blance is very striking ; between ycurself and Hattie it i* the most marked, however." " Oh, where is my little friend, to-night?" inquired |£r. Adair. "In bed, I auppose'/" he added. "I TEB rWILIGHT WALE. f% Ka^ not had a down-right quarrel with her in ioma time ; not since we quarrelled about yon, Migg BerriOi I believe." Berrie's curiosity was excited to know what he conld have said of her before seeing her, but she would not gratify him by manifesting it, and Belle remarked, langhingly : " If you are in a particularly belligerent mood, this evening, Mr. Adair, perhaps Berrie might be induced to quarrel with you." " I assure you, no I " returned Berrie, quickly. And Mr. Adair said gently, " We have no cause for quarrelling, I am sure 1 Am I not right ? " " Certainly I No cause nor inclination, 1 presume." Berrie was becoming haughty again, and Mr. Adair begged for music. Mr. Wright was positive her music must be unpacked by that time, and trusted she waa recovered from the fatigue of last evening. Belle BUggested she should sing the piece she sang last at ex- hibition, and she could do no less, she felt, than to comply. Softly, sweetly, yet clearly, rang out the exquisite air, and warm and sincere were tie commendations she received. Then one piece after another was called for, until the evening was far spent ; and when at last they arose to go, and Mr. Adair took Berrie's hand in farewell, he said, with the peculiar grace of manner which rendered him so exceedingly vJeasing : " I have been highly e.itertained this evening. Miss Berrie, and if you do me the honor to accept my escort f oi Thurs- day, I aesure you 1 shall do my best to make it pleasant for jon, notwithstanding I am a stranger.^ 4 74 THE TWILIGHT WALK. Beirie's lingering vexation vanished beneath the charm of his words and manner, and notwithstanding a short time previous she had resolved not to allow him to attend her upon any terms, now with wonuin'i inconsistency she answered sweetly : " I do not doubt It, assuredly, Mr. Adair ; and if I decide to go, I shall hi happy to permit you to ' carry my shawl,' as Mr, Wright expresses it. We shall doubtless see you again »re that ? " she concluded. " Undoubtedly I " he returned. " I wish you a very good night," and Berrie, bowing in reply, turned to re ceive Ae adieus Mr. Wright was desirous of making. " Really, Berrie 1 I was seriously afraid you and our noble Eugene were about to quarrel, so soon I " said Belle, playfully, when they were at last gone. " Well, I don't care I " pouted Berrie. " He was too provoking and unreasonable ! " " My dear child, did you ever see a man that waa not?" " Never 1 " said Berrie, energetically. " But, Belle," •he added after a moment, " what did he and Uattie quarrel about me for ? " " Oh, he is always teasing Hattie, and one night she aaked him if he knew her sister Berrie ; and he said he had not the honor, and wanted to know what sort of a berry you were, strawberry, blackberry, or holly- berry ; and Hattie was indignant, of course, as she always is when any one says anythmg about you. 7 told him," continued Belle irtischievouply, "that yon were rather black, and that hoUyberry wouldn't be a bad name for you either; and T might have adde4i TOE TWILIOMT WAUL 7| particiilarly if he took into consideration the prickly leaves. I guess he found you rather thorny to-night, didn't he, Berrie ? " And MJss Burton sat down, laughing, as Borrie^ pinching her arm, exclaimed : " You saucy girl I I am no blacker than you are, you know I Let him call m« blackberry if he dares I Ned Lester calls me straw- berry, and teases me to death besides." Several days passed on, and Wednesday evening ar- rived. Berrie was just putting on her hat, preparatory to a short walk, and absently humming a favorite air^ when Hattie entered her room, saying, " Berrie, Mr. Adair is down stairs, and wants to see yon," and was rushing out of the room again when Berrie caught her, and exclaimed hurriedly : " Stay, Hattie I Did he ask for me particularly, and is he alone % " " Yes, yes 1 " returned Hattie, hastily ; " he is at the door ; he would not come in. Let me go, Berrie, Mamie Waldron is waiting for me." " "Well, run on, and tell Mr. Adair I w'U be down in a moment." Hattie ran out, and Berrie turned to the mirror again, with a heightened color on her dusky cheek, and a lit- tle smile of pleasure wreathing the rosy, kissable mouth. Giving the shining ringlets another careful touch, setting her coquettish hat a little more jauntily above the droopuig curls, and with fingers that slightly trembled, drawing a sprig of heliotrope and a lovely carnation pink from a vase on hei dressing bureau, she taa'/cned them in the bosom of her soft white dress, took her gloves in her hand, and with one more glance at ff THB TWILIGHT WALE. the mirror, turned to the door. With htr hand oa thi knob, she paused for a moiueut, bent her head as if in •pecalative thought, then passed slowly from the room, tnd down the stairs. Her light step on the carpet made no sound, hef ■imple dress of soft, white muslin gave no rustle, aa she crossed the hall and paused in the open doorway. Mr. Adair was slowly pacing to and fro on the piazz{^ Ewaiting her coming, and at the moment was turned away from her, while with head bent low, and hand Ebsently stroking his mustache, he seemed in a reverie •carcely pleasant, to judge from the close-set lips and the look of pain his handsome features wore. But when, turning at last in his promenade, his eyes en- countered the pretty figure in the open door, standing in demure silence, drawing on leisurely her delicate, neatly fitting glove, the shade quickly vanished from his haughty face, and the rigid lips relaxed into hig own fascinating smile, as he met the merry glance of the large, dark eyes bent directly upon him. *' Good evening, Mr. Adair 1 ' A penny for your thoflghts I'" she laughed, as she placed the yet ungloved LiJid in the one eagerly extended in greeting. " You bid too low 1 " he returned softly, still absently iretaining the hand he had taken. " The object of them deserves a higher price." " Indeed ? You excite my curiopHy i Is it permit- ted to advance on the bid? " she asked, still smiling, tnd withdrawing the hand the gentleman seemed to have no idea of relinquishing voluntarily. ^ Pardon me 1 " be murmured, deprecat'mglyi at hm THB TWILIGHT WALK. •ct arrested bis attention. " I fear no price jou could offer would reach the object's deserts." " Really ! She must occupy an exalted place in your mind," she returned, a little piqued, and with girlLah audacity assuming the object of so profound a reverj to be that instigator of all witchery and mischief, a woman. He smiled amusedly, and said softly, with a meaning glance in the eyes uplifted to his face : " She doea, in- deed, I assure you." Berrie dropped her eyes without replying, slightly confused by his look and manner, and he continued, " Some day. Miss Berrie, I may tell you of her, if you will permit," adding, before she could have replied had «he wished, " were you going out ? " " Only to the post-office," she returned, " but I am \n no haste ; will you come in ? " "Thank you, no 1 if you will allow me to accompany yon in your walk a short distance." " Certainly 1 " she replied briefly, and they passed down the steps. ** 1 came up more particularly, this evening, to know if I might do myself the honor to call for yon to-mor- row morning ? " he resumed at once. " Thanks 1 I believe you may. I have about decid- ed to go— indeed, Belle will not allow me to make any other decision ; and my shawl and parasol will be ready for yon at the appointed time, if I can Bucc«»d in getting up sufficiently eaily." He bowed and remarked : '' I hope we may have a pleasant day. Did yon notice die sunset this evenin|^ f " tt rHB TWILIOHT WALK. ** I did, indeed ! Was it not ingnificeut 1 " " Exceedingly ! But if you adraire such thicgs, yo« ihoald Bee an ocean sunset ; and sunrise also for thai matter." " Which I desire to do, more than I can tell you I * ■he returned waimly. " And hope to, some time ? " " And hope to, some time, yes I Hope to, whether there is any prospect of my doing so or not," she Unghed. " I flee no reason why yon should not." " Oh, mamma would never consent. She has a great horror of the sea, and would not have a happy moment while I was absent, were I to cross the ocean. I shall never visit any land but my own while she lives, and I hope that may be as long as I do," she concluded, ear- nestly. " Notwithstanding your desire to witness a sunset at sea?" " Notwithstanding that, yes I I could not live, it ■eems to me, without my mother," " So I would have said at your age," he returned sadly. " But ' the years are sad and many ' since she went to sleep, and I am living yet. It is not so easy to die as we sometimes think in youth, nor will death come at our bidding, else I s'iiould not be here, Misi Berrie." She looked up, touched at his sad quotation from her favorite " Wanderer," and the exceeding bitterness of the tone in which he cl jsed the sentence, and said softly, " It life so dreary to yo7 as that, Mr. Adair I It doei THB TWILiam WALK. 7f not seem to me one could ever wish to lea 76 thia beaa- tiful world." "There is another beyond, far more bcantiful, mj shild ; a glorious temple, to wliich this world is but « •tepping-stone ; and life to me ^« indeed very dreary at times ; more so than jou, in your innocence and care-free happiness, can imagine." And he looked down at her with eyes darkened with a nameless pain, with every feature eloquent of a strong and abiding grief. Every line of the girl's fair face expressed the sym- pathy her lips dared not utter, and he added with emotion : " God grant, dear child, you may never expe- rience the unutterable misery of having your only con- Bcious desire one for * oblivion of time, escape from yourself ; * of feeling that the rest of the grave would be sweeter than slumber to a weary child, and knowing that you must still live on, and * Endure whatever shall come ; without a sigh Endure ; and drink, even to the very dregs. The bitterest cup that Time could measure out* " There was a pause of some seconds, then Berrie said •qftly ; " I can think of nothing that would be more bitter than a long separation from one who is dear to OB ; of knowing that miles of ocean wastes divide U8 from each other, and that years must yet elapse before we could meet. Of course I know nothing about this or any other grief, as yet, by experience, but it seems to me that must be very hard—almost, if not quite, ai bitter as death." ** Not quite, oh no t for * vrhile there if lite there ia §0 nW TWILTGHt WAUL hope/ «nd so long as we know that the world cont*mt onr loved ones, we still have hope that some happj chance, or Providence'*'^ — he corrected reverently, "may give them bark tons; lut when Death takei them, we know we must never hope for reimion until wo meet where there are no partings or sorrows, no bit temess of desolation, no pangs of hope deferred." " Life is so short, it seems to me a sad thing to oe separated for years from one we love," coming back to her previous stand-point, and able to compute a grief like that, better than one of which, as she had siid, she as yet knew nothing by sad experience — death's griev- ous sorrow, and the deep desolation of heart such be reavement leaves behind. Or did some premonitions of her coming fate influ- ence her thoughts and dictate her words? Some fore-shadowing of the days to come, when her heart should sink beneath the despair of long and weary separation from those best loved, and faint from the dreary sickness of hope deferred. Do not such chill presentiments frequently strike our hearts, even in om gayest and most care-free moments ? Will not a caa ual word from one who has no seeming influence ovei our present or future life, awake some faint forebod ings of what the coming years may bring, some dreary fears that life may not be always aa b iglit and joyou «s then) " The whole of life is sad, it seems to me," he re^ turned, in answer to her last remark. " I look some- times at those who seem to tind no thorns beneath the rotes of gayety and tiappmess they so eagerly gather, THE CWILIOET WAUL 81 and wonder if the same Hand created us &U? II I nevei did or can look ut life through such rosy lenses ? if I ever really have known what joy and happiness meaUf save in the abstract ? But I am saddening you by thii iretrospect of my own saddened life, and the nettles o< Borrow wih come full soon to you, pretty child, if only bloesoms of joy are pressed into your hands while those you luve have the power to give them to you. Forgive me for allowing the conversation to take such a turn, and farewell until the morning." And bending low over her hand, he passed on up the street, while she entered the office for the evening mail. Many times during the remainder of the evening did she review the conversation of a few hours previougj wondering with a sympathetic curiosity what form of grievous, desolating sorrow could have swept over the life of one so seemingly worthy of fortune's best and rarest gifts ; so evidently calerlated by the graces which nature and culture had bestowed upon him, to win for himself any meed of love or honor or fame that the most restless or ambitious heart could deaire. Deciding at last, as '' Sleep approaching soft Wrapped all her weary faonltlM In sweet repose,** that at least no woman's treachery or coldness conid have dealt the blow which crushed to the dust all the hopes of earthly happiness of one of whose ador&tion any woman might be proud, and that only death's hor- rible blank could thns have saddened the life, a glimpsa at THB TWILIGHT WALM. ©£ whoee gloomy receBscs had that night been vondi lafed to her, for a few speeding inoments of confidence. " Pity Li akin to love ; " and with the profound pit) which filled her heart for the lonely man, crept in a longing desire for the power to Boothe the grief which to her was aameless, to erase from the stricken heart the lines that stem, unrelenting sorrow had traced thereon, and teach him to leave in the vault of forget- fulness the darkness of the past, and look forward with hope and trust to a future which might gleam with marvellous peace and happiness for him whose feet now dragged so wearily through the " slough of despond," and the mire of intense, heart-breaking despair. Thoughts which were undefined and dim were they, as they floated through her mind, desires unformed and pictures as " vague as a virgin's regret," and which would have startled the modest girl to have seen thus distinctly linmed, — would have sent the conscious blood in crimson waves to her girlish cheek, and drooped with tender shame the large, dark, lustrous eyes. But conscious only of the pity that filled her soul, onthinking of the passion which is so near of kin, and half murmuring to herself " Comfort him, comfort him, all things good," she drifted slowly off to the mazy land of dreams, to which sweet slumber is bnt the thin- ing, gulden portaL CHAPTER VL THE EX0UB8I0V. ** Kofe many friends mj life has made, Few hare I loved, and few are thej Who in my hand their hearts have laid." J. O. Bohuam, IROPITIOUS as had seemed the royal sunset oi the preceding evening, the morning dawned grey and cloudy, ushered in with one of those pro- voking fogs which prevent one from determining, with any d^ree of certainty, whether it is a foreshadowing of rain, or of a burning, sunlit day. But youth is hopeful, and ever inclined to look on the brightest side of a picture ; therefore the hour ap- pointed for the meeting found a group of both sexed, gathered on one of the wharves in the lower part of th« town, awaiting the readiness of the sloop that was t© ftccommodati them, and minister to jheir day of pleasure. " Come, Berrie I " her sister had said, as she entered her room and drew up the shade somewhat early that morniDg. " It Ib nearly half -past fleven, and quite tiuM U THE EX0UB8I0N. you were out of bed, if you intend going ai the ai •ion to-day." « Oh dear I must I get up ? I don't believe I will go," fawned Berrie, half settling herself for another nap. " Nonsense I yes, you will go 1 Come, get up right away, will you \ " " Oh, yes, if I must. Is it pleasant ? ** " Not very, but I dare say it will clear by and by. Come I breakfast will be ready by eight o'clock, and you have no time to spare. We don't want to keep the gentlemen waiting." " What gentlemen ? " asked Berrie, still half asleep ; adding, as Belle made an impatient gesture, and f^s recalled the events of the preceding evening — ^^ 0\ yes, I know I Well, if I must, I rnvst^ I suppose ; but it is a nuisance, any way 1 " and she stepped lazily out of bed, and prepared very deliberately to make her morning toilet. Belle laughed and exclaimed : "Well, Berrie, if you go at work in that indolent manner to dress, I fancy we sliall have to wait breakfast for you one whiloi Come, do wake up, sleepy-head, and make haste," and she dipped her hand in a bowl of water that stood on the marble sink, and threw it mischievously iii her ai»- ter'a face. Berrie gasped, and exclaimed half -laughing : " Bella Burton, if you don't leave the room, I won't dress at aU—therel" « Oh, yes, I'll go," laughed Belle ; "but do be quick, Berrie 1 " and she ran hastily downstairs to assist in |>reparing the lunch which it was decided they ■hoald TES BXCimBION $| take, lest they ahonld not reach Newport at early m they had anticipated. Berrie carae .risurely into the breakfast-room, ia her pretty cambric dress, when the rest of the family had nearly finished the morning meal, and as leisurely proceeded to partake of the repast before her. There fore as a matter of course, the gentlemen made thei appearance somewhat before she was prepared to re cei^e them. They were standing in the hall with Belle, when she came out of the breakfast-room a few minutes after their arrival. " Good-morning, Miss Berrie," said Mr. Adair, tak- ing her hand in greeting ; " I trust you rested well the last night?" " Better last night, thank you, than this morning,'* wvis the half -laughing response. " I believe I am not fairly awake as yet." " You do look rather sleepy, that's a fact 1 " remarked Mr. "Wright. " But I presume we shall find you suffi- ciently wide awake by and by." " Oh, I dare say ; I usually am by noon. But, dear me I it is going to rain, isn't it ? It looks enough like it, I am sure." " Not to-day, I think ; the fog will lift by and by, and give us a peep of the sun's shining face. Don't be alarmed about the rain. Miss Berrie ; we have Ixv ipoken fair weather to-day. Have we not, Adair!" aaid Mr. Wright, gaily. ** Do not appeal to me," returned the other, smiling; * I never dispute a gentleman's word. But I really df §f TEE EXCURSION not think you need have any fears, ladies ; ftie wind seems to be favorable for a fair day." " It would be delightful to have a pouring rain all day I " remarked Berrie, with a shrug of her shoulders, as she ran upstairs to pat on her hat, and bring th« thawl and parasol which she had promised her escort thould be in readiness. Therefore notwithstanding the prospect of a stormy day, our quartette joined the group gathered on the wharf, just as the sloop was announced to be ready for occupation ; and soon after, when all were comfortably seated on board, the moorings were loosed, anchor weighed, and the little vessel glided slowly away from the wharf, firing a salute from her one little cannon, which for the moment half deafened the party on board. The time passed on quickly and pleasantly for an hour or two, and then, as the principal buildings in the town still arose conspicuously before their eyes, one and another began to murmur at their slow pro- gress, and wonder why they had not made better time. But the murmurs passed, and merriment was in the ascendancy again, when Berrie, looking at her watch, exclaimed : " Twelve o'clock, and Biistol still in sight. We shall take breakf wt, instead of dinner, at Newport at this rate 1 " and a gentleman was sent forward to know what was the cause of their want of speed. " No wind, and tide against us, sir I " was the cheer- ing reBponse; which was duly communicated to the rest of the party, and a consultation held. JSre thia, the sun had dispelled the " mists of tha TEB SX0VR8I0N, §7 morning,*' and the day was as fair and brigut at on« could desire. Tlic waves danced and sparkled in th« rays of the ardent day-god, but were altogether too tiny to suit the pleasure of the gay party on the awning covered deck of the little yacht ; and the spires and tasteful dwellings nestled lovingly among the fine old trees of the handsome town, formed a pretty and pleasing picture, seen across the plain of dimpling blue water, stretched between. A picture they would fain, at the moment, have viewed from a greater dift- tance. However, they were bound for a day's sport, and aa the weather had favored them so propitiously, they could not think of turning their faces homeward, but resolved, if they were to pass the greater portion of the day in their circumscribed quarters on the deck of th« yacht, instead of among the romantic nooks of lovelj old Newport, they would at least endeavor to make the best of it, and like the " Duke-de Lou vols." enjoy what they could. Fortunately, the greater portion of the party had come provided with refreshments, anticipating that the bracing air of the sea miglit supply an appetite for the delicacies they held in store ; and a gayer party never sat down to an informal dinner like the one set out on the deck of that little barque, than were they. Laughter, wit, and vivacious repartee seasoned the sandwiches, cakes, pastry, fruit, and so forth, with which their hastily improvised table was loaded, anc gay good-humor rendered the otherwise U. dious houni not only endorable, but to most of them ezceedingl;^ gg I'EB EXCUmiOK pleftsant. Still, even the most extravagant spirita biuI perforce lull at last, and when two o'clock came, imp»- tience and restlessness took the place of the former honrs' gay hilarity and cheer. " Hov?- provoking it is ! " " Just our luck 1 " " Deajr me, I wish I had stayed at home 1 " "I wonder if wt are never going to have any wind I " " We'J^ this if tedious enough I " were some of the expressions which fell impatiently from nearly every lip. The least breath of air was joyfully hailed as the first instal- ment of the breeze so longed for, but when it failed to be followed by fuller puffs of wind as anticipated, dis- appointment was both felt and freely expressed, to the vexation and discomfort of those easy-going souls who always make the best of everything, and are deter^ mined to enjoy themselves let what will come. At last the captain said decidedly that it was useless to think of reaching Newport before night, and if they were still inclined to finish the day, the best thing they could do was to tack and run up to Rocky Point in- stead, known to all of the company aa one of the most picturesque and delightful of summer resorts. There- fore his very sensible advice was acted upon, and the little vessel soon headed in an opposite direction to which it had thus far pointed. But as such thing« usually go by contraries, scarcely had their minds b©« come settled upon that, when a strong, fresh breeze sprang up, and after a short but eager consultation, the sloop was again put about, and Newport was once more the goal of their hopes. Still, they were Btrng- gling against head winds, and their progress in beat* THE EIUXTBBIOW. S9 lug WM §0 exceedingly slow, that the project wm «t last abandoned entirely, as wholly impracticable, an^ again the fickle barque was headed for Rocky Point. About four o'clock p. m., after having passed nearlj^ •even hours on the deck of the little yacht, they stood once more on terra-f/rma^ thoroughly wearied, for the time, of the coquettish, inconstant sea. As to Berrie, the hours had passed much more pleasantly than she would have believed possible. Eugene Adair exerted all his powers of fascination — • and they were many and rare — to please and amuM her; their two companions were in their gayest and most entertaining moods, other and mutual friends gathered around them, and no group in the party was a merrier one than that of which Berrie was the at- tractive centre. Mr. Adair had thrown off the shade of sadness which seemed to have settled over him on the preced- ing evening, and Berrie oft,f*n gazed at him, wonder- ing if that gay, fascinating, apparently care -free gen- tleman, was the same that had looked down at her the previous night, with a face shadowed by a heavy grief, and whose lips had uttered words and tones of snch txquisite, heart-weary sadness. How little the casual observer can guess of what Bleeps beneath the smiling surface 1 How many wear a mask of gayely *o hide a tumult of anguish or a yawning chasm of desolation, and smile with a sweet- ness almost divi^o, tv^hile the heart within is weeping tears of blood i Kot in ^ci^nes of pleasure can one judge of a mtn'i it THE EXOVnSIOlf. toner life; — his motives, aspirations desires, or grielt Down deep in his heart they lie, hidden from mortal right, shielded from mortal ken, shrinking with morbid •ensitivenese from mortal touch, until the gentle hand ol lovcorgympathy shall rend the veil that covers them, and draw them forth, to assist, heal, or sympathize with, m their deserts shall demand. But if Berrie had not forgotten the moment of con- fidence the previous evening, neither had Eugene Adair, as the smile with which he answered the earnest, but somewhat perplexed gaze, which more than once he had caught fixed on his face, had testified. A smile that had brought a provoking flush to the fair girl'i cheek, and quickened the pulsations of the heart that beat 80 modestly within her gentle breast. A smile which had in it such a blending of sweetness and sad- ness, of secret sympatliy and fond regard, that the tender, pitying heart of the girl could not fail to re- spond to it, and '♦ translate itself in silence on her cheek." Who has not felt, with indescribable vexation, that niflh of color from throbbing heart to burning cheek 1 That fluflhing crimson one would fain control, but which, bursting all barriers of restraint, leaps to the outer buiv face of the being, covering brow and cheek and throat ^th the tell-tale color ; and a consciousneso of which but enhances and increases. Blushing easily at all timea, Berrie could hardly do MM under such a glance ; and bit her I'ps with vexation thai she oonld not meet that *)eculiar, conscious smile,, wthont such an eloquent response. Bat the fact t^ THE EXCURSION. f [ m&lBed the same, and the utmost that she oouM d« was tc resoive not to encounter it, if she conld by anj possibility avoid it. Presuming most of our readers have stood on thfc rock-fretted shores of this once popular watering-place, and gazed with admiration at tlie heaving waters of the bay, rolling in crystalline azure waves to their very feet, we will not enter into any detailed description of the scene that met the gaze of our weather-bound party, as with sighs of eager relief, they left their somewhat uncomfortable quarters, and stood once more upon th« solid, substantial land, " Are you tired, Miss Berrie ? " asked her companion, as he assisted her to gain the wharf. " I believe I am, somewhat ; it is so tiresome remain- ing in one place for such a length of time, although the hours Vj.ve passed more rapidly than I would have deemed possible ; — thanks to our agreeable company I " she finished smiling. The gentleman bowed and responded earnestly, " I am exceedingly glad if you have been entertained, and not found a day in the society of strangers so formid* able and wearisome as you had anticipated." " Will you never forget my careless speech, Mr. A-dair, or believe that I had no reference to you when making it ? " said Berrie a little confusedly, but wholly in earnest. " I do not refer to it maliciously, Miss Berrie, I as- •nre you 1 Do not think it 1 Nor do I really believ« yen intended t/i be personal in what you said, although At the moment, I confess, I felt piqued," returned hef M THE EXCmSION, companion gently, adding ; " But since yon dtf^re \X^ I shall think of vi no more, and shall consider myflell as coining nnder the head of stranger to you no longer, if you will permit. For although our acquaintance ii •8 yet Bomewhat slight, I trust that some time I nutj ha\e the pleasure of knowing that you class me anoim your friends. May I not, Miss Berrie ? " " Assuredly, I trust so I " she returned, hardly know- ing what reply to make, but feeling indeed that eh6 could no longer with truth denominate him a Bt^ange^ His evident kindly feeling for her, his efforts to amuse and entertain her, the flattering deference with which he ever seemed to regard her, to say nothing of the rapidity with which such informal intercourse as is a natural consequence of an excursion like that, annihi* lates all feelings of restraint, and leaves those whe were mere passing acquaintances before, often more than friends, had taken away from her feelings, even more than her acts, all thought of strangeness. Besidee, she had been greatly prepossessed in his favor since first their eyes had met, and finding him under all cir- cumstances so truly the gentleman, she could not but re- spect as well as admire him. True, she knew nothing of his antecedents, hii liii history, his future prospects ; — neither, my reader, dt we ; although like her we may do so in the time It come, — out that did not hinder her interest, nor fom any barrier, she considered, to the simple friendsiiip ha asked, and that she felt inclined to accord. Lookiii|| ap to him as she did, idealizing him a little, as womM •re 10 apt to do those to whom they are attached, ihf TEE BXOUSSIOJf. fS eoold but feel flattered that this man, so greatly hef •nperior in age, culture, and attainments, with a mannef ■o polished and fascinating it could but win the admir- •tioD of all, and a character calculated to command any Amount of adulation or affection he might desire, should be thus evidently anxious for her regard, should express •o strong a wish to call her, a simple, young, unsophis- ticated girl, his friend. Had he asked for a warmer place in her heart, doubtless she would have felt lesf complimented, less inclined to accord what he desired ; but to have a friend like this she felt would be a great good in her life, and she had not yet learned that a man's friendship for a woman is oftenest but " love in disguise," and that the pretty fallacy of friendship be- tween the sexes was long since utterly exploded, and proved to be indeed but a myth of fancy. After a silence of some moments, he continued earnestly, and with a touch of the sadness which had marked his bearing the preceding evening, — " I do not seek or desire many friends, Miss Berrie ; in fact I am exceedingly distrustful of friendship, and have learned through bitter lessons of trust betrayed, t« place but little confidence either in man or woman. But since first I saw you in a Boston saloon, gay and happy, and accompanied by friends as lively as yourself, aotwithstanding the contrast in our lives seemed so great and marked, I have felt a desire to be permitted to caU you my little friend, and know that you will ever look upon me, or think of me, rather, as one who has your happiness and future good near at heart Per- hapa tfaii may seem to you premature, consideriiig the. 94 THE RXCUBBICN. brevity of our acquaintance, but yoi kiow that lOlM persons select their friends by instinit, and feel intnl- tively what hearts are linked with theirs by the chaliu of sympathetic friendship. Therefore, shall we be friends, Miss Berrie, henceforth and forever?" he oon- claded, more lightly. Forgetting her resolution not to meet his eyes, she glanced up at his face, and encountered a gaze so earnest, and almost impassioned, that with another pro- voking rush of color to cheek and brow, she murmured, " Yes, if you please I " " True friends are very rare, Miss Berrie," he con- tinued, smiling a little at her confusion ; " and I may prove as fickle as the majority of the world ; but until I do, trust me, little girl, and I will endeavor to merit jour confidence." Ere this they had reached the dancing hall of the hotel, and Mr. "Wright, wlio with Belle had been con- siderably in advance of them, came up at this and in- quired : " Miss Berrie, will you dance ? " There were several sets already on the floor, and an- other forming which some of their own party had joined. " Thank you, I think not, here ; it is almost too con •picuons I " she laughed in response to his question. " Your sister made the same reply when 1 asked Ler^ so I concluded to come and see if 1 could not persuade y(^n I " " Fou are very kind ; but I cou Id not think of it in a public place like this." ** Then I must look farther, [ see t My feet ache to bt THE SXCURBIOW M keeping time with that maeic," he Baid laughing, m ha tamed away. ** Let us find BelLe, and go outside I " said Berrie. ** It is rather warm here. How provoking it is that rj% eould not have readied Newport." ** It is indeed ; although it is very lovely here." Miss Burton was soon found, and after ziJo)]lQg around for a time, watching the groups entertaining themselves with the various facilities for amusement, of which the place boasts so many, Berrie exclaimed, " I have a fancy I would like to climb to the top of thosfl rocks. The ascent does not appear difficult, and I should judge the view from the summit might be fine. Come, Belle, let us go, will you ? " " No, thank you 1 " laughed Belle, " I have no desire to break my neck to-day, and I never could climb." " I can, like a sailor I " was the laughing response. "Come, Belle, do I" " No 1 you and Mr. Adair can try it if you like, and I will go over there where Jennie Wardell is." " I do not like to trouble Mr. Adair ; perhaps he Tiaf no fancy for climbing." " Oh, yes, I should like it exceedingly 1 I am fond of lovely views. I promise to take care of your sister, Miss Burton;" and Belle walked off, assuring hina gaily that she could trust him. " Come, my little friend ! " with his most winning •mile, and extending his hand, which Berrie quietly Ignored, Baying, " Lead on, then I " •* * And over the hills, and far awaj, B«7ond their ntmost, pnrple ilm, Bejond the night, beyond the di^,* — " ft THE EXCURSTON. ^noted Berrie, when they had proceeded ftboot ImJI the diatance, and were toiling slowly over the rookli the ttill declining his frequently offered assistance; yoA at the fourth line she j)aused abruptly, coloring to Jie tips of her fingers as she recalled the closing linti of the quotation she had thoughtlessly repeated. *' *■ Throogn all the wodd riie followed him * ? ** finished her companion interrogatively, as she pansed, and turning around with u mischievous smile on hii jiustached lip. Bnt his smile was exchanged for a look of concern, and he exclaimed hastily : " Take care, Berrie 1" forgetting in his anxiety the formal " Miss," as Berrie, in her confusion, careless of where she was stepping, placed her foot on a rolling stone^ and would have fallen but for his timely assistance. " I shall not permit you to be so independent again,*' he smiled, " or my pledge to your sister will not be fulfilled. Allow me to take your hand, Miss Berrie;" and she reluctantly obeyed his behest. My reader, have you e\er noticed what a differ- ence there is in the touch of a hand ? Not alone the effect f?l:L:ih it has on the nervous system — striking fii e glowing with all the eplen- dor of an American summer sunset, and, bending ovei the heaving waters, left therein their own fair reflec- tion. But the bri liant colors, after lingering for a while, slowly fadea info cold gray and scarcely lesi cold blue ; the stars peeped shyly out, one by one, from behind the azure curtains that veiled the heavenly win- dows ; and the moon, riding triumphantly and serenelT above in her chariot of state, tipped with silver tae reachea of dark water in the distance, while phospho- rescent lights tinged the nearer waves with gleams oi Uving fire. The air wag clear, c£d soft, and cool, l(^ THti ExcxmaioN. wind and tide condescended to be propltions, and A« little craft bounded gaily along over the sparkling fratere ; while the curtains of darkness, through which •tole gleams of silvery moonlight, wrapped them in their sable, impalpable folds. " Sing, Berrie, sing ! " cried Jennie "Wardell, as the |Ey conversation flagged for a moment. "Music on the waves is so exquisite ! Sing, please, my dear." "Do not urge me, Jennie, ask some one else. 1 sannot sing where there are so many." " Nonsense 1 are there more here than there were in the exhibition hall at school, when yon graduated f We cannot excuse you, please, sing 1 " « Oh, but that was different 1 " " Come, don't require urging, like most of the young ladies. ' Birds that can sing, and won't sing, must be made to sing,' you know." " I am afraid you would find that difficult. I am not accustomed to compulsion. But what shall it be?'* " I don't know, what are you familiar with ? Oh, ^Murmuring Sea ' is pretty and appropriate also. Can you sing it ? " " I can sing my part, but it is a duet you know, and I do not think I could sustain both parts very well." " Oh surely I Let's seel Who of the gentlemen in tlie party sing? Mr. Wright?" " Never 1 I aeeure you. Miss Wax dell 1" "No? Well, Mr. Adair, yoii do! I am poirtiTf 1^ have heard you." " Indeed ? " he quietly retimed. TEE EXOURBION. 101 • 1 was not aware that you sang, Mr. Idair. Can you take the other part to the duet in q^iestion \ '' in- quired Berrie. " I will do my best to assist you, Miss Berrie \ " " Very well ; you take the lead, I believe I " and in a pure cultivated tenor he began the beautiful air, Berrie joining in her turn with her clear, sweet soprano, while the vibrating sea-born echoes added their accompani- ment to the charm of the blended voices. Other songs followed, in many of which the greater portion of the party joined, and as the nine o'clock bells struck their first peal, the vessel touched the wharf, and their ex- cursion was among the scenes of the past. A cry of pain escaped involuntarily from Berrie's lips as she attempted to use the injured limb, and she soon found it would be impossible to reach home by walking. Some lads were standing idly on the wharf, and Mr. Adair despatched one of them for a carriage, which speedily made its appearance, and Berrie was lifted carefully in, followed, of course, by her companion. "I cannot tell you," said Mr. Adair just as they reached the house, " how much I regret that such an accident should have happened to you at all, and more particularly while under my protection. I am afraid your mother will never trust you with me again." " Oh, do not think it, Mr. Adair, nor reproach your- ielf in the least. I cannot bear that you should, as you were in no degree in fault." " I cannot cease to do so, nevertheless 1 I shall call in the morning to see how you are I " and vvhen h« 104 TEE ExcunsnN. lifted her from the carriage, notwithstaiiviin^ her proi testations, his stroiif^ arms carried her gently and etfilj np the walk. Belle had returned home immediately after theii landing, to prepare her motlier for Berrid's accident, lest she should be alarmed at her manner of returning home, and as Eugene Adair placed her on the sofa in the parlor, Mrs. Burton said to him : "I am afraid my wilful little daughter here has given you a great deal of trouble to-day. She is so venturesome and inde- pendent that I wonder she is alive. She was always in trouble for her recklessness when a child, and I am afraid she has not outgrown all childish things. But I am thankful the matter is no worse." " As I am also, I assure you 1 I regret the accident more than I can say 1 " returned the gentleman ear- nestly. " But it was all my own carelessness, and no one elflo is at all to blame," protested Berrie. •' Oh, I dare say 1 I am sure Mr. Adair took quite as good care of you as you would allow," said her mother. "But I will doctor it for you, and it will be better in a day or two, I presume, dear." " I hope and trust so 1 " said Mr. Adair, as he bent c ?er her to bid her good-by. " Good night, my little friend 1 " he added softly. " I shall hope to see you much better to-morrow. You are a brave little girl,** and bidding the others good evening he took his de- parture. Berrie with much difficulty and some pain succeeded in getting upstairs, and was soon in bed, and while thft THE EXCL .ISIOir. 101 itrong arms of her "friend" seemed still lingering around her, and his low, cultivated tones yet ringing in her ears, the angel of sleep bent lovingly over her, •oothing the unquiet nerves, quelling the spirit >f rest- lesBness which seemed in possession of her, anu bring- ing for a time, unconsciousness alike of pleasore an4 of pain. w^mm^ ^ CHAPTER YIL THE LA270IJAGE OF FLOWSBil ' I flnd she loves him mnch becanse she hides l|| Lore teaches onrming even to innooence ; And when he gets possession, his first work Is to dig deep within a heart, and thero Lie hid, and like a miser in the dark, To feast alone." Dbtddl ATTIE, dear, rnn down and ask Belle if she will comf) up and help me dress. I believe I will get up, and I do not think I could make vy toilet without some assistance. If she is busy teU Aer I azn in no hurry," said Berric, on the morning fol- lowin|5 the excursion, as her little sister was kianing on her pillty-v playing with the unconfined but t JiUbled ringlets, and interspersing her lively ch&t vrlib many loving kisses. Hattie obeyed, and Miss Burton soon alter made her appearance, carrying in her hand a beautiful bouquet of wator-lilies. " So you think you will get up, do you, my pretty Invftlid I " said Belle gaily, as she entered the room, THE LJLNOUAOE OF FLO VEBS. 107 Adding : " Our handsome Eugene was here a fe^ mo- ments ago, to know how you were ; and see what he brought me 1 " with a mischievous sparkle in her fine dark eyes. " Are they not lovely ? Don't you wish they were yours ? Oh, I'll let you have one scent of them," and she held them to her sister's face, and then drew them tantalizingly away. " Oh, give them to me ! I know they are for me 1 ^ exclaimed Berrie, instantly detecting the ruse. " Peo* pie always send flowers to invalids, you know 1 " she continued laughingly. " For you ? the idea ! Do you suppose that Eugene Adair would send anything of the kind to a little girl like you ? Haven't I known him longer than you have, ever so much ? " " I don't care if you have ! I know he sent them to me ; he likes little girls ! " she added, blushing a little as she thought how soft and low had been the tones in which he had called her thus the previous day. " Does he ? indeed 1 perhaps he meant them for Hattie then. Are they not lovely, Berrie 1 " and she held them tantalizingly just out of reach. " You provoking girl 1 " exclaimed Berrie, laugh- ing, making an attempt to grasp the hand which wai holding the lowers, and succeeding at length in rifling it of its fragrant dewy contents. " I don't see where he procured them ? Do you. Belle ? " " Oh, what a thief 1 I'll tell him when I see him that you stole all the pretty posies he gave me to-day,** taid Belle, pretending to feel greatly aggrieved ^Well, dot I don't care as long as I have th« 108 TEB LANGUAGE OJ" PL0WBH8. flowers. Bnt what did he say ? " ehe asked, blaBhingljj and hiding her tell-tale face among the f ragrajt iiliei ■he held. " Say ? He said you were the naughtiest girl he kLe w and he'd never take you on such an excursion again ; that he didn't wish to be remembered to you, and he should call this evening, but hoped you wouldn't be downstairs. There I are you satisfied ? " " 1 am afraid you are like the most of your sex. Belle ; your no means yes ; and I may take what you say at*- contraire, may I not?" returned Berrie laughing, but still averting her face. " Oh, I dare say your vanity would suggest that you liay. But you will see to-night how disappointed he will be to find you downstairs, when he was hoping for a tete-d-tdte with me." " Oh, there would be no chance for that, as Mr Wright would be certain \o be around," Berrie re- plied mischievously, while it was her sister's turn to look confused. " Mr. Wright is going to Boston to-day," Belle an* •wered more quietly. " Indeed ? how wiU you get through the evening without him. Belle ? " " I do not know, I am sure 1 But Eugene would console me, if you only were n )t in the 'vay." " * Eugene ! ' how familiar we are getting 1 But yon need not be so certain that I shall be down. I think I will play invalid, and remain up-stairs to-day." " Nonsense I you will do nothing of tne kind. Yoi TJSB LANGUAGE OF FLOWXBSL lOf innst go down, if I have to carry you," Belle replieo, more earnestly. " I fancy yoc would not care to try that nitre tlua once. But I do not wish to prevent your anticipated tdte-a-tete." " Well, it is a shame that you should, I know ; still I don't see how it can be avoided. But, Berrie, it seema to me that Adair is getting very attentive," and Belle glanced furtively at her sister, as she prepared to assist her to arise. " Attentive co whom ? yourself. Belle I Well, is not that what you desire ? " the girl returned, her confusion painting a world of crimson roses on the olive cheekg ^ill bent above the waxen lilies. " Oh, how innocent we are I Don't devour the flow- ers, Berrie, if your devoted did send them to you." " My devoted ! Don't talk nonsense. Belle ; he is old enough to be my father." "*Love counts time by heart-throbs, not by years!' and * Why should we const our Uvea by j«tait^ Since years are short and pass away f ' Come, get up, you lazy girl 1 lying in bed until thlt time in the day." " I shall be very glad to, I am sure ♦ But here 1 place these lilies in water, please. Are Aey not per- fect 1 " with one riore admiring glance and inhalation, ere si.e released tuem from her clasp. " I wish Belle wouldn't put Such ideas in m/ head, cr get them in her own, either ! " mused Berrie, as she prepared to make her toilet. " Oi course he does nol 110 THE LAJfOUAOB OF FL IWBRS. or will not care for a ' little gir. ' like me, except as a friend, as he said he did yest/^rcay. lie is bo grand and noble, and so mnch older and wiser. If he wen a younger man I should not feel so free with him ; but of course his attentions do not mean anything, and he will go away by and by, and I probably shall never see him again," and more of regret than she would have been willing to confess mingled with the closing thoughts, which Belle interrupted by inquiring, " What dress shall I bring you Berrie ? " " Oh, I don't know 1 " she replied. " Something pretty, I suppose, as it will have to suffice for all day." " All day I I should think it might. Why, what time do you think it is. Miss Indolence ? " and she held Berrie's watch, which was lying on the bureau, before her face. " Half -past twelve 1 Is it possible, Belle ? " " It is, indeed. Miss Berrie 1 Well, what dress ? " " Oh, anything you like 1 I don't care I That pink wrapper, I think, with the white trimmings." " The most becoming dress you have I That looki as if you didn't care." " Well, I do not ; I would as soon have anything else." " Oh, I suppose you wish to look the interesting in- valid this evening, so I will let you have it. But novel- invalids always wear white or crimson, you know." " Weh, I am not in 8 novel, and the pink is near enongh to crimson, I presume. A lace collar. Belle, the linen are not ' becoming ' you know ! " with a little latigh. THE LAN0UA9E OF ^LOWERS \\X ** Will yon have your watch ? " **No, I don't care about it! Yes I wiU, too, I think." " Yen VAj wish to count the hours until to-night I* ttld Belle, teasingly. " Surely * so bring it along," and her sister threw the gleaming chain around her ne«3k, and tucked the watch in the embroidered belt of her wrapper. " There ! you are as sweet as Eugene's lilies I " said Belle, kissing her. "Flatterer! But take them down to the parlor, Belle ; or stay, leave two or three of them up here." " Fa will be home soon ; you had better wait until he comes before you go down." And Miss Burton left the room, carrying in her hand the fragrant bouquet of lilies. Some late blush-roses were added, with gera- nium leaves, a few sprigs of heliotrope, and some trailing myrtle and ivy, and the whole, tastily arranged in a handsome vase, greeted Berrie as she entered the parlor, leaning heavily on her father's arm. " What will you have, Berrie, to amuse yourself with ? " inquired Belle, entering the room a few min- rt«s later. " Oh, a book, I suppose ! Give me my * Wanderer * until you are dressed, and then I expect you to amnie me ! " archly " Indeed ! just as tf I had nothing else to do I ** " And, Belle," she called as her sister was leaving tl^e room, " bring down that little sacque I am embroiaer- ing for Hattie, please, when you come ; I will lew • UtUe, I think." 