Waverley Library (Octavo Edition) (no. 101) (1886 04 27)
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PUT TO A TEST, 6 LM ‘*But of course, if the master forbade it, you were powerless, Poor grandfather! what does he do with himself all day? Before, he used to be hard enough to amuse, but now—” ‘“He just paces up and down the room like a caged lion, miss, talking to himself; but as you are come, mwiss—” “AsIamcome! WhatcanI do, Giles? You know how often I used to anger and offend him, and—and—it will be worse now. That night Celia’s pillow was bedewed with bitter tears, Blindness! What an ending to a life such as his had been! ‘Active, vigorous, and masterful, quick to anger, vindictive and jealous in his temperament, he had known little of rest or in- activity during the seventy os he had passed in the world. Hence the change to him was worse than death itself. Sometimes he wished for death, and even in his more desponding mo- ments thought of seeking it, instead of waiting —waiting through years of darkness, till he should hear its call. But there was a dark corner—a secret in Gerard Grandford’s life which made him shrink from self-destruction. What that secret was no one knew, or ever had known; not even the brother from whom, thirty years before, he had inberited Cedar Grove; not even his wife, whom he had Joved with a strong, selfish love the two short years she was spared to him; nay, not even the daughter who had married twenty years before the husband of his choos- ing, and died abroad of a broken heart, leaving her baby-daughter to his care—his grandchild— oh, so like the child he had idolized!—and yet with alook in her dark eyes, at times, that re- minded him of her father—the man he had hated so bitterly, and had seen sink into a drunkard’s grave, ruined and abandoned, with- out putting out a finger to help him; nor when Celia grew up did he ever dream of confiding it toher. Yet, all that night, till early dawn, it was before his mind, and he could not banish it, do what he might. -* What makes me go back to past years 80, I wonder?” thought he, as he tossed and turned on his sleepless pillow. ‘‘Old age and infirmity are making a child of me, Isuppose. But my secret is my own. No one—not a soul—knows it, or can guess at it; and, maybap, I have no cause to regret, to repent! haw! I am‘a fool, indeed!”—bursting into a harsh laugh, which roused the watchful servant, who now always slept in his master’s dressing-room. ‘*Did you call, sir?’ be asked. 5 “Callj—no, What hour is it?” ' “* Past nine, sir,” was the reply. “Ts Miss Saville down?” he asked, “‘T will inquire, sir,” was the response, “Yes, doso. But no; I will sleep again. At eleven you may call me.” And the heavy domestic thankfully returned to his bed, glad of the chance of an extra hour’s repose, Celia was up and out in the garden before her grandfather was stirring. The old man was peevish and irritable, and expected her to attend to his slightest wishes and commands. First she read the morning's news to him, listening to his remarks on the events of the day, and a long dissertation on olitics, which neither interested nor amused er, Next she had to take her grandfather for his daily walk. That done, she sat quiet asa mouse in the study, while he snoozed in his arm- chair, Then dinner came, and a little music (old-fashioned airs and ditties, in which the old man delighted), and toward midnight Celia was dismissed, with the sour remark, “that for one who had been traveling for six months, oe bad precious little to tell or to say for her- self. So day after day passed. Very few visitors came to Cedar Grove, and those who did re- marked that Miss Saville looked ill and worn, not any the better for her trip abroad. The weather, which had been cold and rainy all April, took a sudden turn in May, and the sun shone bright and warm, bringing out the leaves on the trees and the flowers in the woods and hedges in thousands, gladdening the hearts of many, and even raising the drooping spirits: of Celia Saville.a little. She had been very depressed of late. Her grandfather had been in one of those moods which often tempted her to believe that he hated her. No one had been near the house and she had only received one short, cold letter from Olivia Sutherland since her return. She felt, in the old place, as if she were hidden away in a for- gotten corner from the rest of the world, where no one would ever find her, One bright, warm morning, however, as she was pacing up and down with her grandfather beneath the trees of Cedar Grove, she saw a tall figure walking quickly toward her, and, with a start, recognized the stranger whom she had met in the train. ; He advanced toward them with a quiet, self- pomeans air, as if any idea of being an intruder ad never entered his head; indeed, as if he were certain of meeting with a welcome. He raised his hat as he came up with them, **Good-morning, Miss Saville,” he said, quiet- ly. ‘‘ Possibly you may have forgotten me, This is Mr. Grandford, I presume?” “T am Mr. Grandford, sir,” replied the old man. ‘One of my granddaugbter’s foreign ac- quaintances, I suppose?” : ‘No, grandfather,” interrupted Celia, an angry fedling filling her breast; ‘‘I have scarce- ly the pleasure of this gentleman’s acquaintance, slbougs I bave not forgotten (as he seems to think [ may have) his services to me at the Junc- tion as I was returning home.” “ This gendienian was of service to you. Then let me at least thank him,” said the old man, ina tone intended to humiliate Celia, for his temper was anything but good that morning. “1 am obliged to you, sir, for whatever services you rendered Miss Saville. You are not American, I judge, from your accent! Iam a poor, blind, useless man, you see, and it is only by my hear- ing Ican judge and—” ‘lama foreigner,” he answered; ‘‘and you are right, sir.” Celia felt her grandfather’s arm tremble slightly,
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PUT TO A TEST, A LS «From what country, sir, may TI ask?” he said, shortly. “From Italy,” he replied. “ Ah! do you know our country well?” asked Mr. Grandford. 5 ‘““T have spent a very short time in it, sir; but I hope to see more of it before I leave again. heard Cedar Grove was a place of considerable antiquity, and presumed so far as to—” bd Corie in and see it by all means. My grand- child will be proud to do the honors, and if you will take lunch with us, and smoke a pipe after- ward with me, I shall be glad. Italy is a coun- try ’ve always taken an interest in; but you have been in all the other countries of Europe too, of course?” “Yes, I’ve traveled through them,” he re- lied, Pi And as you know my name, and my grand- daughter’s,” went on Mr. Grandford, ‘ perhaps you will tell us yours?” There was a very slight pause before the an- swer came. “My name is Geoffry Dumont!” he replied. “Then Jet us return to the house now, Mr. Dumont, I will make you over to Celia—Miss Saville—and she will show you all that our pluce contains worth seeing,” said the other; and taking Celia’s arm again, they walked slowly back beneath the branching oaks and elms to the house. _—_ CHAPTER III. A STORY OF THE PAST. Grorrry Dumont proved himself a pleasant guest, and it was.easy to see Mr. Grandford was delighted with his new acquaintance. After Junch he sat talking to bim in the drawing- room, instead of retiring at once to the study to take his afterncon nap, and it was nearly four o’clock when he remembered that his guest had seen none of the sights of Cedar Grove. “Dear me, how time flies!” he said, as he heard the clock strike. ‘‘ Miss Saville must show you what she can before it gets dark; but you must favor us with another visit, or you will not be able to inspect all of our curiosities. You are not leaving the neighborhood now?” “No; Iam staying at Ryfield, not more than five miles off,” replied Geoffry. ‘‘ It is a lovely spot, and I enjoyed my walk from it to this, this morning. I am expecting my horse and dog-cart from New York every day, and pro- pose to remain here till I have seen all there is to be seen in the vicinity. ’ “Then I shall hope often to have a chat with you, sir. Now my granddaughter is ready to show you the house,” replied Mr. Grandford, Celia rose slowly from her chair—almost un- willingly, as it were. ‘‘Shall we go through the picfure-gallery first?” she said, in a con- strained tone. ‘ ‘Tf agreeable to you,” replied Geoffry, with a bow Geoffry Dumont followed Celia into the pic- ture-gallery in silence. It was a long, oaken room, carpeted down the center with thick Turkey carpet, the boards on either side being of highly-polished wood. It contained portraits of the Grandfords from the time of the pilgrim fathers to the present day. Mechanically Celia began her task of show- woman. “This,” she said, “is the earliest ancestor, William de Grandfort, we possess; and this is his son, or grandson—there is some doubt which. This,” she went on, ‘‘is Phillipa de Grandfort, who married one of the first Dukes of Alber- mont; and this— But really, Mr. Dumont, Ido not think you are listening to me, or looking at the pictures,” “Pardon me, Iam not so remiss as you im- agine,” he replied, hastily; but, in truth, he had been watching Celia, and thinking what a beautiful face and.form she possessed, and won- dering how she could endure existence with no other companion than