11§ TEB lANOVAOE OF FLOWEBB. " Very well ; " aud Miea Burton passed on up thf •taira. For an hour or two, Berrie was left alone, half ro- ftlining in the depths of her easy chair, dra^vn close to the open window of the darkened parlor, reading favorite passages in the little book she held, or leaning her soft cheek in her hand, musing — of what ? Some- thing pleasant, to judge by the dreamy smile on her lipa, and the flush which warmed the olive of her dusky cheek, until it rivalled in color the rose of her high cut embroidered dress. How delicious is the dreamy languor that gently steals over one, on a warm, sultry afternoon in mid- lummer, when, disregarding all ciiils to duty or labor, one lounges indolently in the depths of a luxurioua chair, where close-drawn blinds shut out the gleaming golden sunlight, while without the summer breeze in gentle sighs floats lazily past, and the hum of insects, the song of locusts, and the warble of bappy birds, blend in oxie harmonious chorus, or with dreamy monotone lull the senses to even deeper oblivion. And when to this are added the rose-hued dreams of youth, thrilling with their perfect beauty and sweetnesB, the unti'ied heart of the dreamer, — a heart that has yet learned no lessons of distrust or regret, — how blissful seems the spell I I would fain linger over the record of tliis sammer, ^hich to tlie gentle girl was one g/ittering chain of ** liaked iwootness, long drawn e*t *" ««*>«le s^ mw ye| ** flteadinif with reluoUnt feel, th* brook vmI rlrw THE LANGUAGE OF FLOWERS. \\$ before womanhood's consciousness had come knocking londly at her awakened heart, ere her lips had tasted the bittei' draught of sorrow, or her fair young head was crowned with woman's coronet of aggravating and impotent despair. But the happy reverie of the girl was interrupted at last by the entrance of her sister, looking fresh and »ool, in her delicate flowing robes ; and while the fingers of each were busied with some pretty needle-work, the gay conversation nexer flagged. Jennie Wardell ran in for a few moments, to talk over the events of the preceding day, and learn how Berrie was after her Accident ; then came the early tea, and Berrie was as gisted out to the dining-room, — which was in an exten- sion on the same floor — and was barely ensconced again in her easy chair by the window, when the door- bell rang. Miss Burton replied to the summons, and found, aa Bhe expected, Eugene Adair awaiting admission. " Good evening, Mr. Adair ; walk in the parlor, and please excuse me for a few minutes; you will find Berrie there," and she opened the door and ushered him into her sister's presence. " Ah 1 Good evening, Berrie 1 So you are sufiS- ciently recovered from the effects of your accident to get down stairs 1 I am very glad, I assure you." And he bent over the little hand of the girl, as laughing and blushing she said : " Oh^ yes, I am better, thank yon ! but yon will please excuse me from rising." *' Certainly ! do not attempt it," and he drew a duui 114 THE LAJHSUAOB CF FLOWBSb, near her own, and sat down, remarking absentlj : " So yoa are much better I " " Much better, thank you, yes ! although not able to ue my foot much as yet." " I presume not, but trust you will be soon. I see jou received my lilies ! " drawing the vase toward him to inhale their fragrance. " Oh, yes, and thank you so much 1 How very love^ ly they are 1 " " Exquisitely 1 I am glad you were pleased. You like flowers?" " Oh, so very mu^h 1 I am teasing Pa to add a conservatory to the house, that we may have them aU the year." " Bristol people generally seem very fond of them, to judge from the numerous gardens one sees." " Yes, I believe they are ! " " And what is }y)ur favorite ? " " Indeed I scarcely know ! I love and admire so many. Pansies, fuclisias, geraniums, carnations, lilies —oh, everything in the shape of flowers 1 " she con- tijmed, laughingly. " I am most partial to sweet-scent- ed plants, however." " Then you like the tube-rose, and this beautiful »rild lily queen I" he remarked, touching caressingly the waxen petals of the flowers in the rase. '* Oh, yes, of course 1 Pond-lilies are almost peerless. I am particularly fond of wild flowers, if I may gather them myself; and of all climbing plants or shrubs, I think the wistaria the most beautiful. I have gazed u the graceful, delicate clusters in admiration, until I IHE LAHQUAQ^ OF FLOWBItS. lU longed to lay my cheek to the lilac beauties, or preti their dewy, fragrant clusters to my very lips." " Tou are enthusiastic I " he smiled. She laughed a little confusedly and returned : " I mm afraid I am 1 but my love for flowers amounti almost to a passion." " A very innocent and beautiful one, my little girl, and I trust you may not find that ' The heart that is soonest awake to the fiowen^ Is always the first to be touched by the thoma.* But do you understand their language ? " " Very little, although I have one or two books ob the subject." " Then if I should present you with oue of the8« fair blush-roses, a leaf of rose-geranium, a sprig of heliotrope and myrtle, thus forming a bouquet" — drawing each from the vase before him as he spoke— " you would not know what sentiments I wished to con- vey ? " and he glanced furtively at the down-cast face as he presented her the bouquet thus formed. Lower drooped the fair, young head over the dainty embroidery she held, and the fragrant cluster of flow- ers, until the flossy curls hid the crimsoning cheeks, ai she replied softly, " I fear I should not ; no ! " " Shall I read them to you ? " in a tone as soft and low as her own. " If you please 1 " " The rose is an emblem of your own fair yonth , the geranium suggests that though many are lovely yon excel all ; the heliotrope whispers of deToted attach 11^ THE IjANOUAGB OF FLOWBBS. ment, and the little sprig of rayrtle assnres yon tli»t absence cannot conquer affection. Is not that compre hensive for an impromptu boqnet ? " and he laughed »3ftly as the fair face still remained hidden and the rosy lipa unclosed for no reply, smiled also to think that he had so far renewed his departed youth as to be talking thus to a young and lovely lady in the mystic language of flowers. He took her hand and attempted to look in the avert- ed face, saying softly, as she drew her hand away and turned still farther from him, "What have I done, Berrie, that you will not look at me ? Do you not like ^ur flowers?" Then laughing again, the low, con- Bcious, significant laugh, which the girl thought so pro voking, as he still received no answer from her lips. Berrie was painfully embarrassed, and thought long' ingly, " Oh, if Belle would only come in 1 What ccm keep her so long away 1 " A silence of some moments succeeded, and then Mr. Adair said gently, as he drew from his pocket a little blue-covered book, and placed it in her lap, among the embroidery and flowers ; " Berrie, I have brought you •omething to amuse you during a fe v hours of your confinement to the house ; will you not look up and tell me if you are pleased ? " With a little sigh of relief at the change of subject, she glanced down at the book she held, and exclaimed as the title met her eye : " Lucile ? Oh, thank you ! I have so much wished to peruse it; I do not know but 1 BhaL be thankful for my accident, since it procurei meiuch a pleasure," and she looked ip grat€ folly, and TBE LANGUAGE OF FLOWEJBA HI with a laugh wholly unembarrassed, although her coii« fngion'B sweet blushes still lingered on her cheeks. " I wonder you have never read it previously, as yon admire the author so much." " I had no opportunity while at school, and supposing I could obtain it here, I neglected to purchase one in Boston. But when I reached home, I found it was not to be procured in Bristol. I intended sending to Prov- idence for it soon." " What is this you have been reading ? " and he took from the talkie a book similar in size and binding to the one he had brought. " Only my Wanderer 1 " she returned, without look- ing up, and glancing eagerly over the pages of the book ihe held. He opened it, and the first thing that caught hit ©ya was the inscription traced on its fly-leaf : " To Miss Strawberry Burton, from her devoted " Bowow, July 18—" Backward flew his thoughts to that lovely evening not yet two weeks previous, when first his eyes had dwelt with pleasure on the lovely face of his compan- ion, lecalling with a painful thrill the merry brown eyes that had looked with such audacious mischief in those of the girl, and the laughing voice which had addressed her in such familiar and affectionat* tones. " Devoted" to her, without a shadow of doubt^ was the gay young man; but was hiA vvident attach lit TEB LANOUAOE OF rLOWSSB. m»ixi to the girl reciprocated, or was it with frlendlj ejcfl alone that she met the impassioned glances of bflf friend i But really, what was it to him in either case ! Why should he care to whose heart her own girlUh one responded, or who held the magic key to the store- house of her innocent affections! Not a brief two weeks had elapsed since he saw her first; and was hia /leart already swelling with jealousy, lest some other face than his was enshrined in the holy of holies of the fair girl's mind? That heart which he had for Bo long deemed impervious to all emotions of love, desire, regret or jealousy? Had this little girl, with her gentle voice, beguiled his peace from his keeping ; with her soft, fair hand struck down the barriers of coldness or distrust that the past years of treachery had thickly reared around the inner sanctuary of his tor- tured soul ? Alas 1 in those few brief moments that he sat with the open book in his hand, in which was traced ♦"he in- scription that had so startled him, he had lOoked hi* future in the face ; had realized that with a life's only love, the strong, unconquerable passion of mature mAn- hood — to which the loves of his earlier days were but as a zephyr's breath compared to the might of a tem- pest — he worshipped this gentle little girl, and that in all probability it would prove as hopeless as it was im- passioned. It seemed to hira impossible that she, in all the flush of her lovely girlhood, with the rich, warm life of youth bounding strongly and sweetly throngh ler veina, with all baf ore her the bittei -aweet dnuxu TEE LANGUAGE OF FLOWERS, \\% •f womanhood, and the crowning loveliness of a sano- tified and reciprocal attachment, could volnntarilj be- •tow a thought of love upon him, who had left behind kim his own long faded youth ; or ever gladly link her own bright, joyous life, with one shadowed by a past'a yet nnconquered sorrows, and the " harvest of barren regrets " which he had reaped from the carelessly sown seed of his early manhood. What was there in common between them, he bitter ly asked of himself I He, a man, when she, an nn« conscious babe, lay cradled in her mother's arms : he who had drained the cup of worldly pleasure almost to the very dregs, before the glittering chalice had reached her innocent lips, and had waded far through the stream of aggravating sorrow, ere her dainty feet had touched the tiniest waves of the turbid, swelling waters. No 1 a life like his, so dark, so unattractive, could hold no magic to draw that bright one from her own iear home of peace and love. She would doubtless £8ten to his tale of a strong, o'ermastering passion wit!i pitying kindness, then turn aside to smile with heas'enly sweetness on one who was yet crowned with the diadem of youth and gayety, and could respond to all the joy and mirthf uluess of her own happy heart. The picture stood clearly before him. Would he not 6e blindly foolish to take of it any other view than this) Yes, he would be generous ; and by and by, after he had lingered a little longer in the sunshine of hei preflonce, would go away, without distressing the tenJei 180 TB^ LANGUAOE OF FLOWBRB. heart of the girl by the knowledge that the wealth of 9 itroDg man's passionate and adoring love had been lav- ishly poured upon her in a sweet l)ut " a wasted shower.*' The opening door and Ilattio's subsequent entrance interrupted his train of painful, self sacrificing thought, ixui aroused Berrie to a consciousness of her rudenoM XX allowing herself to become so absorbed in a book, to the utter neglect of her visitor. " Pardon me, Mr. Adair I " she said deprecatingly, as she looked up with a little sigh of regre<- at leaving the fascinating narrative. " I am afraid I have been rudely inattentive. I forgot everything but 'Lucile' and the result of her letter to ' Lord Alfred,' " laughingly. " Did you ? " with a little pang that his presence waa of so little moment to her. " Well, I was so absorbed in this little book I hold, that I did not notice how you were occupied ; so I do not see that there is aught to excuse, else I must beg for forgiveness also. And how is Miss Ilattie this evening ? " taking the little hand of the child as she came close to his chair. "Oh, I am well, thank you!" with a toss cf the flowing curls. " But I don't think you took very good care of my sister Berrie yesterday ; did you, Mr. Adair f ** archly glancing up into his face. " Didn't I ? indeed ! ask your sister what she thinki about it," said the gentleman, smiling. " Ilattie dear, you shouldn't speak bo to Mr. Adair,'' reproved Berrie. " Oh, Hattie and I are very old friends Miss Berrie, and are privileged to say anything we like to each other ; are we not, little one ) '* THE LANOUAQB OF FLOWBBA, IJi ** Hattie is a spoiled child at all events, I am afraid*" •aid Berrie, smiling to note how careful he was to sap* ply the fonnal " Miss " when others were present, though since their scramble over the rocks the previoua day, he had never used it when they were alone together. " Yea, sir ; I suppose we are I " returned the child in answer to his inquiry. " But, Mr. Adair, have you found out yet what sort of a berry my sister is?" Mr. Adair laughed, and gently pulling the tempting ringlets of the little girl, said ; '' So you have not for- gotten our old quarrel as yet 1 Well, I do not know that I have come to any decision in regard to the mat- ter ; can you not help me to do so ? " " / think she is a strawberry, if anything," said the child, " because they are real nice, and so is she," nest- ling up to her sister's side, and resting her head caress- ingly against Ben-ie's shoulder, Mr. Adair thought with a pang of the merry fellow who thus addressed the girl, but repressing all evidence of it, returned : " Well, I do not deny that she is as fair and sweet as the luscious berry you have named, my little girl, but still I think holly-berries most suited to her, and would choose them for her emblem, instead. Po you may call her Strawberry if you will, and I will think of her as a peerless, beautiful holly-berry." " Now, Mr. Adair, don't you think hlack-berry would be more suitable still ? " inquired Berrie mischievously ; but blushing at this flattering discussion of her in her jery presence. " 1 cannot say that 1 do I" he retained, langhing 199 THE LAN a U AGE OF FLOWEB& alio. " I would like to see ycu decked and crowned with holly-berrie8, they would became you tojk\\j7 With a glance of undisguised admiration. " Come and eat your Christmas dinner with us then, and poeeibly you may be gratified," interposed Misi Burton gaily, coming forward at that moment, she hav- ing entered the room unperceived in time to hear the last remark. " Thank you, Miss Burton ; it would give me more pleasure than I can say to do so, but I fear that ere that I shall be far distant from here." " Indeed ? I am very sorry 1 " returned Belle, quietly. " Hattie, ma wants yon." " GK)od night, Berrie ! " and the little girl's red lipa were pouted to receive her sister's kiss. " Good night, Mr. Adair 1 " giving him her hand, and at his request shyly allowing him also to touch her lipa with a good-night caress. " Was that your sister's kiss or your own that yon gave me, Hattie 1 " he murmured so low that no one else heard the inquiry. But she answered aloud, laughing archly. " Oh, Berne's, I think, Mr. Adair 1 " and ran lightly from the room. Belle smiled, half guessing what had elicited Hattie'i reply, and the conversation became general. Mr. Adair, at their request, sang for them. Belle playing his accompaniments, and early arose to take his departure. " Good evening. Miss Berrje , I trust you vtiXi be wholly recovered soon. You have amusement for » TBE LANOUAOB OP FLOWERB. 123 few tedious hours in the book in your lap. Yott will find it a rare treat." ** I am sure of it 1 it is charming, I know, and I ^nnk pa io much for bringing it to me." * I owed you some amends for not taking better i *!• of you." And bidding Miss Burton good-eyenii^, ha hMtily took his departure. OHAPTEK Vm. A BIGNIFIOANT DEMONSTRA.'SlOSi. ** ObIj a klso — a trifle slight — Jnst eager lipq one xnoment bleuti, ■ Two faces lit witti Idr dly light, One thrili across two pal»efl sent. How small & thing can cnange the daj 1 * '* In her book of life a new leaf had been tnmed ; aud as she brooded over the yet unwritten page, her heart tremblod at thonght of the probable reconi" T. B. Abthub ,R. ADAIR, I am happy to return you your copy of ' Lucile,' with many, many thanks to you for the pleasure its perusal has given me," ■aid Berrie, as she entered the par'*>r one evening •bout a w«ek later, to find, as she expected, ihe gentle- man there. Het recovery from the eflFects of her accident hail been rapid and entii-e, and it was with her usual light and graceful step that she entered the room. The gentleman addressed, had, during her oonfnemont to A BIGNIFICAITT DEMONSTRATION. 126 the honse, been a frequent and welcome visitor , thni their acquaintance had most amicably progressed, and their friendship become a settled thing. Many an ache had the strong, passionate heart of Jit man endured, as he watched the lovely girl, and real- ized that it would be folly to aspire to her hand, ques- tioning, even should she listen with favor to his suit, if he could trust the future constancy of one whose heart had never yet been tried, and whose affection for him — did it exist — might prove but a passing fancy, a roman- tic girl's first preference, that fleeting emotion which so nearly resembles the sweet " grand passion," but is to that as the rippling waves of the tiny streamlet are to the mighty swellings of the throbbing, impulsive sea. " You liked it then, of course 1 " the gentleman re- turned smilingly, in answer to her remark, as he took the book from her hand. " More, far more than I can tell you 1 I am bankrupt for words to express my admiration ! " was the laughing, but earnest response. " I thought I had read beautiful things before, but nothing to compare with this.'* " Not even your favorite ' Wanderer 1 ' " " Not even that, no ! That is lovely in its way, and charms with its very vagueness, had it no other at- tractions ; but ' Lucile ' is perfect 1 I would not havo it altered I think, in any respect." " What an enthusiastic little girl you are, Berrie 1 " he said with his rarely swaet smile, and in a low and almost tender tone. " Am I ? " she laughed. " That is becauBe 1 am u *little girl' I Bupposc is it not t Will time wear away 126 ^ BIONIFIOANl DSMCNSTRATION. my enthnsiasm, do jou tliink, my friend? " with snch % bewitching glance, and intonation of the two last words, that, had they been alone together, I con Id not have answered for the man's self-control. How he longed to fold in his arms the rounded, girlish form, and press with love's sweet kisses the rosy, smiling month I But he only answered softly and a little sadly : " I fear it may, my dear little girl ; but I would pray most earnestly that it may never be damped by sorrow's heavy, unrelenting rain, — that your love for, and joy in the beauties of music, poetry, and nature, may never be dimmed by life's sternest, bitterest trials." " Thanks foryour kind wishes," she murmured ; " but I suppose I must have my share of the troubles of life. No one escapes wholly, do they, Mr. Adair ? " " No one, my child, believe me ! are they seemingly never so prosperous and happy. ' Every heart knoweth its own bitterness,' you know. So you think ' Lucile ' quite perfect, do you ? " he concluded, smiling. *'I consider it so, yesl What a lovely character is ^ers. Do you not think so ? " " 1 do, indeed I Thoroughly human, yet such as one rarely meets. But wrr-ld you not have liked it better had sne married the Duke ? " " Oh no 1 that would have spoiled her character en- tirely I '' " But he loved her so Tell, and with her royal nature •he could have been so true to him." " Yes, but false to her first tnd only love. How tovid she nuury him, not caring for him save m a , A BtONlFICANT DJiiMONSTRATION. 127 b iend 1 Besides, she was too good for him ; far above lun in life and character. 1 did feel so vexed, when h* was taunting her with being the cause of his wasted life, that she did not remind him of how he had wrecked her happiness as well." " Which she did at the last I " " Yes, but only in sheer desperation at his f aUnre to comply with her wishes for Alfred's son, and then merely telling him that but for him, she might have been pleading for her own boy instead of another's." " Do you like Lord Alfred — and his wife ? " " Not over well ! Matilda was Lucile's rival, and I believe I was a little jealous for her — " smilingly, "besides, she has too little force of character. And Lord Alfred is too inconstant and suspicions. I have no sympathy for him in any sorrow. He was not worthy the noble woman he resigned so lightly, not only once but twice ; while she, through all, was true and constant to her love for him." " Like a true woman ? " smilingly. " Like a true woman, yes ! " she replied archly. '' Berrie, have you those elements of truth and con- stancy in your own nature ? " he asked abruptly, in a tone sc low that no one else could have distinguished the words, and with so much of concentrated earnest- ness in eye and voice, that as she looked up half -startled, she answered hesitatingly : "Dlow should I know? I have never been tried; but, Mr. Adair, I believe I have I " with a far-oflE look in the uplifted eyes, as if she was atteir pting to divixM the tests and oonijiiests of the fatore. 1e Uya she could uot reason — could not discoM, %«*«n m her oi\'n mind, the motives and acts of others— ooald only ft^cl; and, blindly swayed by impulse, guwded, as well as might be, by maidenly reticence, by laughing repartee, by reckless gayety, the inner sanc- tuary of her soul, which was, even to herself, a chasm filled only with chaos and disorder. Intimate as was their acquaintance, frequent as was their friendly intercourse, she could never hear his name without a provoking rush of crimson to her tell- tale cheek, could never meet his glance without a drooping of her o vni dusky eyes, never feel the pres- iure of his manly hand without an answering thrill which tingled from her linger-tips, through every fibre of her being. Others, though more attentive, far more eager for her favors, treating her with much more of flattering deference, and evidencing far greater anx- iety for her regard than did he, had not the slightest power over her passions or impulses, could not touch with one vibrating thrill the innermost recesses of her royal nature, or win from her a single concession to their pleas for unwonted favors. Of the time when her friend should leave her, she did not allow herself to think. That such a time must come she knew full well ; but putting far from her the evil day, she glided on, with no thought but for the present moment, no desire save for the happiness and pleasure of the day. But a time of awakening was at hand 1 Mr. Adair was sitting, late one evening, after his return fro!ii a risit to her, in. the reading-room of his hotel, carelessly XM' ^ BTaNIFICANT LEMOXSTRATIOW. glftncifig through the columns of a Providence siening paper, when one of the boarders, a somewhat intimate acquaintance, entered, and taking a Beat near him, commenced a careless conversation on the topics of tha Neither was very much interested that evening in the subjects they were discussing, and the conversation was flagging somewhat, when after an indolent yawn, the man inquired abruptly, and laughing archly, " Well, Adair, when is it to be ? " " When is what to be ? " he returned in ■nrpriia, glancing up at his interlocutor. " What ? why the wedding, to be sure 1 " " I do not understand you 1 I have heard of no pro(»« pective wedding of late." " Why, when is Miss Berrie Burton to be married 1 " The man's proud heart stood still for a moment in consternation and deadly pain, but he answered calmly, " I do not know, indeed 1 How should I ? You will have to ask some one else besides me." " Why, Adair I I am sure you ought to know, if any one," his friend returned laughingly. " I cannot see why I " "Why, haven't I been hearing from all aorti of sources, that you were paying her particular attention ; and heard this and that one of the fellows grumbling, that they stood no chance at all with the girl when that proud Adair was around ? that he was evidently th« favored suitor, etc. etc ? I suppose the day isn't »ct jet ; eh, Eugene ? " " I lappoae it i« not, a« far an I am oooearnAd,* kt A BIONirWANT DBJiONSJUATIOW. IM anf wered gravely, " and probably never will J>«. I have no reason to tliink myself preferred by the young lady, and have no intention of marrying any one, at least for the present. So do not mention the lady*! name in connection with mine again, if you pleaMk Blie is too young to be talked of in that manner, and it will do her no good. I am going to Washington in a few days, and expect to go abroad in October," and bidding his friend good-night, he retired to his room — but not to sleep. Back and forth in the large apartment he paced, hii arms folded behind him, his head bent on his chest in deep and bitter revery, reviewing the unpleasant scenei of the past, revolving the prospects of the future, and with the facts and fancies of the present staring him in the face, until the grey dawn of the morning peeped shyly through the half-closed blinds ; then throwing himself in a chair by the table, he bent his head on his folded arms, while tempests of hard, convulsive sighs shook his manly breast. During the troubled hours of that weary night, he had recalled in fancy's light every episode of his ac- quaintance with the little girl who had beguiled hii heart from his keeping ; every word, look or tone that could evince a perference for, or aversion to him ; at- tempting to judge dispassionately of his chances with her, of the probability that her affection for him wai a true and perfect love, which could stand any test of ■ilence, absence, or other trial, which the circumstaneef of the future might impose. For, well as he loved her, seoesaarj as she seemed to his happiness, he yet eh«» 134 A 8iaNTl\J^^l JEMOySTEATIOir. uhed a alight distrust ol' h«^ >ower8 of corut&nej, i shrinking fear lest if he should s.^cceec in winning the prize he coveted, it might prove tv him a bane, rathei than a blessing. Nor could one vfbo knew his past, blame him for that. Its trials and expt-riences had not been such as to teach him faith, either in xian's friend- ihip or woman's constancy. At last his resolve was taken ! He would ipend one more evening in her society, mark every aUion and word of hers, attempt to divine the nature of htr feel- ings for him, to rate the degree of his influenco over her, the chances of his success as a suitor for her hand, and then to act accordingly. Did he see aught to ou- courage such a step, he would tell her of his love, ex- plain the prospects of the future, attempt to make her understand what trials a reciprocity of his affection might impose upon her, and if she could respond to hia passion, and was willing to bide whatever consequences it might bring, he would bless God for the precious gift, and trust in His hands the happiness of the future. But if, on the contrary, he should see nothing in her bearing to him to warrant such a step, or should she refuse to listen with favor to his plea, he would go away, and in a fore'gn land steel his heart to endure one more disappointment, the bitterest and cruelest of all his wretched life. To endure^ not to conquer and forget 1 Alas I that is a task which no heart that has once been taught a lesson of true and enduring love, can ever perfectl;^ earn. Time may ease a ittle the sharpness of the primary pain, 1 all, with the charms of other scenes and A SIGNIFICANT DEMONSTRATION. 13i Other inierests, the tempest of the first great ar guiib, but there will still be days when the record of the paat shall perforce be backward read, wlien the waves of the old stream of sorrow shall surge irresistibly over the levees which Time and Will have built to guard the eitadel of the heart from tlie power of the undermin ing waters, and the howling tempest of desolation ahaL rao'e with renewed violence around the closely aarred windows of the poor, weak human soul. Perchance a casual word once familiar to the loved one's lips, perhaps a strain of music, fraught with the old perilously sweet associations, or the perfume of a simple flower, whose fragrance almost intoxicated us in the old bewitching days of happiness, may waken the •ririt of recollection, and annihilate all the hardly won serenity of the present days, all the fancied conquests of the old, old, desolating pain. The day wore wearily on, and evening found him again in the parlors of the Burton house. Berrie re- ceived him with her usual shy cordiality, but other visitors were present, and it chanced she had that day been so unmercif ally rallied on her preference for the handsome Eusrene, that with a woman's natural desire to prove their surmises false, and instinctive wish to shield from sight the prelt; --^-nces or passions of her girl- ish heait, althouo-h she treated him with her usual politeness, never during the progress of their acquaint- ance had she manifested so much indifference to hira, betrayed in her manner so much of reserve or distance as on this evening. In vain he attempted to draw hei l|ito conversation; giving to hia remarks only mono IM Ji BIGNIFICANJ DEMONSinAJTOW. vjVia^3A& replies, ehe turned from him with evident rvllel' whenever ghe was addressed bj others. At last he j;»v© it up, and witli bucIi pangs of pain as few ever ex- perienced, told himself that his fate was decided, and that it would be indeed utter folly to make to her an/ further advances. Poor little girl 1 the did not dream how much whm pending on the a«ts of that one evening : that all her future happiness was hanging in the balance, and one touch from her careless, impulsive finger might turn the scales in favor of future wretchedness and despair. — Did not know that she had almost been crowned with the offered love of one her heart esteemed above all others, and by her acted coldness had cast it from her — never to be regained ? We shall see 1 Mr. Adair early took his departure, and was the fiitt to leave. Berrie at the time was absent from the room, but chancing to return at the moment he was taking his hat from the rack, met him in the hall. " What 1 going so soon, Mr. Adair? " she said gaily, realising with a feeling of profound relief, that for the moment no curious eyes of others were upon her, mark- ing every word and look. *' Yes, go'ng!" he returned smiling, although some- what sadly. " Wliy should I not ? Besides, I have ■ome writing which must be done this evening. Good- night, my little friend ! " with a lingering emphasis on the ^*st words, and extending his hand in farewell. *' Q-ood-night, if you must go I " Bhe returned softly, and a little regretfully, placing her hand in his. Qa held 14 for a moment >n !i>oth his own, looking A SIGNlFlOAyi DEMON BTRATTOW. 181 down at her with eyes that told a tale which would nol be repressed, and compelling, bj force of magnetic »t« traction, the shy, conscious ejes of the girl to meet th« thrilling glance of his. With cheeks flushed to a vivid crimson, lips that parted to emit the panting breath, a trembling form, and eyes filled to overflowing with a passion to which she had never given a name, sha looked np to the equally conscious face of her compan* ion. An eloquence so bewitching, an agitation so fascinat- ing, a beauty so warm and brilliant, was more than the man, in his state of mind and heart, could withstand. With a sudden motion he dropped the little hand ha held, drew the trembling form within his close em- brace, and pressing with passionate kisses the tempting lips of the girl he adored, he murmured in the low and tender tones which love teaches to the human voice, " God bless you, my peerless Berrie ! " released her aa iuddenly as he had clasped her, turned to the open door, and was gone, — shut fi-om her sight bj the cur- tains of darkness that fell behind him. For a moment she stood where he had left her, tremb- ling with the consciousness of a new happiness, with the memory of the scene enacted but a moment before ; realizing with regret that other guests were in the par lor, demanding her presence and attention, and feeling, with shrinking sensitiveness, that she could not go in at present and show them a face beaming with her new- found happiness, and flushed with the rosy dyes which the magnetic glance of her " friend " had called there With a soft and silent step she ran lightly np the staira 138 ^ SIGNIFICANT DEMONSTRATION. and eat down for a moment by the open wicdow of hef darksned chamber, burjang her face in her trembling hAnds, and endeavoring to calm the riotous pu fees of a heart which had this evening been stirred to its very depths This, then, was what it all meant I Not the cool, even pulsations of friendship, but the hot, impulsive throb- biiigs of an o'crmjistering love. Not the tranquil calm- ness of indifference, but the tumultuous restlessness of awakened and all- potent affection. Tes, she loved him 1 loved him with all the poetry, power and passion of her sensitive nature. Loved him with an affection which should never know shadow of change or diminution ; which should but increase, and become more and more deep, sweet and enduring, as the passing years should glide swiftly along. Of course she believed it to be so I Who, under the spell of the divine passion, does not ? Who, however fickle may be their natures, would confess, in the first flush of acknowledged affection, that it were possible they could change ; that the emotions which were thrilling them to the very heart's core could grow fainter and fainter, until they were lost in the former calm of indifferent friendship. Few natures are capa- ble of a love that can stand any test ; — silence, absence, coldness, distrust, estrangement, indifference, or con- tempt Was hers such an one? Time alone would •how. Her sister's voice calling her from the hall below, aroused her to a sense of the matter-of-fact things ol the present, and answering that she would be dowp i BIQNIFTGANT DEMONBTRATIOW. 139 immediately, she lii^lilcd the gas, gmoothed hsr tck^ bled ringlets, bathed her still flashed cheeks, and tftei a moment passed slowly down the stairs. How her life had changed since she stood last with.'* that familiar room 1 how sweet and significant it ha^ become, bright and fair with the hopes of a newly ac knowledged love. IIow could she tolerate these com mon-place people for the remainder of the evening 1 " Music, music ! " was the cry as she entered the room, and without a remonstrance she submitted to be led to the piano, relieved that thus she could entertain the friends whom she felt it were impossible to talk to with any degree of connected and coherent conversation. Mechanically she sang and played whatever waa called for, while ever before her was a face eloquent of a strong but undeclared passion, and the echo to all her songs was the tender " God bless yon," of the man she loved. As for him, with his thoughts all in a tumult, with hib future course more than ever undecidcJ, he reached his hotel to find a despatch awaiting him, demanding his immediate presence in Washington. Hastily pack- ing some necessary garments in his portmanteau, pre- paratory to an early start in the morning, he quickly disrobed, and, not forgetting to thank the A.Mthor of all good for the blessings of the day, was speedily seeking the repose which he so much needed. But to him, as well as one other in that peaceful towii that balmy summer night, sleep was a coy and miwilling guest ; and in the broken slumbers of the on« mingled a fair and sweetly flushing face, betraying th« 140 A. BIQNIFICANT DEJfONSTRATIOJT. ]cm it had hitherto guarded so well, and in the fleetlo^ dreama of the other manly lips took sndden, but Dot niiwilling kisses from a trembling mouth, and a tendef voice murmured words of fond endearment to one whose heart gave an instant and eloquent response To the one it was the dawning of a girl's first sweet drean? of love ! To the other it was the fnution of • ■uui'g mAtur« and over-mastering pasaicm. CHAPTER IX. HAPPINESS — DI8APPOINTMKHT. " What more f Life's problenu are alwajB anftniohed. Wbaii • rtraln of m^uac is broken off in the middle, we carrj' It aboat Ih oo* hearts for days together, and marvel at its fancied sweetoAM. Had It been ftlUied, we might have forgotten — who knows ? " A. M. DoXTOLJbM. <* inil he not oome? oh, will he nerer come P I loTsd him so — ^he hath forgotten me." J. 0. Bmtw—. ITH the happy consciousness of something pleasant having occurred on the previous day, Berrie opened her eyes upon the golden light of another morning, and then, as the magic waves of recollection rolled over her soul, flooding it with sweet waters, she pillowed her flushed cheek in her hand, and with closed eyes and smiling lips, reviewed the eventi of the preceding evening, wh'ie every nerve thrilled with a flew delight, as she ireealled the impassionei demonstration of her hitherto reserved acquaintance; thrilled with the consciousness of the reciprocal pattioa which filled to overflowing her tender, youthfo] haart, 148 EAPPINESS-DISAPrOINTMENT. — that first young dream of love which it indeed »• passing sweet. Again she felt the touch of his bearded lips npon her own, and seemed to hear still ringing it. her ear* hifl t«nd«r, heart-full " God bless you 1 '' «A he released her in\>UL liis clasp, and vanished in the darkness of the night. Then pictured to herself his next coming; the words that could but follow what was so sigtiificant, the perfect delight of a fully reciprocal attachment. Longing for the hour that she felt certain would bring him, yet shrinking with maidenly modesty and diffi dence from the first embarrassing moments which mirit succeed their next meeting, and blushing to the very roots of her beautiful hair, here, all alone by herself j at thought of being wooed in lover-fashion by this man whom she so much esteemed aud admired. Never doubting for an instant, in the guileless trust of her unsuspecting heart, which was yet untainted with experiences of deceit, yet untaught in lessons of distrust and disappointment, that the shades of evening would bring him to her side to complete the thrilling story so eloquently begun the previous night ; never distrusting for a moment the purity and earnestness of the affec- tion whose first expression had shaken her being to its Ycrj core, and robbed her of the last vestige of careless, nnconscious girlhood, crowning her in a single moment with the diadem of perfected womanhood — that golden wreath of " bitter-sweets " which is, alas 1 so often bane- ful as well as beautiful. The day dragged, but not wearily ; the hours moved •o slowly onward that the previous night seemed to bfl HAPPINESS- \>ISAPPOINTMENT. 143 far back in the sheaves of the reaper Time, but happy anticipation brightened every one as they passed, and tent to eye and lip a new brilliance and beauty. More than once her sister remarked : " What ha« come over you to-day, Berrie ? you look as if you -w ere brimming over with happiness." And each time she laughed an embarrassed little laugh, and changed the Bubject, or ran hastily away. It chanced to be a very busy day to both of them, therefore there was really little opportunity for confidential conversation, until, as night fell, they met in the parlor to welcome and entertain whoever might chance to call. My reader, if you are a woman, doubtless you still remember, be it ever so far back in the annals of the past, with what emotions of tremulous pleasure you arrayed yourself in dainty and beautiful robes in an- ticipation of the coming of one you loved, in the early days of acknowledged or unacknowledged attachment, before familiarity had led to carelessness, accustomed intercourse had worn away the charm, or security had diminished your scrupulour.ness to use every art to ren- der yourself attractive to the man you loved. Doubtless yovi stLll recollect how you stood with fin- ger on your lip. and head bent thoughtfully, delibera- ting which of two beoutiful dresses would become you best, which vvould eii]i»j)ce or detract from your beauty, in which your expeotcd visitor would admire you most. How, minute by minute, you stood before the mirror, calculating effects ; ho w carefully and becomingly your abundant tresses we/e arranged ; with what trembling angers you placed the flowers in coiffure or corsagei 144 HAPPlNES8-LIBAPlX)TNTMEirF. and itoppcd back, with smiling lips and ejm, to ooo- template a whole you had spent so much of time and thought to render attractive ; perhaps feeling with •iskening disappointment that no arts of the toilet eonld make you beautiful, or trium j>hing in a lovelincM which was never more regally grand or delicately fair than then ; and finding at last that if there was tni« and mutual love it did not matter whether your dower was queenly beauty or plebeian plaimiess of figure and feature. Thus, I need not tell you with what deliberate care and tremulous pleasure Miss Berne's toilet was made, on what she considered would be to her so eventful an evening, or how sweet and lovely she looked in the flowing dress of white which was at length chosen ; her only ornaments delicate clusters of tube-roses, which fragrant beauties, relieved by trailing sprays of myr- tle, nestled in her perfect hair, and on the bosom of her low-cut gossamer dress. She needed no color to impart rosy flushes to her rounded cheek, for expec- tant Jjove had touched it with his dimpling finger, and dyed it with the warmest and brightest of his roseate hues. It was BCiurcely seven o'clock when she entered the parlor in her pretty evening dress, and seated lierself at the piano to while away the time until her friend should arrive ; lijtle gnessing that though in thought he was indeed with her^ yet in person he was many, many noiles distant, while she with impatient heart* beatjs awaited his coming. He thought of her, it is true ; be would fain hare BAFFIN ESly-DISAPPOINTMENT. \4k bMn with her as on the previous erening ; yet prob- •bly had he been permitted to visit her, the words that ■he expected to hear might, as then, have still remained nneaid. He was too skilled in ways of the world, and of women in particular, to attach much meaning to fche pretty agitation she had betrayed in the few mo- ments that they were alone together ; and some more convincing proof of her preference for him, he told himself he must have, ere he could risk a refusal of his suit. He regretted that he had allowed the im- pulse of the moment to betray him into such a pas- eionate demonstration, but what was past could not be recalled — he would try to be more self-contained in future, and after all, doubtless she thought no more of it than did he. Alas 1 what is so much to a woman is often of snch slight importance to the opposite sex I Love, which Ib to her a necessity, is often to him merely a relaxation ; and tender demonstrations of affection, which mean so much to her, which are the food, the very life of her heart, are to him but a " thing apart " from his daily existence, — a moment's yielding to a passion which has frequently neither depth nor sincerity. Too often idoes she '* — deem the kiss and smile Are life, and love's beginning ; While he who wins the heart awvj, Is satisfied with winning." But thengh this was not the case irith Eugene Adaii, •till he did not feel as assured of her love for him, as •he did of his attachment to her. Tmlj 1 her perfeci f 14« HAPPINESS- mSAPPOim'MSNT. trriBt in him deserved a speedier and more full reward than it received. Time dragged slowly along until the usnal time oi his coming was reached and passed, which Berrie M- certained by furtive glances at her watch when ehe deemed herself unobserved, and disappointment waa beginning its cruel work at her heart-strings, when there were steps on the walk, and a loud ring at the door-bell. Although the peal had sent the blood in tingling waves back to her heart, yet she made no sign, but with fingers tliat trembled perceptibly con- tinued the noisy march she had been playing. Misi Burton was reading by the centre-table, but did not lay down her book until Miss Wardell and her frequent companion, Mr. Malvern, were ushered in. One choking gasp to crush do^vn the sickening sense of disappointment which she felt as the sound of their voices reached her ear, and Berrie turned with her usual gay manner to greet them. All the eve, the merry laugh, the saucy repartee, seemed to come readily from her lips, although with every nerve strained to its utmost tension, she listened for the slightest sound that should indicate the coming of the expected one ; hearing, above all the gayety that reigned within, the least breath of noise that stirred without, and paying in that seemingly endless even- ing, the fii*8t tithe to her love-crowned womanhood, in the current coins of disappointment and hope-deferred| wrung from her while on the rack of torturing sud* pense. Ab the evening waned, and still the light conversar HAPPINESS -DISAPPOINTMEITT. lO tion never flagged, and their guests gave no sign ol taking theii departure, the color died from the girl'i fair cheek, her laugh :?iame less and less frequently, and with unutterable longing for quiet and solitnde did she await their departure. At last they were making their adieus, to Berrie's profound relief ; but the evening was not ioomed to end without one mort torture to the proud and sensitive heart of the girL " By the way, where is Mr. Adair this evening ? " Miss Wardell inquired teasingly, as she put on her hat. The color rushed to cheek and brow of the lovely face, but she answered calmly, " You ask too mnch ; how should /know, indeed?" " He was in last evening, you know, Jennie ; yon would not expect to always find him here, would you ? " Belle inquired, carelessly. But Miss Wardell continued archly, " I wouldn't blame him if he did not come any more, the way you treated him last night, Berrie I you didn't say scarcely a word to the poor fellow, and he looked terribly flown-hearted after you left the room." " Nonsense 1 " returned Berrie impatiently. " Mr Adair has more sense." " Oh, I presume you think so I " still laughingly ; " but I am sorry to see you such an arrant little CO- quettt^-, Berrie " " You had better refrain from looking at me then 1 " haughtily. " But you ahouldn't treat Mr. Adair so ; he's worth winning." 1 41 MAj*piNEss- -Dik irromTMEJirr. " Indeed ? then perhaps you had better try for hiai jrourBeif ; you are more accustomed to such thingi thui lam." " Oh, I do not w-flh to interfere with you I " with • little embarrassed laugh, as if the last shot had hit. "Do not alarm yourself about mel I make over any claim to him which you fancy I possess. I am not so anxious for a settlement as some young ladies 1 ** " Come, Jennie, you had better let Adair and Berrio alone," interposed Mr. Malvern, laughingly attempt- ing to draw her away. " You may get the worst of it" " Well, good night, girls I come down soon," and Miss Wardell gladly took her departure. " Csm't you stand a little teasing, Berrie ? " asked her sister when the guests were gone. " A moderate amount, yes ; but I am sick and tired of hearing about Mr. Adair. One would think that no other gentleman ever paid me any attention." " Well, I don't think you did treat him very well last night, and, as Jennie says, he looked very grave after you left the room." " As if that was anything unusual ! But it seems I can't please you anyway ; yesterday you were all talk- ing to me about manifestly preferring him to any one else, and now scold me because I don't I am di*- gusted with the whole thing." " Oh, that was all in fun yesterday." " Well, I am tired of such fun 1 " and with a oool • good night," she left the room. B«rrie was undeniably cross; out had an^ out HAPPINESS- DT8 APPOINTMENT. IM known how heavily her heart was beating with min- gled emotions of pride, disappointment, vexation, and iUBpense, they would have pitied rather than censured. " A good cry " relieved somewhat her ever- wrought feelings, and a night's repose restored in a measare tki freahness and tone of her spirits. CHAPTER X. INDIGNATION — OCKJUETBT. ** Lor* ia a traitor, opcninGT the gate To admit tte stealth j foe, EsfH Wk» amsheth every flower and rerdant iluiiK BzhacBts the dews, and poiaons 6very foimi, (yeroometh Ignorance surprised, and then Destroys his cherished treasure, happiueea.