the morose old man they had just quitted, and that it was little wonder her face was thinner and her eyes less bright than when he had seen her six weeks before in the city. “This,” said Celia, going quickly on to an- other group of pictures, ‘isa portrait of later date, my grandfather’s grandmother, an En- glish beauty of the time of the Georges; and—” ‘““How marvelously like pest Excuse my making the remark,” cried the young man. ‘* Yes; so they say,” replied Celia, quietly ig- noring the compliment. ‘‘ All these pictures are of later date again. I ought to have begun at the other side of the gallery; but I am not such a good show-woman as my grandfather imagines. Still, as we have got so near the pre- sent day, we may as well take a look at his por- trait, and at my great uncle’s, from whom he inherited Cedar Grove. Are they not fine?” “Very good—excellent! But—but whose is this small portrait?” pointing to a small oil- paren of a young man, that hung close by the arger one of the former owner. He was a step behind Celia, or she would have seen a peculiar look in his eyes, and noted a quivering of the lips as he spoke, “That?? she replied. ‘*Ah, there is a sad story connected with that picture; it is of the only son of my great uncle, who ought, at this moment, to be the owner of this property; but he had some disagreement with his father—I hardly know what about—and left home, went abroad, and for some years was not heard of. News came afterward of his death. My great uncle, they say, was never the same after it, and soon died, leaving the estate to my grandfather poping nothing was ever heard more definite- y of hisson. That was long before I was born, you see; but I believe itis the correct account of what happened.” ‘Did he die unmarried?” asked Geoffry. ‘““As far as we know. Every inquiry was made, and nothing of the existence of a wife was discovered,” she answered, “No wife—no child?” continued the stranger, thoughtfully. “No,” said Celia, with a sigh; ‘or father would not be the owner of Cedar nor L his heiress.” “Oh, you are to be the owner of all these lands, then?” said Geoffry Dumont, looking at her curiously, and- Tove,
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PUT TO A TEST. q “Yes,” she replied, with a short, hard laugh; ‘unless I should do anything to displease grand- father, and cause him to disinherit me, which well may be.” Her tone was very sad and bitter, and Geoffry pitied her from the bottom of hisheart. “And if he did, what would you do?” he asked, It was a strange question; but Celia wasina strange mood, and did not resent it. “T have no other friends or relations in the world besides him,” she answered. ‘I have acquaintances, of course. Well, I suppose I could work—be a governess, or companion, or— One can always die.” ‘Do not speak so! Do not talk so lightly of death!” returned Dumont, so severely that Celia raised her eyes in surprise. ‘Forgive my warmth,” he said, gently; “‘but your tone frightened me, You have a long life of happi- ness before you, I make no doubt.” Celia was offended, and turned haughtily ei ‘‘Tam very foolish, as you, remark, Mr. Du- mont. Let us finish the gallery before dark. Grandfather is sure to ask me to-night what you thought of his pictures, He positively adores them, and if the place were ever to take fire, they are the first things he would think of rescuing from the flames.” ‘‘ Doubtless they must be very valuable,” re- plied Dumont, taking a parting look at the por- trait of the ‘prodigal son,” as Celia scornfully oe the picture that had so much attracted im. He followed her round the gallery, and out once more into the hall, when they heard Mr. coma voice from the study calling to em. ** Well, sir, Celia bas shown you our gallery, I presume? EK would give a good deal to look on the faces of my ancestors again; but I never shall in this world, sir.” And he groaned. ‘Do not beso desponding, grandfather. You know Doctor A—— bade you not give up all hope. “Pshaw! just like them, a pack of knaves! Never trust a doctor, sir. They are only fit to deceive and flatter foolish women and children, Hope, indeed! No; I’ve put all that aside for many a day.” : “Yet one hears of marvelous cures nowa- days,” replied Dumont, quietly. “ There’s none for me, sir—none,” he replied. *“*T regret to hear you speak so decidedly, sir,” he rejoined, ‘‘Now I must bid you good- by, for I have five miles to walk before [ reach Ryfield.” q “But my carriage—” began Mr. Grandford. “Not for worlds! I love a walk, and think no more of five miles than many men of one,” he replied. ' “* Good-evening, sir! Good-by, Miss Saville!” “ But beg,” said Mr. Grandford, on whom Geoffry Dumont had evidently created a very favorable impression. : “If it would be convenient to Miss Saville—” he began, en will come again; names a day, I | «To Miss Saville! Am I not master here? What has Miss Saville to say to it?—she is noth- ing here; nothing till I am gone,” said the old man, with a sudden burst of anger. The tears came into Celia’s eyes—tears of shame and anger. Geoffry affected not to per- ceive them, “On Thursday next then, if convenient to you, sir,” he answered. And bowing to Celia he left the room. ‘“‘A good talker, and has seen the wortd. What is he like to look at, child?” asked Mr. Grandford, rubbing his hands gleefully to- gether, * Oh, he is tall and dark-eyed, and looks decidedly like a foreigner,” replied Celia, “Ah, ha! not good-looking enough to suit you, my lady, I suppose?’ sneered the old man, “On the contrary, he is good-looking— what Ishould call a handsome man. But we know nothing of him, grandfather,” she answered. “True; but he is a gentleman, I'll swear to that, although I can not see him, Celia. Did you show him all the pictures, child?” * Yes, all,” she returned. ‘And which did he like best?” asked Mr. Grandford, eagerly. : **He admired yours and my gravd-uncle’s es- pecially,” replied Celia, knowing that the intelli- gence would please her grandfather, “He did, did he? Shows his taste. And which besides?” he rejoined. ‘Oh, Elizabeth Grandford’s portrait and your nephew’s. That seemed to strike him particu- pris r. Grandford’s face fell. “Well,” he answered, after a pause, “it is not a badly-painted picture, though to me there is nothing particularly attractive in the face, Christopher was never a handsome fellow.” ‘‘ Don’t you think so?” asked Celia, carelessly. “He asked who it was, and I told him the history of the picture.” “And what did he say to it?’ asked Mr. Grandford, eagerly. “Nothing much; except that it was a sad one,” she answered, “Hum! it may be best to let that story rest, especially with strangers,” he muttered, turning away with a dissatisfied growl. ‘ Christopher was the black sheep of the family; what’s the good of remembering his errors? Let them rest, do you mind?” “Certainly, sir,” replied Celia, nettled at his tone of command, ‘Cousin Christopher’s errors are nothing to me; I will not relate his history again.” ‘“Hum! that is as it may be,” muttered the old man, between histeeth. ‘Did Mr. Dumont tell you anything more about himself?” ‘Not a word,” replied Celia. “Ah, ha! they’re sharp, those foreigners, from whatever part of the Old World they hail,” retorted Mr. Grandford. “He certainly seemed much more anxious to hear the history of our family than to relate that of his own,” rejoined Celia, carelessly. ** Quite right, too. Take all you can and give nothing inreturn, That's their motto; and not
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8 PUT TO A TEST, a bad one either. Now, child, read me these papers, and then you may be off to bed if you choose,” So for the next two hours Celia read aloud, until, seeing her grandfather had fallen into a sound sleep, she retired to bed, weary and dis- contented, and feeling as if her grandfather’s harsh words to her in the stranger’s presence must have lowered her not a little in his esti- mation. Geoffry Dumont, in the days that followed, pitied Celia from the bottom of his heart, and for her sake spent many an hour in the old man’s study. e strove hard to win her con- fidence and friendship; but Celia was reserved, and, it seemed to him, more distant to him than to any one who came to Cedar Grove. So, for some time, try as he would, he seemed to ree no advance toward gaining her friend- ship. It was a dangerous game he was playing, he felt. Hour after hour and day after day he was in her company—often alone; and though he felt each day how more and more danger- ously dear she was growing to him, yet he dared not flatter himself that if he had parted from her at any moment she would have telt one pang of regret. t Sometimes, when he saw her sitting silent and thoughtful, her soft brown eyes filled with a sad, dreamy look, a sudden fear would fall on his heart that it was perhaps too late, and that Celia had given her love to another, ‘*T wish he were an American or an English- man,” Gerard Grandford had often thought; “he would be a good match for Celia; but I can’t bear to think of Cedar Grove in the hands of a foreigner. I often wonder can the fellow or his people have ever met with my nephew, Christopher Grandford? He says he comes from Italy; but whoever he is, he’s a gentle- man, and wouldn’t tell a lie; that I’ll swear!” CHAPTER IV. A DOUBLE GAME, MEANWHILE, spring was gradually changing to summer, and if things