** J. 0. HETivoaat ** Many a woman conoeaLs an aching, empty heart, with amilee an! artfnl disgoiMs.'* a B. o. ^ERAL days of alternate hope and disappoint- ment passed slowly along, and Berne realized the full meaning of what had been before but empty words. For a time, with wch sDIONATION~COqurrBT, 111 Ibt ha naight be baek in two or tbr«c wmIu, and h« migbt not be able to return at all ; in which case he would write her where to send the baggage he had left in hds room." ^ Well t I think as much as he has been here thig lammer he might have had the grace to say ' good-by ' At least." ^ I most say I think so too ! But perhaps he hai ■ome good reason for his abrupt departure ; in fact, I •m positive he has ; for Adair is a perfect gentleman, as you all must know ere this. I presume he will be back before long." Berrie left the room as soon as she thought she could do so without exciting comment, but Belle and Mr. Wright were too much engrossed with each other to notice or regret her departure. Alone in her room she looked at the matter in the new light that she had gained ; at first feeling greatly relieved that he had not been in town all th;B weary time without visiting her, then indignant that he had not managed in some way to let her know of his de* parture, had it been so unexpected that he knew nothing of it himself on his last visit just one week ago. How long that week had seemed 1 how much she had lived in it ; how essentially her heart and life had been changed by those few days of suspense and diaap* pointment. Had he been going away, why jould he not har« gone quietly without shakirg her heart to its very depths, by the tale he had told so eloquently^ in thi 154 im)IO¥ATI0N—C0qUBTBT. few brief momenta they were alone together, on tt»t fatal evening ! Thus indignation mastered for the time her affection for and trust in him, and with a determined look on her fair face, a painfully close setting of the pouting lips, she prepared to make her night toilet, resolved ii he could give her up so lightly, she would at least not grieve for him, but summoning pride to her aid, would io conduct that the world should never guess how nearly her happiness had been wrecked, how closely had the " rosy god " swept by her, brushing her cheek with his downy wings, and leaving in her heart the re- membrance of one soft look from his bewitching, dan- gerous eyes, " Berrie, what has become of your old admirer Eugene Adair ? " inquired Charlie Anderson, a few evenings later, as he stood by the piano where she sat, idly running her fingers over the keys, striking exquis- ite chords at every careless touch. He was a fine young man of about thirty years, not particularly handsome, but exceedingly good principled and pleasing, one of those rare gentlemen whom ladiei feel almost as free with as with one of themselves, and who take no advantage of the familiarity with which they are treated. It was evident, however, that he ad- mired Miss Berrie extremely, and she :n turn regarded him with more favor than any of her other gentlemen acquaintances, excepting, of course, Eugene Adair, and ever felt a cordial pleasure in his society. Berrie's heart stepped beating at this careless men- tion of a name which she could never hear unmoved, INDIGNATION- COQL ETHT. IftS ftnd she bent her head a little that the drooping corll might hide the flushing cheekB, as she answered gaily ' ** Oh, he has deserted me, I expect 1 Don't yea feci •orry for me, Charlie ? " " More 80 for you," he laughed, " than for myseH. We gentlemen consider him a dangerous rival, Berrie." " Indeed ? why should you ? " and the little coquetta looked up with her most bewitching glance in the vio- let eyes of the man at her side. " Oh, he is so confoundedly cool — excuse me, Berrie — and so handsome and fascinating as well.* " Yes, — but he is so old, Charlie I " and again tha nstrouseyes did duty. "Not 80 very, and that is no objection to nuuiy young ladies, other things being satisfactory." " No — but then — . Are you pleading his cause, Charlie ? " " Not 1 1 I assure you I " and he laughed softly. " I am too glad to have him out of the way. But where has he gone, really, Berrie ? His home is in Boston, is it not?" " I think so, yes 1 but he is now in "Washington, I believe ; at least Mr. Wright said bo a few evenings lince." " And when is he coming back to continue his woo ing, and cast us poor fellows in the shade again ? " " As if he could do that, Charlie I I do not know, indeed, if he expects to return at all. He was here the evening before he left, bv.t said nothing about going away." * I expect joa were so omel to him, jut m yon art IM INDIGNA TION- - COQUBTBT. to me somotirach. that lie left in sheer desperataon. If that it, Berrie % " The girl remembe;-^ with a thrill Jww cmel ihi had been in the last moments they were together, tmt she looked up in well-feigned surprise and eaid, **/, Charlie \ Am I ever cruel to you ? " " Yes, jou are, Berrie, to flirt so with others wheD you know — " " Have you ever heard * Tam O'Shanter,' Charlie f ** •he interposed, and with a crash that drowned all other Bound she commenced the beautiful piece. Charlie was effectually silenced, as he had been many times before ; — led on by the bewitching glancei of the little flirt, until a declaration of love trembled on his lips, then annihilated with one sweep of her dainty little hand. Thus she took her revenge for the disappointment one of his sex had imposed upon her, and proved to the world that she was still " heart-whole and ivoaj* CHAPTER XL TEX EBTUBN — SAD EOlTBa. "Oh but fll Wben with rich hopes o^er-franght, the jonng. high hmti B«an its first blow I — it knows not jet the par^ Whioh life will teach— to suffer and be still.*^ Mss. HncAmL .ELLA, I am going out for a few moments ; il any one calls to see me tell them I will b« back soon," said Berrie, one evening abont four weeks after Mr. Adair's abrupt departure for Washington, as she passed the partially opened door of the parlor, on her way through the hall. " But some one has called already 1 " returned Belle. " Come in, Berrie ; didn't Hattie tell you ? " " No 1 but they will please excuse me fcf a few minutes ; I will not be long." But before she reached the door she was stopped by Charlie Anderson. ** Stay, Berrie, let me accompany you ; it is too late for you to be out alone." "< Oh, it is you, is it, ChArliet I am Bet »fndd, and prafertofo alone." 158 THE RETURN— SAD nOlTB& " Bat I cannot albw jou to I " and he reached lot his hat. " Indeed ' " was the langhing answer. " Bat sup- pose 1 should Bay that I should not allow you to go." " You will not, of course ? " *" Don't be too sure I Didn't I say that I preferred tc gr alone ? " " But some one will carry you oft I " laughingly, sup- posing her to be only fencing. " No danger of that as long as you are safely housed 1 " was the gay reply. He put on his hat, and taking hold of her arm said : " Come along, Berrie 1 " But she resisted, and exclaimed laughing, " But I don't want you to go, Charlie ! " He looked at her a moment in surprise, without speaking, but she continued : " I am not going far, and I don't want any protection at all. Don't you see that the longer you detain me, the later it will be be- fore I am back ? Come, go in the parlor, like a good boy, Charlie, and stay until I return," laughing again to see how crest-fallen he looked at her refusal of his escort. " You had better not go at all ! there is some one in the parlor that you will like to see." " Indeed? Well, it will be time enough when I am Wck. Come, let me go, Charlie," and she took his arm, led him to the parlor door, and pushing him play- fully within, exclaimed, without looking in the room : " Here, Belle, keep this naughty boy safe until I return ; I can't have him with me I " and closing the door, sbf TBE RETUBK-SAD BO/BS. 169 rmn hastily through the hall, and the Te«tibale door speedily clanged behind her. As has been previously intimated, about four weeki Lad elapsed since Mr. Adair had taken his departure, and Berrie had some time since come to the conclusiou that he would not return, and that the sooner aho dropped him from her recollection, the better it would be for her peace of mind. She had also learned that it was not so easy a task ai she had imagined His image would rise before her on the most inauspicious occasions ; and laugh, and sing, and coquet as she might, there was always a little sigh in her heart, and with the reaction which was certain to follow in the silence of her own room, hot, bitter tears came but too frequently also. Her life seemed hollow, aimless and unsatisfactory, and robbed of the meed of love which would have made it so full and sweet ; she longed for something to fill the void, more substantial than the round of wearying pleasure that ihe had of late pursued. Almost giving up the hope of his return, she did not dream that the guest whom Charlie assured her she would " like to see," was the very one of whose coming she had nearly despaired ; while he sat there in the parlor of her home, seemingly occupied with a book of engravings which he had taken from the table, but really listening with a thrill of pleasure to the light, familiar step in the hall, and with a touch of pain to the gay tone and words which seemed tt/ tell him, not only that he had not been missed, but that another had tnpplanted him in the heart of the girl he loved. leg THM JUBTUBir-MAD MOV JIM. Man ol tb« world as h« was, capabl« m hm •ouikhBtt) ki tnself of calculating the evidence of preference which came before bis eyes, yet the glamour of a true and ^•asiorate love had so blinded him that he could not I00& Deic'w the surface, had lent him so much of mod- ctty and diffidence that he failed to appropriate looks and words that really belonged to him, and caused him to forget that women, like dreams, " go by con- traries," and that their acts must often be accordingly estimated. Probably about an hour elapsed ere Berrie re- turned from her independent walk, while Mr. Adair was silent and distrait, and Charlie Anderson restlesg, and evidently impatient for her return. At length her step sounded on the piazza, and th« click of her key in the door, and Belle remarked to Mr. Adair : " Berrie will be surprised at seeing you." " Yesl" he returned smiling, just as Berrie opened the dour and paused on the threshold, almost blinded by the brilliant li^ht within, in contrast with the dark- ness without. She placed her hand before her eyes for a moment, exclaiming : " IIow light you have it here. Belle I it b fearfully dark out of doors. I almost wished I had taken you along, Charlie," and she removed her hand and turned to look for him, when her careless glance fell on the face of her long absent friend. For an instant she stood as if spell-bound, the blood teeming to stand still in her veins, then bounding madly on as he arose and came smilingly forward, say- ing in the low, cultivated fa^nes she had thoni^bt nerei nor VBTxmir-BAj) eouba i9x to hear again : " Good evening, Misi Berne, I am fery happy to see yon once more." " Why, Mr. Adair I yon are indeed a stranger," she managed to stammer confusedly, as he took her hand in greeting. " Yes 1 " he returned in his nsnal self-possessed man ner. " I have been absent longer than I hoped, indeed I did not know that I should be able to return at alL I was sorry to be obliged to leave so abruptly," he went on, to give her time to regain her composure, and resuming his seat, " without an opportunity of saying * good-bye' to the friends to whom I am indebted foi such a pleasant summer ; but I received an imperious dispatch on the last evening 1 was here, which obliged me to leave by the first train. I should have written had I not been able to come back, but am very happy to return to make my adieus in person." While he had been speaking, the old sweet confi dence and love surged back to the tender, unskilled heart of the girl, but with the last words it all died out again. " He has only returned to say farewell ; he does not lore me after all I " she thought to herself, and stung and hurt to the core, she returned calmly and coolly : "We supposed you were called suddenly away." Then turning to her other guest gaily — "Well, Charlie, did you think me very long away ? " ** Yes, and was afraid the fate I prophesied had be^ &llen you." "What I That I was carried off! Oh, I told yoi there was no danger of that" If) TJDB RETURFSAL ffOUBB. "1 didn't think, Berrie, you wonld give me Ubi mitten in that way." « Didn't you ? " laughing. " Well, I'll be good next time and let you go. You see my business was very private, and I was afraid you could not keep a secrei." " Oh, I can, I assure you I " eagerly. " Try me and •ee ; I am not a woman." " Oh, I dare not 1 I am afraid you would provt worse than a woman, and betray me." "Never! Tell me, for instance, what I wish to know, and I promise sacredly that I will be ai silent ai Ae grave." " What do you wish to know ! " " Whom do you love best ?" in a tone bo low no one else could distinguish the words. She glanced at him saucily and coquettishly, reply- ing as she arose and went towards the piano : " I never answer impertinent questions 1 Have you heard my new song, Charlie ? " She sang the one in question, not delaying for a re- ply, but no persuasion of either of her guests could in- duce her to sing again. She was obstinate, coquettish, changeable, and saucy the whole evening, laughing and talking much more than her wont exceedingly gracious to Charlie one moment, and quarrelling with him the next on the slightest provocation, saying in the meantime very little directly to her just returned friend, Eugene Adair. More puzzled than ever, he eariy took hib departure, unable to guess whether it was indifference or piqoc that dictated her exceedingly contrndictory actioni. THE RETURN SAD HOXntR 168 Severftl days passed on, and although thej met frequently, Mr. Adair was still as much pozzled at on the first evening of his return to understand the way- ward, changeable girl. Never had she been bo gay and attractive ; and though she did not seem to avoid him, and met him as pleasantly as ever before, yet her attention was so much occupied by others more young and lively than himself, that when a week had passed, he could not recall a single ten minutes' conversation with her since his return. He little dreamed that scarce a night passed by, bnt she sat, sometimes for hours, with head bent on her hand in sorrowful musing, in which he took a con- •picuouB part, at times with close-set lips and a hard, despairing look in her eyes, at others with tears rain- ing down her cheeks, while tempests of sobs convulsed her rounded, girlish form, — the mask of pride which she had worn so gaily, torn off and thrown aside, and the echo to all her musings, " he does not care for me, he does not care for me I " For he, too, was proud ; and, almost convinced of her indifference to him, he would not seem to woo one who evidently preferred others' ■ociety lo his. Thus playing at cross-purposes, day after day passed by, and the first week of October was already gore, when quite a party met accidentally in the hospitable mansion of the Burtons. Among the others were out old acquaintances, Messrs. Wright, Adair, and Ander- son, with Jennie WardeM And her devoted attendant, Mr. Malvern. Belle of o^urse was present, and Berrie, leomingly in her gA/v'. mood, chatted, and laughed, 164 THE RBTURN-SAD HOUBB. and MDg, and coquetted, as nsaal tLe oelle 3f Am She was looking uniifinally well in a trailing skirt of »ea-green silk, and a high-cut waist of white mofilin, the low lining and filmy texture revealing the ronnded Bhoulders, whose beauty the delicacy of the fabric which covered them but enhanced. As usual she wm without a jewel of any description, and her watch, which had lost its novelty, was lying unheeded in ita case on her dressing bureau. A rose-colored bow fastened the lace collar at her throat, and heightened the flush which excitement had imparted to her cheeks, while her eyes shone and sparkled with gayety, and her lovely hair flowing over her shoulders, contrasted pleasingly with the snow of her delicate waist. Eugene Adair watched her with hungry eyea, al- though seldom attempting to engage her in conversa tion, knowing well, from past experience, how difficult it would be ; but resolving at last that he would not give her up so easily, that in the few remaining dayi of his stay he would make every effort to win a heart he had once thought almost within his grasp. That fatal visit to Waflhington 1 He wished sometimes that it had never been made ; and yet in the same breath told himself that if she could not be constant just tho6» few short weeks, he surely could not trust her faithful- ness for the years to come. With man'a onreasonablih ness, reproaching her for fickleness, and forgetting that love even must have something to feed u^wn — mwo/^ thing either to hope or remember — else, however ardent the ire, it will at last bom itself out ; ignorant tbul TBE RBTUIiN-SAD EOUSS. IM Im had taken just the means to alienate her from him^ at least in seeming, and put her on her mettle of pride, by half revealing his love for her, then abruptly leav- ing her for weeks, without a spoken or written word. Eugene Adair was kiud, noble, honorable, gentlemanly, and considerate, but he would not have belonged to his sex had he not been unreasonable and exacting as well. So Berrie glided gaily along over the pathway of the days, hiding bravely the pain which lay couchant in her tender heart, and unconscious of the pangs she inflicted on the man she loved, while he found it diffi- cult to tell, as he watched her, whether she was the more charming when pouting till her crimson lips looked more kissable than ever, or smiling till her •nowy teeth shone in bewitching contrast with the ripe red mouth. On this evening Charlie Anderson, as usual, was close to her side, turning the leaves of her music when she played, and in every manner possible monopolizing her attention, while Mr. Adair, determined to speak a few words to her that evening ere he should leave, bided his time. " I suppose you are going to Clara Maybnry's party to-morrow night, Berrie, are you not ? " inquired Jen- nie Wardell late in the evening. " I suppose so, yes I but I do not care abont it much ; 1 would rather stay quietly at home by myself." " Nonsense 1 so lately home from «chool an^ averse lo parties ? " <* Yes, wonderful as it may seem I I hjiye icureelj ie« THE RETURN—SAD UOfTRS. kad a quiet day since ray return, and I am tired," and hier looks for the moment did not belie her words. ** However," she continued, " I suppose I shall go^ M I believe the invitation has been accepted." " It seems to me," said Belle, " that Clara is rathei early in the season." " She has a special reason for it, I believe. Many of the summer boarders in tovvn, with whom she is in- timately acquainted, leave next week, and this is more particularly in their honor." Berrie wondered if Eugene Adair wm one of them, but kept silence. He had said nothing of going away since the first night of his return, but she knew, of course, that he must go, as he had no bnsiuesi or other connection there, and her heart sank at the dread certainty of the absence of one who was dearer than all other earthly objects. The evening's excitement had suddenly worn off, leaving her pale, listless, and silent, wearying of the society of every one, and long- ing, as she so often did of late, for the quiet of her own apartment. In vain she endeavored to arouw herself to her former gaiety ; the mask had been re- moved, and she found she could not replace it. And Eugene Adair looked with surprise at the girl, who a short time before had been so brilliant and lively, now sitting silent unless addressed, with such a weary ^ weary look in the olive, colorless face, and large, dark eyes. She was arranging the music on her stand, iomewluil apart from the rest of the company, when Mr. Adair aroee to go. He bade Miss Burton gtxxl evening, thea TRB RXTURN- SAD HO DBA 167 tpproAched Berrie, and held out his hand. She \ooted up listlessly, and placed her own in the ono extended. "My little friend," with the old gentle intonation, •* I shall send you a bouquet for the party to-morroi» erening, and, if you will permit, a spray for your h*ii also." " Thanks, Mr. Adair ! " she returned, " but—" " Do not refuse me, Berrie, so simple a request," b« Interposed. " Accept the trifles and wear ihem for mj Bake, for the sake of your — friend." She looked up with the weary look still in her ey««, but did not reply, until he said again : " You will ac- cept them, will you not, little girl ? " " Yes, since you wish it so much. Were you going now?" " At once 1 I have taken leave of your sister. Good night, Berrie I How tired you look." " I am tired ! more tired than you can think I " an** the eyes that looked so frankly in his, suddenly filled with tears. " God bless you, my child I Good- night 1 " he mur- mured softly, and with a lingering pressure of the hand he held, he turned away, while she resumed her interrupted occupation, bending lower and lower over the scattered sheets to hide the tears that would fall in spite of her. But after a moment she regained her self-control, and crushing them back, resumed her place in the group of g nests. How relieved she felt when they were ftll at last gone, only those who have entertained strangers, or in- different persons, when with every moment the toan Ill TEX RBTUBN—BAD HOURS. pTMced nearer atd nearer to the heavy eyelidi, and the heart throbbed harder and harder with a nameleM pain^ can realize or understand. To her surprise, she found her mother in her room, ODtwithstanding the lateness of the hour. " Why, mamma, how you startled me I Why are you up so late ? " " Oh, I came up to look over some garments of yours, and taking up this little book, became so m- terested that I did not notice how late it was. But how tired you look, child 1 What is the matter ? " The book she held was " Lucile," and at sight of the little volume which was so dear to her, for its own Bake and that of the giver, she felt she could endure no more, and throwing herself on the floor, she buried her face in her mother's lap, and sobbing, exclaimed : " I am tired, and, oh, mother, so miserable also ! " " What is it, dear ? tell ma all about it," soothingly stroking the bowed head of her grieving child. " Oh, don't ask me, don't ask me, mamma 1 but I am BO unhappy, so very wretched." Her mother said no more, letting her silence and caresses manifest such sympathy in her child'^s sorrow RS a mother's tender heart alone can know. At last her grief was spent for the time, the passion- ate sobs ceased, and she arose from her kneeling posi- tion, averting her face and saying: " I shall feel better DOW ; I am fearfully tired, and a little nervous as well, I believe." Her mother assieted her to undress, and when she at last io b«d, she kissed her and sale tenderlj : t THE BETVnySAD HO UBS. 16» •Good niglit, my darliugl rest as long «s yon Uke la the mcrning, and God blesa you, my preciouB child I Uien turning out the gas, she left the girl alo«« wjtk t fcji gilence and the ni^ht 8 CHAPTER Xn.' ttTM UNEXPKOTED OIFT -THIC PAVTV; ^ A. ikoDHUid hearte beat huppilj, and wlm Miudo arose with ita volaptnoiu sweU, ftoft eyvm looked Ioto to erw that epoke agalm. And ail went meny as a marriage bell " LOBD BTSOa. ^ETIRIE, co3;'e down here a moment j please • " called Belle from the hall below, abovH tiiree o'clock on the following afternoon, sittiJig down on the lower stairs to await the response to her sum- mons. She held in her hand a hot-houst bouquet ir its covering of paper, and a small packag'), also closelj wrapped. After wai.'ng a few minutes patiently, as hor slstei did not make her appearance, she called again : " Ber- rie, are vou not coming 1 " " In a moment, Belle 1 " was the distant response, and a few seconds later the girl, still in her moming-drea? came slowly down the stairs, " What is it ? Why, what have you there, Belle ! ' t0 ehe espied the ftrticlee her sister was holding. TSa UNSXPEOTSD OTFT- FEB PABTT. 171 " A bouquet, and this ! " presenting them to her. ** A little boy just left them at the d :x)r." " From Mr. Adair, I presume," Berrie replied quiet- ly. ** That is, the bouquet, as he said last evening he woiuui send me one : but I do not see what this can be.'* " Open it, and you wiU^ doubtless 1 " returned Bell% laughing. " Very likely I " and sitting down on the stairs abova her sister, she proceeded deliberately to remove the wrappings, betraying nous of that eager haste which most young ladies would evince on receiving a mys- terious packet from a gentleman of her acquaintance " A jewel-case ! " exclaimed Belle, in surprise, as the paper which had covered it dropped from her sister'i hand. " That looks suspicious, Berrie I " laughingly. " Did he say he would send that also ? " " No 1 " quietly. " Well, do open it, and let us see 1 Oh, how beauti- ful I For your hair, I suppose," as the open casket re- vealed a cluster of holly-berries in cut coral, with prickly leaves crusted with green enamel, and glittering with tiny emeralds, set on every point of the leaves. " Why, you don't get a bit enthusiastic over it, Ber- rie; don't you like it? I think it is lovely, and will be exceedingly becoming to you," as her sister scarcely gmiled, and looked rather vexed than pleased. " Fes, I think it beautiful 1 " she returned, as quietly as before. " But I do uot like to receive such presents, and had I any idea last night, that he meant anythiQH of this kind, I should have said no." 172 TRB UNEXPECTED GJFT—THS PAMIT. " It seems he did Bpeak of it then ; you said yoi knew nothing about it," returned Belle, in surpriae. " Well, I did not. He merely said when he went •way that he should send me a bouquet for the party, and aiked permission to send me a spray for my hair also. I supposed, of course, he meant a spray of flowers, and did not object, as he begged bo earnestly that I would not." " "Well, this is much handsomer than flowers, and you two are such good friends, I do not Bee why you should not mind accepting and wearing it." " I shall have to, I suppose, as I promised to, but I would rather not, nevertheless." " What dress do you mean to wear to-night t *' " I don't know ; my white alpaca, I thought, with Bcarlet geranium in my hair." " Well, this will look much handsomer than the ger- aniums, and you know he desired to see you crowned with holly-berries I " laughing. " Belle 1 " called her mother from the dining-room. " Yes, mamma 1 " and she arose hastily to respond to her mother's summons, while Berrie slowly returned to her room. " Well, ma, will we do ? " enquired Belle, laughingly, as the sisters met in the sitting-room previous to leaving for the party, each with her cloak on her arm, and fan, gloves and bouquet in her hand. "You look very nicely indeed, both of you'" re- turned the proud mother ; " I hope y( u will nave a pleasant evening, but do not stay very late ; Berrie if about tired out with bo much gayety." TOE UNEXPEOTBD GIFT—THB TsSTT. 178 ** Oh, no, we'll return earlj. Isn't Berne's holl/ bean* tifnl,ma?" " Very lovely, and t«coming ako." and she kissed the girls and sent them d-^wn to the carriage which had been some time in waiting. Partial as were the mother-eyes, she did not err in saying that they both looked exceedingly well ; and so thought many another, as they entered the already nearly filled rooms of Clara May bury. But Berrie, at least, had thus early prored the truth of Maud Lester's careless statement on the day of ex- hibition, that " wealth and beauty do not always bring happiness." Her heart was very heavy, and she felt that it would be only with an effort that she coold at Bume her usual gay manner, while there were so many by to note each look and word. Charlie Anderson and Mr. "Wright met them at the door of the reception-room, and led them to the young hostess, Berrie feeling with a little pang, how much more attentive Mr. Wright was to her sister, than was his friend Eugene Adair to hei-self. A rapid, but ap- parently careless scrutiny of the guests assembled, showed her, however, that he had not yet arrived. Nor did she see him when he quietly entered some moments later ; but started nervously as he approached her unob- served, and addressed her. '* Good evening I " she returned gaily, to his low greeting. " I did not know you were here."' " I have but just arrived; you were leM dilatory, '\ seems." ** Yes, but we have not been here long. Oharliei 174 THB UNEXPBOTED OIFT-TRS PAJtTT. what did yon do with mj fan ?" and her crimson cheeks fceetified to a necessity for its nse. ** I have it here ; what will you give to redeem it J * " I do not know ; what do you demand f " Now Charlie half suspected that the bouquet Bheheld WM the gift of his presumed rival, Eugene Adair, and feeling accordingly jealous, he returned : " Something that you value, of course. Let me see I Well, I wiU exchange for the bouquet you have in yopr hand." Involuntarily she glanced at the donor, who had seated himself near by, and her quick glance encoun- tered one as rapid and eloquent. Charlie had seen the significant look as well, and convinced of what he had suspected before, he bit his lip with vexation, and awaited her reply. It came after scarcely a moment's delay, in her usual gay tone and manner. " Indeed 1 Mr. Impertinence, you are modest in yoni demands! Capture ray fan, and then require my bou- quet as a ransom 1 AVTiat would you do with either, pray?" " Keep them as a memento of one I— admire I " he returned in a low tone that meant much more than tbe words implied. " How romantic 1 A vrithered bouquet as a relic 1 Will you not have a lock of my hair, also ? " " I should be delighted. Mrs. Maybury, will yon oblige me with a pair of scissors ? " " Do not trouble yourself, Clara 1 Be so kind as to pass me Belle's fan instead ; I see she is not using it" Mrs. Maybury did as requested, and Charlie looked ■xceedinglj non-plussed. TBB imsXPEOrED GIFT- THE FABTT. 17l " So you will not ledeem your fan ? " h© Inqmred, *■ ft somewhat vexed tone. " Not until you become more moderate in your de* tiftuds ; T never encourage extortioners." " Well, what will yon give me, Berrie ? " " Oh, I do not care particularly about having it jn»t now ; ray wants are supplied, you perceive." " I think she has the best of you this time, Ander- son," laughed Mr. Wright, who sat near. " I'll be even with her yet ; see if I don^t, Miae Ber- rte 1 " returned Charlie, in pretended desperation. " Who has orange-flowers ? I am sure I smell them," said another young gentleman, taking % seat near Ber- rie which had just been vacated. " Orange-flowers ? is it you, Berrie ? " excjjumed Charlie, bending above her bouquet before she could prevent it, then catching the hand which held it " Let me see ! there is such a conglomeration of odors that I can't distinguish one from another." Berrie laughed, and blushed, and attempted to draw her hand away, but Charlie held it firmly, closely scm- tinizing the artistic arrangement of tube-roses, gerani- ums, heliotropes, and the various blossoms which usually form a hot-house boquet. Nearly in the centre, and almost hidden by the waxen leaves of a beautiful yel- low rose, his sharp eyes at length discovered a tiny clnft- ter of the flo^vers in question, whose subtle perfume had betrayed to the sensitive nasal organ of her neighbor its presence in her bouquet. Gharhe laughed significantly as he espied it, and mnrmored under his breath ; " Orange-flowert;, ek I ia 176 TSM UNEXPECTED OlFT -THE FASTT. Mr. AdAir'i bonquet 1 quite suggestive, Miss Berricl " then louder : " Since yuu will uot redeem yoiu* fan witk the whole bouquet, you shall have it, Miss Burton, fct that single cluster of orange-blossoras. Is it a bargam f " — and again lowering his voice — " my prospective Jiljni Adair?" His meaning tone and laugli, and the conscionsneti that the eyes of the giver of the nosegay were upcn hei, confused and irritated her extremely, and she heartily wished that she had left at home the bouquet which had been a cause of so much annoyance to her. Deliberat- ing a moment if she should accede to his request, and fearfol a refusal to do so would but confirm his suspi- cions, unwilling, also, that Mr. Adair should think that she prized it so much as to be reluctant to part with it, she returned, hastily drawing the cluster out : " It is a bargain, yes 1 since you covet my flowers M mnch. Please restore my fan." Charlie obeyed, murmuring again under his breath, " Are we even, Miss Berrie ? " as Mr. Adair, without a glance at her, arose and walked off to another part of the room. 8he did not see him again nntil supper was an- nonnoed, when he approached her, and asked permi»- iion to lead her out ; during which the usual amounl of light conversation was carried on, as is general m such gatherings, no one seeming to think of talkiiig anything but nonsense, and the usual small-talk of bo ciety. When they returned to the parlors, he led her to a iMiiewhat leclndcd seat, and took hii place beaijde herj UKEXPEOTED OIVT-TRB PABTT. 177 kopin^ for a few momenta' quiet conversation, anch M lie HaJ not enjoyed with her feince his return. "I must thank yon, Mr. Adair, for the handsome gift I received from you to-day ; but I think you pro- •omed a little on my promise to accept yoor flowers," ■mUingly. " I am Borry if you do ; I had no intention of doing to, I agsTire yon." " I presume notl but I certainly should not have said yes to your request, had I known that what I supposed would be a spray of flowers, was anything so beautiful ftnd costly." " And why should you not accept the one as readily as the other?" " On account of a natural aversion to receiving gifts from gentlemen, 1 suppose," laughingly. " To say nothing of its being a breach of etiquette to do so." " Circumstances alter cases, Berrie, and I am sure you need not be averse to receive such a trifle from one you h2L\e jpromised to regard as a friend." " Well," — a little confused at the resumption of his old tender manner and intonation — " It is beautiful, and I thank you very much, at all events." He bowed in acknowledgement, and returned : " 1 am BuflBciently rewarded by seeicg it where I so much desired to. It becomes you regally, Berrie 1 " " Yes I " smiling and blushing. " Belle said it looked tery nicely." "It does indeed 1" and the eloquent ejes of hei companion expressed more admiration than his words. " I saw it at a jeweller's in Washington," he contiv i* 171 TSM XmSlPEOlSD OIFT-TSB PABTT ■•d ; "and thonglit at once of raj holly- berry friend iB BriBtol, and I could not resist purchasing it, hoping •he wonld not think rae presuming on our friendship, If I presented it to her." And his old sweet smile touched her heart with a renewal of the old thrilling plbasore " I am glad you thought of me I 'Tis sweet to be remembered, yon know." With bent head and crimson cheeks. " I do know it, I assure you ; but you could not think I should not remember yon, though ever so far away, could yoa, my little girl I I do not forget mj/riends BO easily." Mrs. Maybury's approach prevented her repljnng, to his regret, and her exceeding relief. " Berrie, come and sing for us, won't you please ! " " Oh, I cannot sing to-night ; please do not ask me.*^ " I wish you would ; several of my guests have re- quested that 1 would ask you." " I would like to oblige you, Clara, hrit I really could not sing to-night. I will accompany any one eke that wishes to, if you like." " Very well 1 I must excuse you, I guppoie. I will ask Miss Munroe, if you will play for her." " I will with pleasure." When she arose from the piano, Mr. Adair, being urged on every hand for a song, took her place, while *hrt sat down in the nearest vacant seat, a large easy- chair by the win low, a\ the end of the iritrument, and of oonrM in fall view oi the occupant of the piAug ftooL VlfEXPEOTED OTFT-TUE PABTT. 179 A short prelude, and with eyes fixed dreamily en tb« £»oe of the girl he loved, — eyes that seemed in harmony with the words on his lips, — he sang the be»utifo] Bp«Dish air by an English composer, " Jnanitu," ** Soft o*er the fonntain, Ling'rmg falls the Southem mooa, Far o*er the monntaia, BreakB the day too soon I In thy dark eyes' splendor, 'Where the warm light loves to dw«Il, Weary looks, yet tender, Bpeak their fond farewell I Kite 1 Joanita I Ask thy soul if we should part, Nita! Jnanital I thou on my heart I ♦' When in thy dreamings, Moons like these shall shine And daylight beaming, Prove thy dreams are rain, Wilt thou not, relenting. For thine absent lover sigh, In fhy heart consenting To a prayer gone by f Nital Jnanital Let me linger bj thy side, Nita! Jnanital Be my own fair bride ! ** ^iad he spoken the same sentiments in the pure proM ri common conversation, when there was no one els© to listen, they would not have dropped more completely hito her heart than they now did ; and had they be©L written expressly for him, they could not have bettei 180 TOS UNEXPEOTSD OTFT- THE PASTY. lerved hi* purpose. There was a look in his face which •he h»d never seen there but r Tice — the night preced- ing hiB departure for Washington — a look which gave a double significance to the pertinent words, and told her as plainly aa possible that she was loved. Again, as on that evening so well remembered, her heart beat high with hope, and felt in every part the sweetneas of a reciprocal affection ; and though her eyes dropped beneath the ardor of his gaze, its fascination drew them again and again to encounter it, until the sweet tale ^aa completely told, the happy lesson entirely and per* foctly learned. ** And thia la ui old fairy tale of the heart t At ia told in all lands in a different tongue: Told with tean by the old, heard with smilee by tha TOSBf, And the tale to each heart onto which it ia known, B[aa a different sense." The song was ended, and no persuasions could pre* rail upon him to sing again. lie had sung with a purpose, and for one ear alone; th*t ear had hoard, that purpose was accomplished, and ha would aing no more. As he arose. Belle approached he, siiter, and said in a low tone, " I have a severe Wdache, Berrie, and think I will go home. Are yo«i ready to go now ? if not, Mr. Wright will accomp«j»y me, and I will send the carriage back. I dare »ay Mr. Adiur or Charlie would be glad to see you safely home." " I am ready, and only too glad to go at once," and quietly bidding their hostess good-«vet)idg they left the roouL THS tmBXPBOTBD OIFT-TRB PABTT, 181 When they came downstairs a few monientf later, Mr. Wright and Mr. Adair weie waiting in the hall »nd as thej handed them to the carriage the l*ttet asked: "Will you be at home to-morrow eyenin^, voung ladies 1 " " I presume so, yes I will you come up ? ** replied Belle, while Berrie kept silence. " Thank you. I propose to do so, if agreeable to yau. I shall have some news to tell you," with a pres- iure of Berrie's hand, and slight emphasis on the last word. " We shall be very glad to see you ; good-night I " and the gentlemen closing the door, the carriage rolled rapidly away. No tears in Berrie's eyes or heart that night I Only a touch of " hojpis fruition " — the tremulous joy ol happy anticipation, the sweet consciousness of renewed conlidence in the loved one's truth and affection, the thrilling remembrance of the last hour's silent com- munion. With eyes and lips smiling dreamily, she carefully locked the drooping bouquet, about which there had been so much ado, in a drawer of her bureau ; and dis* engaging from her tumbled ringlets the lovely cluster of holly-berries, as bright and beautiful as when they were pUced there hours before, she gazed at them a few moments with many a loving thought of the giver, then laid them carefully away in their casket, and soon with weary head, but a buoyant heart, she had stepped •crou the borders of the mystic 'land of dreama. CHAPTER Xm. A OBUKL DISAPPOINTMENT — "l LOT! YOVJ* "Jubflate! I am loved I And hlfl lips at length hare aaid It; Long since in his eyes I read it, But I thought it could not be, — Oh 1 what happiness for me ! " •• TU oonfloioosness of being lored, softens the keenert paoff, mfm III the moment of parting. ADDIflOir. ^MJ ^^^^^ ^*d come again, and a happy qnap- ^^v tette was gathered in the familiar roomB of the <^*r5^ Burtons. Although the first week in October was past, it wm an exceedingly oppressive evening, a significant re- minder of the sultry midsummer nights, long ago bound in the sheaves of the past. The artist hand of autumn had not touched with his skilful pencil and glowing colors, the canvas of nature, but the verdant hues with which fair summer had sketched the picture were still alone presented to the eyes. K'ng Frost, *♦/ LOVJS rou." 181 •till delaying his coming, Lad not yet bowed th6 headB of the late flowers that bloomed in the garden* of moet of the cosy Bristol homes, or strewn the ground with the dead leaves of the departing year. Breathing the balmy air of the glorious night, listen Ing to the sigh of the gentle breeze through the still heavUy-foliaged trees, one found it difficult to believf that the golden summer time was past, and that '^ The melonohc^j dayi had oome, The saddest of the year ; " the time for the departure of the birds, the death oi the flowers, the chilling storms that attend the decay of the hoary old year. To Bern© the night seemed perfect I all its natural beauty enhanced by the rosy lenses through which she was looking. In after years, the recurrence of such an evening would cause her to open her casket, in which memory had enshrined the record of this peerless, in- toxicating night, and with a sad delight to " read back- ward " the beautiful, glowing pages of the past. Berrie was bright, lively, coquettish, and decidedly looking her best ; for happiness had touched her with his beautifying wand, and her fair face shone with an added grace and charm. " By the way, I believe you said you had some newa to tell us, Mr. Adair ; it is pleasant, I hope 1 " remarked Belle, in a pause of the conversation. " I have some news, but whether it is pleasant of not, I leave for jon to decide; it is not entirely lo to me." 184 '*! LOVB YOU." " Do tell ns what it is ; T am all curiosity to kncrWi* Uughingly. " Aren't you, Berrie ? " " Oh certainly 1 " she returned smiling. " It is nothing of much importance, save to mys©l£. I bid farewell to Bristol to-morrow, and sail for Enrop* the last of next week." He looked at Berrie as he spoke, who grew whitt to the very lips at this sudden communication of what at any time would have caused her unmitigated an guish. Pity for the girl's pain was mingled in the man*i heart with an ecstatic assurance that she loved him, but neither was manifest in his manner as he turned from her to Belle, when the latter remarked : " Indeed I we are very sorry to have you go." " Not more so than I am to leave, I assure you. I have passed an exceedingly pleasant summer, thanki to the kindness of you and your family." " Oh, do not speak of it ! I am sure the pleasure has been mutual ; and I trust you will not entirely forget us in your sojourn in a foreign land." " That I can never do, believe me. I do not forgei my friends so easily." Just what he had said to her alone, the previoni evening. She was only a friend, then, after all. " Gk>d pity me!" she thought; "how can I live through all the years to come ? " as she listened in silent agony to the conversation in which she could not have taken a part; — listened, while all the fairy caat'es which delu live Hope had reared crumbled and fell at her feet, a of ihapelees ruins. Thia, then, vraa " hope's £mi< **i Lovw toxt: \U tfon t * Angnigh and disappoiutment 1 flh© oonld nerer hope again. " How long do you intend being absent ? " continued Belle, " I have a government appointment which will neceft* litate a stay of three years at least ; possibly five.** " So long ? then we may bid you farewell for ever, I think ; you surely could not remember us for such a lime." " Do not think it 1 you are mistaken, I am sure." So long I down fell another hope, and she lived agei in the few moments of that brief conversation ; looking with darkening eyes into the vista of the coming years, realizdng that her love had been utterly thrown away, unsought and imdesired, fondly as she had imagined to the contrary ; shuddering at thought of the time to come in which she must carry such a heavy, heavy burden, hoping for no relief until death should merci- fully still the heart which must henceforth beat in tte silent anguish of despair. For a time she forgot everything but the ruin of her hopes ; but at last pride whispered in her ear, " Be on your guard 1 do not let him know how you suffer from Lis indifference ; do not let him and others see that you have loved unsought and unreturned. Can you not act a part for one brief evening % " " Brief 1 " her heart responded " it will be endleu in its torturing duration." But pride's suggestion was not unheeded ; for with on© mighty effort of will, one agonizing but silent prayer for help to Him who alone can succor, tha .jlf **i LOTB rou* blood rushed back to her previonaly colorless cheek, and she forced herself to speak gaily on the very mh- ject which was causing her such torturing pain. Truly, " Where is the woman that cannot act a part 1 " " So you are really going abroad I To England rbore to stir, until at last he mup mured : " Berrie, my love, the storm is nearly over, and joa »re safe in my arms, while underneath us both ar« *"! LOVS TOU? If a tk« ercrlastiit;!, arras of our Heavenly Fathier, who haa brought us aafely througli the perils of the tempest. Will you not look up and speak to me, little girl I " Hia tones were tremulous with passion, and hifl arms •till held her close to his throbbing heart, whose every pulsation beat audibly fe^jjcinst her cheek, which waa al- coet pressed against it ; but hope had already twice ieceived her, and she dared not trust to her seductive wiles again ; therefore she merely answered deprecat- sngly, and attempting to withdraw from his clasp : " I am afraid I have been very foolish, Mr. Adair ; but I cannot help being terribly frightened in a thundor- Btorm, and have scarcely any control over my sensitlT* nerves." But he only drew her closer, saying with a sharp ring of pain in his voice ; " Do not shrink from mo, Berrie ; let me hold you here in the few brief moments left to us, and while we thus stand heart to heart, tell me that all my passionate, undying love for you is re- ciprocated — that I have not presumed in telling you that all the world contains nothing so precious to me as this little girl I hold in my arms." It was true then, and he did love her, after all I All the cruel torture she had suffered for the past few weeks had been for naught, and at last she had the cer- tain consciousness of knowing that even as she had loved, was she loved. He held her now unresisting ; but her joy was to« deep for words, for *' It is with feelings as with waters — The shallow mnriKar, but the deep are dmih.'' 9 If4 "/ LOVE TOV.' He waited a ra Jineiit for a reply, but it c&me only 1b % closer nestling of the lovely face against his shonlder, and resting his cheek against Lers, he said aoftly: " You do love me, Berrie ! I read it in your white faoa to-night when I told you I was going away. Fate if cruel to part us just as it truly unites nfl, Ib it net, love ? " The agonizing thought of parting restored her voice, and she murmured pleadingly : " Oh, must yon go, Mr. Adair ? " " Do not be so formal ; can you not say Eugene in the little time left us ? for although it breaks my heart to leave you, Berrie, I must go. Had I known a month ago that you loved me, I might have made different arrangements ; but I did not dare believe it, for the yery evening before I was called away I meant to try my fate, but you were so distant and cool, it shattered what little hope 1 possessed, and I left, meaning never to let you know how passionately I worshipped you. But you and love were too much for me, my darling, and I have my reward." And he bent his lips to hen m the lirst caress of an acknowledged and mutual affeo- tion. " Everybody teased me so about you," she murmured, '* and watched every motion and look of mine." " I dare say, but they could not keep us apart, after all, could they, dear ? It will be very hard to leave you, but my w. trd is pledged and I must ga I will not bind you by any promises or vows. You are very young, and though I believe, and you think that yon love me, we may both be mistaken, and you may yet sec ''1 LOVE TOV.'' IM •ome one you much prefer to me ; 80 I wish y®u » bi entirely free, for I cou.d not take to my heart an hD" willing wife. As for me, I have lived long enough, and been sufficiently tried to know something of my .own heart, therefore I know what I am saying when 1 tell you that my love for you can never change ; but J Buffered too deeply once from another's mistaken affec- tion, to take your happiness into my keeping, without being assured that I am capable of making it. Do not think me cold or suspicious, Berrie ; believe me, you will never be more passionately loved than by me, and that I suspect you of nothing but what is pure and true ; but no one can know his capabilities until they have been tried and proved, therefore it is well, per haps, although so bitter for both of us that we should part for a time. Look forward to ' hope's fruition,' my love, and when we meet, let it be as we part, hand to hand, and heart to heart." " We m'lRt gcr Mr. Adair — " " Mr. Adair?'' he interposed. " Eugene ! '' she shyly corrected. " It ifl growing late, and ma will be worried. I think it does not rain much now." They passed down the steps of the churcli, and he continued : " I shall write you sometimes, if I can dis- «iver any way of getting my letters to you, without exciting comment or badinage. I would not have my little girl subjected to any annoyance which I could prevent, and though I have nothing to conceal, and leave it with you tr do as you like in the matter, per^ baps under the circumstancea it would be best to sajf IM "I LO}E YOU." nothing of oar mutual afFection nuM I letum, and tAtm — think what that means, Berrie, if God keepe na safely •nd true." ** I would much prefer that nothing ehould be said of it. I cannot bear teasing, particuliirly about one 1 care for." " And Berrie, love, you will think of the wandere? very often, will you not ? " The girl's eyes filled vvith tears in the darkness as she murmured, " Every day, and every hour, Eugene I " " God bless you 1 " he returned, earnestly, pressing the little hand that nestled close in his own. " I meant to tell you something of my past, and of my future prospects as well, but there is no time thii evening. I will write you all necessary particulars on the passage over, and send it when I reach my destina- tion, Venice. If we had only met a year ago, that 1 might take you with me, my peerless Berrie I But here we are at home ; bid me good-by before wo go in, my love," and he took her again in his arms, mur- muring in a tone of bitter pain as he kissed her in a lingering farewell, " How can I leave you, dear, how cem I go ? " while Berrie threw her arms around hii neck and sobbed bitterly on his bosom. " Do not, Berrie 1 " he murmured, entreatingly. " This is more than I can bear. We must go in." They stood in silence for a moment, until Berrio was calmer, then rang the bell. Miss Burton pi :)mptly replied to the summons, ex- claiming: "Well, truants! I have been fearfully frorried about you ; fortunately, ma did not know yon "/ LOVE 706'." IfJ were out. The storm came up so suddenlj that I pected ycu would be di-enclied." " "Well, you see it is better than you hoped," retnmedl Mr. Adair. " "We found a friendly shelter, and «•• caped the drenching you anticipated." " Better than I feared, you mean 1 " she laughed. " But come in, do ! Tou have draggled your dreai well, at aU events, Berrie." " I should think I hadl I will run up and change it, and be down in a moment. Go in, Mr. Adair, it ia not late yet," and Berrie ran upstairs, thankful to es- cape the scrutiny of her sister's loving eyes. She was not long in making the required change, and the remainder of the evening passed pleasantly, while joy and regret each struggled for the mastery in two hearts whose every throb was in unison. The adieus were quietly madf , Belle fluently ex- pressing the regret that Berrie felt in every fibre of her being, and Messrs. Wright and Adair, for th«» lafl time, took their departure together. CHAPTER XIV. ▲ PABTING GIFT. — FASSWEIX. ** Thii Ib the pictured likenesa of mj low : How true to life I " Mb& A.B. ** And now farewell, farewell I I d&re not leafthm These sweet, sad moments out ; to gaxe on thM la bliss indeed, yet it but serres to gtrengthea The love that now amountB to agony. This is our last farewell — our last fond meetinf ; The world is wide, and we must dwell apart; My spirit gives thee now its last fond greeting, With hp to Up, while pulse to puls« is beating, And heart to heart.'