were going, on the whole, pretty smoothly at Cedar Grove, it was certainly not quite the same at Newport, where Mrs. Sutherland had gone for the benefit of the sea air, followed of course, by her admirer and devoted esquire, Captain Kingsborough. Olivia, however, was displeased with her friend the captain, She imagined she saw a falling off in his attentions to her, so did her best to bring him to the point. But she found it a harder task to accomplish than she had expected. She had prided herself for a year or two past on Kearns the captain at a greater distance than was agreeable to him. Sbe had snubbed him on various occasions, treated him idly by the week together, flirted with other men before his eyes, but the patient captain had borne all these things without complaining, and she had only to hold up her iB and the captain was at her side; but, for all that, she could not bring mat- ters to a crisis, and the worry and disappoint- ment made her even more fretful and exacting than usual, ¥. She had made up her mind to marry Captain Kingsborough, and if six months earlier she had showed her intention as plainly as she did now she would have succeeded; but times had changed, and with them the captain had changed his mind, To speak plainly, he had lost a part of his very moderate fortune since their return from abroad, and it had been whis- pered in his ear that Olivia Sutherland, by marrying again, would forfeit the greater part of her wealth. Moreover, the remembrance of Celia Saville sometimes rose before his eyes to trouble him. He admired her greatly, and when he contrasted her fresh beauty with the made-up face of Olivia, he would sigh gently, and conclude that poverty was indeed a curse. If Miss Saville only possessed a fortune, he would give up all thoughts of Olivia Sutherland; but Olivia had assured him that she was penniless, and, oddly enough, he never thought of (on this point) doubting her word, After a three weeks’ stay at Newport he ob- tained reliable information that if Mrs, Suther- land married again she would forfeit half her income, ‘*Hard lines—very hard lines!” he muttered. “That would Jeave her little more than three thousand a year, and she’d want to spend as much as that on dress and jewelry, and travel- ing about, and a thousand other things. I shouldn’t better myself in the least by marry- ing her. Poor Olivia! she would have suited ine very well, too, insome ways, not to mention that a wife with means helps a fellow on in the world. Heigh-ho! it can’t be helped. I must retire gracefully, I suppose, and talk about un- dying friendship, and all that sort of thing.” And Captain Kingsborough was sad when he remembered he had spent the last two years chasing a chimera, He lounged over to Mrs. Sutherland’s hotel, however, at the usual hour, and found her sit- ting on the piazza, attired in an elaborate tea- gown that suited her to perfection. “Ah, you naughty man,” she said playfully; “T’ve been expecting you this hour past! How late you are! A year since, you would have been an hour earlier.” “Yes, I suppose I would,” answered the cap- tain. ‘Let’s see; a year ago you were at Al- derton, where we first met Miss Saville. By the way, have you heard of her lately?” “No; not very lately,” replied Olivia coldly. “Hum! Still living with that old man?’ “T conclude so,” replied her ladyship. ‘But don’t talk of her, George; I don’t like thinking of her!” holding down her head with a childish little pout. “You don’t like thinking of her? Why?” asked the captain, with affected surprise, *‘ Because she—she set her cap at you! Now, don’t pretend to say you didn’t see it! Of course you saw it, and sometimes you used to make me —yes, ’m half-ashamed to tell you—absolutely jealous—there!” “Jealous? My dear Mrs, Sutherland, what nonsense! You knew and know, and I know, too, to my cost, that I can’t marry without money! I’m a poor devil!” ‘‘Nonsense! Don’t be absurd!” replied Olivia,
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PUT TO A TEST. 9 turning, however, a shade paler. ‘*But money or a money, she would have married you if she could. “Do you think so?” said the captain, and there was a slight tone of eagerness in his voice that made Olivia tremble with anger. “Of course,” she replied, haughtily. “By Jove!” returned the captain, with a harsh laugh; ‘‘she would have found it hard work living on a thousand a ee which is all I now have, She must be better off than that, even at her grandfather's.” “T don’t know that at all,” replied Mrs. ‘Sutherland. ‘‘ But don’t talk of her! I tell you I shall never forget the daily agony she caused me! I was delighted to see the last of her!” “I never should have guessed it,” said the captain, raising his eyebrows. * Ah, you don’t half understand me yet. I never could endure any one who tried to—to come between you and me!” ‘That can never be!” he answered. ‘You will always be my best and dearest of friends, Olivia. ‘Ah! you don’t know what I would give to be able to call you by a still nearer and dear- er title!” * And why—why cannot you? You surel know—” whispered Olivia, with a genuine blus on ber cheeks, “Tt is forbidden me,” he replied, solemnly. ‘¢ Fate is cruel tome. 1am too poor to follow my own wishes, Olivia. I cannot marry with- out money, as you yourself have often told me. Nay, I must find some occupation—get some ap- pointment—go abroad again.” “ And leave me!” cried Olivia, the hot tears filling her eyes. ‘““Yes;I fear it must be so, What else can I do?” he replied. ** But—but what shall I do without you?” she cried, wringing her hands, ‘If you go abroad T shall never, never see you again! You may die, or be’killed, or—” “T shall never shrink from doing my duty, as aman should!” returned Captain Kingsborough. proudly. “My poor Olivia, I never imagin this. ou must strive to forget me!” “ Never!—impoassible! I had almost rather you had married Miss Saville. I wish—I wish—” “Do you wish I had married another, Olivia? You have no conception of the pain I am suffer- ing now.” ‘Pain? 1 don’t believe in the pain! It is I who am Clay and I have no one to help me!” said Oiivia, bursting into very real tears. “You are cruel; you have deceived me!” The captain had not expected such an out- burst as this, He looked very solemn, and sat down beside her, and took her hand. **T could never make up my mind to bring you to poverty, Olivia,” he said, ‘‘and to see you suffering for my sake!” ** Ah, I see; it is because I am poor you leave me!” she cried. ‘No; it is because J am poor,” he answered. “Tecan bear poverty alone, but not for worlds would I drag you down intoits depths; I should be ashamed. it would be unjust, unmanly; and—and I feel the hour for tearing myself away from your too dangerous fascinations is come, and though my heart is breaking, I must go where duty calls me!” “To Miss Saville, I suppose?” retorted Mrs. Sutherland sullenly, with a sarcastic expression on her face. ‘‘ You never were the same to me since the day you first saw her. But if you marry her, will be revenged,” she added clinching her little hands convulsivel za will be revenged, were she twenty times’Gerard Grandford’s heiress!” She could have bitten out her tongue the mo- ment she had let these words slip out of her mouth; but they were said, and she had re- course to another fit of weeping. The — eyed her with a strange expres- sion, as she lay sobbing, with her face buried in the sofa-cushions; but suddenly a strange look of triumph spread for a moment over his face. “That is it, is it?’ he thought. ‘‘She has been deceiving me all this time, has she? But I have forced her secret from her at last!” “Olivia,” he said, at length, ert “you do me wrong. I knew of Miss Saville’s pros- pects—for that is all they can be called—but, as you well know, it is not she I would marry, but you, if I only could.” “ And—and—” sobbed Mrs. Sutherland. “T cannot! Oh, why do you add so cruelly to the pain of this, perhaps one of our last meet- ings for a long, long time?” he interrupted, q knock at this moment was heard at the front door. Olivia started up from the sofa, quickly il away her tears, and arranged her frills and laces, : “arly callers, I suppose?’ said Captain Kingsborough. a . Astor, my dear George—the million- aire’s wife. I knew the dear creature would call on me as soon as she arrived, and before any one else, and here she is!” he door opened, and a small, stout, over- dressed woman entered, whom Olivia embraced with rapture, during which performance Cap- Leni ieee fips ing everly managed to beat a re ‘‘T wonder whether my loss or Mrs. Astor’s not calling would inflict the greatest pain on her?’ he mused. ‘‘Gad! women are heartless creatures, certainly. Well, I shall leave to- morrow and go and look up the pretty heiress, I think I made an impression in that quarter last winter. I’m well out of this affair, although I confess her tears seemed so real that my heart felt quite soft whenI saw them. Poor Olivia!” The captain walked slowly - and down the promenade, wearing his most cheerful air; and a couple of hours later wrote a heartrending farewell to Olivia, which he took good care should not reach her till after he left Newport next morning. “Pshaw! gone to New York. Well, we shall see him back again in a few days, no doubt,” she said to herself, contemptuously, as she tossed the letter aside. Mrs, Astor having brought a large party of friends with her to her cottage, Olivia passed the next fortnight very gayly without findin time to be surprised that Captain Kingsboroug had neither come back nor written, and Mrs,
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10 -Astor invited her to visit her in her city home, and for the next two weeks she had hardly time to think of him again. “How strange! I used to think I could not get on without him,” she thought to herself, one evening when she was putting on a bracelet, his gift in former days. ‘I wonder what could ave made me so foolish? Henry Astor, though a widower, and not so good-looking as poor George, is really charming; and if his mother didn’t look so sharply after him, I believe he—” And Mrs. Sutherland smiled in a self-satisfied manner as she looked at herself in the glass. Sea air had certainly done wonders for her, She was looking infinitely better and younger than she had done a month before. CHAPTER V. HER FIRST LOVE. Grorrry Dumont had now quite established himself at Ryfield. He had taken rooms in the one little old-fashioned hotel the village pos- sessed; had brought down a capital team from New York, and appeared to have no intention of quitting bis comfortable quarters. On one or two occasions he made_ short visits to the city, and it was evident Mr. Grand- ford missed him sadiy during his absence, Even Celia felt glad when be returned. He was not her hero, it is true. He did not occupy the place in her heart or imagination that some one else did—some one whom she began to fancy had quite forgotten her; nay, who, perhaps, in spite of many soft speeches and fiattering words, whispered: on moonlight evenings beneath the myrtles and Olive-trees of the Riviera but a few months before, had never really cared for her, treating her only as he had done out of simple kindness of heart, when he had seen her hurt and put out by Mrs. Sutherland’s capricious temper or vexing ways we eg Kingsborough was Celia’s hero, not Geofiry Dumont. Nevertheless, when she gauged the worth of the two men, asshe sometimes did, she had to confess that in real sterling qualities Geoffry Dumont was *her hero’s superior. True, he lacked the. fascinating manners, the soft voice, the distingue air, that spoke of familiarity with the fashionable world, and that charac- terized the captain; yet he was infinitely more straightforward and trustworthy than his rival. Would Captain Kingsborough have spent hour after hour in whiling away the tedious hours for her grandfather, even for her sake? Would he have put himself to as much trouble and in- convenience as Geoffry often did to do her the slightest service? She knew he would not; but yet, for all that, she allowed herself to look on the captain as a brilliant star in her heaven, and on poor Geoffry as quite a lesser light. “Tam very foolish,” she thought, at the close of a long summer day, when her grandfather had been more irritable than usual, ‘Mr, Dumont is the only person I ever met who is always good to me; yet I am constantly say- ing eck things to him. Were it not for his care of grandfather, what should I do? Yet, for all the service he renders him, I give him nothing but sharp speeches. He is s0 g0od—so PUT TO A TEST, noble and kind! Why can not I behave better to him, I wonder? I feel ashamed of myself.” And she leaned back heavily in her chair, “T will try to behave better to him in the future,” she thought. “I ought to be obliged to him, I know, for telling me, or rather making me see, my faults in the quiet way he does. But I feel aggrieved at him instead. I will try hard to improve.” The day after this resolution was made, Celia was so gentle to the young man that he felt his heart full of hope and joy. One afternoon, as they were on the lawn before the study windows, Celia gathering a great bunch of roses from the laden trees, and Geoffry holding her flower-laden basket for her, the sound of wheels was heard on the gravel, and a carriage drove up to the door. A moment after, and the footman brought his young mistress a card. She blushed crim- son, and her hand trembled as she read the name engraved on it. “Captain Kingsborough! Fancy his being here!” she said, in a low, trembling voice. “T saw him two or three days ago at Alder- ton,” replied Geoffry, as if the captain’s arrival was a matter of no interest to bim. “You did, and you never told me?” cried Celia, biting her lips as soon as-she had let slip the words. ‘I suppose I shall have to intro- duce him to grandfatiher,” she added, in an un- steady voice. “Certainly, if you wish him to repeat his visit,” he replied, dryly; ‘‘and I shall go and prepare Mr. Grandford, I think I hear him moving.” She could hardly turn the handle of the door, so great was her agitation; and it was almost a relief to her when the captain greeted ber with bis usual polite manner, and with no particular effusion in tone or address. “ Delighted to meet you again, my dear Miss Celia! How well you are looking—really charm- ing! Allow me to tell you I think the air of your native place and the freedom and quiet of this lovely country suit you far better than the glare and noise and glitter of those foreign watering-places*we visited together with poor Mrs, Sutherland. “Poor Mrs. Sutherland! i li “at Celia, “ Wrong h, nothing. A little disa pointed, that’s all vowith an air of iiowing reticence, ‘‘ She rather imagined, I fancy, that I was going to remain at Newport all the season, She sometimes reckons a little without her host, and really seems to consider it to be my duty to remain forever at her elbow. She has been a beauty, you know, and expects everybody to worship at her shrine. Do you remember that night at Lorrento, how angry she was with us for leaving her?” ‘‘T remember it very well,” she replied blushing; and the captain, man of the world that he was, understood perfectly from her re- ply that during the months that bad passed since she had parted from him at Oldford Junc- tion, she had never forgotten him. The dis- covery flattered and charmed him, and he be- came more and more confidential in his manner What is wrong
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PUT TO A TEST, il to Celia, who, in the pleasure of seeing him, had | He will be hurt; and I-like him well enough not quite forgotten the existence of her grand- father or Geoffry Dumont, till she looked u and saw the eyes of the latter fixed on her wit a half-pitying, half-stern gaze. She started and turned crimson, How long had he been there? How was it she had not heard him enter? ‘* Excuse me,” she said, falteringly. ‘‘ Cap- tain Kingsborough, allow me to introduce you to Mr, Dumont, a friend of grandfather’s.” The captain bowed superciliously; Geoffry with icy coldness. He had seen the happy light in Celia’s eyes as she talked to the new-comer, and his heart had turned cold with a sickening despair. She had worn a smile for him that Geoffry bad never seen on her face before. Could it be true, what he had at times feared, tbat Celia’s heart was not her own? Was he too late? And was this roue man of the world, whose character he seemed to read at a glance, his successful rival? He controlled himself, however, and Celia nei her saw nor guessed at the agony he was suffering, as he said, in a quiet voice, ‘Mr. Grandf.rd asked me to tell you, Miss Saville, that he was ready to receive bis guest.” “Let me take you to my grandfather, then, Captain Kingsborough,” said Celia, eagerly, for she felt uncomfortable in Geoffry’s presence. “He is quite blind, and—and rather peculiar —an invalid, you know; and never leaves bis | study even when his most intimate friends call } on bim., You will not mind following me?” “It would be my delight to follow you to the ends of the earth!” he replied, gallantly; add- ing, in a lower voice, as he left the room, ** Where else could I find so fair a leader?” Captain Kingsborough soon made himself at home with Mr. Grandford. He soon discovered that the old man loved to talk over the tales and scandals of bygone days, and took an in- terest in those that were going on in the present time; and the captain, being well up in the gos- sip of fashionable society, had little difficulty in keeping his host amused for an hour or two, and left him, promising to return again in a day or so, at his pressing request. eanwhile, Celia had stolen away from the study to her own room, with a bappy heart. Her hero had not forgotten her after all, and after all it was not Mrs. Sutherland that he loved. Could it be that he loved her? The thought she felt to be almost an audacious one, for she had raised this poor idol of clay on such a high pedestal in her little heart, that she considered herself quite beneath him, and looked on any attention irom him as an honor. She saw him an hour later drive away, with- out having the courage to rup down-stairs and bid him - pea but as soon as the carriage was out of sight, a sudden revulsion of feeling caused her to burst into tears. “‘T shall never see him again, perhaps,” she | thought, Then the image of Geoffry Dumont rose be- fore her, and she remembered the sad, stern smile that she had seen on his lips when she left him two hours before in the drawing-room. Poor Mr. Dumont!” she thought. ‘I have left him alone all this time, hat a shame! to wish to burt him. Yes, I like bim a thou- sand times better than