* A. B. Wklbt. FTER a night of broken slumbers, Berri« awoke to the consciousness of a new and per- fect joy, a new and bitter grief. " It is all irae then," she murmured to herself, "and not a dream of my imagination as I have half fancied through the hours of darkness. True that he loves me after all, true, too true that he is going away for long, long weary years," and htirdly knowing whether she was most ^lad or sorry, she smiled and wept by tomii A PABTINO O TFT— FAREWELL. IM But though she felt that the long sepA'ation would h% rery bitter, yet she was so glad to know th«it a oommoB love united them, so relieved at the porfrxjt annihilatioii of all her doubts, so sweet was the first fjtste of " hcoe'i fruitior," that after all, she was -eallj more happy tb«p Bad. In truth she did not yet realize th^t they .vtre part^ for years ; she repeated the words to herself, but thej did not possess the meaning that they would do, when the first flush of joy in his love had passed, and the long months and years of absence caused her to )ong with such intensity for a sight of the loved one's face, a touch of his tender hand, the echo of his low, caresa- ing voice falling sweetly on her hungry ears. The predominant thought in her mind that day, "vran not, " He has left me to cross the vaaft blue ocean," but, " If he must go away, I am so glad that he loves me, so glad that he told me ! it makes the parting far more endurable. Blessings on the fearful storm which brought me such a boon." She thought it no more possible to see him iigain than if the ocean wastes alreadv divided them from eaoti other ; and therefore was greatly surprised when Hattie, entering the room where she was sitting late in the fore- noon, said: " Berrie, Mr. Adair is downstairs, and wanti to see you a moment. Don't wait, he says, as he is in a liUFry," and with one glance in the mirror at the crim- son cheeks it revealed, a careful smoothing of ^he flow- ing curls, an adjusting of the dainty collar at hei throat, ahe passed down the stairs, trembling with the excess of her Burprise and pleasure at this unexpected meeting. A PARTINQ GIFT- r.iREWELL, The mar needed no better assurance of her J9f ii •eeing him again, than the beaming face before hinii M he sprang forward and took her hand, she exclaiim> ing : " Why, Mr. Adair, this is an unexpected pleMM nre 1 I supposed you were far away, ere this." " No 1 I have delayed a little to see my new found treasure once more — to make sure that it is really mine — and to bring you a little reminder of your al>' sent friend," and he placed in her hand a tiny casket and drew her to a seat beside him on the sofa. As she opened it, he glanced at his watch and said : " I have j ist fifteen minutes to give you, Berrie ; we must compress as much as possible in that limited time, my love ! " smiling as he drew his arm around her waist, and said, " TVell, how do you like my gift ? " " Almost as well as the giver 1 " she replied, archly, looking up in his face. " I could not say more, Eugene I " The open casket revealed a glitter of diamonds, and as the girl removed the jewels from their case, it proved to be a handsome cluster ring, and he re- marked : " You see, Berrie, it is not the conventional pledge of troth, a solitaire, nor do T give it to you aa inch, or wish you to consider it a type of bondage. You know I leave you free, ray little girl, and I wish you to think of this as a parting gift merely, a re- minder of one absent, but I trust ever iear." " It is very beautiful, and I shaV prize 't more than you can think!" she murmured. " ^ut, Eugene *'—« timidly — ^^ I am afraid you do not trust me as yo» A FASTINO GIFT -FARE WffLL, 201 H« kissed her tenderly before replying, ther laid : **I trust your present affection, Berrie; but do nc4 blame me if I have not sufficient confidence in your constancy through the months and years of absence You will not, I think, when you know how I sufFered once, as I said last night, from mistaken affection. I trust your truth and purity of purpose, my love, and if I have doubts of anything, it is your knowledge of your own heart 1 " " If you knew what tortures I have endured for the past few weeks, you would think differently, perhapi.** " On my account ? " " On your account, yes 1 " " Well 1 be true to me, Berrie, and I shall hop© for a happy coming home by-and-by. The weary prob»> tion will make the glad re-union all the more perfect and sweet. So you like the ring, do you, dear ? " " Of course I do 1 how could I help it, particularly as coming from yon ! " " Well, I am glad if you do I but here is something which perhaps will make it still dearer to yon 1 " and he touched a tiny spring which threw backward the cluster of jewels, and revealed a small, but perfect likeness of the handsome giver. " Oh, Eugene 1 " she exclaimed. " I am so glad ol that I It does render it indeed doubly dear ; it is so like you I '* and she looked from the miniature to the speak- sag face of the origmal which was bert so near her ewn. ** TeSj the likeness is very good, I believe, and I tibonght it would please my little girl to hare it,** r fOS A PABTmO OrPl FAREWELL, " You cannot gnees how ranch " she retoroed ear noBtly, receiving a tender caress for reply, as h© slipped the ring on the fore-finger of the little hand he held. " But, Eugene," she continued hesitatingly, ''I don't think I will wear it, at least just at present; it would bo provocative of too many questions." " Act your own pleasure about that," he returned, inuling; " it is yours to do as you like with ; only don't give it away to Charlie, or any other of your ardent admirers," mischievously. "There is no danger of that, 1 guess. Do yoB know he is fearfully jealous of you ? " " Is he 1 Well, do not let him cut me out 1 ** She looked at him reproachfully, but made no reply. After a few moments, he said: "Berrie, I wish you would give me something for a keepsake — not to remember you by, for I can never forget you, my love 1 " " I wish I could, Eugene, but I don't know that I have anything you would like." " Will you give me one of these ? " and he lifted a curl from the beautiful head on his shoulder. " Oh yes, with pleasure, if you wish." "Charlie did wot get his the other night I ** laugh- "Not exactly, nol" Bhe brought him a pair of scissors, saying playfully ; " Don't cut it oflF where it will show, Mr. Adair, or I •hall get unmercifully teased " " Who were you addressing, MisB Burton 9 " as he eat the curl, and held it in his Land, looking fondly 4 rARTINQ a:FT- FAMEWBLi*. %0Z at it, bnt not kissing it as a younger man mi^ht hart done. She laughed. " It is difficult to Bay Eugene, when 1 have been so long accustomed to use a different name." " Well, I must forgive you, I auppoee ! you have done very well indeed." They sat in silence for some time, heart only speak ing to heai't, until Berrie exclaimed: "By the way, Eugene, I believe I have one of my last photographj left, if you would like to have it." " Judge by your pleasure in receiving mine, whether I would or not 1 " he replied, smiling. " Then I think you would, very much 1 " archly '* You shall have this one in the album, and I will re^ place it with another." "It is beautiful, my darling I" he said, "but not half 80 lovely as my precious original. This would be but an aggravation, were they not both mine I " and as any lover would have done, he sealed his tender flattery with many tender caresses, and placed the picture with the curl carefully in the breast-pocket of his coat, saying playfully, " Next to my heart, you see, Berrie 1 " " I see, yes I I suppose ycu will carry it there for a time, uutil some of those fair Italians supplant the original in your favor." " It will be for long, then, you may bo sure, dear ! You trust me, do you not ? " " As entirely as you do me I " mischievously. " You compel me to trust you, whether 1 will or no I" and resting bis cheek on her head, he held her for a t04 A PARTINO GIFT- J ARE WELL. few momentB in silence, trying to Bununon the conniKf to leave this little girl who was so dear to him, to say the bitter words of farewell whicn were agoaj to both their hearts. At length he took out hia watch, and holding it before her eyes, said softly : " Berrie, do you see the time?" " Yes 1 " she murmured. " Only five minutes more, and I must go 1 " " Oh, Eugene 1 " she cried, passionately, the might of her love, and the anguish of parting, overcoming her shyness and reticence : " How can I let you go 1 What may not happen in five whole weary yeans f " "My love, I leave you in God's hands, safe 1 truflting He will keep us for each other and unite us at last, praying that the probation may not be so long and tedious as we anticipate, certain that in any event all will bo welL Can you not trust as I do 9 " " No 1 I can only feel that you are going away 1 " " And do you not think that I feel it as bitterly m you, can, Berrie ? " " I do not know — it seems to me you do not ! " He pressed her close without replying, hurt at her doubt of him, suffering untold pain at thought of leav- ing her. Hia silence reproached her more than any words could have done, and she whispered penitently : " For- give me, Eugene 1 I know that vou do care, that you are mrrj to part with me." " How sorry, my darling, you can only judge by yoxir own tortured heart Language has no word so A PABTIHO QIFT-FASSWSLL, SOI nd M farewell! Why, Berrie, what Ib thial wMM ftgain I " as a warm drop fell on his hand. " D9 not| love 1 be brave and hope for the best I I cannot bear that you should grieve so," and his own eyes were moist as he drew her still closer, and waited for the passionate sobs that shook her frame to cease; only murmuring now and then ; " I must go, Berrie 1 " yet •till lingering. " It is getting late," at last he said, " and I mAuit leave you, Berrie I Let me have one last smile to remember," and bravely choking down her sobs, sho raised her head, and while her eyes were still wet with tears, smiled in the face so tenderly bending above her, " That is my brave little girl 1 " and with his armi still ai -)und her, he drew her with him to her feet " Aiid now, farewell 1 " he pressed his lips to hers Ln one lingering kiss, strained her for a moment close to his heart, murmured : " Think of me often, love, and may God bless and keep you 1 " released her, and without one backward look, left the room and the house. As the jutside door closed behind him, she sprang to the window for one more glance, and as he turned the corner near by, he looked back, raised his hat, and kissing his hand to her, was — gone I carrying with him as a last remembrance, the picture of the girl he loved leaning eagerly from the cpen window of the room in which he had passed so many pleasant hours, her graceful figure clearly defined against the misty curtains of embroidered lace that fell behind her. She itood for a time gazing at the spot where the S0« A PABTINO GIFT- FAREWELL. iMt WW him, with tears iu her eyes, and smileB on hm lipe, and then went to lier own apartment, carrying in her hand the tiny casket he had given her, and with the gleaming ring still on her finger. But when ahfl came downstairs an hour or two later, m response tc her sister's summons to dinner, it was left behind, safe in its little casket, locked away from curious eyes, with his gifts of a day or two previo .s, the fading bouquet^ and the costly spray of holly. ■ 0- CHAPTER XV. BKEEIE 8 JOTJKNAL — HOPE DEFSSKOk ** SHi uianj a time I am sad at heart, And I haven't a word to say, And I keep from the lassies and lad« •pait, In thvi meadow a making hay. But Willlb vjtU bring me the first wild roM In my new snn-bonnet to wear, And Robin will wait at the keeper's gate, For he foJows lae everywhere. But I tell tht-ia tliey need not come wooTxi|[ to me. For my heart, iny heart ia over the nea 1 " Song by " GlabXMSU [IX montlis haa passed, and in the gloaming of a lovely day earl) in May, Berrie sat in the cheery west window ol her own pleasant apartment, ultemately watching thvj swiftly changing hues of one of America's own glorioas sunsets, and glancing over the pages of a tiny volume which she was holding in ber h&ud. In outward appearance, the six months had wrought very little change in the lovely girl, — perhaps the oval face had taken on the least shade of seriousness, aD Mr. Wright, announcing his arrival at Liverpool, unsatisfactory, but I would gladly welcome now any- thing as meagre as that even. " He did not say he should write to me before arriv- ing at Venice, but still I hoped he would ; and even had he not, it seems to me I should have heard from him ere this. " Mr. Wright was down and spent Christmas with us, and the holidays passed off quite pleasantly, although I seemed to miss and want 7ny frieivd more then than at any other time. If ever we wish for the presence of our dear ones, it is surely in festival aea •ons, and to know that miles of land and ocean seoa- rate us, is very, very bitter. Could I have heard from him, even, ere then, it would have been less hard. Mr. Wright informed us casually, that he had received no further tidings, but though I longed to ask him if 2iir. A-dair had made arrangements to send my ietteni In his care, I could not summon the courage to do so. ^ I received a letter from Maud I/ester a few days BEBRIEPS JOUBNAL -HOPE DEFERRED. JH •iLce, urging me to co?no and ppend the remaindei of the winter with her; bnt, altliongh I wonld like very much to Bee her, I feel that my heart and nerves could not endure the constant strain which the gay«ty | should be forced to affect would impose. Therefore I •hall write her that I cannot come. " I have not yet ventured to wear my precious ring, iave in the privacy of my own room ; but I mean to do so some time, when I can gain sufficient courage to face the astonishment and questions it would be cer- tain to provoke.** " April \hth. — 1 find it is three months since my last record ; months that have seemed almost endless to me, and still I can only write in substance what I did three months ago, no letter yetl Time drags wearily and there are days when I can scarcely endure existence ; when the longing in my heart for tid- ings of my loved one, for a sight of his face, the sound of his voice, seems almost more than I can bear ; but time goes on, and my longings are still unsatisfied, and the burden grows stiL heavier to bear. I cannot ac- count for his silence, and am tortured with all manner of suggestions from my anxious heart, — fears for his safety, almost doubts of his constancy, or anxiety lest he should have chosen an untrustworthy medium through which to communicate with me. In fact, I know not what to think 1 But the suspense is wearing upon me, and I often find it impossible to assume the gayety of manner which alone wards off the questions ftod oomments that I find it so hard to endoreu gl4 BERRIES JOURNAI^ HOPE DEFERRED. "I wish eoraetimes that we had been less privmta^ and announced to the world our engagement — for ai- though he protested that he left me free, he bound my heart with chains that nothing can break — that I might not be forced to constantly wear a mask. Yot, should he prove untrue, publicity would have rendered the mortification all the more deep and bitter. But I feel I wrong him by the slightest doubt of his con- stancy ; and I do trust him, spite of all ; I wiU trust him, let what may come. He is incapable of treachery in amy relation of life. " But I find there are various rumors rife which annoy and provoke me more than I can say ; and which an underetanding of the bond between us would have prevented. Some protest that I refused him, and in desperation he left for a foreign land, there to hide his grief and disappointment. Others that he was trifling with me, and went away without making the declaration of love that I expected and desired. It is so very provoking, and so difiicult, when such rnmon are reported to me by officious friends (?); to hide my vexation, and laugh the subject off. I did turn sharply on one old gossip the other day, and tell her that if people would attend to their own affairs a little more, and let mine alone, they would do better. I regretted it afterwards, but I was so annoyed I could not help it ; and I think she, at least, will not trouble me with any more nonsense. " It has been a very gay winter for quiet old Bri»- tol, and I have participated in the gayety when I coald ftat do otherwise, although growing so weary of it, and BERRJE'8 JOURNAL- nOPE DEFERRED. 21fi wiahing, in the midst of it all, for the quiet of mjown room. Charlie Anderson is, as usual, very attentive — too much 80, in fact — and Harry Alcott is equally de voted ; bat it is all of no avail, for my heart ii otw the blue ocean, and ** ' I lutve a more than frif^nd AoroBS the mormtams dim ; Ko other voice to me is sweet, Unless it nameth him ! We broke no gold — a pledgv Of stronger love to be, But I wear his last look in mj ■owl Which said, I love but thee ! I WM betrothed that day ; I wore a troth kias on my lips I oould not give away.' **Mr. Wright was down a month ago, but brcnghl »o tidings of his friend." The twilight shades slowly deepened, and Berrie dropped the book in her lap, leaning her head on her hand, with a far-o£F look in the eyes fixed on the gathering gloom without. A half-hour elapsed ; then there was the sound of an arrival, unheeded by the sad dreamer at the win- dow, and in a short time Ilattie rapped at her door, and callec, iJerrie, can I come in ? " ** Yes, dear I " was the mechanical reply. " Berrie, Mr. Wright has come, and Belle wants yon should come down and see him." "Very welli" absently; "tell him I will be down til SEBSnrS JOUENAL-HOPE DEFERBED. " No, Bcrrie, I don't want to go down until you dm Gome now, won't you ? " and the little girl leaned h«f Arm on her sister's^ ahoulder. and played earesBlngly with her curls. " Why don't you have the gaa lighted t Come, Bei^ rie, come down Btaire 1 " as her sister passed her am around her without replying. " Well, Hattie, I suppose I must How long has Mr. Wright been here?" as she arose, and putting away her book, prepared to go down stairs. " Not very long ; he asked for you, and said ha would like to see you. " " Did he 1 " and a gleam of hope that he had at length heard from the wanderer crept in her heart ai she passed down the stairs, with Hattie clinging to her hand, and chatting gaily all the way. " Berrie, wouldn't you like to see Mr. Adair ! " just as they reached the hall below. " / would, ever so much 1 " and Berrie had only time to answer briefly " Yes," ere they entered the parlor. " How do you do, Berrie ? " — for he, too, had dropped the " Miss" at last — " didn't I take yen by surprise, this time?" " You did, indeed, Mr. Wright I but we are rery glad to see you, nevertheless ; aren't we, Belle t " mi*- ehievously. Belle blushed, and Mr. Wright hastily went oai * Thank you, Berrie, I am very glad to come, I aaeura you. I have been thinking for a week or ao I would run down, and yesterday I received a long letter from Mr. iidair, and I thought you would all be pleased to MESBIB'8 JOUnNAL—HOPE DBFBSBMD. 317 hear from Awn., if you weren't to see m« / sc I conclud* ed to oome and take you by surprise." It was Berrie's turn to color now, which she did f oefiy, as she answered playfully ; " I suppose you thought a poor excuse better than none, eh t " ** Exactly 1 though I am sure you cannot think that a poor one." ** Well, what did Mr. Adair say ? " inquired Belle. " I will give you the letter by and by, and you can gee for yourself." "You think you deserve the first welcome, don't you ? " asked Berrie. " Decidedly, yes ! " Berrie was in a fever of impatience to see the longed- for letter — but would not for the world have asked for it— and felt at the same time hurt and sore to think in all this long time he had not written to her. And as the evening waned, and nothing more was said of the absent one, her heart grew faint with the sickness of hope deferred, while torturing doubts of his love for her dimmed the trust in him she had hitherto felL It was late in the evening when a ring at the door bell was followed by the announcement that Jennia Wardell wished to see Belle for a moment, but would not come in, and Miss Burton left the room in response to the summons. As the door closed behind her, Mr. Wright took a parcel from his pocket, and passing it to Berrie, said : " Here, Berrie, is a packet Mr. Adair sent me for you. S»> you see I had a double errand in coming to Brifltol to^y.** it SI 8 BEBRIEPS JOURNAL -ECPE DEFERRED. The girl was paiufnlly confused, but contrived to murmur; "Thanks, Mr. Wrfght, you are very kiad^ indeed!" " Oh, do not speak of it, Berne 1 I am glad te oblige Eugene, or yourself either. I was very mnch pleased at hearing from him again," and as Belle re. entered the room Berrie excused herself and withdrew, with the precious packet, so long and bo ardentlj dMired, clasped tightly in her hand CHAPTER XVL "tHB BESIEE COMETH." ** Heaven first taught letters for some wretoh'i «£1, Some banished lover, or some captured maid ; They live, they speak, they breathe what love iii£plrfli^ Warm from the soul, and faithful to its fires. Speed the soft intercourse from soul to soul, And waft a sigh from Indus to the pole/* Pope. LONE in her room, with closed doors, and lit« tie rocker drawn under the brilliant gas jet, Miss Berrie seated herself to the perusal of the precious letter in her hand. Her heart beat high with anticipatory pleasure, for what is more delightful than a long and tender letter from one we love, when miles of distance roll between, and long expectation enlianccs the value of the mis- sive at last so joyfully received. But alas 1 how sel- dom are the extravagant anticipations realized ; how often is the loving heart wounded and disappointed by the contents of the epistle so anxiously waited for, and •o eagerly, gladly received ? As ehe broke the seals of the foreign looking paccet, 220 '*THE DESIRE JOMETH.^ ft thu» square of card-board, wrapped in tissue p»^er, fell from the numerous folds of thin, blue letter, but •o eager was she for the tender words she felt certam of finding, that it dropped unheeded in her lap. She unfolded the closely written sheets, and with a little fiigh of satifif action, read : " Ok Shipboaju), Oet. 09mI " My Deab Iittle Giel ! " On the ' rolling deep,' with th« blue waves of mid-ocean before me, behind me, to mj left, to my right, and God's boundless blue heayeni bending serenely above, I come to write my first letter to the little friend, whom, with so many regrets, I left behind me. " We are six days out, and though we have a very pleasant party on board, the monotony has already be- come almost unendurable to me, and I am longing to place my foot once more on terra -firma, to see rise be- fore my gaze the rugged, barren cliffs of Emerald Isle, and know that the first part of my long journey is at length nearly accomplished. " I need not tell you, Berrie, how much more endur- able would be these quiet days on the heaving sea, if I might have brought with me the little friend whom the past months of frequent intercourse have so greatly en- deared to me. In lie'i of that, however, I will fulfill the promise made to her ere my departure, and employ a few of these quiet hours in rehearsing to her some of the scenes of the past, and confiding to her some of the hepes and prospects of the future. Of one hope^ whose fruition will be the brightest and sweetest of all, ** TES DESIRE OOXBTH* MI I do not need to speak, as I know it is shared by ber, and her own vivid imagination can paint its fnlfilment more perfectly and sweetly than any words of mine eonld do. « My &ther died when I was scarcely eighteen yean of age, leaving on my hands a burden of a debt which it required years of arduous labor on my part to re- move; but with a counsellor and sympathizer in my dear mother, which rendered any toil a pleasure, and every burden easy and light to be borne. " As a boy, drawing was a passion with me, and 1 indulged many a dream of future pleasure and fame with the use of my pencil, which, when at length con- fided to my father, were blighted by unsympathizing ridicule, and a decided refusal to * allow me to waste my time on any such nonsense ; " and immediately on my completing the regular course at the Latin school in my native city, I was placed behind a counter, and aL my fairy aspirations annihilated at one blow. Of the disappointment it was to me, I will not speak at length. It was my first, and one very hard to endure by a high- •trung, impetuous boy, whose tastes were all artistic, and directly antagonistic to the petty details of trade, in which, against my will, 1 found myself launched. " However, I swallowed the bitter potion with what grace 1 could, and my fathei-'s sudden death shortly after, leaving on my haads a mother and younger sis- ter, to say nothing of carelessly accumulated debta, ga^e me a new incitement to labor, and devoting all my energies to the work I had undertaken, lUstastefo. M it was to me, I snoceeded beyond my utmost ezpea f23 ''THE DESIRE COMETS.'* tationg, and, being rapidly advanced, when I had reached my twenty-first birthday, I had the Batifcfaction of knowing that by my own exertions — and the bleeeing of God — I was free from debt, my mother and sister comfortable in the home I had saved for them, and that at any day I willed, I could become a partner in the firm which had so fully appreciated my services, and BO generously rewarded them. Of course so advan tageous an ofFer I did not hesitate long about accepting, and still fortune prospered me. " About a year later 1 met a young lady, who to my dazzled eyes seemed the perfection of beauty and love liness, and after a brief but impassioned courtship, 1 had the joy of leading her to the altar, and hearing the man of God pronounce us man and wife. She wai very beautiful, as I have said ; and, of course, as all young lovers do, I thought her as perfect in character as she was lovely in form and feature. She was, in reality, very sweet-tempered, lively, and spirited, and with a manner exceedingly attractive and winning. But firmness and will were wanting to perfect her nature ; she was weak and easily influenced, shallow in affection, and exceedingly susceptible to flattery. " She was ever very free in expressing her attach- n\ent to me, and God knows I never doubted her parity, or the depth aud strength of her affection. Nor do I reaUy believe now but she thought that she loved me ; but, as I have said, she was shallow and very jGong, and in reality did not know her oivn heart. '* The flrm of which I was a member desired a re- pr*!««nt»tive abroad, and it being decided that »t wai " TBE DESIRE OOMETB* 233 best I Bhould be the one to go, we were married, and for our bridal trip we crossed the Atlantic, and took up our abode in the delightful but dissolute city of Paris, " For a year, all went well. We went into Bocietj very little, and my home was as attractive and pleasant as any one could desire. At the end of that time I met an old school-fellow and friend, and the pleasur* he expressed at the meeting was fully reciprocated by me. He also was resident at Paris, and I took him home with me and introduced him to my wife. He was a bachelor, and finding my home, in which he waa ever a welcome visitor, so attractive, he did not scruple to frequent it as often as he desired. " At the end of six months more, a decided change was observable in my wife. She was nervous, irritable, and exceedingly cool to me, becoming more and more fond of society, and seemingly indifferent as to whether or not I accompanied her, when attending the social gatherings to which we were invited. " At last I resolved that such a state of things should exist no longer ; and on remonstrating with her, she frankly declared that she had been mistaken in her affection for me, that she did not love me as she had done at the first ; and that, in fact, so averse had she be- come to my society, she could scarcely endure my pres- ence, much less my caresses, whichj to her relief, had some time since been withdrawn. " Imagine, Berrie, what I endured at hearing sncb words from the lips of the woman I had promised to love and cherish till death should part us I No I you eannot, even with your tender heart, fancy what it wai gt4 **THE DSBIRB C0MW1E.* to me. All my happiness crnBhed at one blow, all m$ faith atterly shattered, all my hopes thoronghly onnilii lated, bound for life to a woman who hated me, Chun f OB think of anything more horrible — and we both m young, with every prospect of a long, long, weary exif* ♦euce before ns ! ^* For a time I could not speak to her, go utterly ciushed was I, with misery and consternation. At last, iu tlie midst of the anguish, crept the suggestion that if she had thus changed to me, another might have won the love I had deemed was only mine ; and I tamed to her suddenly with the question, ' Clara, do you hate me because you love another ? ' " The guilty blood rushed to brow and check of the beautiful, but treacherous face; she covered it with her hands, and turned away without reply. Almoet frenzied with agony and jealous rage, 1 tore her handi from her face and compelled her to look at me, repeat- ing with white lips and a stem voice, the question 1 had previously asked. " ' Dor't, Eugene I * she pleaded. * I dare not tell you.' " * You need not 1 ' I exclaimed bitterly ;' I am al- ready answered I ' and throwing her hand* from me, I left the room. " What I endured that night, I scarcely remembei myself, so crazed was I with grief and anger. Ie tht morning she did not appe».r at breakfast, and wben I reached home at night, and inquirei' for her, I was in- formed she bad left home the previous evening, and ked not •• yet returned. A terrible sospicion orostied " THE DESIRE COMETK'' my mind, and 1 repaired immediately to her room, there to find what I dreaded confirmed — tliat she had flown from my home, and that the man I had trusted had been the one to lure her away. " Do you wonder now, Berrie,that I have confidence neither in man's friendship nor woman's love 1 Rather, thfct I have not had for long, long weary years, until my little girl in far-off Bristol eased my heart of the old desolating pain, and taught me new faith in the purity and truth of woman. For Berrie, love, I do trust and believe in you, and am looking with eager, hungry eyes, to the dim vista of the future, when in your tested and triumphant love, I find at last my rest. " But to continue 1 That very night there was a ter- rible railway accident, and among the list of the killed I read the name of my treacherous friend, ' and lady.* Hastening at once to the scene of the disaster, I waa just in time to look on the coldly beautiful face of my false wife, and that of her guilty paramour, ere they were lowered into their hastily prepared graves in the quiet ccvuntry charchyard. " Thus early had God avenged my wrongs ; and even in the midst of my misery, I remembered to thank Him that He had never granted my desire for a child, to in- herit the misery and disgrace my weak and unprincipled wife would have transmitted to it. " I settled up my business in Paris as soon as possi- ble, and returned to America, only to find our firm fearfully involved ; and its total failure shortly after, threw me again, almost penniless, upon the world. But 10* f9e •* THE DRSJRB COMBTIV my siiter had wedded before my own icBrri^ge, and was therefore provided for, ai.d my mother was too dear to me to ever become a burden. How tenderly •he welcomed back the wanderer, and etsed by her af- fection and sympathy the sharpness of the cmel pain one of her sex had inflicted upon me I * But ' misfortunes never come singly,' as 1 had already proved ; and scarcely six months after my re- turn to America, I laid the form «f my best friend in the silent grave, and almost despairing, turned from the quiet shades of Mount Aubura, where we had laid her to rest. But my mother's God spoke to me through my deep affliction, and taught me that it was the chas tening but loving hand of a Father that had desolated my life, taught me faith and patience, and hc^e in the life to come, if not in this present existence, bo full of trial and turmoil. " I entered into business again, and was moderately prospered. The offer, last spring, of a government ap- pointment abroad, which would be lucrative, and leave me much leisure to ply my favorite vocation — painting - -among the master-pieces of the old world, was too tempting to be resisted, and had I not met my little Holly-berry in dear old Bristol, I should have left the American shores without a regret. In the three or five years to come, I hope to accomplish much ; and when 1 fotum to my native land, if I find awaiting my coming <^ne who has been true to me through the long proba- doo^ I shall once more have a home and feel that life tutf nothing more to offer me. e told you briefly some of the eyentf of «♦ TEE DESIRE ^OMETK* MT the past, and the prospects of the fiiture, and troBtiiig that the triab I have endured will render me no leu dear to the one I have dared to love — impossible m I had thought it I could ever do so again — I will leayfi the completion of this somewhat lengthy epistle until later in the voyage. " Off Queenstown, Not. 29rt. " Afl you will see, we have nearly reached our jour- nty's end, and I will spend a little time while running up to Liverpool, to tell my little friend the principal events of the passage, which perhaps may interest her. " When a few days out, it was reported in the cabin that there had been a death in the steerage the previ- ous night, and the funeral took place the same after- noon about five o'clock ; and I can assure yci, Berrie, a funeral at sea is a solemn occasion, — surrounded by water, with no escape, a death at sea has more than double the solemnity of one on land, and though but a child, there were none, I think, but felt impressed. It appears that a steerage passenger with her husband and child shipped at Boston — her cliild at the time being very sick, and concealing the fact until the following day, lest they should be sent ashore, the physicians on board found it out too late to be of service to the little one, and it died on the Friday evening subsequent to our departure from Boston, and, at the mother's re- quest, was kept until the following day. At five o'clock we were all on deck, when the second oflicer came f or- tfard, followed by four seamen, carrying the little cof- fin on boards. cov«red by a pretty aew British eiuigc "Tffl? DESIRE COMETH.* for ft pall, an 1 accompanied by the whole c i the %t&tg* age pasBcngers. They were met by the O&ptain and lome officers on the quarter deck, and after raising it to the side of the vessel, the captain read the burtsl lervice, and at the words ' We commit our brother to the deep,' the little coffin was slid to its last resting^ place, and was soon out of sight. The child was but fourteen months old, was well cared for, and very de- cently buried, and at the mother's request placed in a 3offin, instead of canvas, as is usual. Thus the Death Angel spread his wings over our gallant barque, and stooping, gathered in his dusky arms this innocent, un- conscious babe, bearing it far away from the evil and pain of this troublous world. " The next day was the Sabbath, but seemed very little like it to me, and I much longed to be in Ameri- ca, and have the privilege of Christian worship. Thought much of you all, and how and where vou were, until I was almost homesick for Bristol and Ber- rie. We did not have service on board, much to my, and others' disappointment. The captain entertaining somewhat peculiar religious views, from conscientioui reasons I presume, did not care to read it. But in the afternoon, several of us who were drawn together, I suppose, by that sympathy which a ^rays exists between one Christian and another, were sitting in the uilooDi and in the course of conversation, deprecating our not having service, ajd saying how much unlike Sunday it was, I suggestei that if some one would play for us all to sing it would bo pleasant, and the suggestion being Mted npoix, we succeeded in singing several beaatiful " THE DESIRE OOMETK* and well known hymns. One by one many of the pM> Bengere joined us, until we liad a goodly congregation; and till those who had walked by with as much of ■ sooflSng sneer on their faces as was consistent with gen- tlemanly deportment, had brought their faces into nat- ural shape, and some of them even faintly joined in the familiar tunes, we continued it; then separated, and ipent the remainder of the day in various ways, feeling more content that we had made some efEort to keep holy the Sabbath day. " There was quite an interesting little incident oc- curred a day or two subsequent, which I will tell you of, briefly. One of our ladies went into the steerage and talked with an old woman nearly eighty, who waa ' going home to die.' The poor soul had started for Ireland without a penny in her pocket — the company giving her a free passage — and she was trusting to her good fortune to get the remainder of the way, some miles in the interior. "We have some monks, and a priest, on board, the latter of whom reminds me of Longfellow's ' Jolly Friar,' and I think if there 18 hon- esty among Catholics — and we must be charitable — he is honest. We sent him to her, and he gathered the facts as above ; and one of our ladies commenced tak- ing up a six-penny subscription for her, raising about fifteen dollars. We decided it were best we should keep the money until arriving at Queenstown, lest it should be swindled from her ; so the lady — who is a Methodist — and the priest, paid the old won\an a visit and told her what they had done for her ; and so full of gratitude was the poor old scul, jhal h^r feelingi 180 " THE DBSTUE UOMETB." entirely overcame her, and she could do notliing bal weep. " J have had two sea-batbs since coming on board. And though I hare taken various kinds of baths pre* riously, none of them can compare with a bath at sea ; particularly when it is taken in one's state-room nolens vohns, ap^ without warning, as mine were. The port- hole had been carelessly left unclosed by my room- mate, and when the seamen were washing the deck, the water poured into my berth — which was the lower one — in floodb, completely drenching me. The last time I supposed myself dreaming ; thinking I was on deck, and a severe rain-storm coming on, I would go below. In attempti ig to do so, I came up full against the side of my berth, and then, for the first time, be- came aware that I was out in the wet in earnest. I then undertook to get out of my berth ; but was only half-awake, it was dark as Erebus, and having attempted one side with no success, 1 tried at the end, my head coming in not very pleasant contact with the top of my berth. Thinking I was hemmed in, I tried the right side, but not expecting to be successful, came near landing on my head on the floor. 1 tiaa concluded by this time that sea-baths were not very pleasant things ; and on complaining to the purser, he gave me a pleas- anter room on the other side of the ship. I was rather late in engaging my passage, and was obliged to accept mch accommodations as were available. ^" We have had a dense fog for a constant companion nearly the whole of the passage, until we longed to *^ once more the bright blue of the sky, if it wa? m reai>ty ♦♦ THE LESIRE COMETH." JJl behind the heavy mist surrounding us, which w© wert •ometimes almost tempted tj doubt. And is not that the way with our own hearts ? When the mist of trouble surrounds us, we forget that just beyond the Snn of Righteousness is ever shining, and though it lasts for many days, if we will only wait, the calm clear blue of the sky will surely come again. Forget that *' * Oar fate is the common fate of aJL Into each life some rain mnst fall, Some days must be dark and dreary.' " I have often thought, when leaning over the water, gazing into the heaving depths, how much yon wonld admire it if you were by my side. We have been in the Gulf Stream for some days, and in the ,vake of the vessel by day, the ' troubling of the water ' produces a light blue color, almost azure, while all around the deep indigo blue of the Gulf Stream throws it into pretty and striking contrast. During the night, too, it is still lovelier. The animalcules, which are always present during the season when the wind sits in the south, transmit phosphorescent particles, and these being ex cited by the motion of the ship, give a beautiful effect — the tips of the waves around us being luminous as though on tire, while in our "car there is one broacj phosphoric band, such as you will see — in effect — when the moon is shining full on the water. " Last evening we had a splendid sight. The high hills, bleak, barren and lone, were distinctly defined against the blue back-ground of the heaveuB, wbicb I3S ** THE DESnUS JOM tTH.^ were dotted here and there, aronnd and aboro, wllk pfttche« of l&zy, fleecy clouds, and soon after the gun began his setting — the first clear sunset since wfe left Boston -and of course I thought of my little friend who would have enjoyed the sight so much, and think- mg of her, I drew out my sketching block, and trans- ferring the outlines of the scene to paper, will finish in water-colors at my leisure, and send across the blue ©cean to my dear little girl in Bristol. " It was as pretty a sunset as one could wish to see, not brilliant and gorgeous as I have witnessed from your own dear home, — as one in particular which oc- curred in our early acquaintance, and that I am sure you still remember — but just as beautiful in its way aa those. The clouds were turned to a purple grey, and tipped with a pure silver sheen, while the sinking sun had the appearance of molten silver of the brightest hue, Americans on board thought it the prettiest sun- set they had ever seen ; familiarity with their own gor- geous ones having deadened their approbation of them, while a more chaste and modest one, having the charm of novelty, called forth their loudest praises. "Early to-morrow we shall reach Liverpool — for while I have been writing we have been gliding rapidly onward — and the first otage of my journey will have been successfully accomplished. I shall not send thii antii I reach Venice, when I shall add a few word* more. " Think often, love, of your absent friond, and may God's richest blessings ever be poured on the head and heart of my dear little Berrie. ** THE VEBIRE COMETH." "TsnoB, FA. tML. ** A madi loLger time has elapsed ere reaching my dettiiiAtion than I had anticipated, and I fear you will have been for long looking for a letter from me I was detained both in England and Paris, and have been in Italy but a few days. I wrote Mr. "Wright briefly from Liverpool, therefore you have doubtlesa heard of my safe arrival there. I made arrangements with him before leaving Boston, to send my letters to you in his care, and believe we may trust him. I have not time now to write at length. " I have finished the sunset sketch I spoke of earlier in my letter, and will inclose in this. " Are you thinking of the wanderer ' every day and every hour' as you promised, little gfirl? I hope and trust you are. " I shall send my remembrances to your people in Mr. Wright's letter, in which I inclose this, but my love, and prayers, and fond wishes for my own little Berrie, I send in this. " And now farewell, for this time* God bleae and keep my love safely and true is the prayer of her "Friend ''Hui Bkbbis BxrvTov." CHAPTEK XVn. CONTRASTS A BETROTHAL, *' How painfully do contrasts strOn The sore and wounded heart, Doomed from its dearest eaithlj lofW For years to dwell apart, To look with eager, hungry eyes On others' meed of joy, Whose crown is all too lightly worn To gratify or cloy." 0. R O. ERRIE dropped the letter in her lap, aud leaned back in her chair with a little sish of content and perfect satisfaction, and a face beaming with that exquisite pleasure which kind words and tokens of remembrance from one we love are certain to impart. For a time she mused ; then taking up xhe precioiw letter again, she glanced ever the closely written sheets, her eyes darkening witli sympathetic sadness, or lipa imilingwith pleasure and amusement, as the words she read were calculated to excite those alternate emotions. When she reached the sunset description, she remem- ^rod the little packet the letter had Incloeed, which COITTRASTS—A BETROTEAl^ S8ft had dropped unheeded on the floor, and raiBing it, thfl hastily unfolded the wrapping of tissu epaper, And ut- tering an exclamation of delight at the picture which met her eye. It was small, but exquisitely finished by the artistic hand of her friend, the reaches of dark blue water in the fore-ground seeming to her delighted eyes to almost rise and fall with the impulsive throb- bings of the ocean's mighty heart, while in the distanca rose the barren cliffs of the Irish coast, described in the letter in her lap, and above the whole bent the arch- ing heavens, flecked by the purple-grey cloudlets, silver- tipped by the chaste but beautiful sunset. It was an exquisite little thing, and, though merely a water-color sketch, its perfect finish rendered it valu able as a work of art, and to the receiver doubly so, coming from the hand of her loving artist friend. It was too beautiful, she thought, to hide away in the drawer with the rest of her treasures ; but others' know- ledge of her possession of it would excite such ques- tions as she did not care to answer, and therefore as she heard Belle's step on the stairs, with one more linger- ing look at the little sketch, and at the dear name which closed the missive that had accompanied it, she laid them away, and the key clicked in the lock just ai her sister's hand was placed softly on the door. " In a moment, Belle ! " she called, and throwing down the little key in her hand, she hastened to un- fasten the door and admit her sister. « WeU is ]\Ir. Wright gone ? " " Yesl and — " blushinglyand hesitatingly.