I did when he first came, and yet—” f She paused. She knew her liking for Captain Kingsborough was quite different to her liking for Geoffry Dumont; but still, as she thought of Geoffry’s many excellént qualities, of his kind- ness, gentleness, self-denial, and sweet temper, his handsome face and figure, she could not quite settle inher own mind how it was she found Captain Kingsborough so much his superior. ‘It must be that he has seen the world, and moved in better society than poor Mr. Dumont. Not that I do not like Mr. Dumont as grand- father once hinted. Quite the contrary. Still, there is a difference. But I must go down now, and see if grandfather wants me, and apologize to Mr. Dumont for leaving him alone so long.” She ran down-stairs to the study, bub looked around in vain for Mr. Dumont. “What! you left bim alone all the time I was talking to Captain Kingsborough?” cried Mr. Grandford. ‘{ suppose you thought he would dangle about alone till it pleased you to come to bim? Of course he’s gone home, and I shall have no one to read to me to-night.” “Can’t I?’ began Celia. “No, you can’t,” retorted Mr, Grandford. “The books are beyond you; you wuld stam- mer and stutter at every other word. But sit down now, and tell me all you know about this Captain Kingsborough; he’s an amusing man, full of talk, and has seen the world. Exce}lent family, too. I remember his grandfather, East- man Fordham, years ago—a great stock-gam- bler in his day. His father, Harry Kings- porough—l’ve seen him. I’ve heard there was some kind of engagement between him and your fine friend, Olivia Sutherland. Is it so?” | ‘ ‘“No; I think—I believe there is nothing in tho tale,” faltered Celia. “Oh, indeed—indeed!” replied the old man,’ musingly. ‘* Well, it is pleasant to meet a man of the world again in this out-of-the-way place.” “ There’s Mr. Dumont!” said Celia. ‘* A very clever, good fellow, my dear, but de- cidedly not a man of the world, in my sense of the word. A foreigner, too,” he answered. “Yes: that’s a pity. Americans are so much—” ‘ “Psha! What do you know about it, child?” interrupted Mr. Grandford, scornfully. ‘* Still, it is a pity Geoffry Dumont is notan erican,” CHAPTER VI. AN OLD FRIEND. “T sHALL lose her; she will really give her heart to that fortune-hunter—that base, heart- less fellow who bas stepped in between us,” thought Geoffry Dumont, a month later; “and he does not love her! It is only her fortune he wants. He believes she is her grandfather’s heiress, otherwise I am sure he would not wish to marry her.” Geoffry sunk into a deep fit of thought as he caught sight of Captain Kingsborough and Celia walking together across the garden and out into
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thelawn, He very seldom accompanied her on her walks now; the captain always managed to be beforehand with him. He was losing, too, his place in Mr, Grandford’s estimation, he felt. The captain’s racy stories and glib flow of gos- sip amused the old man far more than his more sober talk, and he felt that he was de trop in the study of an evening, where formerly he had been sucha welcome guest. Just at this time Geoffry received a letter from an old friend, a man of some distinction in art, who had come over to America for the autumn and winter, and faken up his abode in New York, begging hit fo come to town and pay him a visit. Geoffry hesitated to accept the invitation, though he longed to see his friend again. The thought of leaving Celia alone with her grandfather and Captain Kingsborough filled him with uneasiness. Besides, the doc- tors had decided to perform an operation for cataract on Mr, Grandford's eyes, and the old man had long ago made him promise to bs present. But things had now altered, and Mr. Grand- ford was quite willing to dispense with his com- pany. Captain Kingsborough had seen the same sort of thing successfully performed on an old brother officer, and had kindly promised to be with him. i Celia was of no use, and he was sending her to stay with a distant relative in a neighboring town; and if Mr. Dumont had business in New York, Mr. Grandford trusted he would not put himself out on his account. So a day or two later he called to say good-by to Celia and her grandfather. He found the former in tears, and hastened to inquire the cause of her grief. How he wished that his de- parture had given rise to it; but he knew bet ter now, and the hope that he had touched her heart had long ago faded away. Yet if Celia had only known—if she could only have im- agined or dreamed who and what he was, and why he had come to America and to Alderton; if she could but for a moment have looked into bis heart, and seen how deep and true his love for her was; how, from the first moment of their chance meeting in the hotel, he had felt his heart go out to her;—if she could have seen all this but for an instant, together with all be had dared to win her love, surely she would hay> felt, if not love in return, yet some sort of regard and pity for him. : {eat “What is wrong with you, Miss Celia?” he said, gently looking at her with pitying eyes. She rose from her chair, and dashed the tears from her eyes, “Why are you here?” she asked, almost an- ly. **Cannot I have my cry out in peace?” “Certainly. I did not mean to intrude; I only came to say good-by, Miss Saville,” he an- rwered, quietly. “That done, I will free you of my presence,” he added, bitterly. “Ob, forgive mel” she replied, repentantly. “Are you going, too, Mr. Dumont? I did not know it before.” : “No; my departure is rather sudden; but it will not be for long. Ishall probably ‘be here again in a month's time, or less.” “And I am to be away a month—a whole PUT TO A TEST. month, too,” she answered. ‘** Idon’t know how: I shall bear it.” He sighed. “Your grandfather thought it better for you to be away while the doctors are here and un- til he has recovered from the operation, I should have imagined you would have been glad! of a change.” “Why? I am quite happy as Iam. I did ths wish to be sent out of the house just— ust— And the tears rose to her eyes again, ‘*No; I can understand well enough why you do not wish to leave,” he returred, bitterly. “And why, pray?’ she cried, her cheeks flam- ing and her eyes sparkling. - “Do you think I am quite blind? Do you think I have no feelings?’ he returned, hotly. “Gan IE not see who it is that has come between us? Ah, how differently you have treated me since he has been here, Miss Saville!” ‘‘He? Ah, I presume you allude to the ca tain?’ retorted Celia, indignantly. ‘I think, unless I am making a great mistake, that Cap- tain Kingsborough was my friend before I ever had the pleasure of your acquaintance, and I dou’t think I ever gave you the right to—to speak in this way to me, Mr. Dumont.” “Perhaps not; no, I have no right,” he re- plied, quietly, bis anger dying out, ‘Yet we were friends once—before he came.” The disdainful accent he put on the word ir- ritated Celia. “ Acquaintances of very sbort standing, say’ rather,” she answered, sarcastically. “Celia!” he cried, such pain and grief in his: voice that her heart smote her, though outward- ly she preserved her cold, cruel demeanor. “Mr. Dumont!” she replied, in the same sar-- castic tone, hightened by a touch of surprise, ‘* Miss Saville, excuse me, if you looked on me all this time as a mere acquaintance, I am sorry both for myself and you. Good-by; Iam fool- ish for having intruded on your solitude, and I | will leave you,” he replied, sternly, his eyes fixed on hers. They fell before his gaze, and again she felt how cruel her words had been. She would have spoken, but in a moment more he was gone, and then sinking down again on her seat, she wept bitterly. Never perhaps had she liked Dumont so sin- cerely as at that moment, when she knew that she had wounded him to the quick. Never had she felt such regret for ber unkind words as she felt when she heard him crossing the hall. She knew his horse was at the door, and that in an- other moment he would be gone. She started up as if to rush after him and say a kind word before he left her, but she heard the trampling of the horse’s hoofs on the gravel, and he was off; it was too late, Twelve hours later and Geoffry was in New York with his old friend, who being a man of note had been introduced in the most cultivated circles in town, ° “You must come with me to-day, my deax Geoffry,” he said, ‘and call on Mrs. Olivia Sutherland. She—” “ Mrs, Sutherland!” said Geoffry, with a start,
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“T’ve heard a great deal of Mrs. Olivia Svther= land, and I should not have thought—” ‘That she was the sort of person 1 should ‘care for.” “You are quite right,” rejoined Mr. Barelo} “but she bas a charming country woman of ours staying with her, and—” “Oh! that alters the case,” replied Geoffry, with asmile. ‘ Let us go, by all means.” And the entrance of the servant, who came to announce that the carriage was at the door, prevented him from asking the lady’s name, “Mrs, Sutherland, let me introduce my friend, Mr. Geoffry umont,” said Mr. Barelo as they entered Olivia’s luxurious drawing- room. ss My dear Mrs. Lintoni, my friend Mr. Du- ‘mont.” Geoffry bowed in a preoccupied manner; his ‘eyes were fixed on the tall, delicate-looking wo- man whom his friend had addressed as Mrs. Lintoni. He recognized her at once, though they had not met for years, and at a glance he saw she recognized bim. “T think—yes—we have met before, Mr. Geoffry!” And she hesitated. *‘Geoffry Dumont!” he said, with emphasis. **'Yes, Mrs, Lintoni, I remember you well.” And he shook her hand. “Don’t say a word; I will explain!” he mut- tered, as Mrs. Sutherland turned to introduce some other visitors to Mr. Barelo. She nodded, and turned to speak to one of the tte while Mrs, Sutherland accosted m. ‘“Where have I seen you before, for I am sure I have seen you? My poor head is sad] bewildered to-day ” (and she sniffed at her smell- ing-bottle), ‘‘or I should remember— Ah! to -be sure!—I remember now; it was—” “At the —— Hotel, and afterward in the train, You were right, Mrs, Sutherland, you see, as to my being a foreigner.” And he laughed. ‘*¥es, I can tell an Italian at a glance, and have the greatest admiration for your country and countrymen. Sit down here beside me, Mr. Dumont, and te:l me how you find my country and countrymen, Where have you been all this time? And bow is it Ihave never met you in New York before?’ said Mrs, Sutherland with the most gracious volubility. “Because I have been in the country ever since the season began,” he replied. *Ah!Iremember! You got out at Oldford Junction, to be sure!” she answered, somethin telling her that it must be in the neighborhood of Alderton he had been staying. ‘“Yes; I have been at Ryfield,” he answered, “ and—” “And have you met my friends the Grand- fords, my darling Celia, the—” “Yes; I have been often at Cedar Grove, and have had the pleasure of seeing a good deal of the Grandfords,” he answered, while Mrs. Lin- ton looked at him for an instant with a glance of sharp inquiry, and then continued her con- versation with Mr. Barelo. “Indeed! And you admire dear Celia, of course: and she is the old man’s heiress, you PUT TO A TEST. 18 know. Hasshe many admirers? Is sheengaged to be married?” asked Mrs, Sutherland. “So much beauty cannot pass unadmired,” replied Geoffry, with agsmile; “‘ but I do not think Miss Saville is engaged. She is away ae now, visiting some friends; but Captain ingsborough is still in Alderton with her grandfather.” ‘“‘ Captain Kingsborough in Alderton!” cried Olivia, ber face flushing a little. ‘‘ And is he— is he likely to carry off the fair heiress?” “Ho! ho!” laughed General Paulet, a short, stout little man with a jolly face. ‘So Kings- borough’s heiress-hunting is he? That’s why we've heard nothing of him for so long, faith! He was bard bit at ree last spring. Wants to repair his shattered fortunes, I suppose.” “Kingsborough always was a sly dog,” laughed another. ‘Never looked at a woman unless she had money. What may Miss—the fair heiress’s fortune be—Mrs. Sutherland?” ‘*T don’t know—I can’t say,” replied Olivia, ‘“but she’s a sweet girl, and it’s a shame she should become the dupe of a fortune-hunter. He races, does he, general? How shocking! He deserves to lose his money. Poor Celia! But the old grandfather might alter his mind any day, and leave her nothing. Captain Kings- borough may be deceiving himself. He had better take care.” : “By Jove, my lady,” replied the general, “I don’t envy the poor girl who gets George Kings- borough for a husband, Men are selfish as a rule, but Kingsborough beats any man ever met. As to a heart—ho! ho!l—-if he has any—which I doubt—it must be but a very battered remaias. He’s always been making love to one woman or another since J’ve known him, and that’s for twenty years.” — ‘And what do you think of him, Mr. Du- mont?” asked Mrs, Sutherland, turning round. But Geoffry had left ber side, and was in close conversation with Mrs. Lintoni at the other end of the rooms, They were evidently old friends, ‘So he’s making love to that foolish girl, all for ber money!” said Olivia to herself, as, one after another, her guests having departed, she found herself alone, ‘‘And I was fool enough to believe be loved me six months ago, and to feel sorry when we parted! If 1 bad bad a for- tune that he could have got hold of he would have married me; as I had not, he threw me over. Most people would say it was a good thing for me he did so; but he hurt my feelings, and—and I will be revenged! He shall not marry that silly girl, I vow! I will prevent it!” Olivia then thought of the letter the captain had written her the day he left Newport. It was safe in a corner of her sandal-wood desk. She would manage to pay a visit to Alderton and Mtl the captain’s matrimonial plans if sho could, She was a frivolous little woman, but an ex- cellent hater; and the idea of paying out Cap- tain Kingsborough for deserting her was de- lightful to her to contemplate. **T only hope I shali not find her so infatuated with George that she will refuse to believe the evidences of her eyes and senses, and will vow that she believes he never really loved till he saw her, and all that rubbish, Faugh! how
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14 PUT TO A TEST, foolish girls are! But, at any rate, I will puta spoke in his wheel.” After making this amiable resolve, Olivia re- tired to her dressing-room, to be arrayed for a grand dinner-party at her friend, Mrs. Astor's, CHAPTER VII. THE TURN OF FORTUNE’S WHEEL. “So it seems you and Mrs. Liutoni are old friends, Dumont?’ said Mr. Barelo, as_ they drove away from Mrs. Sutberland’s. ‘‘ You bad a long conversation with her. Is she not charming? ‘It is many years ago that I met Mrs. Lin- toni. I wonder she recognized me,” said Geof- fry, in a musing tone, in reply. ‘‘I should have known her anywhere. Sheis little altered during the ten years that have elapsed since we met. But I was onlya boy of seventeen, Odd! —she says it was my voice, which she declares is like my mother’s, that recalled me at once to her memory.” ‘Ah, she was a friend of your mother’s, was she?” replied the other. ‘‘ That accounts for it. Ten years, and that beard that you take such tender care of must have sltered you consider- ably; but ten years have done little to mar Mrs, Lintoni’s beauty. I think often she throws many &@ woman much her junior into the shade.” “T can fancy it,” Sr ag Geoffry. ‘‘How artificial and made-up Mrs. Sutherland looked beside her; yet I guess they must be about the same age.” ‘ ‘“Hal ha! Mrs. Sutherland would not thank you for that speech, my dear boy. She looks on Mrs. Lintoni as quite her elder. Do you know that one-time, as 1 am told, she intended to marry the very Captain Kingsborough she and her friends were talking over this after- noon, but for some reason things came to a sud- den determination, and he cried off? Not, I suppose, that anything they said of him was harder than he deserved.” “T fear Celia—Miss Saville—would not agree with you,” said Geoffry, bitterly. ‘I think he has only to go in and win, and—” Mr. Barelo looked at him anxiously. ‘“‘Geoffry, my dear boy, how stupid I have been! Fancy my not seeing before—” “That I love Celia Saville? Yes; it is too true!” he replied, sadly. ‘And she prefers— she—but {£ cannot believe—” he began. ‘She has known Captain Kingsborough for months, She traveled with him and Mrs, Sutherland last winter. He has had the start of me, you see,” replied Geoffry, with a groan. ‘* But the man is simply seeking her fortune, Geoffry. You must stop him. You can— ou— ; “Yes; but would that give me her heart, Barelo? If I cannot gain that, why should i try and come between her aud the man she loves, and who peeiers loves her?” “Hum! her fortune, more probably. I’m a bad hand at giving advice in these matters; but I should say it would be a kindness if—” “No, no! I could not. I understand you, Barelo, but I feel it’s impossible!” sighed " Wail, you know best; but »—and he bright- ened up—‘“‘consult Mrs. Lintoni, my dear boy. Women can see further into these matters and understand them better than men. I conjec- ture, from what I saw to night, that Mrs, Lin- toni knows—” “Yes, or guesses, or divines—wbich is all the same—all about me. I will consult her, as you say; but, mind, I will do nothing to injure or distress Celia,” “Would it be injuring her, or the reverse?” retorted Mr. Barelo. ‘Believe me, Dumont, there is no life so miserable as that of a woman who finds the man she loves bas married her for greed. If you can save her from such a fate, do so,” “I will talk to Mrs, Lintoni; I can promise no more,” returned Geoftry, firmly. So Mr. Barelo let the subject drop, though he by no means put it out of bis mind. Mrs. Lintoni’s thoughts that evening, as she sat alone in her friend’s boudoir (she had de- clined Mrs. Astor’s dinner) ran much in the same groove as Mr. Barelo’s. She was quite unpre- pared for the news she was to hear next morn- ing, when Mrs. Sutherland, in her dressing- gown, her aut hair hanging in tangled masses over her shoulders, burst into the room where she was breakfasting alone, carrying a large black-edged, business-like letter in ber hand. “Oh, my darling Mrs. Lintoni!” she cried half laughing, half in tears—tears of joy and not of sorrow, however, as Mrs. Lintoni quickly perceived—* congratulate me. My old aunt— my mother’s sister—the one who made that dreadful, awful mesalliance, you know, fifty years ago—is dead, and has left me all her money-—-five hundred thousand dollars, Mrs. Lintoni, all made in soap-fat, of course. But I don’t care about that. hy, 1 shall be—I am— one of the richest widows in the city!” “My dear, I congratulate you, of course,” replied Mrs. Lintoni;—‘‘ but your poor aunt—” **Oh, it’s very sad; and I must, of course, put on mourning, much as I detest black, It is a color that doesn’t suit me a bit, but I needn’t keep it on for long. Oh, won't Mrs. Astor be sorry now that—that— But it won't be too late et. ve What a fortunate thing for me that aunt died just when she did!” ‘*My dear Mrs. Sutherland!” remonstrated Mrs, Lintoni. “Ob, I’m shocking you, I know,” continued Mrs. Sutherland, with a little laugh. ‘‘ But, really, you can’t expect me to care much for an aunt whom I have not seen since I was a child, and who disgraced herself by papareri pe the way she did, although it’s turned out a luck thing for me that she did. But I’m sure I sha get more pleasure out of her five hundred thou- sand dollars than she ever did, r old thing!” “Perhaps you will,” returned Mrs, Lintoni, with a smile; ‘‘ but such wealth is a great re- sponsibility, my dear. You have it your wer to do much good or ill with it” “Til? laughed the other; “‘ What harm can I possibly do to any one with it, you dear crea- ture? Tl promise to subscribe toa dozen chari- ties, if ha like, and you shall choose them— there! That will be doing good; and, as tomy friends, what patties I ahall be able to give!—