— " RNrrc^ I bave something to tell you I " fif OONTRABTS—A BBTBOTHAL. " Have yon f " taking no note of her suter'f nnbW' rMsment, her thoughts too full of her own affairs to think of anght beside, and blushing slightly m sht wondered vaguely if it was anything concerning hef •wn dear absent friend, that her sister had to comma- laicate. "What is it, Belle?" she went on, "anything nice!" " Oh, of course I think it is I " Berrie turned and looked at her, as the trembling, confused tones of her sister struck her ear. " What is it. Belle ? do tell me 1 " she exclaimed eagerly. The girl held up her finger on which sparkled a soli- taire ring, and said, laughing archly in the midst of her blushes : " Can't you guess what this means, Berrie t " " Of course I can 1 that I am to congratulate you, does it not ? " adding, as she put her arms around her sister and kissed her warmly, " I do, dear, with all my heart I " " I know you do," whispered Belle. " And oh I Ber- rie, I wish you were as happy as I am." A moment before the girl had thought her happinesa full and complete. To find her doubts all annihilated, to hold in her hand the proof or token of her friend g continued love and remembrance, had seemed enough to fill her heart with joy; but in the preserce of her lister's full tide of happiness her pleasure paled ; aU the lonely longing of the past few months for a sight of her dear one, all the weary waste of years which •tretched between her hope and its glad fruition, ail the possible chances or mischances of the future, ruAhed (J0NTRAST8-A BETROTHAL, Sff back to her heart, and her joy of the previous moment ■eemed but a mockery, compared to her Bister** com« plete and triumphant happiness. With a little short laugh, she exclaimed bitterly! '* Oh, / am happy. Belle, why should you doubt it ? ** and releasing her sister from her clasp, she sat down wearily in the nearest chair. " Do you think I am blind, Berrie ? I know you art not happy." " I thought I was, at least a moment ago. But jou know * None here are happy, Bare in part, Full bliAS \s bliBS divine.' " " I know, but if you were as happy as I am, I would be satisfied." " Well, I am thoroughly glad that you are, if, u you persist, I am not." Belle said no more, but stood looking at her with a world of sympathetic regret expressed in her speaking face, until Berrie could endure it no longer, and with a little ner'^ous shiver and laugh, turned away, covers ing her face with her hands, and exclaiming : " Don\ Belle 1 why do you look at me so 1 " Belle sprang to her side, and winding one arm around the girl's neck, said tenderly * " Can't you trust your sister, Berrie? ' The grief that doth not speak Whiapert the o'er-franght heart and bida it brMK,' you know." Beni« bunt into lears without reply, and her liftat S8S C0NTBABT8-A BETROTHAL. let her Bilence express the sympathv she ccUd not at tor. At last she said softly : "You need not tell ibi8| Berne 1 1 know that Eugene lias gone away and taken your heart with him ; but 1 know, also, that he lovei you as well as you do him," " How do you know ? " tremblingly. Belle laughed. " Why I have known it, child, for months. I am not so blind as you think me." " Did he tell Mr. Wright ? " " I do not know, indeed I George has never men- tioned the matter to me." " He had other things more interesting to talk of, I suppose 1 " smiling as she wiped away the traces of tears, relieved to turn the conversation from herself. " Well— I don't know about that 1 " blushingly. " When is he going back to Boston ? " " To-morrow ; but he will be up in the morning to say good-by." " And when is it to be ? Am I to be bridesmaid ? " " Oh, certainly I I don't know when — in the fall, I presume. I wish Eugene was here that we might have a double wedding." " Oh, that might not follow I " " Berrie, what became of yom picture that was in thi album?" " Isn't it there now ? oh, I remember, I took it out and forgot to replace it " — with another, she adtled to herself, vexed that she should have neglected to d«>d. He OONTRASTB—A BETROTHAL. $89 membei, I have not received a proposal of marruige to-night, and so may be Bupposed to desire a little lleep; and it is very late, do you know, Miss Bur- ton ? " and she held her watch before her sister's face. " Well, good-night, then, and pleasant dreams, Ber- irie 1 " as she kissed her and turned to the door. " The same to yourself, as I suppose they are sure to be, sleeping or waking." Belle looked back and laughed ; then the door softly closed behind her. A hasty disrobing, a few moments' silent kneeling beside the low white bed, an unlocking of the private drawer, and last peep at the smiling face beneath the glittering cluster of jewels in the tiny casket, and dark- ness and silence reigned through the entire house. Mr. Wright called in the morning, asked and re- ceived the consent of Belle's parents to their engage- ment, and departed on the afternoon train for Boston, of course a happy man. As Berrie gave him her hand in farewell, she said, archly smiling up in his face : " I suppose I am to con- gratulate you, Mr. Wright I Please accept my best wishes for all manner of future happiness to you and Belle." " Thanks, Berrie 1 and " — lowering his voice — " I suppose I may return the compliment in two or three years from now, when a certain friend of ours returns from his wanderings I eh, Berrie ? " " I do not know ! " was the blushing reply, as she anook her head doubtfully. " Possibly you may hare an opportunity before." f40 C0irTRA8TS-A BETBOTHAL. " PoMibly, but pardon me, if I say I hops not I " "Indeed I one would think your own happincM would cause you to wish others the same." ** So it does, Berrie I but at the same time I fthonld be •crry to have Eugene disappointed in hia Httla friend' 8 truth V " You know too much, Mr. Wright, by far 1 " as with crimson cheeks she turned away. A significant but good-natured laugh was hit reply, and Belle inquired : " What are you two talking about BO confidentially there 1 '" " No cause for jealousy, Belle I " returned Bern©, hastily ; '' Mr. Wright was only adviaing me to ' go vai AolikewiM."' CHAPTER XVIIL ▲ " 80HX)LMa'aM " — LETTERS AND REPLIBL " Love offered her k dewy wreath of myrtle, twined with roses ; but Through vistas dim she saw th' aUuring form of Fam*, Who gayly beckoned, offering a tiny sprig Of Laurel, while close at Fame's side stood golden-haiztd And bright-faced Wealth. She saw with eyes that by the right Were dazzled — gazed, and crushed beneath her careless feet The crown of love and happiness, with eager hands Far Fame's poor guerdon reaohing, which might piOTe wbaa grasped But withered leave* ! *' JBLE golden sunlight of a warm June aftemooE 'i^^ stole into the little school-house of an inland ^jTp* New England town, where sat our old acquaint- ance, Miss Helen Harrington, with an open letter Id her hand, and smother upon the desk beside her. " It was an old-fashioned little affair, that country ** temple of knowledge," situated in the edge of the village, on the borders of a grove of trees, composed ol nearly every variety which beautiful, fertile New England can boast A little low, one-ftory bniXding, )4a LSTTERS AND REPLIES witfi tiny entry in which to Jeposit the caos, slukwli, andsan-bonnets of the village children who spent apoiv tion of the day witliin its walls, and with old-fashioned seats and unpainted desks, which the ruthless handft— or knives — of raischievouE boys of many generationf had scored, and chipped, and carved, until they had lost all syrametr}' and native polish. The teacher's desk was on a low platform at one end of the unattractive room, and before it sat the weary teacher hereelf, with aching brow, and every nerve in a quiver, heartily glad that the duties of the day were over, and she was at last rid of the noisy, restless group of children, which, in the excited state of her nervea, had made the day one long torture to her. It was uncongenial employment to her, this " teach- ing the young ideas," antagonistic to all her tastes and aspirations, although she tried her best to do her duty in the sphere in which God had placed her ; and, dis- tasteful as was her occupation, the firmness of will and character she possessed rendering perfect discipline an easy matter to iier, made her more than ordinarily successful as a teacher, while lier native grace and kind- ness of heart attached her pupils to her, and won gol- den opinions from the parents of the children with whom she had to deal. In truth, the delicacy of her nervous organization was the greatest barrier to her Cv^ntent or happiness even. The days were exceedingly warm for the season, and the restless motion of the many little feet on the nn- carpeted floor, the constant buzz of voices which it was impossible to qaell entirely, the necessity for exor* LETTERS AND RBPLIEa, 843 tl«ki «rliich now and then a refractory pupil enforced^ all acting upon her susceptible nerves, made teaching a torture to her, and the close of a session an unqualified relief. Besides all this, her health of late was none of the best, and the wannth c : the season but adde^l t>nt they look pretty, Charlie ! wouldn't you like to kisa them f " and the mischievous girl glanced archly up in her compan- ion's face, which was bent, she thought, rather too near her own ; therefore she pushed back her chair slightly as he returned, smiling : " Why no, Berrie, I do not think I would." " No ? why now I thought you might 1 " still laugh- ing archly. " Why should I, Berrie, when I can kiss yonr lip« mstead 1 " and he stooped to suit the action to the word ; but ere he could reach her, she had sprung from her chair and was across the room, exclaiming : " But von can't do that, this time ! " The gentleman looked somewhat discomfited, and Berrie sat down on the other side of the room, laughing. " No, Charlie, I don't believe in such things ! No girl should yield her lips save to her betrothed lover, and even then not too freely. That's a good theory, Charlie, if very little practised. I know that often, now-a-days, when gentlemen pay particular attentions to a lady, they are allowed such privileges from the first; while there may be nothing serious in the atten- tions, and she may keep company with a half-dozen h^ fore she marries. I don't believe in it, Cbariie I " and ihe shook her head, smilingly. " I don't like prudes, Berrie ! " he returned. "Neither do 1 1 but it is better to err in thst direo- Uon, even, than the other. I like for girls to keep their own respect, however, and then they are pret^ fleortain to have that of the other sex." A DRCLARATUN. * Ton don't care for kisses, Eerrie 1 ** " Yes I do, who does not ? but I care for my lelf- recpect more ; and there is only one man that can giTt me them, Charlie." " And who is that ? Eugene Adair? " bitterlj. The girl flushed rosily, but returned : " Don't talk nonsense, Charlie I I mean the man that I marry." "And that is?" " The Future and the Fates must determine I " laughing. The man drew nearer, and bending over her, said tenderly : " Let them decide on me, Berrie 1 Give me this little hand, and with it the right to take the kiM«if you have just denied me." It was out in spite of her, successfully as she had previously warded it oif. She reproached herself for entering into such a conversation with him, but the crisis had come, and she must meet it as bravely as she could. With a little embarrassed laugh, she said, showing him her hands: " You forget the soil, Charlie I" " No 1 you said they would wash. Don't trifle with me, Berrie." The girl looked down without replying, and he con- tinued : " You do love me a little, don't you, Berrie I ™ and bending nearer : " May I have my kiss ? " " No, Charlie, -. cannot give it you I " without look- ing up. " Berrie ! " with a sharp ring of pain in his yoice " Do you mean to reject my love — to teil me that yon do not care for me? " A DEOLARATIOM. ■ Forfire mo, Charlie 1 I tried mj beet to tpftre ywi thii." He caught her handa, soiled as thej were, and ex- eULmed : '' Berrie, look at me I " and then m ibtf obeyed : " Don't you, carCt you love me ? " She shook her head sadly and slowly without other w^ly. For a moment he looked at her, his handsome violet eyes darkened with pain ; then she exclaimed, attemp^ ing unsuccessfully to draw away her hands : " I am so sorry, Charlie 1 I tried to make you see that it nevei could be, but you would not understand." " * Love is blind,' " he returned, " and oh, Berrie, I do love you I " He saw her eyes fill with teai-s under his glance, and he said more gently : " Berrie, do you love another 1 May I not kiss you because 1 should take another man's caress from your lips ? " She avoided the former question, blushing eloquently however, and replied to the other : " I told you why, Charhfll'-" " If I may not hope for a kiss of love from yon, Berrie, won't you break through your rule for once, •ad givtt me one for friendship's sake ? " She would have done it for very pity had she been tree, had her lips not belonged to another, and to hin ■lene. did not her betrothal kiss seem still iijsgering on her month. So she answered gently and sadly: **I I't, don't ask me, Charlie 1 " " Nor one of farewell 1 " ''It isn't farewell is it, Charlie! Ifcir that yam A DEOLARATION. Wi know it cannot be, you will not think so mnch aboat it •fter A little." ** Berrie, do you know what love m ! '^ smiling bit* terly. " Does any one ? " oonf usedly. " Yes, those who have felt it." "You cannot deune it I 'I love, you lore, they love 1 ' that is the most you can say. And Charlie, I expect some young lady friends from Boston, in a week or two; I am sure yon would like them, and you will come up, the same as before I Let ni be friends, at least, Charlie." " I will come up if I can trust myself, but do not expect it just yet. Good-by, Berrie I " and notwith- standing the soiled palm, he pressed his Upa to the little hand he held. " Good-by, Charlie, God bless and comfort you ! I am so sorry ; I like you so dearly as a friend." He smiled, very faintly and sadly, however, and a moment later the door closed behind him, and she waa alone. The brightness had gone out of her day, and a few warm tears welled over her brimming eyes, as she real ized what pain she had been obliged to inflict on one who loved her so well, and whom she esteemed so highly as a friend. She could not forgive herself for tempting the avowal by the mischievous conversation she had allowed herself to drift into, but was consoled at last, or endeavored to be, by the thought that it must have come some time, and that it was better then than later. 158 ^ LECLARATJOIf. For a few miuutes she tried to perenAde henelf thai the might be happj with .biin; happier, perhaps, than in waiting &o long for what might, after all, never oome to her • that in his love she might forget, after a time, the tender face of her absent friend. But in her ears rang his " Be true to rae, Berrie, and I shall hope for a happy coming home bj-and-by 1 " She reflected on the disappointments he had hitherto borne, hii hardly- won trust in her, his hopes for the fntm-e, and op rose the mighty swellings of her love for him, re- buking her for her moment's faithlessness, though only in thought. No t it must be he, or none ! Charlie was a dear, dear friend, but Eugene was the one love of her life ; and let the future bring what it might, ahe to^%Ud be tra» to him and to herself. ^S CHAPTER LETTEBS — AN ASBIYAJm <* harting ono«, and loring eT«r, It ia sad to watch for yean For the light whose fitful ihiniBf Hakes a rainbow of our tears.** um. " Toa are Terj welcome to onr honso ; It most appear in other wajs than words.** LETTER for you, Berrie, and one for Belle M a matter of conree ; two for me, a paper from Charlie, and that is all," said Mr. Burton, difr tributing the morning mail, which had just come in, while they were still at table. It was early in the last week of July, and as Berrie opened hers, she exclaimed : " Helen is in Boston, and she and Maud will be here on the evening train to-day;" adding, as she folded up her letter and turned to her water : " What does Mr. Wright say, Belle ? fenything •pecial ? " ** No 1 " was the quiet reply. " He thinks he shall be on in a week or two, for a short vacation^ he saTi." ^$0 LBTTEB8- -Alf ARRIVAL. Berrie thought, with a little pang of mingled envy and regret, of the one who had accompanied him on ■uch a trip the previous year, — one little year, which had made such a change in her heart and life, — cf one then entirely unknown to her, and now so very, very dear. Nearly three months had elapsed since the r« ceipt of his one precious letter, and she had been foi some time looking and longing for another. She had not replied to the last, as he had not requested, oi Beemed to expect her to do so, and besides, either inad- vertently or intentionally, had omitted to send her any address. She thought it probable that Mr. Wright had it, but she was too proud to ask him for it, or let him know that she was ignorant of it He had kindly of- fered to take charge of any " mysterious packet which she desired to have conveyed across the ocean," but she had thanked him confusedly, and assured him she could herself dispose of any such in Providence, as she was often there ; however, she had none at present, and did not expect to have. He thought it rather singular she should not write to her friend, and concluded she spoke in that way, as she was too shy to own to the con- trary. The thoughts of him which Belle's news had provoked »ent her to her room with a little sad regret in het heart, to glance once more over the pages of her ont dear letter, and gaze on the " pictured likeneas of h«r love," in the jewelled ring he had given her. How it brought back their last happy moments together, when he had been so tender and loving, and, though the bittflf parting wm to near at hand, filled her heart with nek KETlERf^AN ARRIVAL, Ml and perfect happiness " Oh my love I * she murmured, as she gazed on the noble face, " if I could only see yon once more ! " and her eyes filled with tears of longing, aLd her heart throbbed with «uch a heavy ache, as she thought of the long, long years which still stretched between her desire and its fulfil- ment Yery bitter are these long separations from our loved ones I Very hard to bear, this heart-breaking longing for the sweets of reciprocal love — the presence, words, and caresses of one who is all the world to us. But like many another poor, lonely woman, she was obliged to endure it silently, and as patiently as might be. All day long her thoughts were full of him, while she dusted, arranged, and adorned with her favorite flowers parloi*8 and guest-chamber ; and when she was dressing for the evening, slie paused again before the locked drawer, for one more peep at the pictured face of her dear one. Her toilet was nearly completed, and as the tiny spring clicked in closing, she slipped the ring on her finger, and holding it off to look on it lovingly, noting its beauty and brilliancy, she murmured to herself, " I have half a mind to wear it, and see what they will all say about it. It will excite any quantity of questions, and I don't know whether I am brave enough to face them or not. Well [ will wear it until I finish dress- ing, at all events." She went to the mirror to put on the finishing touches to her pretty dress, and as she fastened her hair and collar with rose-colored ribbons, she uoted with a MS LETl'ERS^Ay ARRIVAL. girliih Bstisfaction — little ^ ehc cared in reftlitj faff jewelft— the beauty and glitter of the precious stones on her finger. At length slie decided to weai it; flh« meant to do so, some time, and as well now as ever, and then the quizzing would be over. She was going to the depot to meet her friends, and more for the use than ornament, she added the watch and chain which her father had given her on her return from school a year ago. She had sent for a carriage, and was momently expecting it, and, anxious to have the ring ordeal over before her friends should arrive, ehe hastened downstairs to wait for it. She had not been long in the room where her mother and sister were sitting, before Belle exclaimed, ** Why, Berrie, what have you got on your hand ? " "Why where, Belle? I don't see anything,** re^ turned the little actress, as she looked them over in- tently in seeming elarra, pretending to think there waa something terrible there. Belle laughed. " Why, on your finger, goosey I How came you by such a pretty ring ? " " Oh, that I " in a tone of affected relief. " Did I never show it you. Belle ? " "Of course you did not I Where did yon get it, pray ? " coming closer to examine it. " I didn't steal it," archly. " I presume not, nor buy it either.** ** Don't be too sure about the latter. I sayed up % lot of money when 1 was at school." *'Not to bny diamond rings, though, I warrant t* kMghing. lbitehs-ah arrival. sm "Not I, indeed! Didn't you know that onr >f my numerous admirers gave it to me ? Let's see I which one was it? " musingly. " Of course you do not know I " " Of course not, no I But, seriously, have you nerer teen it before ? I have bad it a long time." " How should I see it, since yeu never wear it, ot leave it around ? Did Ned Lester give it to you ? " " I don't like to tell ! " blushing, with drooping head and finger in her mouth, with affected bashfulness. " Well, it's elegant I Ma, do you know anything about this mysterious ring ? " " No more than yourself. Belle," her mother returned smiling. " Oh, there's the carriage ; good-by 1 " and glad to ei cape further questioning, she ran off. " Well, I am thankful that is over 1 " she thought " Fortunately, Belle never suspected the source fronr which it came. I expected she would at once. Ned Lester 1 " laughing. " Well, I only hope she won't ask Maud, and she may think that as long as she Hkes." A few minutes' drive brought her to the depot, and her gay greeting to her friends, who shortly arrived, was met with a quiet kiss and — " I am ever so glad to see you, Berrie I " from Maud, and a laughing " WeU^ well 1 Miss Burton, do I behold you ? I am tired to death, and hope you are glad enough to see me to pay for the trouble of coming! " from Helen. " She's the same Helen, isn't she, Maud ? I'll leave yoB to gueas whether I am glad to see you ; but if yo^ M4 trmsBs-Air iSJuvAL. talk like yonrself , yon don't look like it ; how thin ma4 p«le you are I what have you been doing with youi>» ■©Iff" " * Teaching the young idea how to shoot/ and ex- pending all my own ammunition in the attempt." " I should judge so 1 well, we will try and furnish you with a fresh supply before you go back. But give me your checks, girls, and I will have you homo in no time." " Good evening, Miss Berrie 1 Can I render you any assistance 1 " The blood rushed to brow and cheek, as ehe turned at the voice of her old friend Charlie, whom she had not seen since their momentous interview, more than two weeks ago. She had learned accidentally that he was away, and was not aware that he had re- turned. " Why, Charlie, how do you do ? I haven't seen yon in ever so long ! " extending her hand. " Allow me to present my friends. Mr. Anderson, Miss Harrington^ Miss Lester." " My fellow-travellers, I presume 1 " smiling, as he acknowledged the rather informal introduction. '' Why 1 have you just returned, Charlie i " " Yes. What can I do for you, Berrie ? " " Oh, if you will please take charge of these checks 1 I have a carriage outside. ' He placed the young ladies in the carriage, then went off in search of the baggage. " There's a ^ gallant knight ' for you, Helen 1 " said Berrie, laughing. LBTlEHa—AJf ABRIYAJU " TLu he got plenty of money 1 " "That's the only qualification Helen deiirti," laughed Mand. " I don't know what you call a pUnty 1 He hM • good business, and never wants, I guess. He ia a &d» man, and would make you happy, Helen." " Perhaps he might decline the honor ; and possibly he is spoken for already." " I think not," returned Berrie, provoked to know she was blushing, and that the girls would fancy from her confusion, that he was more to her than he was. She always did blush when she most desired not to, and the consciousness of doing so only made the mat- ter worse. " Ahem 1 " said Helen mischievously, " perhaps not! " His immediate return ended the conversation, to Berrie's relief. " Won't you come up with us, Charlie ! " she asked, as he fihnt the door. " Thank you, Berrie, not to-night ; Dut I will try and come soon," and lifting his hat he turned away. " I am sorry to see you looking so miserable, Helen ; what is the matter with you ? " " Oh, nothing special I I haven't been well since I began teaching. It tears my nerves all to piecea.** " Why don't you give it up, then ? " Helen laughed bitterly. " Because I dan't car© to take an apartment at Mount Auburn, just yet*' " Bat you may do so, if you don't stop." " Well, I'll die decently, then, and not tturre to death and be bnried in a potter's-field." IS M6 LSTTSSS-AN ARRIVAL, ** I j^Mf it ig not quite m bad as that** " That is becauBe you do not know." " I guess it isn't either 1 " said Maud. « Hela k dred and cross to-night, aren't you, Queenie ! " " 1 shouldn't wonder if I were I " with a shmg of hcf ihoulders. " Well, we are nearly home now, and you shall jxurt io as you like for the next few weeks." " What a luxury ! I shall appreciate it, I assure you, i tell you, girls, I often think of the piece Maud read exhibition-day ; and like the gleaner, * I grow so weary, weary, carrying home the sheareal' Theie verMi particularly haunt me : ** ' I dream of courts and castled. Gateways of gold and pearls, Laurel wreaths prondl j restini^ On the brow of the peasant gizL Life is so very weary Here on these sommex erea, I g^w BO weary, weary, Carrying home the sheaves. " • Thoughts which are bright, yet pAJifat, Struggle within my breast. Life is both sweet and banefol, I am not like the rest. Would I could voord my longingt, Bunder this weary chain. Fly from this quiet valley, These sheaves of golden gnia. Life is so very dreary Here on these summer evoa, I grow so weary, weary, OwoTinf home the iheavaa I** LBTTEJm AN ARIUVAL. Wl ** Bnt do you never think of the next vene, Halcaf * tiked Maud, quotinor in turn : ** ' Maiden, thou art not lonelj I Many like thee there are Stifling their aspirations, Still with their souls at war. All through this life's great harrert. Wander a sorrov?ing train, Knowiag full well their miasioii. But wearing a clogging chain. Many the hearts that are sayiiif This quiet summer eve, O, I am weary, weary, Carrying home the sheaTes.* ** " Yes, I think of that, ako I " with a bitter btn^h, " and though I know that ' misery loves company * generally, it is no consolation to me that others are at badly or even worse off than I am." "You should think sometimes of the last verse, Helen," said Berrie, as the carriage tamed into her street, " and remember that " ' God hears our cry, my sister. He will gather the ripened grain Up in His broad heaven-gamer, Where life will be free front pain.* " As they reached Iiome, Belle came running out tt the carriage. " You need not introduce me, Berrie,** she said, as she opened the door, " I have heard so much about Maud and Helen, that I know them al- ready ; " and she kissed both of the girlB as she a»' •iated them to alight. LSTTSna-AN ARRIVAL, *Ocane upetairs, girls, and washl" said Berrio, M they entered the house, " and never mind about chann^ bi^ your dresHes to-n^'ght." * No," said Belle, " tea is all ready." * Where do you -wish the trunks, Miss I " inquired the dr.ver. " Oh, Belle, you attend to them, will you, please t " and she conducted her friends upstairs to the tasteful guest-chamber, which she had taken so much pains in arranging. " What a pretty room t " exclaimed Maud, as they entered. " And what a glorious sunset I " as she glanced through the deep west window, opened nearly to the floor. " Yes, I think I can endure this for a while," said Helen, throwing herself into a low rocker that stood cear the window. " Never mind the sunpet," she added to Maud ; " do w^ash while I rest, plei^se." " Oh, how is Ned ? " inquired Berrie. " He's well, and sa-r.cy as ever 1 He wished me to tell you he should run down for a few days, while we were here. Thee Icjk out for being teased 1 " laugh- ing " I expect so ' Don't he improve any ander joof InJtion f '* '^ I am a£r%id ciot much." CHAPTER XXL ■OMK irON8KN8B — EJTCUBSIONS " U> LXBTTUIL.'' ** We know runii than we tell 1 " ** A klM of ohai^ty them Mkeet not ; A IdM of lore to th'>e I oMsnot giro 1 " J. 0. HxTweoB. ELL, well, girls 1 here are three of yoti witti vj(^ jewelled rings on joiu* fore-fingers. And yon >^^ too, Berrie, that neve* ear^A tor such things ! I should like to know what it all means. Come ta confession, girls 1 " and the speakci, Helen Harrington drew herself up gravely. It was a dull, cloudy mornmg, and tber hardly knew what to do with themselves, and in lieu of anything else, talked any quantity of nonsense, aa girla will do when they are together. "Be merciful, Queenie, and spare oilt blniheil* said Belle, laughing. "'The quality of mercy' is strained-out and goni^ Mr. Shakspeare to the contrary notwithstanding. I hava no mercy. Come, kneel before ma and maki S70 BZOUmiONS ''AD UBITLM." oonfeasion. Isabel I " — sternly, and pointing to dM floor at her feet. " Isabel " obeyed the gesture, and dropping on her knees before her confessor, hid her face in her luuidi. " Will not your Royal Highness permit na to con fees for another, instead of ourselves 1 " " Mark the way of the world I How mnch easier it 1b to acknowledge others' faults or error* than our own 1 Confess, fair penitent." *^ I have nothing to confess, may it please your Higb» nessl" '^What means this gewgaw that sparklet on thi fore-finger of your left hand ? '* " It means — it means — that it won't fit any other I " " It means — it means — a wedding next fall," laughed Berrie. " Come, Helen, let me confess for the lot 1 " and she dropped on her knees by her sister's side, saying : " Arise, fair penitent, and leave your cause with me ** " Well, what have you to say for yourself % " ** Nothing for myself, anything you like for my companions." " You have explained the meaning of Belle's jewel ; Maud's comes next in order." " Maud \ oh, her's means that she will be mj aiiter one of these fine days." « And yours ? " " Mine is without a meaning ! rayBterious in origin, and mysterious in significance I Not a sohtaire, you perceive, fair queen." " I perceive more than is apparent 1 Your b" oihei •re more eloquent than your ring." EXCURSIONS ^'AD lIBimC^ J71 **One means as much as the other — nothing I" she arofle from her knees and sat down. " Come, girli, it ii a year since we left Bchool, we have seen a year of woman-life, and ought to have some plans for the fu- ture. Suppose we mark out our prospective life fot five years to come, and at the end of that time com- pare notes as to the fulfilment of our hopes." " Very well 1 " answered Helen. " Belle, you are the oldest, begin I " " * Man proposes, and God disposes 1 * " Belle re- turned. *' I anticipate nothing more than falls to the average lot of woman ; a happy home, and a bmiy life, working for those I love." "Maud I" " I do not know that I have any diitinct plant. Charlie and I expect to be married in about a year — " with many blushes — " I hope to be happy, useful, and beloved." " As I do not doubt you will, sweet sister," whispered Berrie. "Now, Berriel" " I believe you are the oldest, Helen 1 " " That does not matter ! proceed, and I will follow.'' " My plans depend so much on others, that I can say nothing definite. I anticipate a few years of weary waiting, and then — hope's fruition, or disappointment. And you, Helen I " " Oh, I expect to waste my sweetness * on bare-toot- ed, tow-headed urchms, and wake up acme morning to find myself famous." " Ma says, * come to dinner, girls t ' " interpoied Hafr> 379 MXOfTBSIONS "AD LIBITUM.'' tie, entering the room at that moment ; and glad of Any* thing for a change, her sun mons was promptly obeyed. About two weeks had elapsed since their arrival, and the time had passed very pleasantly to them all, in en- joying the walks and drives of which the suburb* of Bristol boast so many beautiful ones, in various pUv nics and excursions, to say nothing of informal evening gatherings, which had invariably been so very pleas- ant. Charlie Anderson had been very attentive, and rarely oetrayed the pain and passion which had stolen so much of the sweetness from his life, and sobered a little the former gayety of his manner. Once when Berrie wa» at the piano, and the others were all standing around her, Helen had said, apropos to a previous remark : " Oh, a woman*s * no ' always means ' yes 1 ' " "Is that a fact?" he asked quickly, with such a changed and eloquent face, and eyes fixed on the girl at whose back he was standing. " Proverbially true, Mr. Anderson I " was the laugh- ing answer. " Then I am all right,'' he returned, more earnestly than playfully. Helen had noticed his changing face, and was per- suaded of what she had suspected all along ; that Ber- rie had refused him, and that he loved her madly stilL But he was generally on his guard, although the girl'i gentle, sympathetic manner, Bince the fatal rna-nin^ which had dashed his hopes to the ground, was 'nuch harder to endure than coldness or hauteur woul^ itATf been. EXOUmiONB ''AD LIBITUM.^ 875 The following week Ned Lester, Charlie Burton, and Bir. Wright were to be there, and the girls — Maud and Helen — were to return with them, Berrie and Belle ao- companjing them, to make the purchases which the important event to occur in the Fall rendered neoee> The next week came, and with it the expected gue«tB ; and there was certainly no gayer house in that beauti- ful town for some davs to come than that of the Bur- tons. Helen's health had wonderfully improved, thanks to the leisure, gay company, and life-giving breeze, freshly perfumed by the salt breath of the Bay, and with returning health had come her old bloom and gayety, and she was ever the life of the party. The gentlemen's arrival was but the signal for iscreased pleasure, and many were the pleasant drives, picnics, sails, and other excursions which they enjoyed during their stay. Climbing the steep hills to reach the new cemetery, lingering with awed hearts among the beautiful trees of the silent city, enjoying the view which its altitude commanded, filled pleasantly and profitably one beauti- ful afternoon. A drive to Mount Hope, and brief rest- ing in " King Philip's Chair," passed away another. A walk through Constitution street, far out into the silent country, occupied one golden morning, and filled their hearts with recolle7me two or three years Helen's senior. ** How well you are looking, Helen 1 " the said, after a alight pause in the conversation, in which sh© had been intently regarding her friend. " So much better than when you left town last winter. Do you know, your sudden resignation created quite a sensation at school ? I shall not soon forget how Mr. Carlisle looked when informed you had resigned and gone home. I think he liked you very much, Helen." " Yes, we were very good friends. My health wai miserable when I went away, and in fact has been ever since until within a few weeks. I have been visiting some friends and got recruited, you see." Never had she looked better, indeed 1 The expect- ant excitement which she felt had tinged her olive cheeks with a very warm, fresh hue, her dark eyes glowed and sparkled, and she was exceedingly becom- ingly dressed. ** Teaching makes fearful havoc with my nervet I * ibe ad led. " Why don't you give it up, and try something else thon?" "What, pray?" «* Oh, I don't know ; I should think you might write." " 1 should think so too, only I can't afford the time to build up a reputation. One must eat, drink, dreiS| •ad be housed, you know, nelons-volena." AN UNEXPECTED MEETINQ. 289 " I know, but can't you teach and write too, to bogis irth?" " 1 thought I could ; but when I am through with the day'? teaching, my nerves are in such Bplintem that I can't patch them up sufficiently to write. One must be fresh to do that sort of work. Mental activity cannot be expected when the whole physical system is wearied and overtasked." A servant entering at that moment, informed her mistress that there was a gentleman below to see Miu Harrington, and she arose at once to go. " Oh, yes ! " she said. " A friend told me he would call for me. Good-by, Ella ; I hope you will be better the next time I see you." " Yes, I am improving every day now. I am 8orry you must hurry away." " Well, I shall be in town for the winter in a week or two, and then shall see you often. Good-by until then," and kissing her, she hastily left the room to meet the friend who impatiently awaited her coming below. She was so excited that her teeth fairly chattered, warm summer day though it was ; and obliged to keep them tightly shut, he had the conversation almost wholly to himself for a time. The nearest place of public resort was Chester Square, and towards that beautiful little park he accordingly led her. The day was scarcely less lovely than the preceding one ; the playful waters of the fountain glistened in the rays of the afternoon sun, the flower borders were brilliant with summer's richest blooms, and the minia* 18 290 ^^ UNEXPECTED MEETINO. ture groves cool and sliady to the eye. Tliey sat ddwn in one of the least conspicuous seats, and after a little common-place conversation, Mr. Carlisle began tin subject so near his heart. " Helen, I received a letter from you about two months ago." " Yes," low and quietly. " It gave me a great deal of pain, Helen 1 " " I am very sorry, Mr, Carlisle," still more foftlj. " Sorry enough to retract what you said in that, and to say ' yes ' to the questions contained in mine to you f " No answer. " Have you nothing to say to me ? Have I deceived myself in thinking since I met you yesterday, that there was still hope for me ? Speak to me, Helen ' " as he still received no answer. "What shall 1 say, Mr. Carlisle?" with downcast eyes, and lips that, haughty as they were, trembled visibly. « That I may hope." " You may hope." He held out his hand without a word, and daaped it warmly for a moment over the one placed hesitatingly within it, their eyes met for an instant, and — they were betrothed. They sat in silence for many minutes, a silence that was more eloquent than words, that spoke the deep content which filled both their hearts, tlien Helen arosa " I must go, Mr. Carlisle, my friends will be ex- pecting me. As school begins so soon, I shall go home •omei^hat earlier than I intended." AN UNEXPECTED MEETIHa. S91 " Since teaching is so distasteful to you, Helen, why flot give it up ? " " I cannot afford it, Mr. Carlisle, as I have told yon before," smiling up in the noble faoe bent to catch her words. **I shall not permit yon to do it for long. One term at the most, and then yon must leave teaching for house-keeping." There was not much to choose between them, she thought, but of course did not say it. " When do you intend going home ! " he eon- tinned. " To-morrow, or the following day, I think.'' • Then I shall not see you again." « Probably not." " May I come out to Dedham before yon retnm to Boston?" " I should be so glad if you would I I wonld like for you and my mother to meet soon." " I shall come, you may be sure." " Is not that my car 1 " " I think it is, yes." «Good-by, then, Mr. Carlisle." " God bless you, Helen I " he said, very low, as he released her hand after assisting her on the step of the car, and lifting his hat to her, he turned away as the car glided swiftly onward. " Maud, I must go home to-morrow ! " said Helen that evening, as they were making preparations to ^^o apstairs for the night. ** Nonsense, Helen t yon must do no snch thinif. 292 .4Jr UNEXPECTED MEETISQ, Belle and Berne are going away on the foli owing daj and I can't have you all go at one time." " But school begins a week from next Monday, and I must have some time at home. I shall soon be back, you know, and you will see all you want to of me for the next three months." " Not tmless you do better than you did last wiD ter." " Well, I shall, doubtless. I must go, at all events, although I would like to stay more than you wish to have me." Therefore, on the following day she took an after- noon train for Dedham, and on the succeeding one Belle and Berrie Burton were whirled out of the same depot for home, with trunks laden with silks, laces, a marvellous " love of a bonnet," and other acceeaoriet to a stylish bri lal trousseau. CHAPTER XXm DOUBT — DISAPPOINTMENT — A WEDDINOUBT—DiajJ*POINTMBNT-A yEDDlNO. 291 There was only one Miss Burton to him, and whei te had first glanced over the letter, his heart had stood still for a moment at the sentence, until he recollected, with a smile at his folly, that Belle was Miss Burton, and the prospect, ere his departure, of her becoming Mrs. Wright ; but now he read rapidly on : — " There was quite a party staying at the house, and your little Berrie wsw as lovely and bewitching as ever, and wore a ring on her finger, at whose source I think I could guess. Miss Burton's brother Charlie was at home- by the way, he is engaged to Maud Lester of Boston, whom I presume you do not know, and she and her brother Ned were also there, the latter of whom was evidently very much in love with our pretty Berrie. Miss Harrington, a handsome brunette, and school- friend of Berrie's, with your humble servant, com- pleted the number of guests at the hospitable mansion. We had quite a gay time and among other excursion? perpetrated the one to Newport, in which we failed so •ignally last year. I often wished that my friend Adair had been present, and I do not donbt that (me other at least did also. I think it is time joa were writiDg to me, and have been looking for a letter som^ weeks." Ned Lester, the handsome, audacious, meny fellow, of whom he had felt jealous the first time he saw him ; — lie was there, installed as guest in her home, doubt- less escorting her on the various formal excursions which the i^irty had taken, perhaps taking his place id his dear one's heart He knew how much more infla- «noe has % present suitor than an absent one, inAt ■» ft^ 30XIBT—mBAFP0nmiENT-A WSBDUm. rared that the Ned in question was extremely fond oi Berne, and, alas 1 had not the confidence in her con itAncy which he should have had. Thus he tormented himself with all manner of doubts of her truth, told himself that he had been ab- •ent a year without receiving one line from her, while he had written to her twice, and resolved to write no more until he had received some tt)ken of remem- brance from her own hand : — ignorant that in neither letter had he sent any address, and not considering it necessary to ask her especially to write, by such a course he was recklessly daring an estrangement that would cause both of them years of unmitigated pain and regret. Men are the same all the world over; and superior as he was in many respects to most of his sex, he was as jealous, distrustful, and unreasonable as the majority of mankind. Thus, while Berrie was longing with all the intens- ity of her loving heart for his presence, keeping her- self true to him, in word, thought, and deed, he was doing her gross injustice, and laying a sure foundation for future misunderstanding and regret. The niglit before the wedding-day, Mr. Wright made his appearance, and on a favorable opportunity presenting itself, he handed her a sealed packet, re- marking: "News at last from the waniererl I re- aeived a letter also, which I have been expecting for some time. I think he might do better than to write only twice in a year." The letter was not so long, perhaps not quite as ten- der as the previous one ; at least, on perusing it, th« DOUBT-^DISAPPOINTMEN r—A WEDDLSQ. 299 toying girl was forced to acknowledge herself difiap- pointed. She had waited for it so long, longed every day and hour for its arrival, suffered such tortures ol disappointment each time that Mr. Wright made hii appearance without bringing her what she so miLch de- sired, judged him by herself, and thought that eaah month of absence would render her all the dearer, vcA opened the letter at last with such thrills of anticipa- tory pleasure, that for it to fall so far below her ex- pectation, was more than she could bear; and some very bitter tears fell on the thin blue sheets in her hand. Then, too, he not only sent her no address in this also, but expressed no disappointment or regret at not receiving a reply to his last ; and the sensitive girl asked herself if it was really possible that he did not wish her to write to him, that he already really did not love her as well as when he went away, and listen- ing to the promptings of pride, resolved that she would not write, at least until he did ask her. Pride is a very poor thing to stand between those who truly love 1 Ere the consciousness of reciprocal aflEection is reached or expressed, it will do ; but when its promptings are listened to after the pledging of vows, it but too often wrecks true and loving hearts for life. The wedding morning dawned as fair and lovely aa »ne could possibly desire. The noble old trees that lined the handsome streets had put on their bright- hued, autumnal robes, which took an added beauty and brilliance under the rays of t^e unclouded morn- ing son, the air was ccol, and clear as the ether above^ 300 DOUBT- DISAPPOINTMENT- A WEDDWO. and all Nature seemed doing her best to render Um morning perfect. We will not enter into a detailed description of th« bridal scene. Belle looked exceedingly well in her tasteful travelling dress, — in which the oeremonj wa« performed — and Berrie equally so in her similar at- tire, although rather sad at losing her sister, to say nothing of the lingering effects of her disappointment on the preceding evening. The ceremony was per- formed at home, but few guests being present, and cards were issued for a grand reception on the return of the bridal pair from Niagara and other places of in- terest which it was their intention to visit. Maud Lester and Charlie Burton were down, and intended to remain for several days. Berrie and her escort, Charlie Anderson, accom- panied the newly-wedded couple to the depot, and on their return were of course alone in the carriage to- gether. Berrie felt embarrassed, and wished herself at home, and Charlie looked very grave indeed. In fact he had done so all day ; it was an exceedingly try- ing time to him. At last he spoke : " Berrie, I am going abroad next montii, if the ireather is not too severe." " Indeed, Charlie ? We shall miss you very much.** ** WeU, it is pleasant to be missed by one's friendfl, you know," with a grave smile. " You have chosen a rather unpleasant season, it teems to me." "Yet, tomewhat, but my butinesB it to arranged DOUBT- DISAI'POIJSTMENT—A WEDDING. 