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PUT TO A TEST. By the way, Pve never ordered the blinds to be drawn down, or given the servants to under- stand I cannot see any one to-day, except, of course, my most intimate friends. Excuse me, dear, and I’ll just explain it to them.” All in a fluster and flurry, Olivia flew down- stairs to her morning-room, A sudden thought made her flush, and seat herself in an arm- chair, “Tecan punish him well now!” she thought. “He shall not marry Celia Saville, and I will not marry him! No, no; he’)l give her up soon enough when he hears of my good fortune, but I have higher game to fly at than Captain George now. ith such a fortune, even Mrs, Astor would not object to me as a daughter-in- law; and last year her son was willing enough— Oh, I made an impression there, I know, only his mother interfered, and he had to obey! Let me see; I think I'll go out of town in a week or so—run down to Alderton, and go over to Cedar Grove, and see if it is really true what that handsome young Italian said of George and the heiress, Gnd see what I can do to pay him out.” She sat some time longer in deep thought, a triumphant smile on her lips, and then she gave her orders and sat down to write some letters. A few hours later a note was brought to Mrs, Lintoni, She read it quietly through, wrote an answer, and then went up to her room, and put- ting on_her bonnet and cloak, went out alone, taking the direction of the park. ‘““What! Mrs, Lintoni has gone out?’ cried Mrs. Sutherland, as she woke up from an after- luncheon nap,-and rung the bell to ask where her friend was. ‘How inconsiderate of her when I can’t see visitors!|—except, of course, Mrs. Astor, if she should call, or—or Mr. Barelo, or Mr. Dumont,” she-added to the servant. Mrs. Sutherland had not very long to wait at home in solitude, however. In half an hour a carriage, with a driver and footman, drove up to the door, and Mrs. Astor was announced. ‘Your house looks positively funereal, Mrs, Sutherland,” she remarked, as she entered. Then noticing Olivia’s suddenly assumed air of grief, and observing that she held a tiny lace handkerchief to her eyes, she added, hastily: “But there is not anything really wrong, is there?” “ Alas! yes, my dear Mrs. Astor,” she replied. “My aunt, my only relation (though for family reasons we didn’t acknowledge her), is gone; she died yesterday.” “Dear me! I never knew you had an aunt living,” replied the other, curiously. ‘I never hee you speak of her.” “She was my dear mother’s only sister,” re- plied Olivia, sadly, ‘‘and she has shown her affection for me by leaving me all she has.” ‘‘Indeed! Dear me! How suddenly these things happen, my dear! It must have been a shock for you. But her fortune?” : “Tt is ample—more than ample to satisfy my small wants, dear Mrs. Astor!” replied Olivia, ‘Not that I, with my simple ways, require much, you know.” 4 “Hum !—perhaps,” replied her friend, who. as Olivia well knew, was dying to hear all about it, and to learn the exact sum, ‘‘ What might she have left you, my dear? Another 18 tnousand a year or so would make you very comfortable, and—” “ Ah! but it is more than that. And, as Mrs. Lintoni said this morning, great wealth is a responsibility.” “Great wealth?” said Mrs. Astor, raising her eyebrows. “Yes, great wealth; at least to a person with my humble ideas, dear friend. Five hundred thousand dollars.” “Five hundred thousand dollars!” cried the other, starting up. ‘‘My dearest child, I con- gratulate you!” “Tt may even be a little more,” continued Olivia, carelessly, after returning her embrace with warmth; ‘‘ the lawyers don’t quite know yet. There may be an odd thirty or forty thousand more, She had property to a large amount in the West, and its value has greatly increased,” “My dear, it’s splendid—princely, you know! My son has gone on a trip out West, and I ex- pect him back from there in a fortnight. It was to tell you this I came to see you to-day. We shall hope to have you at our home on the Hudson for a long visit this autumn, my love.” Olivia bowed and blushed, and said she would be charmed. Then added, hastily, ‘‘ This must be a secret between us for the present, my dear friend; till after the funeral, at any rate.” “* Of course, of course; quite right, my dear!” she replied. And after a few minutes of gossip, she rose to say good-by. “But haven’t you been out to-day, my dear? Put on your bonnet, and take a turn with me, It will do you good; and nobody has heard of your sad loss yet,” Olivia hesitated, but finally allowed herself to be persuaded, and was eel? seated in the carriage beside her friend. “Why,” she cried, as they turned into the Park, ‘there is Mrs. Lintoni walking with that ° handsome Mr. Dumont. That is why she stole out so quietly, then!” ‘What! you have that Italian woman stay- ing with you still, my dear?” said Mrs, Astor, “And who may Mr. Dumont be?” ‘*Oh, an Italian too; an old friend, I believe. You remember Miss Saville, who traveled with me last year—old Gerard Grandford’s heiress? He’s been staying with them lately, and I hear—” Olivia stopped suddenly. “Mr. Gerard Grandford! He inherited an immense property from his brother, and there was a queer story about his brother’s son, who ran away, and was never heard of again. A very good old family, my dear. Miss Saville is his heiress, I suppose? But what did you hear? You were saying—” “Oh, nothing, rl replied Olivia. “Only that Captain Kingsborough—” “ Odious man!” ejaculated Mrs, Astor, ‘* Don’t have anything to do with him, my dear; he is a fortune-hunter.” “And, in consequence, is making up to Ge- rard Grandford’s heiress, my pretty Celia,” laughed Olivia. But the laugh was not very genuine, as the | Quick-witted lady beside her saw. é
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| Sree ee 16 PUT TO A TEST. “No, child! No relation of mine should marry aman like Captain Kingsborough,” she continued. ‘I remember your pretty Celia, and I pity her.” ‘‘SodoI. But what could Mrs. Lintoni and Mr. Dumont have been talking of so earnestly? l never saw Flavia Lintoni look so interested before.” ‘‘Oh, exchanging the last New York gossip, I suppose,” replied the other. ‘There they are again!” cried Olivia. ‘Don’t they look as if they were hatching a conspiracy? Tl make Flavia tell me every word Mr. Du- mont has told her.” ““What, are you jealous? Has the handsome Italian made an impression on your tender little heart, child?” said her friend, with a touch of scorn. ‘But it’s curious,” she added, ‘‘ Who is it that he reminds me of, I wonder? Some one I have seen in the days of my youth—years and years ago.” ‘‘A chance resemblance, I fancy,” rejoined Olivia. ‘Possibly. Now here we are at your door, my dear, and now we must part. Ill come an see you on Friday.” ; ‘Adieu! A thousand thanks!” replied Olivia, tripping gayly into the house. ‘I don’t mean to be here on Friday, however, if I can help it,” she added to herself as the carriage drove off. “T am not afraid you will put any further hin- drance in my way of becoming your son’s wife, so I can afford to give a little time to pringing about George Kingsborough’s punishment. shall probably go down to Alderton on Friday. Ah, here is Mrs. Lintoni! Now to find out what was the subject of her conversation with Geoffry Dumont.” ‘*We were merely talking over old ti~es,” said Mrs, Lintoni, soberly, when Mrs. Suther- land rallied her on the earrestness of her face as she talked with Dumont. ‘I knew his mo- ther-—that is the = tie between us.” ‘“‘And he told you no more of Celia and George Kingsborough?” “Nothing new. He fears she loves him, and that he will marry her. I tell him he should not pang it.” ; = ow can he prevent it?” asked Mrs, Suther- and. ‘Well, he could marry her himself,” said Mrs, Lintoni, evasively. “Nonsense! Mr. Grandford would never permit it!” cried Olivia. ‘‘He has a hatred of foreigners!” “Tam not sosureof that!” was Mrs. Lintoni’s answer, CHAPTER VIII, FOREWARNED. MrAnwHILe, at Cedar Grove, the doctors had arrived who were to perform the operation by which they hoped to restore to Mr. Grandford the use of his eyes. Tt was successfully gone through, and it was hoped that if the old man would but have suf- ficient patience to remain for a certain time without removing the bandages from his eyes, the cure might be perfect. All the e Captain Kingsborough tended him carefully, and by his amusing conversation managed to keep bim quiet. He had prevailed on Mr. Grandford to allow Celia to return; and when Mrs, Sutherland, as she had threatened, arrived at Alderton, she was on the point of leaving the house of the friend with whom she had been staying and of returning to her home, When Olivia appeared in the homely little drawing-room of the old maiden lady, ber host- ess, her appearance gave Celia a thrill almost of pain. Why, she could hardly explain. There was a look of mischief in her eyes, an eagerness in her demeanor that made her divine she was. the bearer of some evil news, “ What ages it is since we have met, my dear’ Celia!” she said, after the first greetings were: exchanged. ‘I have often lenge to see you;; but I have been so much engaged, I found it ime- possible to get away. And now—but are we alone, yy dear?