301 that I can leave now without detriment, and It might not be in the spring." " How long do you intend being absent f " " I do not know I Urtil I learn a little self <5cntrol, at least" This was what she had dreaded, and she remained lilent " Will you not bid me God-speed, Berrie f '* and he held out his hand. Berrie looked up at him with eyes that were full of tears, as she said, placing her hand in the one ex- tended : " I do, with all my heart, Charlie 1 May yoa have a most pleasant and prosperous journey, and re- turn soon with new health and spirits. I am 80 Borry that you must go." " But you think it wise ? " " Perhaps so, yes ! you are the best judge of that. May God keep you, my friend." He wrung her hand without reply as he assisted her from the carriage, but with lips that trembled under his long mustache. She went directly to her room, and sat down by the cheery west vtdndow, while her eyes filled again and again with pain, longing, and regret. Life looked very Bad to her that day. Her sister gone, to enter that place no more as her home, to return but for a brief Interval ere she should leave them for a home of her own in a distant city ; her dearest friend absent, gone for yearly perhaps never to return to her / and Charlie, whom she had esteemed so highly, who had been such a freqaent companion and dear friend, driven away 802 DOUBT— DISAPPOINTMENT-A VEDDING.] from her with a heart filled with pain of which she WM the catiBe. Life was but a failure and disappointment, she felt, and the future which l(X)ked so bright ta •ome, seemed to her very dreary and bitter indeed. She did not think of her blessings, as one is so little inclined to do when under the spell of sadness such ai hers; but dark as seemed her life just then, this w&i but the beginning of shadows, which should wrap her beert in the gloom of desolating sorrow and affliction. CHAPTER XXrV. CBAHGES BEREAVEMENT A NEW HOm ** The dear home faces, whereupon The fitful firelight paled and shane, Henceforward, listen as we will, The voices of that hearth are itill ; Look where we will the wide earth o'er, Those lighted faces smile no more." J. O. WHRTHBi 'T was a gloomy evening late in November 1 The clouds hung low about the horizon, and were gray and heavy with their weight of threatening storms; the wind moaned and shrieked around the corners of the city streets, and the air was 3hill and cutting as it struck the unprotected faces of the passers-by. In the elegant parlors of a handsome house at the 6outh end of Boston, sat two ladies ; the elder, a dark- eyed, dark-haired, matronly woman of some forty years, attired in heavy mourning robes, and the younger, who was evidently her daughter, a stylish young lady of tweiity-two, or thereabouts, in a fashionable evening home dress which became her well. 804 0nAN0B8-BEREAVBMENT—A NB'W /TrfMn She was rather pretty, but not in any light bei» Jtif t*ij with the dark eyes of her mother, but with hair many shades lighter, and a mouth that betrayed in every curve the haughty, overbearing character of its possefh 8or. Just now she looks particularly unplea«ing, u she discourses on a subject which is evidently disagree- able to her. " I doa't care, ma ! I think it is outrageous to in- vite her here now, when Mr. Hanson is still so unde- cided. Every one says she is very pretty and fascinat- ing, and I know as a child she was lovely. Yon might have waited at least until I was off your hands, before you sent for her to come here," ponted the young lady. " My dear child," remonstrated the mother, " how could I do any less? Her mother wrote me on her dying bed to ask that I would give her a home for a time, and I could not refuse." " Why don't she go to some other of her friends 1 1 should not think she would want to come here, when we are all cearly strangers to her." " But I am her aunt, nevertheless, and you her cousin, and I hope you w^U treat her as one. Remem- ber she has been greatly afflicted of late, and needs all the kindness we can possibly show to her.^' " Well, why don't she go somewhere else, whert fibe would be certain of kiad treatment I " persisted the young lady. ^^ Why yon know, Carrit, ihc hftsn't many reUtaveti And her brother and tutor are both in Europe." " Tea I a prettj tune to go to Europe after being twr CHANGB^-BEREAVEMEKT—A NEW HOME. 305 years married 1 Why didn't Belle go then and be back befc^re this time ? " " I don't know why she didn't go then, but she went DOW on account of her health, and as her brother waf going for a wedding tour, they thought it would be a (good opportunity." " I should have thought Miss Berrie would have goae koo I Pity she hadn't ! " sneered the girl. ** I think it would have been a pity if she had. She remained at home because she was a dutiful daughter, and wouldn't leave her mother. It is well she did not ; what would her parents have done without her." " Well, I think it is mean she is coming here, at any ratel" " Why Carrie I why are you so averse to her coming here ? I should think you would be pleased to have her here for a companion, she is so near your own age." " I have got companions enough, and I don't care to be superseded by my country cousin." " I do not see why you should anticipate anything of the kind." " Because she is beautiful, and you know very well I am not 1 " returned the jealous, but candid young lady. " And / know, if you don't, that beauty and style ore decidedly attractive." ' " That may be I but a sweet temper, Carrie, is more " Pity you hadn't transmitted some of your sweet- tiees to mel " answered the nndutiful daughter. ^ Carrie, be more respectful, if you please," said the 306 CUANQES—BEREA VEMENT—A NEW HOME mother, a little sternly. " I cannot see why you should be so jealous of poor Berrie; you know she is in mourning, and cannot go into society for some time to come, and before she leaves it off her sister will be home, doubtless." " Well, if she donH go into society, she will of course be down stairs when there is any one here. Mr. Hanson isn't any too devoted now, and I wouldn't lose him after this for all his fortune; the girls would triumph so; they all wanted him themselves." Ding-a-ling-ling, rang the door-bell, and the young lady finished her ill-natured speeches with an impa- tient, " Oh bother! I suppose she has come, and I shall have to be on my good behavior. What a wretched night this is, any how! " and she threw her- self back in her chair to await the entrance of the expected guest. A few moments later, a servant opened the large double doors of the parlor, and announced " Miss Burton," and Mrs. Mitchell went cordially forward to meet the slender figure in heavy dress and wrap- pings of dead black. "My dear child, welcome home!" and the lady took her in her arms and kissed her warmly. " You are very cold and tired, are you not? we have been expecting you for some time " — looking at her watch — " it is now after six." " Yes, the train was late to-night! " answered the sad, soft voice, " and the air is very cold. You are so like my dear mother, auntie ! " and the large eyes filled with tears. OBANOES-BEREAVEMENT—A NSW HOAiE. 307 " Yes ? we were called very like each other when we were youixg. This is your cousin Carrie, Berrie, I hope you will be very good friends," with a slightly beseech ing look at her daughter. The young lady arose and came indolentlj forward, taking in a cold, limp grasp the hand extended, and »aying coolly : " Oh I dare say we shall -€ as good friends as two young ladies living in the same honie are apt to be. Are you well, Berrie ? '' " Well, thank you ; but very tired. May 1 go np- utairs at once, auntie ? " chilled at the cold reception from her cousin, from whom she had hoped so much i» the way of companionship and sympathy. " Certainly, my child 1 I will send for Annie to ahow you to your room," and she stepped into the back parlor and pulled the bell. " "Will you come down to dinner in half an hour ! ** Bhe continued, while awaiting a reply to her summonr, " or shall I send it up to you ? " " I will not trouble you to do that, auntie ; 1 do noi require anything to-night but rest, I think." " Send Miss Annie here," said Mrs. Mitchell to th« servant who answered the bell. A few moments later the door opened again to admit a pretty young girl about fourteen years of age. There were elements of rare beauty in the unperfected face, •nd had she been a little older, her sister would donbt> less have been as jealous of her as of her cousin. The young girl came smilingly forward, and, as her mother said, " This is your ccusin Berrie, Annie ; take her up stairs, will you, dear ? " she held oat a b'ttle 308 CEANGE3-BEREA VEMENT—A NEW HOiO. dimpled hand, and pouted two red lips archly for • kiss. Berrie kissed her very warmly, feeling the con- trast between her reception of the stranger and her •iflter's, and hoping that she at least would be a friend to the lonely girl, who to one member of the family was so unwelcome % gfuest. " I am real glad to see you, Berrie I " she said, laughing. " I have heard so much about my pret- ty cousin. Come upstairs, ma says," and she pre- ceded her from the room. On the stairs she paused until Berrie reached her, then slipping her hand in hei cousin's arm, she walked beside her, chatting gaily all the way. " What a merry little girl you are, Annie ! " said Berrie, smiling, as she was ushered gaily into the room prepared for her. " You rcmmd me of my little Hattie ; I suppose she Is very lonely to-night without her sister, and her dear mother and father lying under the cold, cold ground. Don't you feel sorry for her, dear ? " and with her arm around the slender waist of the young girl, she sat down wearily in an easy chair drawn up cosily before the grate. " Oh yes, I do, and for you, too, cousin," and the dark eyes filled sympathetically. " I have no papa, but he died before I can remember, and I couldn't live ^rithout my dear mamma, Berrie." " So Hattie thought at first, but she has learned thm early 'tis not so easy to die." " Poor little girl I where is she, cousin ? " '^At boarding-schooL A year has made a great ehange in our lives." CHANOEB-BBREAVEMENT—A NEW UOME. SOU " I am BO Borry, Berrie,but we wUl make you just aa happy ae we can," and the sweet girl &mtx)thed caress- ingly the soft cheek of her companion. After a few moments she asked gently : " How do fou like your room, cousin 1 " Berrie looked around the large, airy apartment, at the handsome chamber-suite, the hot-house bouquet on the little stand between the windows, at the cheerful fire in the open grate, and answered, trying to smile : " It ia very nice, Annie, dear 1 Who was so kind as to give me such a handsome bouquet ? " " Oh, I was out walking to-day, and I thought per- haps you were as fond of flowers as I am, so I just stepped in at a florist's and bought that. Isn't that camelia beautiful, Berrie ? " and she brought the little vase containing the bouquet to her cousin. " It is, indeed, very, and I love flowers dearly I Here are some of my favorites too ; heliotrope, tube-roses, violets and mignonette ; you are very kind, little cousin, and I thank you more than I can say." " Oh, you need not 1 " laughed the girl. " I expect I got my pay in the pleasure I had in baying it. Oh, there is the dinner-bell ; are you going dovm, Ber- rie?" " Not to-night, Annie, I think ; I do not care for anything." " Well, I presume ma will send you np something I am real glad you came, anyway, if Cad — " she paused, frightened at how near she had come to betray- ing her sister's nncordiality, and wounding her ooQflin'i feelings. 310 CEANOES- BEREAVEMENT A NEW HOMS. " If Carrie isn't, you meant to say ? " Berrio aeked, smiling a little, although somewhat sadly. " Well, Cad is cross ; you needn't mind her. Shf thinks that you are so much prettier than she iB| that you are going to cut her out." " She need not be alarmed 1 But I am glad if yoD are going to be my little friend, Annie." " Of course I am 1 I love you dearly already 1 " and the arm that was around Berrie's neck tightened rather uncomfortably. " But there ! I must go down to din- ner, or ma will scold. By-by, cousin," and laughingly kissing her hand to her, she ran off, just as a servant entered with a tray heaped with a very inviting dinner for the weary girl. As will be inferred from portions of the foregoing conversation, Berrie's life liad sadly darkened since her sister's wedding day, a little more than two years pre- vious. Everything but loss of fortune seemed to con- spire together to sadden her heart, and render her hitherto bright, happy life, a weariness and a blank. The letter received on the evening preceding her sister's bridal, from the man who had professed to love- her so dearly, was the last that had come to her hand. For a year not a month passed but she hoped and ex- pected to hear from hira, and h^^r heart had sunk again and again under the sickening pressure of hope de- ferred. For a time she would not allow herself to doubt his truth and affection, assuring her heart that a thousand things might have conspired to prevent her hearing from him. He might be ill ; letters might miscarry or be loet entirely ; anything or everything OEANOES- dEREAVEMENT- A NEW HOME. 811 might happen except that he should be fickle or nu- true. But as time wore on, and still no letter came to ■Bsure her of his constancy, liope gradually died out in her heartj and she gave him up for lost, to her at least, forever. Of all the weary days of longing that had come and gone since then, we will not speak. Those who have hoped and waited, and despaired and waited, will un- derstand and realize it all. WitJi her to love once was to love forever ; and though they might be parted to meet no more on earth, she could but be true to her- self, and in being that she was true as steel to him, false, fickle, inconptant though he might be. She had tried to hope for the best, and bore bis seeming desertion very bravely ; but there were days when her heart was eo sore and heavy, when bitter tears pressed so closely to her aching eyes, that she could but yield for a time to despondency, and let her grief spend itself in tears and sighs, and moans of anguish, which alone could bring a calm to the tempest raging BO violently within her soul. Her sister Belle had spent the Summer following her marriage at home, endeavoring to recover health and strength after a long couree of fever, by which she had been attacked in the Spring, but her brother's wedding day in the Fall finding her still weak and frail, her husband arranged his businws for an in- definite absence, and took his wife abroad, with the bridal pair for companions. Either couple would have been more than pleased to have taken Beirie with them »lao, but her mother, with her old dre;ad of Ihe sea, could 812 CHANOEB— BEREAVEMENT— A NEW EOMS. not consent to part with so many of her children on what she considered so perilous a journey, and Berrie, loving her mother too well to cause her a moment'! anxiety which she could prevent, dutifully remained at homa. A sacrifice, if such it was, which she ever felt happy to have made. Early in the following Summer her father's health began to decline, and though at first they considered him only slightly indisposed, they found after a time that he was suffering from a slow fever that was sapping the vital forces of his system, and which, as the warm weather came on, grew more violent in symptoms, un- til it took a typhoid form, and after a long run — for he was a man of iron constitution — ^lie sank into a stupor from which he never rallied, and when the gardens were brilliant with the blooms of mid-summer, they laid him to rest amid the trees and shrubs of the new cemetery, and tunied away to their desolate home, al- most heart-broken with grief. But the end was not yet. Mrs. Burton, pining for her dear companion of so many happy years, and ex- hausted with grief and the long hours of watching over the sinking form of her loved one, also jnelded to the slow approaches of the insidious disease which had gapped the life-energies of her husband, and at last took her bed, never to rise again, until the soul had wandered into the realms of a better world. Poor Berrie's cup of grief seemed full to the very brim. Unused to sickness in any form, almost pros- trated herself with sorrow an i watching, all alone, no relative or near friend there to comfort or assiflt, and her CHAHQES—DEliEAVEMENT—A NEW HOME. 313 mother, bo dear to her, whose life and health eeemed necbssary to her very existence, stretched on a couch of iiiff(7i'ing, perhaps never to rise again, seemed more than the stricken girl conld bear. Life looked very dark to her, and wildly did she pray at times that God ivouid take her also, and not leave her here to mourn •bore her shattered idols, torn one by one from her loring grasp. But her very loneliness rendered the Qeceasity for exertion all the greater, and prevented her from sinking under her grief, as she would have done, had theie been any one else present on whom the care might devolve. It was a trying time to the poor girl, and looking back now, it seemed to her like a long and bitter dream, from -which she might soon awake, to find her- self surrounded by her dear ones, in the dear old Bristol home. Her mother had sunk so gradually under the cruel disease, that she had been enabled to write to her sis- ter, then residing in Boston, and who had, until within a few months, been resident in the Southern Stettife, asking her protection for her lonely girl until hei- sis- ter's return from Europe, should a fatal termination to hei illness render it necessary. Mrs. MitcheL had re- plied very kindly, and Berrie, after remaining a month in her di*eary, desolate home, to arrange such matters A8 had required her attention, gladly availed herself of the proffered home ; hoping that new scenes would ease a little the sharpness of her age nizing grief. Ilattie, poor, stricken little gir^, liad been sent the previous year to the school from which Berrie had 14 314 CHANOES-^BEREAVEMENT- A NEW HOME. graduated, and to which she returned after the death of her mother, and the breaking up of the old hom« which had been so dear to them all. Berrie wonl4 gladly have kept her with her, but knew it was best ehe ihould continue the studies so sadly broken off, and sent her back with many loving words and regrets. She had, of course, transmitted the sad tidings to her brother and sister over the water, but they were wandering about so, it was doubtful when they would receive them, and she had no hope of their immediate return. Thus she settled down in her new home as content- edly as possible, but with many a dreary heart-ache ioi the lost loved ones — her dear father and mother lying still and cold under the chill November snows, her absent sister and brother, and her far away lover, whose image was still bright in her heart, but who seemed as lost to her as if the sods of an ItaliM churchyard lay green above his grave. CHAPTER XXV. OLD AND NEW 7B1ENDB. " But ever and anon, of griefs snbdned, There comes a token like a scorpion's stingr. Scarce seen, but with fresh bitterness imbued ; And slight withal may be the things that bring Back on the heart the weight which it would fllnif Aside forever." LOBD BTBOK ^ERRIE, there is a lady downstairs that wishei to see you," said Annie Mitchell, bounding unceremoniously into her cousin's room one ftftemoou about six weeks later. " She is real pretty and queenly looking, cousin, and very handsomely dteseed. Will you go right down ? " " Why yes, I suppose so ; but didn't she send up her card ? How came you to see her, dear ? " " Oh, I was practising in the parlor, and I thought when the bell rang it was Jennie Adams to see me, Bo I just ran to the door myself. Ma would scold, I suppose, if she knew it," and she laughed and Bhmgged her «houlder8 mischievously. *" Berrie, how pretty you look in that white crape f 1^3 OLD Aim NEW FRTBNDB. oli»r and bow," and she threw her arm ai^und tli« leck of the girl who had not yet arisen from her chuir " Well, don't spoil the effect then, Annie dear, by flauBsing it all up," she returned laughing. " No, I won't 1 " smoothing it out. " There I it ii good as new. It is ever so much more becoming than that horrid black." " Yes, I believe it is. There isn't contraat enough in that," smiling. " You did not tell me, ^.nnie, ii you asked the lady for her card." " Yes, I asked her, but she said she had foivotten her card-case, and I was to tell you that it vas — let me see ! now what was that name I Mrs. — Mrs. — Carle ton ? do you know any such person, Berrie ? " " Carleton ? " said Berrie, musingly. " I don't know that I do, Annie. Wasn't it Carlisle ? " as » Budden thought struck her. " Oh yes, that was it. I knew it was something of that kind. What a forgetful little ninny I am, to be sure 1 " laughing. " Say, Ben-ie, how do you like Mr. Hanson ? you saw him last night, didn't you ? " " Yes, I saw him, but scarcely long enough to say how I like him ; he seems very pleasant." " Yes, he is ; what a contrast he would be to Cad in that 1 But I know he thought you just charming! " ahe continued archly : " for Cad was telling Ma thii morning, that it was juflt as she knew it would be, he was completely carried away with you." " Nonsense, Annie I he had no reason to t>e, I aa •ure ; I scarcely spoke to him," returned Benie, look- ing unmistakably vexed. OLD AND ITEW FRIENDB, 817 **Now, cousin, you are cross 1 I didn't i'^wu; to ^ex ^ou; won't you kiss and make r^p?" ard with her Erms around her cousin's waist — fcr they w^ :e nearly sf a height — she pouted her rosy "dps for the desired token of forgiveness. Berrie laughed as she kissed the merry girl, and re- turned, " I couldn't be vexed with you for very long, if I should try, little cousin. I only felt annoyed to know that Carrie had one more cause for disliking me. 1 hope I sha'n't see Mr. Hanson very soon again. But I must go down, dear ; what will Helen think of me ? '' "Who, Berrie?" " Mrs. Carlisle, my old school-friend, Helen. Won't you oome down and see her, Annie ? " as the young girl, after walking part way downstairs with her hand in her cousin's arm, turned to go back. "Oh nol Ma wouldn't like me to. Good-by, Berrie ! " and she sat down on the stairs, and watched her companion's receding form, until the trailing black dress disappeared through the parlor doors. The young girl was a very ardent admirer of her " pretty cousin," as she called her, and Berrie loved her very dearly, turning with pleasure to her lively chat, from the sneera and disagreeable manner of her sister, who could not forgive her for coming into the tamily, and did her best to make her unhappy. " Oh, Helen, this is an unexpected pleasure I I am «o glad to see you." "Glad? I should think so, when you have been here for — 1 dor't know how long, ard never carae to ■ee me." «18 OLD A2fD NEW FRIENDS. "I had forgotten your address, and diJi't cnom where to go." " Well, couldn't you look in the directory and find U?" " Of course I could I what a simpleton I am 1 I never once thought of that. But how did you know I was here ? " " I saw Ned Lester the other day, and he told me." " Yes, I have been out there once, but it seems so odd not to have Maud there, that I could not enjoy it." " When are they coming back ? " " Maud and Charlie ? I don't know. I haven't heard from them since — since — 1 sent them the news." " Oh, Berrie, how my heart ached for you 1 I am 80 sorry for you ; far, far more than I can say," said Helen, tenderly, as Berrie covered her face with her hands for a moment ; but only for a moment. She was becoming accustomed to bear her grief alone, and not intrude its expression on others. Iler face was very pale, and her lips quivered pite- ously as she removed her hands, and answered : " Yes Helen, I know you are ; but after all you cannot real- ize half how hard it is. We had such a pleasant; pleasant home." " I know it, Berrie, I know it I Where is Hattie % " •fter a pause. "At the old seminary, Helen; she has been there *or A year. Poor little girl, she is very lonely, I expect." " What a pity Belle isn't home 1 How is her hea'tb now? any better?" " Yes, it was, somewhat, when she wrote last, aii4 OLD AJTD NEW FRIENDS. 3^9 she thought the winter in the south of France would quite restore her." " She will be likely to come home earlier, now, will flhe not ? " "I think not, no 1 I wrote her that I was very com- fortable, and not to hasten home mtil she could do so with impunity. I would not be surprised if Charli* and Maud returned at once, however." " I hope they will, I am sure ; you would not feel quite so desolate. But it is nearly five o'clock,"- - glancing at the jewelled watch in her belt, as she arose — " and I must go, Berrie. We dine early." " Oh don't be in a hurry, Helen ; I have a worla of things to say to you yet." " And I to you, Berrie ; but I must go now. Come and spend the day with me to-morrow, can't you ? " " Why, yes, I know of nothing to prevent, and I shall be very glad to do so. I suppose you are very pleasantly situated now, Queenie 1 " " Well, yes, rather 1 for a quondam school-ma'am,^ ehe laughed. " And how about the books ? " " Oh we'll talk about all those things to-morrow. Good-by, dear ! " and kissing her warmly, the happy, queenly woman swept away. TliJ same evening, towards nine o'clock, Berrie wai Bitting in her own pleasant room, endeavoring to writo aorae letters, which was a rather slow and arduous task, as her little cousin Annie sat on a hassock at her feet, talking constantly to her. There were vjsitora below, and Beirie had been pressed by her aunt, and 520 OLD AND NEW FR1END&. coidlj invited by Miss Carrie to come down, bnt had decidedly declined both invitations. " Well, chatter-box ! " smiling, and tenderiy etroking the dark head laid in her lap, while the laughing eyet irei-e fixed on her face, " when do you suppose I shall finish my letters ? " " Oh, Berrie, do you want to send a>e o£E ? Never mind your letters, they are not of half so much conae- quence as I am," laughing. " You have very exalted ideas of your value, haven't you, little cousin ? " smiled Berrie. " I don't want to send you off, but 1 must finish my letters to-night, as the European mail closes to-morrow, and I have an engagement for the day." " For all day, Berrie « " "Yes, dear." " Oh dear, I shall be fearfully lonely without you Come home early, won't you ? " " I can't promise. But what will you do when I go away entirely, if you can't spare me for a day ? " " Oh, I am not going to let you go. What a pretty Hng, Berrie ! did your papa give it to you ? " slipping it round and round on the finger of the hand she held ; for though Berrie had given up her lover as lost to her, she could not put away what was so dear to her tts his parting gift had long become. Three years had ©lapsed since he went away, and she often wondered if his absence was to be extended to five, as he had tliunght possible. Slie still, half unconsciously, cher- ished a faint hope that when he should return, tht cliaria of the past might be renewed, and she might OLD Alflf ITMW fMIMMJm, |tt •f«n j«t twU the iwo«U of "bop«*t iraition." At present her life seemed to have come to an end. Nothing in the present to brighten it, nothing in the future to look forward to. Life ia ead indeed when, to a heart so joong, it holds nothing to hope for or an- ticipate. She colored rosUj at her couain'i question, and re- turned : " No, dear ; Pa gave me my watch and chain, but not this. A friend fttf over the water gave mt this as a parting gift," and the proud lips quivered a little as she thought of that day, so happy in spit© of the pain of parting with one she loved with her wholt warm, true heart. The sharp eyes of the young girl noticed the riling color and trembling lips, and drew her own conclu- sions ; but with a delicacy that many an older member of her sex would not have shown, laid her cheek on the little hand she held, and said no more. Berrie resumed her writing with the other hand, and there was silence for a few moments, which was broken at length by a low tap at the door. "Come inl" called Be^iie, and a ierrant entered and presented her a card, on which WM «ngrav«d " Ned Lester." " Is the gentleman waiting f '^ ibe ioked. " He is, mum I " « Well, I will be down directly." "With the card in her hand, Annie iprang np, ex- claiming laughingly: "Bother Nod Lester I I wiih he had staid away." "I wouldn't use such a word, Annie; it imi ledjr- 14* I9S nl Boston is going wild over it." "I have not; no, what is it?" she returned. "I have been so secluded 1 know nothing of what is going on." " It is called ' Holly Berries.' I have not teen it myself as yet." "^ Who is the artist? " she asked. 326 OLD JJTD NEW FRIENDS. "I have forgotten the name. An Amercan gentl»- man resident at Home, I think. 1 should to moei happy to take you to-morrow, if you will honor me by accepting of my escort," he continued. Berrie was annoyed, knowing how her cousm would feel, did she know of it, and was very thankful she could decline with thanks, on the plea of a previoua engagement. " At any other time, then, which will suit your con- venience," he persisted. " Yery well," she returned, seeing no way of escape without positive rudeness. " I will accept your invita- tion for Thursday, if that will be convenient for you." " Perfectly I " he returned. " At what hour, please ? " " Oh about eleven, I think," and turning to Ned, she said, in a low tone, " Ask ray cousin, Ned, and go with us, dol" Ned knew by her look and tone that his compliance with her wish was of moment to her, and therefore did not hesitate to do as she required. He remarked aloud, smiling : " Mr. Hanson has forestalled me, Berrie, and I will ask your cousin and accompany you if agree- able." Mr. Hanson could do nothing less than bow his pleasure in the arrangement, although he would much have preferred that the unamiable young lady referred to had been left behind. Miss Carrie, althougn vexed that Mr. Hanson should hav* invited her cousin instead ^f herself, was yet loawwhat mollified when "that gay Ned Letter" to OLD AJfD NEW FRIENDS. 827 gallantly requested her to honor him with her com- pany on the same occasion. Therefore it was settled much more agreeably thiw Berrie could have hoped, and the gentlemen look th«b ^pftrtUTA. CHAPTER XXVX ▲ DAY OUT REMUnSCEKOBBl ** None ar« ro desolate bnt something dear. Dearer than self, possesses or possessed A thought, and claims the homage of a tear.** Lord Btboh. HAT a pretty rooml" and Berrie paused on ^^1^ the threshold of Helen's study, to which Mrs. '^^b^ Harrington had invited her. It opened by sliding glass doors from the side of the handsome back-p&rior, and was, as Berrie had said, a very pretty rcom ; not so much for what it contained, as for the cozy, home-like look of its arrangement. Th<* carpet which covered the floor matched those on thf parlors, Although somewhat smaller in figure ; lace curtaing fell inside the low, balconied windows, in whose re- cesses stood stands of trailing plants; a bright fire burned in the grate at one side ; a marble-top table in the centre of the room was piled with books, while carved racks stood in every available place, loaded vvith handsomely bound volumes, and pictures oi^vered the wallB, many of them small and of little yalue, save A LAY OUT-IiEMmmCENOBS. 329 for their asftociations, or as sonvenirs of friendeliip or travel. Near one of the windows was a ha»?d8om« writing-desk, whereon lay a pile of closely written manuscript, and an easy study-chair was drawn doeelj before it. Helen laughed contentedly at Berrie's exclamation. " Yes, as I told you yesterday, it will do for a quondam Bchool-ma'am that hadn't a cent to her name. But come in and sit down I " she continued, as Berrie still stood on the threshold. "Hei^e, take this rocker by the fire ; " and Berrie sat down in the chair designated. " I should think you might write here." "Yes, I should think so too. I have a couple of pretty good servants. Ma is with me, and manages the house ; and I have nothing to do but to be as lazy as I please." " Which you are not pleased to be always, to judge from that," and she pointed to the heap of manuscript on the desk. " No, I have written a good deal for the past year. That is no task, however, but a pleasure, rather." " Have you published anything yet ? " " Not as yet ; but I have a book nearly completed, which a publisher — a friend of Mr. Carlisle^'B — haa seen and made me an offer for." " That is pleasant I I hope it may be successful." " I hope so too 1 " with a shrug of her shoulders. " Failure would finish me entirely. I could not write in the face of that" "I suppose yon hare a good critio in your ha» band!'' 330 A DAT Oin~ liBMimSGENOBB. " Tee, but a partial ono, I tell him. I should tterer have commenced in the first place but for him." " You owe him a great deal." " I do, indeed I " very earnestly. " More than you «an think. Home, comfort, love, happiness, every- thing f and I came so near throwing it all away I I often think wnat a foolish girl I was." " Why ? what do you mean ? " " Oh, I refused him at first, just because he was not rich ; and if I hadn't met him that day at Mount At>- burn, I might be still drudging at school-teaching." " Indeed 1 Well, I should judge he wasn't very badly off, to look at your house." " No, not so bad as it might be. An eccentric old Mucle, who had seen how rents eat up an income, left Mr. Carlisle a small legacy, on condition that he should use it in purchasing and furnishing a house when he should marry, and not to be touched for any other purpose: virtually, a wedding present. He has a small property besides, and his salary is very good now. ' The lines have fallen to me in pleasant places,' Ber- rie, more pleasant than I deserve, or had any reason to expect." " I am very glad, I am sure, Queenie. The three years since we left school have brought many changes," and she glanced sadly at the sable robes which swept the handsome carpet. " Yes. Little Lillie, who waa so fond of me — you remember her — has been a year in heaven ; Annie ia married and gone south ; Rose is travelling in Europe. I am fts happy as the day is long You haTe watched A DAT 0UT-REMIN13OEN0E8. 831 tLe spoiling of your houseliol 3 idols, and sit her* sad- der than jour gloomy robes, and Maud ia your sister now. Who would have thought it in the old school- days?" " Wlio, indeed 1 " and a few bright tears fell frcia the brimming eyes. " I remember I used to envy you then, your futuw^ looked so very bright," continued Helen ; " and that 1 j expressed it on the very morning of exhibition, when! some of us girls sat out in the grove, assorting flowers' for our hair ; and that Maud said, reprovingly, that wealth and beauty did not always bring happiness, and that my lot might be even more enviable than yours. I could not believe it then." " Oh, Ned Lester called to see me last evening, and said he had just received a letter from Maud. They thought they should return on the next steamer." " They had heard the news, then?" " Yes ; just received it. I suppose I shall find a let- ter from Charlie at home to-night, as Maud said he was writing." " What a shock it must have been to them 1 " " Yes. Belle was not as well, in consequence, when Maud wrote." " She is not coming back at present, then ? " " No, not until Spring. I shall be so glad when fiL» gets home , it is not pleasant at aunt's." " No ? That was a nice littlfe girl that camt to the door yesterday." " Oh, Annie ? Yes, she is a darling, and il it wat not for Ler I couldn't 9t»7. A-untie ia very kind bj»t 839 A DAT OUT- RElimiSCENOES. Carrie is lo jealous of me, that she makes both herself aud me miserable. It is not much like my eld dear home." " I suppose you still keep the place in Bristol ? " "Oh yesl I couldn't part with that I pretonM we will spend our summers there." " Berrie," said Helen suddenly, after a slight pause, *' I should think you and Ned Lester might ' make a match.' " " Oh, Ned is like a brother to me — nothing more.'* " But I think he likes you." " Yes, as I do him ; in no other way." " Ned is a good fellow." " lie is, indeed ! He seems more like a brother than ever since Maud married Charlie. By the way, Ned said that Maud wrote they had met Charlie An- derson. You remember him, don't you, Queenie ? " " Certainly I do ! Do you know, I always thought he was another of your victims ? " laughingly. Berrie did not laugh in return, but looked down without reply. " Berrie," Helen continued after a moment, " what Is the secret of your coolness to all these eligible young gentlemen ? " "Al exceedingly cold heart, I expect 1" laughing with a little embarrassment. " A heart already given away, I #w*pect," returned Helen mischievously. " I told Ned last night I was coming here to-day, and he said he would come around this evening and take me home," said Berrie irrelevantly, to turn tht A DAY ouT-ssMmmcmirowB, mi eonvenatioii, adding immediately: * Hav9 yon the new pictnre WilliamB & Everett have cm ejiaibl- tion?" "No. * Holiy-beiriea,* isn't it? My hnaband waa speaking yesterday abont taking me to see it." " I am going to-morrow." « With Ned t " "No. Mr. Hanson, a friend of my coniiii. N«d invited her." The day passed away very pleasantly, and another visit was promised speedily. Ned Lester came aromid in the evening, per engagement, and took her home. She fomid Annie waiting for her in her room. " Yon see I took possession in your absence," she Raid laughing, as Berrie entered the room. " Welcome home. Miss Burton ! " and she took her cousin's arm and led her to the easy-chair by the fire, removing the girl's hat and cloak as she talked gaily to her. Crossing the room, she returned in a moment with both hands behind her, laughing archly, as she ex- claimed : " Which will you have, my pretty cousin, the right or left ? and what will you give me for either ? " '•' Oh, I'll have the right, and give yon a penny to buy Bugar-plums." " How very generous you are, Berrie, for an. heir- ess," she laughed, presenting the right hand, and with it an exquisite bouquet of tea-roses and heliotrope. " Thank you, Annie dear. How lovely *hey are I " " From your ardent admirer, Mr. Harson," laugb-^d the mischievous girl. "You have made an impreeaioTt, •ure, Miss Barton." 184 A DAT CUT-UEMINiaCENOSa. "I think Mr. Htnson presumes. I should piiM them much more highly had they been given me bjr my dear little cousin, as I thought." '* Would yon, truly \ How kind you are 1 " and ike kissed the lips whose warm expression had pleased and gratified her so much. "Kind, because I love my little cousin who ii so kind to me ? " said Berrie in return, adding : " But I hope your sister did not know of this ? " " No 1 she was out, and I took it myself and brought it right up here. But I have something else for you, Berrie ; what will you give for that ? " " Oh, anything you demand, dear ; I am sure you will not be extravagant. "What would you like ? " " To sleep with you to-night. May I, cousin ? " " Certainly you may ! I would like you to, much." " Oh, thank you, Berrie 1 and here is your letter." "Oh yes, I expected that!" and while the young girl sat down on the arm of her chair, with her arm around her neck, she broke the seals, and with stream- ing eyes read her brother's letter, written under the fint shock of bereavement, the first pressure of bitter, heart-rending grief. CHAPTER XXVIL fHX BIGNTFIOANT PAINTINO — EESTOBtD OONFTOElVaB. "What find I here? Fair Portia's connterf eit ? What detiri-god Hath come bo neax creation V* SHAKIPBAmm " How all comes back t — thing aftrr thiing The old life o'er me throngs." Owen Mkbsdits. H Y, Berrie ! it is your very self 1 " ^^ " It is, indeed, Mies Biuton ; pray look upl " ^^10^ fell respectively from the IJps of Ned Lester and the girl's companion, Mr. Hanson, as the four paused before the important picture which was the ob- ject of their visit. With crimson cheeks, Berrie turned her eves from the name in the comer — " E. Adair, Venice " — on which they had been riveted, to see, as Ned had ex- pressed it, her very self standing before her. The design of the picture was exquisite, the execu- tion almost perfect ; and as Berrie stepped back a few pacee, and eat down to contemplate the mastei piece of '886 THE BIGNIFICANT PAUn^INB. her old-time love, notwithstanding he had seemed to desert her, her heart throbbed with fride, and a little of the olden pleasure, to say nothing of th« happy conscioufiness of which the picture l)efore her was a proof, that if he had forsaken her, he had at least not foi^tten her. The picture represented a New England scene, \x, the heart of a spicj wood, whose trees were oenturiei old. Dim aisles of the pillared trunks stretched off in every direction ; rocks covered with delicate mosses were piled on every side ; a tiny brooklet rippled and danced over the huge boulders which strewed its bed ; the topmost branches of the trees were loaded with snow, patches of which lay white in every direction ; and in the foreground, under the spreading branches of an ancient hemlock, the almost life-size figure of the lovely girl, in a scarlet shawl and dark trailing drees, with hat in hand, a face bright, sparkling, be- witching, with smiling lips, and eyes upturned to those of the man who, standing a little back of her, was in the act of placing on the peerless, drooping curls, a crown of dewy holly-berries, nestling among their prickly and shining leaves of dark green, while a ray of sunlight struggling through the thick bianches, crowned the lovely head with golden glory. The face of the man was that of her artist friend ; and as Berria looked at it, all the past rushed in an instant over her heart, and she bent her head, and shaded her crimson cheeks with her hand, longing to fly from her oom- ^•nioQs and hido h«r ^nseious face in the lileaioe ti Imt own rooBL THB AIONIFIOAyT PAlNTntB, 881 A^ little in the rear of the two principal figuree wa« ft group of gentlemen and ladies, gathering the scarlet berries, but most of thorn with faces turned away. The po«e of tiie two figures in the foreground, the witching expression on the upturned face of the girl, #nd the tender look in the soft blue eyes of the man, M he bent above her, crowning her with the gleaming scarlet berries, was simply perfect; and as Berrie looked at it, the past months of sorrow seemed but a troubled dream, from which she had awakened with renewed love and trust for the man who had won her heart in the first flush of her happy, innocent girl- hood. Her companions of course could but note, without wondering, her evident agitation, and considerately left her to herself for a little time. A few momenta given to the conscious embarrassment she could not but feel, to the retrospect of the past, which crowded on her throbbing heart, and though her cheeks still burned with as vivid a crimson as those of her counterpart in the beautiful painting before her, she forced herself to be calm, and speak gaily of the picture which had so Burprised and embarrassed her. Stepping a little forward to the trio that was still gazing at the painting, she said, laughingly, "Ned, please ascertain if the picture is for sale. I dos't think I like to be exhibited in this manner." Her remark was the signal for a volley of questions, which she would fain have refused to answer. "Who is the gentleman, Berrie t hii Uob familitf to me," ttdd Ned. 338 TSS 8I0NIFI0A2TT PAIITTmO. " Oh, the gentleman is the utist He htt paintod! himself admirably. " And you too I " remarked Mr. Hanson, tmiliiif . " And a friend of yours f " persisted Ned. " Yes 1 he used to be." Ned looked in the comer of the painting and read the name. " Adair — Adair," he said, musingly — " oh, I remember, the gentleman Mrs. Malvern was talking of in Bristol ; the one we saw at Copeland's on a cer- tain evening — eh, Berrie I " and Ned looked into her eyes mischievously. " Well, will you inquire if the picture if for tale, Ned ? " she asked hastily. Ned walked off, and Carrie said: "Adair! that isn't a common name. I wonder if it is the one Ma used to know before we went south. I forget what his first name was, but he married a cousin of Fa's, I believe, and she was killed in a railway accident near Paris." " Did you never see him yourself I " asked Berrie, in the indifferent tone she always used to the girl. " Yes, but I was so young I do not remember how he looked. I think that might be him, however," and •he turned to the painting as Mr. Hanson remarked : " It is very like you, Miss Burton." " Yes, although it flatters her some," added Cairie, a little spitefully. " I beg to differ with you ! " returned the gentleman. ** I tliink it scarcely does her justice, if either, although it looki a little mere girlish than she does now. I think jTOQ shoold be prcad," he continued to Berrie TBB BIGNIFWAirt PAINTHrO. 839 ■ both of the picture, and of having so gifted a friend. It is exquisitely executed." Berrie was painfully embarrassed, and hardly knew how to look or what to say, feeling at the same tim* flattered and vexed at forming the subject of such ft painting. Ned returned, after a few moments absence, and le- ported that the picture was not for sale, but was to be retained by Messrs. "Williams and Everett until the artist's return. Ere that, the other visitors in the room had begun to notice and remark the striking re- semblance between the girl and the picture, and Berrie begged Mr. Hanson to take her away. " Why, we have scarcely glanced at any other piC' ture ! " remonstrated Carrie. " Well, you can stay as long as you like, but I must certainly decline remaining longer," and she and her companion hastened away. Mr. Hanson was truly kind and considerate, and talked pleasantly to her on subjects foreign to that which caused her so much embarrassment, and that re- quired from her but brief and infrequent replies. With thoughts all in a tumult, she reached her room at last, and sat down before her ple^isant fire, to muse upon the singular event that had occurred to her. She scarcely knew for a time what were the predomi- nant feelings in her mind ; joy in the knowledge that he still thought of her, pride in the wondrous talent of her artist friend, annoyance at being thus publicly exhibited, hope that the future might bring her the happiness she had anticipated in the first monthfl of their eogagement, or the old inrginf L»i« for him, pure, and strong, and sweet as ever. IIow it brought back all the past to her heart 1 Those first happy days of their acquaintance, the few long weeks of torturing doubt she had endured, the final annihilation of all uncertainty and perfect reci- procity of her strong, tender love for him, and most of all, their last parting, when his affection for her had been so full and manifest. She had nothing to reproach herself with. She had been true as steel to him in word, thought, and deed, and under the magic of that tender face, though only pictured, the old trust in him came back, sweetening the memory of the months and years of waiting whick she had already endured, and that might yet be in store for her. Thinking of all his nobleness, gentleness, honor, she could not doubt his truth. He had loved her as he thought never to be able to do again, to use his own words ; and with such a man as he, love wai no light thing. Something had caused his silence- perhaps he meant to test her constancy, of which h« had confessed ho was distrustful, and in that case, h« •honld find she had been worthy of all the trust he could have reposed in her ; that through abeence, si- lence, seeming coldness, desertion and forgetfulness, she could still be true to her own heart, and the lov« which had been for years a part of her very s-duI. ^^ Thinking of the picture, it seemcMl as if she had teen his living self, so true to life was it, so perfect in prose and expression, with the same look in th« dreamy bine eyes that she had seen there w) ohmu, th« THB eiONTFWANT PAINTINQ t4i MUbe gentle deference in his bearing, that rendered his manner so exceedingly fascinating. And then the holly-berries with which he was crowning her — with which he had said once so flatteringly that he desired to see her decked — and the pet name which he had given her in the early days of their acquaintance. Could she doubt his remembrance and continued affec- tion in the face of all that ? No 1 she would trust him •till, until a blighting certainty of faithlessness crushed out all hope from her heart. It was late in the afternoon when Carrie returned, having passed some time with a friend, and, therefore, took the opportunity at dinner to ask her mother if she remembered the name of that Adair they knew before going south. " Adair ? The name sounds familiar, but I do not recall the person to mind just now. Why?" Mra. Mitchell replied. " Why, the picture we went to see was painted by »n artist of that name, and Miss Burton here formi ©ne of the principal figures." Berrie said nothing, but heartily wished herself np- •tairs, and Carrie, knowing she was annoying her cousin, continued the subject. " Indeed I " Mrs. Mitchell exclaimed " Is the artist a friend of yours, Berrie % " " He was, yes. He is an intimate friend of my brother-in-law's, and spent the summer previous to going abroad, in Bristol." " What made you thiiik wo eter knew him^ Cad- die t " her mother inquired 548 TEB BMNIFIOANr PAINTINO. " Why, Ma, didn't a gentleman of that xiame m*nry Pa's cousin, Clara Mitchell? 1 ara sure 1 have heard you speak of it a hundred times.*' " Oh yes, I recollect now. They went to Parii to live, and she eloped with a friend of his, and they were both killed in a railway accident the next night. Few knew of the elopement, however. He came home,'* Bhe continued musingly, " to find the firm fearfully in- volved, and he was soon as poor as when his father died. Then he lost his mother soon after. We went south about that time, and I lost sight of him." "Didn't he have any brothers or sisters?" asked Oarrie. " Why, yes ; he had one sister, who is Mrs. Merrill, of Worcester Street. You know her, Carrie." " Of course I do 1 You remember seeing her, don't you, Berrie, a few nights ago, at the concert at Mub'o Hall? I pointed her out to you. She attend* our church, too." Berrie did remember, as she had been puzzled at the time by her striking resemblance to some one she knew, but could not tell who it was. " Do you remember his name, mamma ? It was ' E. Adair' on the picture ; and what sort of a looking man was he?" " Oh, he was very finelooking — tall, light com- plexioned, and a perfect gentleman. Hio name wai Edward — no, Eugene, I believe." " Was that the name of the one you knew, Berrie? ** " Yea," was the quiet reply. ^ Then it is the same one, without a doubt, and h« ii THJt BiaNlTlCANr PAINTINO, $48 t sort of coasin to us, isn't he, Ma ? We most cnlti- T»t© him when he returns to America. That pictort alone would make him famous! How odd that he •hould have painted you, Berrie 1 " she added provok- ingly, and turning her sharp eyes on her cousin. Berrie made no reply, and Mrs. Mitchell said, smil- ing : " I do not think it is at all, if he knew Berrie. She is certainly handsome enough to be painted. I shall have to go and see the picture myself, I think ; " and, to Berrie's relief, she arose at once from the table. Berrie was both amused and vexed for some days to hear Carrie constantly refer, in the presence of visitors, to the popular painting, claiming the artist as a cousin, and when Berrie was spoken of as the original, explain- ing it by the fact that he was an intimate friend of Miss Burton's brother. Berrie allowed her to say what she liked, without contradiction or comment ; and for two or throe weeks the beaitiful painting and the fair original wat the topic on every one's lips. CHAPTER XXVm. A VEW ACQUAINTANCE — AN mVITATIini. "He was one most loving and most brare. In whom the best of all that^s best in nuua, With godlike parts strove for the maiiteiy. A friend most tme, a most wise connMlIor. He was most dear to me, And not a portrait limned by flattery, To show the semblance but of what waa fair." J. 0. Hbtwoob. MONTH or six weeks passed on without any- thing of much interest occurring to Berrie of her friends; and yet there had been quiet changes working as an undercurrent, which rendered Berrie's life at her aunt's a little less disagreeable than formerly. It was now toward the last of February, and her brother and Maud had been home about two weekl from their European sojourn. Maud was at home, busily making preparations to go to housekeeping in the Spring, when she declared she should claim Ber- rie, if Belle did not previously return. Mrs. Wright'i Wealth was then steadily improving, since she had ral>- A MEW AOqUAINTAirOB-Air INVITATIOM. S45 lUd from the shock of her double bereavement, and she was becoming impatient to return, and be estab- lished in her own home once more, with her deai' sistef for a constant and honored companion. It was their intention to be in Boston by the first of May, although Maud thought it probable they might not really arrive before June, at the earliest. Weekly visits to Maud and Helen took up two days pleasantly, and time dragged less wearily than it had done during the first month or two of her stay in Boston. But, after all, the greatest change was in Carrie. Soon after the picture episode, she had met a wealthy young Englishman — not particularly good-looking or brilliant, but rather pleasing in manner — to whom she was immediately attracted, and which had ere long proved to be a mutual thing. It was really wonderful how a true attachment had softened and improved the girl. Her restlessness, ill-nature, and jealousy seemed nearly to have vanished, and she had become as amia- ble as she had before been disagreeable and captious. There was as yet no formal engagement, but either knew that the words only were wanting to make then: one in life, as they already were in heart. Berrie was more than pleased at the new state of affairs, and really b^an to feel at home and content in her aunt's house. The affair of the picture had but increased Mr. Han« •Vs interest in the girl, and though at first she had repelled all advances from him, on her cousin's account, ffhen the new state of things had released her from the sneers and unkind treatment of her cousin, she allowed beiself to take all the pleasure in his society X5« S46 ^ JfMW ACqUAINTAKOE-AIf INVITATIOir, which it could afford her. Nor was that smalX H« was well-informed and intelligent, kind hearted, and| «o far as she knew, good-principled, and she came to look upon him as a dear and true friend. Still, hei experience with Chariie Anderson had taught her to be a little cautions, and the trials through which she had passed had imparted such an air of unconscioua dignity to her manner, that it wai not euj to apprcwch her, save as a friend. Of course, her mourning still excluded her from society, and she was fain to accept all the legitimate amusement that came in her way. Thus, many a morning was spent in picture-galleries and libraries, and evenings in the society of the few choice friends that gathered around her in the parlors of her aunt*B hospitable house. The fair face of Mr. Adair's sister often came before her in the distance, and she was conscious of a strong desire to become acquainted vrith the woman who not only bore so near a relation to her absent love, but alao BO strongly resembled him in featjre and expression ; and though that might have been an easy thing had she made her wishes known to aunt or cousin, natn- rally she shrank from doing so, and the introduction was still unperformed. She was in the parlor, one afternoon near the last of February, entertaining a friend who had called, when Mrs. Merrill was announced. She had called to see Mrs. Mitchell on some business of the church of which they were both members, and started in surprise wheo Berrie wag presented to her. A NEW AOQUAHfTAyOE-AN INVITATION. 347 Wliiie convereing with Mrs. Mitchell, eomewhat upart from Berrie and her friend, her eves constantly wandered ofE in that direction ; and when the other visitor had taken leavBj and Berrie approached them, in reply to some request of her aunt's, Mrs. Merrill ex- claimed : " Pardon me. Miss Burton, but are you not the original of the picture which my brother, Mr. Adair, has had on exliibition at Williams «fe Everett's for some weeks ? " Berrie colored rosily as she replied : " People seem to think I am, Mrs. Merrill." " I was sure of it the moment I saw you," returned the lady. " The resemblance is very striking. Of corj-se you know my brother, then ? " " I did know him, yes, before he went abroad." " Then you must know me also," continued the lady, laughing, " for if there is any one I worship it ii Eugene, and his friends are sure to be mine." Berrie was greatly pleased, and replied softly : " I am sure the acquaintance would give me great pleas- ure, Mrc. Merrill." " Well, I am glad, if it would be a mutual gratifica- tion. But I am in haste to-day, so just run over to- morrow afternoon, informally, and see me, won't you, Miss Burton 1 I would be so glad if you would." " Thanks I I should be pleased to," said Berrie, * and know of nothing now to prevent." " I have an engagement in the morning, but shall be at homo before three o'clock ; " and giving her address, ihe hastened away. Berrie waa more gratified than ghe cared to own, 848 A. NSW AOqUAINTANOB-Air nfVTFATIOS. and the next afternoon found Jer in the cozy priyate iittingroom of Mre. Merrill. "You see I am not going to make a stranger of yon, Miss Burton," she had remarked as she invited hei there, adding : " Just remove your hat and take thi« easy -chair, and we will settle ourselves for a nice oozy chat." Berrie did as requested, and after talking on com monplace things for a time, Mrs. Merrill came back to the picture. " Do you know. Miss Burton," she said, " I wai almost startled when I saw you, the resemblance is so striking to the painting I have spoken of, which I have studied day after day, admiring and wondering who the original was, half inclined to believe it was one of those fair Italians, although the scene, and even the face, was so pre-eminently American. But in my last letter from Eugene, he remarked, casually, that if I should chance to see his ' Holly-berry,' I was to b« very kind to her, as I should be certain to like her Of course I was a little puzzled at first, and, in fact, until yesterday, when your face burst upon me like a revelation; it is such a fac-simile of the one Id thf painting." " Yes," Berrie returned, a little confusedly. " I be* lieve Mr. Adair has painted me to perfection." " He has, indeed, and I am exceedingly glad to haT« met you. I cannot tell you what my brother is to me ; ' my hero,' " she added, laughing, " in the nicest sense of the word. He spared no pains b:) make my girlhood pleaaant and happy, and haa been to me the kindcit, A wjtvr AOQUAiFTAiraE- Ajr mviTAi :jir, S49 fcrneet friend a woman ever Lad. He ia -worthy the gods' best gifts, but has been very unfortunate. He married a worthless woman when quite young, who nearly broke his heart, and has had more sorrow than falls to the lot of many. It is the dream of my life to see him happily and worthily married, and perma- nently established in a home of his own. He is at least deserving of any woman's highest and best love. You must excuse my rhapsodies," she went on, laugh- ing ; " I never know where to stop when talking oi my brother." Of course, notwithstanding it confused her, no theme was so pleasant to the girl, and she hastened to assure her hostess that she need not apologize, as she did not donbt he was all his sister thought him. " I am glad if you think so," returned the lady, " as 1 am sure you must do if you know him at all. Please tell me about your acquaintance with him, Miss Bur- ton." " There is very little to tell, Mrs. Merrill," the girl returned, her downcast eyes and crimson cheeks belie ing her words, however. " He spent the summer pre- vious to his departure for Europe in Bristol, and I saw him frequently." " Oh, yes I remember. And were you staying there too!" " I was residing there. Bristol has always been my home ontil the death of both my parents a few monthf •go.'' ** Pardon me, my child, for recalling your grief to fovr mind," Mud ibm lady, gyn^)fttheticall7, m tb* ipiVf 860 A NSW AOqUAINTANOE-Ay DfVlTATlOlf. eyes filled, and in tones so like the low, tendei ones of her brother, that it thrilled the girl's heart with pleasnre. ^ I was not aware of so recent a bereave- ment." " No apology is necessary," Berrie returned after a moment " I am very foolish, doubtless, but I loved my parents so dearly, and had such a pleasant home, I can never think of it without tears." " My poor child 1 I do not wonder. But we were speaking of Eugene," she added, thinking to divert her mind. " Yes, he was quite intimate with my brother-in-law, Mr. Wright Perhaps you know him % " " George Wright ? Of course I do 1 And he mar- ried your sister % " "Yes; they are in France now. I expect them home in the Spring." " And Mrs. Mitdiell is your aunt I " "Yes; my mother's sister." " I believe her husband was a distant relative of Eugene's wife." " I think I have heard so, yes. Are you not called very like him, Mrs. Merrill ? " " Eugene I Yes, by many, to my great gratification," ihe answered, laughing. " I am very proud of m^ brother^ particularly since he has developed into such a talented artist He was always desirous to paint, but father would not hear of it. Don't you feel greatly flattered, Miss Burton, to be painted by such a model man t " she laughed. ^ I hardly know whetker I am most flattered or an* A KBW AOqUAINTANOE-AN N71TATT0N. 35J BOfed. I don't think I like being exhibited to puV licly." « Don't yon ? " laughing. " Well, I don't think yon need to mind. I shall write Eugene, the next tinM^ that I have found his * Holly-berry.' " The conversation drifted off to other things, and at last Berrie arose to go. " I must tell you again," said Mrs. Merrill, " how very happy I am to have met you. Pray don't let thia be your last visit, but run in unceremoniouBly at any time." " Thank you," Berrie returned, " I shall be very glad to do so." "I assure you that you will always be welcome," said the lady, as she playfully tied the girl's hat under her chin, and then, to Berrie's surprise, impulsively took her in her arms and kissed her. " God bless yoa, my little girl I come in often." Oh I how like to his was her voice and intonation when she let it drop in those low and tender tones ; and as the short winter twilight closed around her, Berrie walked slowly homeward, with heart and thoughts full of her absent, but ever dear friend. Annie met her at the door, exclaiming : " So you have arrived, my pretty cousin I welcome home again." And then, as they went upstairs — " I saw Mr* Hanson to-day ; he was coming here, but I told him you were out, so he commissioned me to ask you to go to the opera with him to-morrow evening ; It will be " H-Trovatoro," he said and tbey kiTiF a fine cast— I believe that was the wordj" laughing. ^I was to 8ft2 >* ^^W AOQVAlKTAlfOS-~Air TNYITATTOM. tell yon that h« would have a private box, lo jon iMtd Dot mind your mourning ; and would you be so kind m lo send him a note if you would go. There 1 I believe I have delivered the message verbatim et literatim Im that right ? " laughing. Berrie laughed also. "How classical yon are get- ting, Annie dear ! Mr. Hanson is very kind, and I think, in consideration of Il-Trovatore, I must a» cept." " Say, Berrie," said the girl inddenly, " do yoi mean to marry Mr. Hanson, and so lose me my pretty eousin 1 " " Nonsense, Annie I What should put such an idea In your head? I have no such intention, I assure you." " Well, I heard Cad tell Ma to-day that she should not wonder if you did, and how she should have felt once at the prospect. Do you know Mr. Saville has proposed, and is going to England in a few weeks I " " Indeed 1 I am very glad. Not that he is going tway, but that Carrie is so happy." " So am I ; she is ever so much pleasanter th«n she used to be." Mrs. Merrill was exceedingly pleased with her new •cquaiatance, and knowing that her brother must be deeply interested in one he could paint with such perf ectness ; her next letter to him contained the foi lowing passage : " Well, my dear Eugene, I believe 1 have been so fortunate as to meet your ' Holly- berry,' the original of your painting by that name, and must •ay, you have barely done the young lady justioe. 1 A mW AOqVAlNTANOR^ AS IHYITATIOM, ^J| ma de love to her at once, and find her more charming than I can tell you, as I do not doubt you did alao ; ©h, Eugene? She confessed, with downcast eye^ and many blushes, that she knew yon ere your departure for Europe, and I could but guess that the interest you feel for her is fully reciprocated. And oh, my precious brother, you cannot think how many fairy castles I am building for you, and hope you will b© sensible, and come home very soon to your sister and love ! Perhaps you do not know that the dear little girl has lost both parents recently ; and as her sister ia in France, she is staying with her aunt, Mrs. Mitchell, whose hogband was a relative of Clan't, I beliere." CHAPTER XXIX. ■LBOHIHa — ▲ BSJEOTED OFFEB — OONTRADTC ASD Cmi F0ET8. ** *Tii Mnnewhst to have known, albeit hi Tmla, One woman in this sorrowful, bad «arth, WhoM Tory loss can yet bequeath to p«fa, Kew faith in worth. " Onjur Mxmsom. '* Bemembrance wakes with all her bnsj train, BwelLi at mj breast, and turns the past to pain.** OoLDncma. 'HEN Berrie drew up her blind on the follow. ing morning, she found that it was snowing rapidly, and the ground was already white. The storm continued with but short intervals during the day, and as night fell, it rather increased than di- minished. Therefore Miss Burton's visit to the opera was indefinitely postponed. Mr. Hanson called during the evening, expressing much regret for the pleasure of which the storm had deprived them ; but to make amends, he said laughingly, they would have a sleigh-ride the next afternoon, to^ RLBIQEING. 855 or toward* Brighton, if Miss Bnrton would honor him with her company. Miss Burton would be happy to do BO, and thus it was arranged that he should call fo9 her about two o'clock or half-past on the followin|; afternoon. The day proved to be beautiful beyond comparison. Berrie was in unusually good spirits, and could but yield to the exhilaration of the scene and motion, the charm of the musically tinkling bells, the bracing freshness of the clear, cold air, and the novelty of the exciting races which were constantly in progress before her eyes. She was wrapped to the chin in an ermine mantle, which, on account of her mourning, she had not previ- ously worn that season, and now donned only for her comfort, but which was exceedingly becoming to her ; her dark curls floated on the clear, sharp breeze, and her rounded cheeks had taken on a deeper tint of crimson than they were wont to wear, while her beauti- ful, rosy mouth, which was constantly dimpled by Bmiles, looked more than ever tempting and kissable. So thought the man at her side, at least ; and his eyes wore a new light as she now and then glanced up at him — a light that caused her to dread a moment's cessation of the lively conversation that kept her chat- ting gaily on every subject which presented itself, and in endeavoring to ward off what she dreaded, rendered her*elf more than usually chaming. They extended their drive farther than they had thought to do, and at last alighted at the hotel in Brighton, to gire the horses a little rest, and warm 866 BLEI0B1N9. their nnmb fingers and toes. A brief delay, and they were in the sleigh again, and driving rapidly hom»' ward; bnt the shades of twilight were fast falling aronnd them before they reached the city. For the greater part of the distance the horses had completely occupied the gentleman's attention, bnt af they neared the Roxbury Une, and the dashing of rac- ing teams abated, they slackened their pace, and Mr. Hanson had an opportunity to speak. "Miss Burton," he said abruptly, "why do you suppose I invited you to drive with me this after- noon ? " " Why, indeed ?" she laughed. " To give me pleas- ure, I suppose, and enjoy my charming society." " And do vou think that was all I " and his tones said more than his words. "Of course; what other object could yon have! It is growing fearfully cold, won't you please drive faster?" " Yes, after I have told yon that I love you, and asked for a reciprocity of my affection." It was said, manly and straightforwardly, liki him self. Berrie covered her face with her hands, exclaiming • "Don't tell me, Mr, ILanson. I cannot listen t* you." The man seemed struck dumb for a moment, them he said sadly : " Is there no hope for me. Miss Burton I Have I been mistaken in thinking I was not diMgre» able to you I " ** Ton art not disagreeable to hm, I «Mur« joi* lit ^LBIQEINO. 351 ELauBon, but I do not, cannot love /on i ehe retttrned with efFort. " Perhaps I have been too precipitate \ "w^U yon not let me endeavor to win your love ? " It was a moment before she replied, and as she had done when Charlie Anderson had told her a similar tale, she debated if she conld not be won by him, and mt last forget the man who seemed to consider her love BO little worthy an efFort to retain ; but, as then, al- though in a shorter space of time, her heart recoiled at the thought, and she knew that the love she had given to him was " the sole love that life gave to her." Therefore she answered gently : " I should be cruel, my friend, to say yes to your plea ; for it could but end in a sharper disappointment than a decided re- fu>»al now would be. Oh, Mr. Hanson ! " she added with emotion, "you cannot fancy what pain this gives me. I seem destined to lose every friend I prize, in one way or another. I heartily wish I had never come to Boston." " Do not say that ; " he returned gently, and the darkness hid the white face and lips that quivered like a woman's. " I certainly cannot regret having met you, although it was only to lose you. It is something to have known so true a woman ; one that must give her sex an added sacredness in my eyes henceforth It is needless to say that I am paimsd exceedingly b» the annihilation of my hopes, and regret being tne cause of sorrow to you ; but I acquit you of all blame in the matter, and must ever look upon you aa the noblest and eweeteet woman I have ever kncwn." 358 BLEionma. " And we may bo friends yet 1 " beseechingly. " If you will, yes. I shall be only too glad." He touched the horses Math the whip, and they •prang rapidly forward, and Mr. Hanson soon Jfted her from the sleigh at her aunt's door. " Good night, my friend ! " she said softly, as she gave him her hand in farewell. " Good night, and may God keep you 1 " he pressed her hand lingeringly, lifted his hat to her, and running down the steps, sprang into the sleigh and drove rap- idly away, while Berrie entered the house with such pain in her heart as any true woman could but feel under like circumstances. Two months glided rapldiy onward, and brought the first of May. Mrs. Wright had not yet returned from abroad, but was erpected in the course of another month. Berrie's acquaintance with Mrs. Merrill had progressed rapidly, and she already loved the beauti- ful woman, as she had loved few friends of her own sex previously ; while all her aflection was fully recip- rocated by Mrs. Merrill, who, as she had written her brother, was dreaming many a dream of future happi- ness for her dear brother and almost equally dear friend. Carrie's betrothed, Mr. Sa^alle, had left for England more than a month previous, and she had already re- ceived one or two letters from him, when, as they were all sitting together in the pleasant back-parlor one afternoon in May, the bell rang with the carrier'i peculiar ring, and the servant entered with a foreign letter for Miss Mitchell. Berrie was feeling rather de^ preseed and sad that day, and the contrast between hei BLEIQUINO. 369 lov«r and thait of her cousin's, strnck her bo forcibly, u the letter was broiight in, that she arose haetily and went upstairs. How her heart swelled with longing for tidings of ker dear one ; for a few fond lines written in his own dear hand, for a single proof of remembrance, and continued affection. But no ! other lives were filled full of love ; other's friends, when absent, were con- stant in tlieir remembrance and tokens thereof ; while she was doomed to live her lonely life, unsatisfied, un- thought of, uncared for, wasting all the wealth of ten- derness which dwelt in her loving heart, all the con- stancy of a rarely true nature, on one who couJd let years of absence elapse, without a single word of even friendly remembrance and regard. Could he do so if he really cared for her ? Much as he disliked writing, would it not be a pleasure to write to one he loved ? He was unkind — almost cruel. He did not deserve that she should be true to him ; he did not prize her love, or he would make some effort to retain it. Why could she not have taught herself to care for Mr. Hanson, who -vould have cher- ished her as she wished and deserved. She stood beside the window in her room as she mused thus, her forehead pressed against the pane, her heart swelling with grief and longing, her throat throbbing, her eyes full of such bitter, bitter tears, a few of which had trickled over the flushed cheeks, whne her lips were compressed despairingly, when an arm stole around her waistj and a sweet, arch face looked into her ow3i« 360 sLEiannro. " Wliy, cousin dear 1 " said the young girl, in toi prised but tender tones, "what is the matter! It breaks my heart to see you feeling so bad y." " It is nothing, Annie dear, don't distress yourself," uiid Berrie, wiping away the traces of tears. " Only I feel rather sad to-day," and she sat down and drew the girl in her lap. " I am ever so sorry, Berrie. But I forget ; Mrs. Merrill is downstairs, and wishes to see you. I told Ann I would tell you, and came near forgetting it. I rapped, but receiving no answer, thought you were out, so just peeped in to see." " That's all right, dear ; you need not stand on ceremony with me." She arose, bathed her face, changed her collar, and went down. Mrs. Merrill's object in calling, as soon transpired, was to deliver a message from her brother, which wai contained in a letter that she had but just received. " Here, you shall read it for yourself I " said the lady > handing one sheet of the letter to the blushing girl. That dear familiar hand-writing 1 how good it was to see it once more 1 and the tears that had hardly been repressed, dimmed her eyes again as she at- tempted to read. " So yon have really found my * Holly-berry,' my dear sister 1 I am very glad, both for her sake and yours, as I am sure that the pleasure in the acquaint- ance will be mutual. But I am greatly grieved to learn that she has been so sadly bereaved, and cannot bring myself to realize it as yet. Please remember xm BLEioHnre. 861 veiy kindly to her, and assure her of my heartfelt sympathy for her in her great sorrcw. Say to bar also, that I can never forget the pleasant hoars w« have passed together in her old pleasant home, and that I trust to see her once more ere the present year ihall give place to another." There vras more in the message than was apparent to a casual observer, and all her doubts of the moment before seemed answered by this brief passage in his letter to another. So he was coming home before the year waned, and he had not forgotten either her or the past with which she was connected. That was enough for the present, and her tears fell fast as she handed back the letter to her friend, and covered her face with her hands, saying : " Do not mind me, Mrs. Merrill ; I have been sad, nervous and homesick all day to-day, and the time of which he speaks, was the happiest year of my life." " My dear little girl 1 " and the impulsive lady's arm WHS around her waist, and Berrie's head drawn ten- derly to her shoulder. " I know all about it, dear, and tears are a great relief sometimes." And suspecting more than the girl confessed, she soothed and petted her by turns. Mr. and Mrs. Wright returned early in June, the latter with restored health and spirits, and at once took up their abode in their old home at the Sjuth End, and Berrie left her aunt's for her sister's. Annie was quite nnconsoled for a time, but as their homes were not many blocks distant from each other, eontrired to see Berrie nearly ervry day^ although U 869 sLBionmo. never ceasing to regret " losing her pret*y coiism," m she persisted she had. Hattie came in for a short vacation, and Berrie felt as if she once more had i home. " By the way," remarked Belle; the day following her return. " Did George tell you that he ran down to Venice to see Mr. Adair, shortly before we left ? " " No ; he did not say «'\ny thing about it." " Well, he did 1 H ^ said Eugene was looking splendidly, though paini ing hard. lie thought he should return to America in the fall. I suppose yoD bear from him often." " No ; I have mot heard directly, of late." " Indeed I He is a miserable correspondent. Well, he will be home one of these days, and then all will be right." Berrie said nothing. She did not care to have even her own sister know how she had been neerlected, to say the least, by one she had loved with her whole heart, or to betray how dear he was to her still, not- withstanding his seeming desertion. So they went on talking about his famous picture, " Ilolly-berry," about Berrie's acquaintance with his sister, Mrs. Merrill, and kindred subjects. " Oh yes, he is certain to be famous 1 " said Belle carelessly. " George said he was much thought of in Venice.'' " By the way," said Berrie, in a pause of the conver- sation, "did you know that Helen had published » book?" ^* No, indeed ; has she 9 " OLBIOHINO. 468 "Tes, aboat two mcntbs ago, ai i Ihe proip6ct4 are tliat it will be quite a eucceas." " Well, I am very g^ad She didn't teteh * eboot* ing,' as Bhe used to call it, very long, did she!" " No ; and she has a beautiful home. You mwX f© down there one of these days." " Yes, I shall like to. How long have Maud and Charlie been housekeeping 1 " " About a month, only. « Why didn't you go with them ? " " Oh, aunt wished me to remain with her until yon came, and as there was a prospect of that being soon, I did not think it worth while to change." " When is Cousin Carrie going to be married ? " " About next Christmas or New Year's, I expect." "How do you Kke her betrothed ? " "Oh, very much. Carrie will do Yexy weU iAdeed." CHAPTER XIX JWTUBNED FROM ABROAD — MUTUAL DOUBTI. '*4J»n you find out her heart through that velvet and laett Can it beat without ruffling her Bumptuous dress f She will show you her shoulder, her bosom, her face. Bat what the heart's like, you must guess." OwSN MKBKDITK. ** If you break your plaything yourself, dear, Don't you cry for it aU the same f I don't think it is such a comfort — One has only one's self to blame." A. Pbootok 'T was an evening far into December, and in the privacy of her own room at her sister's, Berrie was dressing for a party. Her Cousin Annie was also there, chatting constantly in hei ttnxi&l lively manner, and Benie was smiling and answering her merry nonsense by turns. Her beautiful hair was already moet becomingly arranged, and she was just fastening the sweeping robe of black velvet, wliich fitted the fine, full form to pei fection, its short sleeves and low bodice revealing and eimancing the beauty of the rounded armg and ehool- aXTVTtNED FSOM ABROAD- VOTUjtL DOUBTS. 365 den, as Annie exclaimed, drawing towards her the girl's jewel-casket : " Let me select jonr jewelB, ooiuin ! Where if th« key ? " Berrie took it from the bureau in front of her, and tossed it to her cousin, saying, " I do not wear jewels, dear, and I think there is nothing there that I wish. You can look at them, however, if you like." " You are the queerest girl, Berrie I I never saw one before but that liked such things." " Oh, I like to see them, well enough, but do not care about wearing them. Besides, my dress it too matronly, Belle says, and I do not care to make it cou- apicuous by a blaze of jewels." " What a beautiful set of pearls, Berrie ! oh, do wear these I I think pearls are just lovely." " So do I, but they do not suit me ; there is too much contrast" " Well, try these garnets ; those are sure to become you." *^ Yes, but you know I am scarcely out of mourning M yet, and those would hardly do. Give me my ring, Annie— that diamond there." Annie took it up and held it off, admiring the bril' iiance of the precious stones, then nearer, nearer still, and at last exclaimed: "Why, Berrie, isn't this a locket ring? I am sure I see the least mite of a hinge," and she looked up inquiringly. Berrie laughed and blushed, and holding out her hand for it, said : " What sharp eyes you have, Annie. No one ever detected it before. I shall have to be S66 RETURN SD FROM ABROAD- KUTUAL DOUBTS, careful how I let yon into mj jewel <»8ket8, and incb things." " Oh, Berrie I yon know I never wonld apeak of any thing that you wouldn't like me to^ and 1 am sure yon B«ed not mind your little cousin." " No, I don't, Annie ; you are a dear little friend to mo." " Then you might let me see what was in it, Ber- rie I " archly. Berrie hesitated, saying at last, slowly : " "Well, I do not know that I care. You can look at it if you like." " Not unless you are willing that I should," said thi honorable little girl. For answer, Berrie touched the spring and handed it to her cousin. " Oh, isn't he splendid 1 " exclaimed the girl. "Have I ever seen him ? it seems to me I have 1 " as she looked at it intently, with a puzzled expression in her face. " I do not think you have, Annie. He has been in Europe for several years." " Then I have seen some one that he looks like ; hii face looks as familiar as can be." Berrie did not reply ; and after a moment the girl exclaimed : " Oh, I know 1 it is Mrs. Merrill. Is it her brother, the artist, Berrie ? " " I shouldn't wonder if it were 1 " said Berrie, smU< ing. " Then I shall lose my pretty cousin entirely, one of these days ! " and she looked so woe begone Berrie ooald not help laughing. ORTVaNBD FROM ABROAD— MUTUAL D0UBT6. 367 " Why, Annie dear, don't look bo discongolate. Yon haven't lost me yet, and there is no prospect of your doing so. The ring was a parting gift from Ajriendj that is all." " But you like him, I know ! for thongh you don't care for jewels, you always wear thia." " Yes, I like him I " said Berrie absently " And of course he does you, or he wouldn't have painted you." " WeD, if you are done admiring him, please pan him over," said Berrie, laughing. " And remember, this is between you and me, little girl." " I will remember, never fear 1 " and she went on turning over the contents of the jewel-casket. At last she exclaimed : " Oh, what is in here ? May I see, Berrie?" Berrie was busy tying the broad lavender sash, and without looking at her cousin, answered mechani- cally in the affirmative. " Oh, how perfect ! that is the loveliest of all I Do wear this, Berrie, it would look 80 handsome in your hair.'* Berrie turned quickly. " What an inveterate little fxplorer you are, Annie 1 " as her cousin held up the Bpray of holly, given her more than fou^' years pre- vious, by one who was now, as then, all the world to her. Adding : " No, dear, I could not wear that if 1 were inclined, for the same reason that I rejected the garnets ; but I am not inclined ; I never wore it but once, and that was over four years age. Four long yenn ! how many changes there have be^n i " she ooa 8«8 BMTUnNED FROM ABROAD- MUTUAL DOUBTB. tinned masingly ; and in a few minntes canght herseil hommiDg tne air of " Juanita," which the cluBter of ■carlet berries in her conein's hand had instauiijf re- called. " Shut the casket now, dear, and give me the key," ehe continued after a few moments. ^' 1 am ail readj now but the flowers in my hair, and I want you to ar- range those." Annie, highly flattered, obeyed with alacrity, but exclaimed in dismay, as Bessie handed her some sprays of heliotrope, and a few geranium leaves : " Nothing but this, Berrie ? it isn't half pretty enough." "No?" laughed Borrie. "I think it just suited, I cannot wear bright colors yet, and white is too con- spicuous. The heliotrope will do. There 1 that looks very nicely, and Belle is calling. Come, Annie I turn down the gas, please 1 " and the girls left the room, to find Mrs. Wright waiting for them in the hall below. " Take off your cloak, and let me see how you look," •aid Belle. Berrie obeyed, and after looking her over, her sister ■aid : " Well, you will do I that lace is exquisite, but no jewels, as usual." " ' Beauty unadorned, etc.,* you know. Belle," laughed Berrie, and they entered the carriage, and drove rapidly away. The party was given by Mrs. Mitchell, and Annie had gone over to see her cousin dress, retuming with them in the carriage. How seldom, in reality, do "coming events cast tiMur ahadowa before I " How little Berrie dreamed, MMTV1UHED FROM ABROAD -MuTUAL DOUBT& 869 •B she stood in the drcs.^ing-room at her aunt'e, deliber- ately drawing on hei gloves, of what the evening had in store. The first hour or two pascied as ench hours generally do, with nothing special to mark them, and midnight was fast approaching, when, in compliance with con- tinued urging, Berrie took her place at the piano, which stood in such a position that the long mirror in the back parlor was in full view, and consequently a large part of the company present, who were reflected on ita ihining surface. She had undertaken, by pressing request, to sing a piece of which she had not the music there, but that was perfectly familiar to her, and was nearly half through it, when her eyes, which were fixed on the mirror, dilated with surprise, she turned deadly pale, and forgetting to sing, her hands dropped on the keys with a crash. The sound brought her back to herself, and laugh- ing, although somewhat constrainedly, she exclaimed : " Please excuse me, good friends, I have entirely for- gotten the rest Is there anything else I can favor you with ? " Several other pieces were initantly named, and shi gang one of them with even more than her usual ex pression and grace, but without a return to her cheek of its banished color, and rising inmiediately on iti completion, she turned to Ned Lester who was standini near, and said in a low tone : *' Take me to the 11 brary, please, Ned, the heat makes me faint," and her fMce oertaioly did not belie her worda. ^ Once onn of 370 RETURNED FROM ABROAI^ -MUTUAL DOUBTTBL the crowd 1 shall feel better," she added, as Ned led her from the room, eagerly watched by one pair oJ eyes, whose reflection in the mirror had so startled tk« girl, and abruptly ended her song. Mrs. Merrill, with a tall, light-oomplexioned gentle- man, at her side, whom she proudly introduced as " My brother, Mr. Adair, who has just returned from Earope," made her way into the crowded back parlor, inquiring, " ^Vllere is Miss Burton ? I am sure I heard her singing but a moment since." "Yes," some one replied, "she went out a minute ago with Mr. Lester." Adding: "She and Mrs. Bur- ton's brother are very good friends." "Why should they not bef" returned the lady. " They have known each other a long time ; I am vexed that she has gone out, I want to see her. I won- der where she is." " Gone promenading on the balcony with her frUndy doubtless," sueered the woman who had previously spoken. '• Probably she has not / " returned Mrs. Merrill with spirit. "Miss Burton is not so imprudent as to go from this warm room directly into the cold, night air. Bhe has gone to see her Ooosin Annie, doubtless, of whom she is very fond." "And is Mr. Lester *fond of her Cousin Annie' tlso I " asked the woman. " I would not be surprised if he were ; Annie is a very pretty girl," returned Mrs. Merrill serenely, and taking her brother's arm, she drew him away from the notnity of the spiteful gossip. RBTUBNED FSOM ABROAD— MUTUAL DOUBTS. 371 Berne was not long absent, and when she retarned, leaning on Ned Lester's arm, the color had returned to cheek and lip, and one would not have guessed it had even been banished therefrom. During her brief absence, she had reasoned herself into believing that her eyes had deceived her, and that the face whose reflection in the mirror had so startled her, was not that of her long absent friend, as she had at first supposed. She felt certain that had he re turned, she should have been made aware of it, by her aunt had she known of it, and assuredly by Mrs. Mer- rill, who she knew was exceedingly anxious they should meet. Mrs. Merrill was very late to-night, and she hatnred at my brother's return, that I know nothing else, scarcely. " Which is not to be wondered at. I forgive you, Mrs. Merrill I " laughed Ned. " I am glad you are so magnanimous. Perhaps you know all about it, as your sister returned from Europe not long since. " I do, I assure you. Miss Burton and I have been trying to discover what relation we are ; can you assist us in our dilemma, Mrs. Merrill ? Her sister married my brother, you know — or rather her brother married my sister," he corrected, as they all laughed at hii blunder. " I don't think I can unravel such a complicated relationship," laughed the lady, and Berrie said to Mr. Adair : " Tou did not see my sister Belle when she was in France, did you ? " " I did not, no. I was very sony not to be able to do so, but I did not know they were abroad, or rather where they were, until Mr. Wright ran down to see me at Venice, and my engagements then were such that I could not leave. Is she well I " "Very well now, thank you, and if present t> night" ** Indeed I I have not see her, cor her Irjasbftnd." 876 RETURNED FROM ABRO^iD- MUTUAL DOVmn " Mr. Wright is out of town, and Belle haa giDne up stairs with my aunt, I think." " There have been many changes since T went away," in a low tone, and looking intently at the pa» fiionless face before him. Most of the immediate cir- cle had moved away, Ned with the rest, and they wert comparatively alone, with the exception of Mrs. Mer- riU, who liad taken a seat by Berrie, while her brothei leaned against the mantel-piece near by. " Yes 1 " she returned quietly, with downcast eyeaj and lips that slightly trembled for an instant. Add- ing, " ' Prienda haye been scattered like ro8« in bloom, Some at the altar, and Bome at the tomb.* Belle and Charlie are married, Hattie is at school, and our pleasant home is among the things of the past." " I cannot tell you, Berrie, — " the old name, with the old tender intonation — " how deeply 1 sympathized with you in your great grief." " I do not doubt it, I assure you, Mr. Adair. Yon saw enough of what my home was, to know something of what I have lost." " I did, indeed 1 I can never forget my pleasant summer in Bristol. Are you staying with Mn. Wright?" " At present, yes ! " " I was about to in^nire for my little friend, Misi HAttie. I suppose she is almost a young lady now." " She is at boarding-school, as I said before. Yei, RKTUUNBL FROM ABhOAD-MUTUAL DCUBTB. 877 ihe ifl quite a tall, pretty girl. She is nearly fourteen bow" At this moment Ned returned, and said to Berrie : ** Your sister does not feel well, and is going home. 6he wished me to ask if you were ready, or if she •hould send the carriage back. I of course volunteered to Bee that you arrive safely." " Don't go yet. Miss Burton, I have scarcely seen you. Tell Mrs. Wright I will take her home myself," interposed Mrs. Merrill. " You are very kind, Mre. Merrill, but I think I will go with Belle. I am very tired myself. Gk)od-night, my friend. Good-evening, Mr. Adair." " Run over to-morrow if you are not too much fi^ tigued," said Mrs. Merrill. " Thanks, I will I " she returned, thinking that she certainly should be. " Present my regards to Mrs. Wright, Miss Burton, and say that I shall call soon," said Mr. Adair. " She will be very glad to see you. Good-evening," and bowing, she took Ned's arm and left the room. An hour -ater, Berrie, with her heavy dress thrown aside, her hair pushed back from her face, and her tiieek resting in her palm, sat before the grate, musing on the event of the evening. The large eyes were dark- ened with pain, the sweet lips sharply/ compressed, and her heart very heavy ; but no tears fell, as they vould have done so freely, four years ago, when her heart ached as it did this evening. He had come back at tast,and they had met and pirted, scarcely «S8 warmlj 57 S RSTUItNED FROM ABROAD-MUTVAL DOUBTS, than mere Btraugers. He had taken her hand, looked into her eyes, talked to her in a very kind and friendly manner, it is true ; but oh, how different was the com- ing home, from what she had anticipated in the early days of his absence 1 And in her heart still rolled the heavy tide of her love for him, which had never ebbed, whose flow was full and strong as ever, while his had evidently flow:;, out long ago, leaving only the bare sands of lost affection, strewn here and there with wrecked hopes, and the broken shells of constancy and truth. She might have felt less bitterly, as she sat there alone in the small hours of the morning, could she have looked at that moment in the heart of the man that she deemed was lost forever to her, as he sat with his sister in her pleasant sitting-room, talking of past, present, and future. " Eugene, what am I to think of you and Miss Bur- ton I " she asked abruptly. " Just what you like, I suppose. I could not attempt to control a woman's thoughts, Grace, I am sure,** gmiling. " Yes, but what do you wish me to think ? " " Anything that pleases you, Grace." " Well, I have been thinking that for a long time, and now I want to know if my castles have all been built in Spain, or if there is hope they may have a solid foundation, and rear their graceful towen in dear old Ameri'ja." " You are poetical, Grace. Ai long as there \m hi» there's hope,* you know," RETURNED FROM ABROAD-MUTUAL DOUBTS. S7% " You torment I " and she pulled his mustacho play fully. *' Can't j 3:1 give a plain answer to a plain que* tionf*' " I suppose I could ; " he smiled, " but, pardon me, Grace, your questions have not as yet been exceedingly plain." " I'll ma^e thorn plain enough I " she laughed. " Eugene, do you love Miss Burton ? " " Grace, I do." " Bless your dear heart, my brother I And does MIm Burton love you ? " " You ask me too much now, Gracie dear," and a shadow swept over the handsome saxon face. " Would to God I could say yes," he continued earnestly. Then after a pause — " You have seen much of her, of late, and you women understand each other ; can you not answer the question yourself?" " Sometimes I think I can, and then again I am puz- zled. Miss Burton is very proud, and has a good deal of self-control." " She has changed greatly since I went away." " She has had a great deal to change her; and four years at her time of life generally changes character ftnd manner, somewhat. She is a very charming girl ; At least the gentlemen think so." "They always didl" he returned a little bitterly. " Have I any rival in particular ? " " No — ^" slowly — " she seems to favor Ned Lester the meet, but they are such old friends, and aknost related| !t is not to be wondered at.'* ^ Yoii do not think they are eugaged, then f 880 RSTUnNED FROM ABROAD- MUTUAL DOUBTA " No, I scarcely think they are 1 She wears a di» mond ring on her fore-finger, but it is a cluster — " " Has it a close, heavj' setting ? " he interposed eag- erly, and his heart beat almost audibly afi he waited foi her reply. " I never examined it closely, but I think it hzA. At least it is not nearly as open as mine. Why S did yon give it to her ? " " I gave her one, yes I " " Didn't she have it on to-night 1 ebo tdwaya wears it." " I did not notice it ; I think both p'lovea were on.*' "Yesl they were, I remember. She nevei- wears any jewels. Didn't she look beautifully to-night ? " " Yes I She has scarcely left off mourning yet, has she ? I noticed she wore no flowers but heliotrope." " Scarcely, no I " " Do you really think there is hope for me, Grace 1 '* after a pause. " I could tell better if I knew how far matters had progressed when you went away." " We were engaged, conditionally. I left her fre0, not daring, from past experience, to trust her poweri of constancy." " You foolish man ! she is no Clara, I assure you. And you have been gone all this time without writiBg to her?" " I wrote her twice, but received no reply." "Twice in four years 1 A devoted lover you mmi) forsooth 1 You do not deserve her. There is not oM woman in ten that would have been oonstanL" RBTVRNB2> FROM AliROAD— MUTUAL DOUBTS. 381 ** Any woman would tlat truly loved." " Nonsense 1 Jxfve must have something to feed it. Many a woman would Lave married from pique, or from a fealing that if once she was bound to another^ ahe should forget her former lover." " Well, she did not answer those I did write." " Perhaps she did not receive them ; or likely as not you did not send her any address." " I think I did ; but Mr. Wright knew it, she might have asked him." " Do you know so little of women, Eugene, as to think she would do that ? As I told you before, Miss Burton is very proud." " You told her you did not trust her, I warrant 1 " she added. " Why yes 1 I said something to that effect, I be- Heve." " What fools men are I I thought yon more eewA- ble than the rest of your sex, Eugene." " Well, after what I have passed through, I am sure I had some excuse for want of confidence." " But you need not have let her know that you dis- trusted her, and should have made every effort to re- tain her love. If you lose her, you will have only yourself to blame." "That don't make it any pleasanter I" bitterly. "Of eourse she saw the picture ? " " What, ' Holly Berries ? ' yes I but I couldn't get her to Bay much about it, only that she did m:.t know as she ftuicied being exhibited in that maimer. I didn't be* 889 RETVRNKJi FBOM ABROAD— MUl UAL JDOUBTA come acqnamted with her until some months after Bh« first saw it" There was a silence of a few minntes, and then Mrs. Merrill asked — " Well I what do you propose to do f " He started. " Do ? about what ? " " About Miss Burton, to be sure. Do yon mean to go to her in a manly, straightforward way, and tell her tliat you love her still, and ask her to be your wife, or do you mean to keep quiet, until, even if she does love you, she is stung into accepting some one else ? For she will never betray the state of her feelings to you, I warrant you.'* " I don't want to be premature." " Pshaw 1 It should be sufficient encouragement for you that she hasn't married in all this time ; and if she has been waiting for you, it would be cruel and insult- ing to delay now. K she loves you, she has endured enough already in your seeming desertion." " Well ? " after a long pause. "Well, I will take advantage of the first oppor- tunity." " Make your own opportunity, my dear brother." And she bent over him, and pressed her lips to his forehead. " It is the dream of my life to see you * marrie^'l and bjippy,' and I could not wish for a dearer tiste^ Vhan foxa ♦ Hollj-berry.' " CHAPTER XXXT. ▲HOTHEB PBOFOSAIi — AVOIOAirCI. " I eumot lore him ; Tflt I flnppoae him virtaoiu, know him aohU^ Of great estate, of fresh and itainloM jtralk ; Bat jet, I cannot Iotb him." ^ELLE, I am going to spend the day with Maud 1 * said Berne, the following morning at break fast. " I wouldn't dear, to-day ; aren't you too tired I " re- turned her sister. "Nol I don't feel like staying in all day. Thin fresh air will do me good." " Perhaps it will. Well, give my love to her, and tell her to come down in the course of the week," " When do you expect George home. Belle ! " " This evening, unless I receive word to the contrary.*" " He'll be surprised to see Mr. Adair, won't ho t " " Yes I he hasn't heard from him since he aaw him at Venice " " Ber/ie, are you going away to avoid Eugene ! * BCrs. Wright aaked abruptly a few minutes later. 884 AjrOTHEH PliOPOaAL-AVOWAMOM. " What an idea I It is uot likely he will call to-day ," «l\e returned evasively, yet looking slightly conscioiuk Nevertheless, she did think it very likely he wonld 'dA)Ji tiiat day, and in accordance with that thought, was jjoi determination to go away. He had said he should call to see Mr€. Wright, not her ; a remark which an- nihilated hdT last hope, and to her sensitive heart, ^teemed intended to show her that all was over between them. Besides, she shrank from meeting him, and yet she knew if she remained at home she should be constantly expecting him, and would be accordingly listless, nerv<>u8, and uncomfortable. " Dv^ not be alarmed if I should not oome back to- night," she said, as she left th« house an hour or two later. She passed quite a pleasant day, although she did not leave her restlessness at home, and was so absent at times all day, that Maud at last asked her what she was in such deep thought about, receiving a laughing and evasive reply. Ned came in to tea, unexpectedly, and was snrprieed mt seeing Berrie there. ** Well Berrie," he said, " you recovered from last Bight's dissipation pretty soon, didn't you ? " " Oh yes 1 " she returned. " I left early, you know, luid have not been out much as yet, therefore I was comparatively fresh." "80 vour old admirer has come back I" he sai4 •rdily. « Who f " inquired Maud, « Charlie Anderson f " ^ Charlie Anderson, no I " returned Ned contempt* AHOTUBR PROPOSAL— AVOWANOM. 8M oa»lj. " A more dangerous rival of mine than ha •ver was, I assure you. No other than the artist, Adair. Do you know him, Burton ? " " Only by hearsay," returned Charlie. " . « ho an old admirer of yours, Berrie % " " So Ned says 1 " she answered, laughing, but blush- ing also. " But I fancy he don't know much mor« •bout it than you do." " Well, he is highly spoken of," said Charlie, " and I •hould be glad to see Berrie happily married." " Are you so anxious to give me away, Charlie f *' •ho said in pretended reproach. " Not unless it were for your own happiness, as yon know, of course. I used to think that you and Ned would make a match ; but he seems to be an incorrig- ible old bachelor, loving all the girls, but desiring to possess none." " That's just as much as you know 1 " retorted Ned, " And here is proof to the contrary. Berrie, will you take such a scamp as I am, and try and make some- thing of me f Come, name the happy day 1 " and seiz- ing her hand, he dropped on one knee, saying in an aside to Charlie — " You see I mean to make the most of my time, before that fellow, Adair, has a chance tc cut me out." Berrie laughed, and attempted to draw her hand away, saying : " Oh, spare my blushes, Ned, and don't make me confess my attachment before so many." He arose from his kneeling position, and with his arm ar vund her waist, drew her through the folding doors, near which she was standing, and closing them n 5g6 Alf OTHER PROPOSAL— AVOID ANOE. behind him, said : " You shan't have that excuse, lie)* rie I Tell me that you love me, and will be mj wife." Something in his tone struck her as unwonted — •!• though he had said the same thing, in effect, playfully, a dozen times — and she looked into his face question- ingly before replying. There was an expression there she had never seen before, and drawing away from him, and attempting to open the doors, she said: "Don't talk nonsense, Ned ! It is time I was going home." " Don't trifle with me, Berrie 1 it is time we came to terms." And Ned laughed, and stood with his back against the doors, although the same unusual look lin- gered in his face, and shone from his merry brown eyea, which looked wonderfully soft and tender. " About what, pray ? " was the evasive reply. " About being married, to be sure 1 When is it to be?" " Never, I guess, Ned 1 " " Berrie, look at me 1 " She obeyed, and looked long and earnestly in his face, which took on a very tender and loving look under hef gaze. At last he said : " I am not making believe, Berrie. I love you better than any one else, and ask you, in 00 many words, to be my wife." " You don't know what you are talking about, Ned I We are like brother and sister to each other, and never can be anything more." " Is that final, Berrie ? " ar d the meny taoe looked ferj grave indeed ANOTHER PROPOSAL- AVOIDANOB. ^g) ** Yea, Ned 1 I thought you knew it was bo, and w«t« •ontent." " Then it is only brother and sister ? " "Only brother and sister, Ned, but alvjays that." And in her earnestness she laid her hand on his shoul- der. He turned impulsively, and drew her within his arras, saying sadly : " Farewell to love then I Give me a •ister'g kiss, Berrie, to seal our relationship, and ' — Boften for raj heart The pain of this mistake.' ** And Berrie, with infinite pity unhesitatingly obeyed, and would have drawn away, but detaining her, he laid : '* Wait, Berrie ; do you love Eugene Adair f " " You have no right to ask me that, Ned." " I have, Berrie, a hroiher^s right. Answer me I I will be true, I promise." " What good would it do you, Ned, if I should tell you?" " Much 1 It will show, at least, that my sister luu confidence in me." " Yes, Ned, I do ! Let me go, please I " Without a word in reply, he released her, opened the folding-doors for, and closed them behind her, then itepped into the hall, and taking his hat, left the honse. Charlie and Maud, with a single exclamation ex- pressing a desire that it might be as Ned wished •waited their return, and guessed when Berrie came In alone, how the matter had terminated. ** It is getting late, and I must go. Ch«rlie, yon will 888 ANOTHER PliOPOSAI^ -A VOIBANOB. have to go home with me, as Ned had an engagement| I think, and has gone." Mr. Adair had called, as Berne had anticipated, and expressed much regret, she was informed, at not find- ing her at home. But she was not informed that he had inquired, when told where Berrie had gone, if Mr. Burton had not married a sister of the Mr. Lester to whom he had been presented the previous evening, and on being answered in the afiirmative, had gone away with his heart filled with the old jealous pangs. " She might have known," he thought, " that I would call to-day, and doubtless went away especially to avoid me. In that case, she cannot care for me still, of course." Had he understood the sex better, he might have taken that very thing as proof that she did care for him still. He having abeady called, she remained at home the following day, instead of spending it with Helen, as she meant to have done, in case the gentleman had not yet presented himself at her sister's ; thinking he cer- tainly would not call two days in succession. But late in the p. m. Mrs. Wright came up, and said that Mr. Adair was downstairs and wished to see her. " Will you go down with me. Belle, and remain m long as he does \ " she asked. '•' Why no 1 of course not 1 He don't want to tee mot He has a message for you, Bridget said." *' Then I will send down word that I am engaged, and he can deliver the message to her." "Nonsense I go down and see him." * Not mileaa you do 1 " decided!/. ANOTHER PROPOSAX^-AVOIDANOB. 389 " Well, come along then 1 " and tbey left the room. "I have half a mind to tell him that you made me come." " Hush 1 Perhaps the parlor door is open. Don't you dare to do any such thing. Wait a moment," she added, " I have forgotten something." And running back she drew his ring from her finger and threw it oe tlie bureau, saying to herself : " He shall not know I wear the ring of a man who has deserted me." Mr. Adair's first glance was for the identical ring, and its non-appearance on her hand, he did not con- sider particularly encouraging. "Good afternoon, Mr. Adair 1 I missed your call yesterday," in as self-possessed a manner, as if her heart had not been swelling with love for the man be- fore her, who had once held her in his arms, as his be- trothed bride. She wondered vaguely if he thought of it now. " Yes 1 I regretted exceedingly not being able to see yon." " Have you seen Mr. Wright ? " asked Belle. " Yes 1 I called at his ofEce this morning." " He was quite surprised at your abrupt return." " As all my friends were I " he returned, smiling. "I am a poor correspondent, and neglected writing until too late." He looked at Berrie as he spoke, and she thought the could bear witness to the fact he had stated. **I shall have a new picture on exhibition next week," lie said after a while. " I have given up buai- ii«M entirely, »nd devote my time to painting now." 390 ANOTHER PROPOSAL-AVOIDAITOB. " Indeed ? " said Mrs. "Wright. " Your other picton created quite a sensation in Boston." " * Holly-berries ? ' yes 1 That was owing, I fancy, tc the beauty of my principal figure," he laughed. Berrie colored as she inquired: "Which? the gen- tlemnn or lady ? " " Oh the lady, of course ! I flatter myself I achieved ft perfect likeness in painting that. Do you not agree with me that the girl was lovely, Mrs. "Wright? " Belle laughed : " I do, indeed, Mr. Adair I And the artist's figure was very good also." " Yes ! a friend of mine la Venice painted that. I hope you will like my other. It is an Italian land- scape. I shall be glad to take you to see it. Miss Burton, and Mrs. "Wright also, if her husband won't object," laughingly. "Oh no I George isn't jealous, I believe," Mrs. "Wright returned. " But I dare say he will like to take me himself." The conversation continued on commonplace matters, until Mr. Adair, seeing no prospect of Mrs. "Wright lea\'ing the room, arose to go. " By the way, I came near forgetting my errand. My sister wished me to call and ask you to come around to-morrow evening. She expects some com- pany, I believe; a little informal gathering of inti- mate frlendft Shall I say that you will come, Misa Burton ? " Berrie hesitated. She would have been glad to re fuse, brt did not see how she could, and therefore an- swered • " Thank your lifiter for me, Mr. Adair^ *nEN0B. Berrie had winced under his scornful exclanuitioQ and bitter laugh, and a sharp retort trembled on he? lips, but controlling herself, she replied calmly : " She will feel highly flattered, I can assure you ; she often •peaks of how you used to tease her and pull her curls, and says she thought you provoking and delightful in a breath." " Yes 1 we used to have some battles, I believe. Ig she as fond of her sister Berrie as she used to be ? " " Yery nearly, I think. Hattie is a nice little girh" " She promised to be when a child. I was greatly interested in her." There was a silence of some moments, then Mr. Adair remarked : " You do not visit my sister very fre- quently, Berrie 1 " " I have not of late, no ! Have been very busy assist- ing Belle and Maud prepare for Christmas. An un- married sister is quite an acquisition to a family, you must know," she added, laughing. " Doubtless ! " he returned absently ; and but little more was said until the carriage drew up at her own door. After assisting her to aUght, he held her hand iu a tight grasp for a moment, and looked into her eyet with a searching, almost stern expression in his own, and with lips sharply compressed. She 1 eturned the glance for an instant, almcet deli- antly, then laughed provokingly, and drawing her hand Eway, ran up the steps, saying gayly : " It is very cold to-day 1 Good afternoon, Mr. Adair," and without a backward look, entered the vestibule. " Well f " Baid Mrs. Merrill inquiringly, as her brothe/ AT OBO8S-PURP0SE8—DESP0NLXNOE. 399 entered the room where she was sitting, somewhat later in the day. " "Well ? " he echoed, looking rather moody, aa ha drew a chair close to the register, and sat down. " Don't tell me, Eugene, that she has refused you 1 " said the lady anxiously, as she arose and came toward her brother. " I have not asked her ! " he returned quietly. " O Eugene ! I supposed it would be all settled to- day. Tou suTely had sufficient opportunity." " Why no ! I do not know that I did. She contrived to make the conversation very commonplace daring the drive both ways ; and besides, I have no reason to think I should be successful, did I have an opportunity to speak to her. She is like the rest of her faithless sex, I suppose, as fickle and inconstant as the wind." " Eugene Adair I what a7'e you talking about 1 You know it is no such thing ; and even if it were, she has plenty of excuses in your seeming desertion while you were abroad, and failm'e to seek an explanation imme< diately on your return." " Well, what could I do, more than I have ? I called there the day following my return, and she was away, purposely, I have no doubt. I called again on the day •ucceeding, and Mrs. Wright remained in the loom during my entire visit. The next evening she was here, but successfully avoided my escort home, and when I wrote on Saturday to ask when I should take her to see my picture, she sent the reply written on the back of Ned Lester's card, which by the way. I consid- ered quite suggestive to say the least. And to-day th« 400 ^T OROSf^PURPOSEa—DESPONDBNOB. reenlt of our companionship was what I have previoujiijr stated." "All of which amounts to nothing! You should have contrived on the evening of Mrs. Mitchell's party, to tell her that you should call the following morning, and wished to see hei alone, instead of distinctly stat* ing, as you did, that you should call soon to see Mrs. Wright ; and which, by the way, I presume sli^ consid- ered quite suggestive, and excused her absence on the occasion of your first call. Failing in this, you might have written her a note the next day, to the same effect. In fact, there are a dozen ways in which you might have brought matters to a crisis. The truth is, Eugene, you are too much afraid you shall let her know that you love her still ; and never as long as you both live, will you win a similar confession from her, until you have shown to her conclusively that you do care for her, and that the possession of her love is what you most desire." " I'll tell you what I will do 1 " she continued, aft«r a pause. " I will invite her here Christmas Day, and contrive that you shall have an opportunity. You shall not have that for an excuse, after that." " She would not come. She expects her sister Hattie home to-morrow, and that will be sufficient excuse foi her to refuse." " "Well, I will innte Ilattie toa ' " You can do so, if you like, but I am positive it will be of no avail." " We shall see, my dear brother, we shall see I Trust » woman in such matter* as that," she laughed. " 1 can brmg Miss Berrie to terras, if you cannot, I warrant.*' CHAPTEK ^yym. CHEI8TBIA8 — BETEOTHAL, ** I a«imot but remember saoh things were, And were most precious to me." Shakssfeabk " l8 it thee I hold at last? Or hath the weariness of hope deferred O'erthrown my reason f " J. 0. HKTWOon. RE the ladies in ? " asked Mrs. Merrill, the fol. lowing afternoon, as she stood with her brother on the steps of Mrs. Wright's residence, adding, as she received an affirmative reply and stepped in the hall : " Please say that I should like to see them all. Miss Hattie included, if she has arrived," and she handed her own and her brother's card to the servant in waiting. Berrie and Hattie came down immediately, and Mm Wright followed soon. ** My sister Hattie, Mrs. Merrill I " said Berrie, mtro- dncing the tall, pretty young girl that accompanied her. " How do you do, my dear ? I am very glad to meet a sifiter )f Mias Barton's, and am surf) we shall be very 403 OmilSTMAS-BETROTHAL. good friends, shall we not, Misa Hattie ? " smiled thfl lady. "I trust so, Mrs. Merrill," retarned the girl, a little ihyly. " I always love Berne's friends." " Your old fi'iend, Mr. Adair, Hattie," continued Berrie. " I was telling him yesterday you had never wavered in your allegiance to him," she laughed. " And is this really the little girl I left four years ago ? " said the gentleman, as he bent over the little hand of the girl. " I am afraid we shall have to begin back in our acquaintance, you have grown so out of my recollection." " Yes \ " she returned archly, but a little shyly, as she tossed back her ringlets. " But I am the same Hattie you used to delight to tease, Mr. Adair." He laughed. " So you have not forgotten our old battles. Miss Hattie 1 " " No indeed ! nor how my curls used to get pulled when I was saucy." " Allow me. Miss Hattie 1 " and he placed a chair for her near the one in which he had been sitting. " So you really did come back 1 " she said, laughing, while the ladies were conversing together on matters in wliich neither were interested. " I really did, yes ! " he returned smiling. " Didn't ^ ou expect 1 would ? " "^ I do not know ; four or five years looked a long time to me when yoi went away ; and we misfied you very much, Mr. Adair." "Did you? It is pleasant to be missed, joi know I " OffBISTMAS-BETROTIIAL. 408 " Yes, I suppose so 1 Do you find my UBtei changed, Mr. Adair?" •' Berrie, do you mean ? *' " Berrie, yes sir I " " Somewhat, yes I but more in manner than in face,** " She is not nearly as gay as she used to be. She f eh ma's and pa's death so much I " and the arch, piquant little face looked very grave for the moment. " As you must all do necessarily 1 I felt so sorry for you all when I heard of it in Venice. I could not re- alize that it were possible," said the gentleman, sym- pathetically. " I scarcely can, even yet. Berrie is all the mother I have got now," and the sweet lips trembled percep- tibly. " Miss Burton," said Mrs. Merrill at this juncture, " I want you and your little sister to dine with me to- morrow, and spend the evening." " Thanks, Mrs. Merrill 1 you are very kind — " " No refusal, now. Miss Berrie 1 " interposed the lady playfully, " I will not accept it. I want you and I must Jiave you." " In that case," smiled Berrie, " I suppose I have noth- ing to say about it." " Nothing at all, only to say that you will come," she returned laughingly. " I don't know about letting you have both of them ;'^ laid Mrs. Wright ; "you had better take Berrie, and let Hattie remain with me." " No indeed 1 I want them both. You can have them afterwards, but I have set my heart on their eat* 404 CHRISTMAS—BETROTHAL. Ing their Christraag dinner with me, and I always havf my own way, don't I, Eugene ? " she laughed. " I am afraid you do, Gracie," returned the gentl© man, emiling. " I believe we aiways spoiled joa a lit- tle." " Well, it ifl nice to be spoiled by those one loves ; isn't it, little girl ? " she finished, turning to Hattie. « I thmk it is, Mrs. Memll." " And you will come and dine with me Christmai Day?" " I shall be very glad to, thank yon, if Berrie will go," said the little girl. " And Berrie will, I am sure ! won't you dear ? " " What will you do to me if I say no ? " " Come and drag you off, nolens-volens." " Then I think the best thing I can do is to acquiesce gracefully, and keep my dignity intact," she laughed. " It is, decidedly 1 " returned the lady. " I am glad to find you so sensible." " We shall dine early, and I will send a carriage and my big brother, here, around for you about four o'clock," she said, as she was taking leave. " Do you allow your sister to dispose of you thus iumraarily, Mr. Adair, without consulting you in the 'east ? " asked Mrs. Wright playfully. " Gracie does with me about as she pleases," he re- tnmed smiling, " and she is aware that nothing «onld afford me more pleasure than to escort my young friends to her house." "Good-by until to-morrow, Berrie!" he said in a low tone, as he pressed her hand warmly in farewell VHRISTMAS- BETROTHAL. 404 * And allow me to express ray exceeding jratification in yonr acceptance of my sister's invitation, though it may have been somewhat forced." And he looked into her eyes with a glance eloquent of the strong love for hei which had made her heart so glad, and softened the pangs of parting more than four years ago. " Well, you see I accomplished my object, Eugene I *' »aid his sister laughingly, as they were walking home- wards. " I see you did, yes ! much to my surprise and grat- ification." " And which I probably should not have done, if 1 had sent you instead of going myself. She would have refused the invitation at the outset, and you would have been too proud to urge its acceptance." " While you took her by storm," he retorted, " and compelled her to surrender whether she liked or not." " Exactly 1 " she returned serenely. " And all on your account, my faint-hearted brother. And now," she added threateningly, " if you don't make the most of the opportunity, and bring the young lady to terms, you deserve to lose her, and I wash my hands of yonr oflFairs." " I think Mr. Adair is just splendid 1 " said Hatt's, wiien they were gone. " So handsome, and noble, and distinguished looking, and just as agreeable as he can be. I am glad we are going there to-morrow." " Don't be too enamored of him, Hattie, or Berrie will be jealous," laughed Belle. " Oh, I have a right to go into ecstacies over my fu- ture brother, hayen't It" and she glanced mischieT' 406 CnmSTMAS-BETROTHAL ouslj at her Bister, who colored rosily, and answered * " Don't talk nonsense, Hattie 1 Come upstairs, and let' me try your black silk dress, and see if it requires adj alteration. I suppose that is all you have suitable t© wear to-morrow. You must have some nefl^ dresses, and I think might begin to wear colors now ; don't yon, iJelle?" " Why yes, I think so 1 it is nearly a year and a half since we put on mourning." " Have you left it off, Berrie ? " asked Hattie. " I have not put on colors yet, but have worn black velvet and lavender ribbons, once or twice." Berrie's heart beat in little thrills the remainder of that day, and the fore part of the next, and she could not avoid thinking of the last expressive glance of her friend, and recalling constantly the golden past, when all barriers were thrown aside, and she was so happy in her acknowledged and reciprocated affection. She could not have told what she anticipated from the promised visit, but she was in that delightful state of pleasant expectation, when one feels that there is a great good in store, or something exceedingly jo}'ful about to occur, — which makes the hours pass tardily, gnd fills tlie heart with a nameless delight, often more thrilling and sweet than the actual and realized bliss Mr. Adair called for them soon after the appointed tirjie, and when Berrie came into the room, somewhat in advance of her sister, and playfully extended both hands in greeting, on one of which sparkled his ring — and which he had not seen before since his return — he could not repress the passionate exclamation, " My CHRISTMAS-BETROTRAL. 407 ffoUy-Beri'y ! " which brongh.t a most becoming fluah to the fair girl's cheek, and caused her uplifted eyes to droop beneath the old, tender gaze of his. Hattie's immediate entrance prevented anything more demonstrative at that time, but Berrie's heart beat a trifle faster than it had done before, and the rose his words had called to her cheek, never left it till sleep kissed away the flushes, and hushed the rapidly-beating heart to its ordinary quiet pulsations. The hour before dinner passed away very pleasantly Mr. Adair exerted all his powers of fascination, Mr&, Merrill was her own gay self, Berrie was in her most sparkling and witching mood, and Hattie the same piquant, saucy little girl of old, and the gay conversa- tion never flagged. When dinner was over, and they returned to the parlors, Mr. Adair brought out his Italian sketches, and in looking at, admiring, and lis- tening to explanations of them by the gifted artist, an- other hour was pleasantly filled, and then Mrs. Merrill exclaimed : " That picture of Rome reminds me of some exquisite cameos, mosaics, and pearls that my brother brought me from there. Wouldn't you like to •ee them, Hattie % " " Yes indeed, very much, if it is not too much trouble." "Well, come upstairs with me then, and we will look them over." "May I not go too, please, Mrs. Merrill?" asked Berrie, with the old shrinking from being left alone with her old-time lover- ** No, indeed 1 '* i:etunied the lady laughing. " Yoi 408 CHRISTMAS— BETROTHAL, mnst stay here and keep my big brother cut A iii» chief." " Berrie don't care for jewels," said Hattie, and the girl was left behind Mr. Adair closed the door after his sister and her little guest, crossed the room and drew a long spray of holly from a large antique vase which he had brought from Italy, then approaching his companion, he play- fully wound it round her head, saying : " Do you re- member, Berrie, how I used to wish in the old days, to see you crowned with holly-berries ? " " Yes I " was the low reply. " Come and see the effect." He drew her gently from her chair, and with his arm unresisted around her waist, led her to the long mirror. " Look 1 my little girl I is not that the very imperBO nation of my ' Holly-Berries ? ' " The girl glanced up at the glowing reflection of her- self in the large pier-glass, and returned with something of the old confusion of manner : " I suppose it is, Mr. Adair, or would be if my jacket was scarlet instead of white." She was looking exceedingly well in the sweeping dress of black velvet which she had worn at Mrs. Mitchell's on the evening of his return, and which fell around her graceful form in such rich, heavy folds as velvet alone can assume ; but she had drawn a dainty lehite cashmere jacket, richly embroidered with black, md which was exquisitely becoming — over the bare neck and arms which the low cut dress had left ex- posed; lavender libbons completed her rich biit simple CHRISTMAS- BETBOFHAL. 409 ittire, and the gleaming wreath of holly, who«e berriet matched in hue the scarlet of her cheeks, all together made a picture as beautiful and attractive as any matk eould desire to look upon. They stood in silence for a moment, the girl with downcast eyes and drooping head, the man half intoxi- cated with the joy of holding her once more in hia ftrms, after the long, weary years of separation and partial estrangement ; then he said softly : — " Berrie ! " She half looked up without reply, and lifting with his disengaged hand the rounded chin, he said tenderly : " Do you remember the day we parted, little girl, over four years ago ? " •* Yes, Eugene 1 " was the low reply, calling him by his christian name for the first time since his return. " And do you love me now as then, even as I do you^ with all my heart and soul?" For reply she hid her face against his shoulder, say- ing softly : " You did not trust me, Eugene I You cannot blame me if I do not." " But you. do, I know, else you would not permit me to hold you here. Thank God I " he added reverently, *' for having kept us for each other, and united us at kst' He held her for a moment in silence, then said play- Colly, as he kissed her tenderly: " This is our betrothal, my love I I leave you free no longer." * You should not have done before. You have put my love tu some severe tests, Eugene." ^ I i^ai' I have ; and my sister says I do not deserve 18 410 CHRISTMAS— BETROTHAL. you. Bat it has come out clear and tme^ as gold that has passed through the purifying fira " He drew her to a seat, and the cause of their mutiutl lilence was speedily and satisfactorily explained. " And so I came home," he concluded, " trembling between hope and fear, to find my artless little girl transformed into a polished, self-possessed woman, wearing an armor of pride which I almost feared was invulnerable. But it is all right at last, and now after the waiting time, comes the perfect sweetness of ' hope's fruition.' God is very good, is He not, dear ? to have kept us in health and safety through the testing years of sepaiation, and to allow us to meet once more un- der such happy and promising auspices. I, at least, cannot thank Him enough, for His best and rarest giff — a true woman." " So you do believe, at last, Eugene, \,haf a constant woman is at least a possibility!" she returned play- fully. " Yea, Berrie, you have taught me a new faith in your sex, and shown me that there is truth in w^oman'i love." " And you won't distrust or be jealous of me any more ? " archly. " I shall try not, darling, but you must remember my weakness, and humor the old man a Kttle ; and I don't think I shall admit any gentlemen friends into my house too freely." Berrie was hurt, and drew away, saying bitterly: " You. do not trust me, even yet, or love me either, I might say, if you think me capable of being false to my CHRISTMAS-BETROTHAL. 411 marriage tows. Have you not tested me Bafficientlj yet f »• " Forgive me, Berrie, I do not think you capable of !)eing untrue. I know you are no Olara, and I trust you, dear, as I have done no other living woman ; '' and unresisted he drew her close again. " Do you know I am getting an old man, Berrie ? " he continued after a pause. " Forty next birthday, lit- tle girl ; think of that?" " Nonsense, Eugene ! " she laughed. " You are plenty young, and besides, will renew your age when you have a young wife to pet you." " I would not wonder, love, I would not wonder I " he murmured, tenderly stroking the holly-crowned head of the girl at his side. " And when is that to be, Berrie ? " he added after a moment. « When is what to be, Eugene ? " " When am I to have a young wife to pet me 1 " " Oh, in two or three years, I suppose I " she an» swered, saucily. " Two or three years, Berrie I Make it two or three months and I will try and be content." " Oh, that is too soon ! I have not a single dress but black, and think how long it wiU take to have all the pretty ones made, that I shall require for so important an occasion ; " she laughed. " You are a true woman, I see, Berrie I But it is you I want, not the dresses." "I dare say! but I want the dresses, yon see. I jroold not like you to feel ashamed of yonr bride." 413 CHRISTMAS— BETROTHAL. " No danger of that, little ^1, no danger of that ! 1 want you to spend the summer in Europe, and be back in your own home in September, or October at latesL" " In Europe ? with you \ * My cup runneth over,' En- gene." " My darling ! " passionately, " I am glad if you are pleased ! So let it be as early as possible. I will give you until the last of May for your dresses. Will that do, dear ? " " It must, I suppose, i£ your lordship wills t " ehe re- turned laughingly. " So to-morrow I will bring you a solitaire, Berne, to replace this parting gift of your friend." " Not to replace it, Eugene. This is one of m_y dear- est treasures. By the way," she added after a mo- ment, " what has become of your sister and Hattie, I wonder ? " The gentleman laughed. " My sister promised I should have an opportunity to ' make up,' Berrie, and she has kept her word. She loves you dearly, my dar- ling, and will welcome you as a sister with wide-open arms." " She has been a dear friend to me, both for her own sake, and the sake of one she so strongly resembles." '^Well, is it all settled?" inquired Mrs. Merrill gayly, as she entered the room a little later. " Bat I do not need to ask I " she continued delight- edly, and taking the girl's blushing face between her two hands, she kissed her warmly, saying. " God blesi jwu, my dear little sister, and make you aa happy as yon deserve to be." OHRIST^AS-BETROTHAL. «fl Then tx> her brother : " I congratulate j'on \r.ih all my h©ai"t, Edgene, and hope you will own that I am a good manoeuvrer at least ; for you must know, Berria, that you were invited here to-day with this special end in view. My faint-hearted brother, here," she continued, teasingly, " stood in such awe of his old-time love, that I really felt afraid he would lose her after all ; so in ■heer pity, you see, I just did my best to help him along. Well, well, good people ! I wonder if you are really a bit happier at this termination than I am ! " and 8h« sat down in the nearest chair. Hattie had stood as if spell-bound, hardly compre- hending what there was such an ado about, until Mrs. Merrill, catching sight of her as she sat down, exclaimed laughing : " Are you astounded, Hattie ? Go and kiss your new brother, that is to be, dear, and wish him all the joy that his marriage with your sister is capable of bestowing." " I didn't get far wrong yesterday, did I, Berrie ? " gaid the sharp little girl archly, as she stepped to her sister's side. Adding : " I am just as glad as I can be, Mr. Adair, and when you are married, I will adopt yon for my father." There was a general laugh, and Eugene said : " Yon tbink I am old enough to be, eh, Hattie ? " " Why no ! I don't think you are very old, but Berm ii my second mother, you know, and so of course I shaU have to adopt you for my father." " Oh, that is it, eh ? Well suit yourself I brother oi fother, it is all one to me." The remninder of the evening passed very pleasant!/ 414 OnmSTMAS— BETROTH A L. and happily to all parties, and the carriage which M& Adair had ordered for twelve o'clock came all too ■oon. " This is keeping rather late houi-s for such a little girl as you, isn't it, Hattie ? " said Mrs. Merrill, as she tied on the child's hat. "Rather later than boarding-school hours," she re- tu\ar ter." " And I am very graceful for your love, little cousin, and even Hattie is no dearer to me than are you. When I am back, you shall stay with me all you wilL" "You are just as good as you can bel I don*t blame you for liking Mr. Adair, for I think he if Bplendid, and I am glad you are going to be so happy ; but it breaks my heart to bid you good-byl" and the ready tears sprang to the soft, dark eyes of th« girl. " Oh, cheer up, Annie I " said Berrie, gayly. " Don't think of that, but of my coming home in the fall. It will onl" seem a little wtiie after all. How about the going to school. Has mamma given her eoo Mmtr' THB NIGHT BEFORE THE WEhDiNO. 419 " Ob yee ! I am fo go back Tith Hattie the next term." " And yon will have w many companions there, yon won't misfl me bo mi^ch. There's the bell t who is that 1 wonder ; hark, Annie 1 '* A ;iioment, and a servant came in with a package directed to Miss Berrie Burton. " Another bridal present, I suppose. I have a table full now. This is from Ned Lester, I think, it looki like his writing," aa «he stood under the chandelier examining it. " He is sure to give you something nice ; do open it, Beriiel" said Annie, with girlish impatience. The wrappings were undone, and a handsome silver tete-a-tete set brought to view. There was no card attached, but Berrie had recognized the handwriting of the direction, and knew well that it was from her old friend Ned. " Isn't it nice 1 " exclaimed Annie, admiringly. " It is indeed, very 1 and when I am back you shall come and drink tea with me from it, Annie dear." " That will be splendid I Oh dear I I wish you were eoming back to-morrow, instead of going away." " Hark I there's the bell again. It is * hung on wires ' truly, to-day " They listened for a moment, then Berrie exclaimed in surprise: "Why, that is Mrs. Merrill's servant What can he be here for, I wonder ? " and an unde- fined foreboding of evil stru ik like ice on her loving heart She sprang to the doti:b Bi. Tneadaj Er*. ** Mt Deab Mrs. Weight : " Eugene was knocked dowr by a nut ftw»7 horse to-night on his way home^ imd still lies ua THE moirr bbvotie tee weddino, 42\ oonBci )U8. Of course it is irapossil le to know the r©» Bait. Use your ovm judgment about telling Berne. I am almost distracted, and do not know what ii beet I ihoold be glad if you could come around. " Yours, *' Gbage MsBBm." Berrie handed the note bade to her sister, and with a little eliiver, sank into a chair and covered her face with her hands. Belle bent anxiously over her, saying tenderly : " Don't worry, Berrie, it will be all right in a little while I " But she only murmured without uncovering her face : " I might have known it 1 I was too happy ! it could aot last. He will die, and I shall be more desolate than before." " Oh, hope for the best, Berrie dear 1 It may not be serious after all. You know Mrs, Merrill is easily frightened ; " and then as she received no reply — " I think I will go around, shan't I, Berrie ? Mrs. Merrill wished me to." " I shall go too ! Annie, get my hat 1 " and Berrie uncovered her face and arose. Her sister was on the point of remonstrating, but finally decided it might be better than to leave her at home to imagine the worst, and sending a servant for a carriage, they were soon at Mrs. Merrill's door. Mrs. Merrill came to them at once in the parlor, ai the had Raid, almost distracted. She tcok Berrie in her arini, with tears nmnini; over her face, tho igh the 422 TOB JflOST BRFORE TBS WBDDISB. girl's eje* were wide and dry with s tearleM de» pair. " Mj poor child 1 " said the lady, between her lobiL " Did you oome too ? What can I say to comfort her, lire. Wright?" " Tell me how he is ! " was the low reply from th« g3lL " He has not wholly revived yet, and the docton are unable to say how seriously he may be hurt. They are afraid of some internal injury. But I must go back. Come up into my sitting-room, and I will let you know as soon as there is a change." They followed her upstairs, and Berrie sat down be- fore tl e fire, with her eyes fixed on the glowing coals, and such an expression of agony in their dusky depths, as was pitiful to behold. A half hour of tortured waiting, in which Berrie neither moved or spoke, and Belle moved restlessly from one place to another in the small apartment, and tlien Mrs. Merrill came in with a smilii g face, and going up to Berrie, she took her face between her two hands in a manner habitual tc her, and kissing her, said joyfully ; " Give thanks, little girl 1 He is better, and the surgeons think there is nothing serious." Then the tears that had seemed congealed around her bursting heart, flowed forth in torrents, and laying her head on her friend's shoul- der, she sobbed with joy and relief. " How did it happen 'i " inquired Belle. " I scarcely know myself I " returned the lady. " Only that he was crossing a street, and, as I wrote you, Wfts knocked down by a runaway horse. The docton TBB AIQHT BEFORE THE WEDhlNO. 42S «ay Le must have been etrnck by the thills of the car- riage, directly over the heart, which wm the cauM &( •noh a prolonged swoon." " And they think there is no serious injury 1 " " They think so, yes I but it was a narrow e8cap«w I should have died, I believe, if he had been killed." " Thank God for His mercy I " said Belle, reverentlj, "I do, with my whole heart I" was the eame«( -■•ply. " And how about to-morrow ? " asked Belle. " It is impossible to tell, I suppose ; but I am sure if Eugene is able to move there wiU be no postponement'* " Has he spoken ? " murmured Berrie, whose sobi had gradually ceased. " Only to say that Berrie was not to be told." " Well, if he is better we may as well go home, Ber^ rie," said her sister. " You will let me know how he is the first thing in the morning." " Certainly 1 But wait a moment until I see how he is DOW." And she ran out of the room, returning in a moment to say that he had fully recovered conscious- ness, and the surgeon said he would be all right in the morning ; adding, " So just rest easy to-night, little gister, and be your own fresh, sweet self to-morrow. I did not think it best to tell him you were here, lest it should excite him and make him worae.*^ The night was anything but a resttul and easy one to the anxious girl. She obeyed her sister, and went di- rectly to bed, but only to toss from side to side with wide open eyes, and thoughts in such a tmnxilt it impossible to sleep. 424 ^^^ KlOET BEFORE THE WBDDim. Thanks for hia narrow escape, fears ^at h5« injnriei might have been more serious than they dreamed, after all, tremblings for the happiness which had been so nearly wrecked, anticipations for the future, waa God §0 merciful as to restore her loved one speedily tc health, all surged confusedly through her mind, nntil, as the gray dawn was breaking, she sank into a troubled slumber, from which she was awakened about seven o'clock, by the entrance of her sister, with a note in her hand, saying : " Here is a note from Eugene, Ber- rie ; the messenger says he is better. You had best get up at once, it is seven o'clock." And giving hei lister the billet she left the room. Berrie tore open the note and read : — " Na — WoroMter Bt, Wednaadaj, iL x. «MtDamjno! ^' Grace tells me that you were ii»> formed last night of my untimely accident, and know ing you must be exceedingly anxious, I hasten to assure you that I am quite myself this morning, and shall be with you at the appointed time. Thank God, little girl, that He still spares us for each other, and believe me, with love, " Your own With a heart fmll of gratitude, lo've, and a happin more chastened than if it had not been to nearly spoiled, was the important toilet made, and notwithstanding her uuraffident revt of the previoua night, excitement lent an added lorelinew to the beantifnl fane, to wfaiob the TSB ariOHT BEFORE THE WEDDINO. 42& delicate bridal robes were exqaisitely becoming, and the looked more than eTer lovely and bewitching. Engene came in dne Beason, walking Bomewhat ^wlj and looking a little pale, but otherwise hia hand- acme, prepossessing self, and a few words from the man of God made them one forever, and sealed their happi ness as secure, until death should sever the bonds. Then came the congratulations, the wedding break- fast, the drive to the steamer which rode the gleaming waters of the bay " like a thing of Ufe," the parting from dear friends, and the bridal pair were fairly en ronte on the voyage of wedded life, treading the firat BtepB of the magic pathway with faith in each other, bright hopes for the future, and a mutual love that liad endured all tests which the circumstances of the past bad imposed, and come out pure, trae« and triomphanti perfect and endorinf affection. CHAPTER XXXV. HOMB AGAIN — " HOPe'b FBUITIOH.'' " 4 hundred thonaand welooraM t I ooaid weap, And I ooald laugh t Fm light and hesTj— Welooma t * SHAJcnraABK '* And BO the nuBty, besatifol, wondroiu dream, e o ndenaed itself into a liTing vommonplaoe tealitj.** MmMinxMK. 'T was a bright, glowing morning, early in Octo ber, that a carriage drew up before one of the handsomest residences in "Worceeter Square, and Mr. Adair, hastily alighting, handed out his four months' bride, and led her up the steps of her own home. The heavy rosewood doors were thrown wide before he could ring, and Mrs. Merrill, with a beaming face, stood on the threshold. " Welcome home, my dear brother and sister 1 " and •he took Berrie in her arms and kissed her rapturously, greeting her brother no less warmly and affectionately. " This is the happiest day of my life, good people 1 I always wanted a sister, and have now got one after my own heart I hope you are in uh ecstatic a state as I BOMS AQAiy^'' HOPE'S FhUll'IONr ^ %m ! But come in, do t And Eugene, yon eaa take Berrie over her honee, while I see that breakfast it ipeedilj on the table. I hope yon will find everything to your mind, Berrie." " I am sore I shall, Mrs. Merrill, if yon havishad tht ordering." " Don't • Mrs. Merrill ' me, Berrie," laughed the ladf ; " remember I am your sister Grace now." " Whom I love very dearly, as you know." " Well, I am glad if you do 1 but this isn't attending to breakfast ; " and she ran away. Eugene led his bride through th ifihed covered the walls, and windows were arranged most advantageously for the artistic use to which that portion of the room was devoted. " This is our library I " as he closed the first set of folding doors behind him, and led her into the middle •f the triple apartment, where in the recess of the 488 SOME AGAIN— '' BOPB'B fBUlTlONr deeply embayed window, etood a writiiag desk im each, while booke lined the walls, statues gleams purely white from nicheB, and a large table stood 'n the middle of the floor, covered with ptpora, magacLneB, and a few of the latest books of the di»y. " And this is your sitting-room ; exclosivAly yooTB, as the studio is mine, although the latte? ia sivfaya f^ee to you, as the fonuer will be to me^ will it iiot, lov« I Sit down in your own little eewing-cbair, end tell mo how you like it." " Like it ? I cannot tell you how much, Eugene ! My cup of joy is full to the brim, and my home, lik« my husband, is all I can ask." " Flatterer 1 " he exclaimed smilingly, although heir praise was far from disagreeable to him. The deep, arching window of this portion of the room, birds and flowers rendered beautiful ; a work- table and sewing-chair provided for industrious mo- ments ; a small but finely-toned piano was ready to minister to her musical tastes, above which hung her artist-husband's first exhibited painting, "Holly-ber- ries," which had done so much, not only to secure the fame which he now enjoyed, but to keep true and bright her love for and confidence in him through the last months of his seeming indifference and desertion. "It is perfect, Eugene," she said at last, as hef woman's eye took in aJl the pleasant little details ot the cosy room. '" I am the happiest girl in Boston.'* " Ab jou ought to be, I am sure ; though I am riol certain that you are any happier than I am," said Mn, lierriU gayly, as nhe entered the room at this moment HOME AGAIN—'' HOPE 8 FRUmONJ* 4^9 * But leKve rhapsodizing for the present, and come to oreakfaet I am sure you must be starved." " I haven't a particle of appetite," laughed Berrie ; • ooming home has banished every bit of it" There was a constant stream of callers through th« day — Belle, Maud, Helen, and Annie in the morning: lir. Wright, Charlie, Ned, Mrs. Mitchell, and othei friends, whose names have not appeared in this quiet little story, in the afternoon. The days, and weeks, and months that followed, though quiet in the extreme, were very happy ones. Days when Berrie read to her husband while he painted, trifled over some pretty needle-work in the cheery south window of her portion of the room, or brought from the ivory keys of her piano sounds so •weet and ravishing, that her artist-listener often dropped his brush and stood spell-bound with wonder and delight. Evenings when she entertained her friends in her sumptuous parlors, and twilights when aho watched through the deepening shadows for the form of one who made her days all sunshine ; marvel- ling, as she watched, over the perfect happiness, serene and deep, which had come into her life, thanking the Auth jr of all good for leaamg her feet into such plesis- ant paths, and beside the still waters of an abiding and reciprocated affection. "Girls, do you remember that day in Bristol, when for want of something better to do, we all tried to tell what we anticipated in the coming years f " inqiired Helen Carlisle one afternoon, about a month subflo- quent to Berne's coming home, as with Belle, Mand A80 BOMB AOAHr—^'BCPS'S fRUlTIOM.' tnd her fair hostess, she sat In the latter's little ciMsn- room, whose glasp doors were partially cloeed, shnttiof out the artist, who was painting busily at the farther end of the triple apartment. " / do ! " returned Belle. " Our plans have been well fulfilled. I have my happy home and plenty of work for those I love — witness the table at home, piled up with little garments for my two restless cherububs," laughing. " Maud is as ' happy, useful, and beloved ' as she could desire ; Helen long ago gave up * wasting ber sweetness ' on tow-headed urchins, an:^ has wc«j ill the fame she can desire ; while Berrie — " ' While Berrie," — and the dark eyes rested ( a die aandsome Saxon face that looked down at her fnn above the open piano, — " Berrie has had ner yearg ol weary waiting, and is now tasting all ibe tvneti •# Sonr's Fbuttuui." NEW BOOKS AND NEW EDITIONS THE GAMBLERS A dramatic story of American Life. By CHARLES KLEIN and ARTHUR HORNBLOW, authors of "The Lion and tho. Mouse," "The Third Degree," "John Marsh's Millions," etc.i i2mo, Cloth. Illustrations from scenes in the great play.j $1.50. THE EASIEST WAY A Vivid Story of Metropolitan Life. By EUGENE WALTER and ARTHUR HORNBLOW. i2mo, Cloth. 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