—I have something to speak to you about in private. Take me somewhere where we shall not be disturbed.” ‘* Let us go into the garden, then,” said Celia, her heart beating violently, _“* We are not like- ly to be interrupted there, Miss Cressey never goes out at this hour.” ‘“‘ Very well. How charming you are looking, Celia!—only a shade paler than usual. Whata lovely old garden! Let us seat ourselves here in the shade.” They sat down on a bench at the end of an avenue of lime-trees. ‘Celia, my dear child, it is for your good I have come down here. I have come to warn you!”—dropping her voice to a solemn whisper, _ “To warn me!—of what?’ asked Celia, with . _ an almost scornful smile. “Am I in any dan- . ger then, Mrs. Sutherland?” 2 “Certainly; in the greatest danger. I come, to warn you against the designs of a fortune-.. hunter—against George Kingsborough.” Celia turned pale, then flushed angrily, ‘‘ Who told you Captain Kingsborough, bad} designs on my fortune? Who has turned; you: against him—you, who used to be his friend,, and for whom he had such a regard?” she criedj. “His friend! Yes, I was his friend once, cer-. tainly, and I might have been more;,; but I learned in time his true character, and, dis- missed him. It was not me he loved, but: my money.” ‘He loved you!” cried Celia, starting.up,. “Certainly; or he said he did, and, Ij mig! it have been his wife by this time; butIciyenlat oq a report that if I married again hi shouliti for’ ‘eit my fortune, and he left me, nob, three. waalkr hes fore he came to you here.” { “But before, when we.were abroad" Gig faltered. “Pshaw! My dear, he was. making me all the time, He did not kos 7 dors days, Celia, that yqu,were.an heires vg 7 suppose, thought me the bestmateh. 3, , or a moment, there was silence. “Tean’t believe it—I: cool pid. Celia, slowly, breaking. in at length. . T think you ns Onis to.tell he | if you, mean to.tell nae-tbe ’ care Abbas one, I.dare say. you did apt really dear.” retorted Mrs. Sutherland are i peek nf
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PUT TO A TEST. 17 doubtihe makes love’ te you as goin and as easily as:he did to me; buf, for all that, he pre- tended to!love me; indeed, I have—” “But who told ‘you he—he loved, or pre- tended to loverme?”' faltered Celia. “Bah! We who know George Kingsborough —all his old acquaintances in town—can guess pretty well what'keeps' him for weeks at a dull place like Alderton;‘the' hops of making a rich marriage at last,” replied Mrs. Sutherland. “ Captain Kingsborough bas never said—has never proposed to me,” faltered Celia. ‘‘Ha! ha! but something very like it,eh? He - will doubtless get your grandfather’s perniis- sion first. He is far too clever to risk offending him in any way, for Mr. Grandford might alter his will any day, and if he did, believe me, my dear, your gallant captain would ‘ride away,’ as the old song says.” : At the mocking tones of her voice Celia’s an- ger rose. “T do not credit it,” she cried. ‘You are . only trying to tease and annoy me—to make me miserable, as you often did abroad, I donot see why you should try to blacken Captain Kings- borough’s character to me—” ‘Only because I have your true interests at heart, my dear,” interrupted Mrs, Sutherland, < eoldly. he Tdon’t believe you have; it is for some other - reason—I—I can’t tell why,” she retorted. ‘* You always tried to keep us apart, but I know that _if you bad let him—” “ He would bave made love to you whenever “my back was turned—I can quite believe that, Celia: and if my eyes had been more open to his “vices and deceitfulness, then I should not have }permitted him to be so intimate with us. But \what I have told you is true, and I would not mind staking my fortune that if I were to tell (Captain Kingsborough the truth concerning my money, he would throw you over and come back to me.” “Phere would be no throwing over in the case,” eried Celia, with tears in her eyes. ‘‘ Do not go away with the idea that—” “hat George Kingsborough loves you, cer- tainly mot, my dear—be is not capable of it; and it is of that [.come to warn you. But I can see plainly. enough, my poor child, that you love im. Celia blushed eximson. ‘You are cruel, very cruel,” she began. “No; Lamnotcrpel. If can save you from ‘him I shall have done you a great kindness,” she replied. ‘ At any rate, as Captain Kingsborough has not at present proposed to me, it issurely unne- ‘eessary to discuss this most unpleasant subject longer, Mrs. Sutherland,” replied Celia, coldly. “* Let us go back into the house.” ‘* Well, forewarned is forearmed,” said Olivia. **-You know what sort of man you have to deal with, and— ‘Excuse me; I still think you are mistaken in Captain Kingsborough. He is a gentleman and a man of honor,” “Pshaw! Say rather a horse-racer, a gam- bler, anda fortune-hunter! I wish I had brought his letter with me, Celia—the letter he left for me when he went off from Newport; but I did not think you would have been so unbelieving,” retorted Olivia. ‘ Well, ’'ve done my duty, and warned you, and if you choose to throw ourself away on him, I can’t prevent you. erbaps your grandfather—” ‘Grandfather thinks Captain Kingsborough a perfect gentleman!” replied Celia, loftily. ‘How long do you stay here, Mrs. Sutherland? My grandfather’s eyes are so much better, that I return to my home this evening,” said Celia, as they passed in at the garden gate. ‘Oh, to-morrow or the next day I must go home! By the way, lam an heiress now, ina small way. My aunt has died and left me her small fortune. Don’t tell George Kingsborough that, though, Celia; I don’t want to be troubled with him again. Good-by, my dear!” And kissing her hand as she lanched this part- ing shaft at ~~ Celia, Olivia departed. “ Detestable woman!” muttered Celia, stamp- ing her foot angrily. ‘She has said all this to hurt me, and because, I suspect, Captain Kings- borough did not propose to her. And yet—yet —it is very odd—there are sometimes things - about him that make me doubt if—” Celia walked back to the house in silence. . She had been now some three weeks or a month; without seeing Captain Kingsborough, and had had time to think over matters, and to contrast: his conversation and manners more fully with: those of Geoffry Dumont, not elways to the for-- mer’s advantage, and in her more sober moments: she would wonder what made her prefer him to: the latter. She was to return to Cedar Grove that after- noon, and it wanted but ashort time to the hour’ appointed for starting; so she re-entered the Lot song and began to prepare herself for her rive, “Good-by, my dear! How — you look!” said her old friend, as she bid her adieu. “TI. could almost fancy you were sorry to leave me’. and my dull little house.” ‘* And ! am, dear Miss Cressey,” replied Celia. “T have had such a peaceful time of it here; but I must set to work again, you know.” “Ah, yes! We have all work to do, and your grandfather is a great charge, I know, my dear. Well, good-by! My compliments to Mr. Grandford, I hope his sight will be re~ stored.” So Celia ‘seated herself in the big carriage with the fat old carriage-horses, and soon found sae again at the gates of her grandfather’s place. : Her heart beat quickly as they drew up at the door of the house. Would Captain Kingsborough be there to meet her, or not? } He was not there, and for an instant she imagined he might have left, but the sight of his hut and coat in the hall reassured her, “The master.is sleeping, miss,” said James in answer to her inquiries after her grandfather, ‘‘He is better, and in a day or two is to be allowed to remove the bandages from his eyes. Celia turned away with a feeling of great thankfulness, not only for the probable restora- tion of her grandfather’s sight, but also for the influence it would have on her own life, How
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18 much more easy and peaceful her existence would be when her grandfather should no longer be in coustant want of her services! She walked out into the garden, wondering where Captain Kingsborough was, and walking down a long avenue of thickly-growing, closely- clipped cedars the sounds of voices came to her ears, on the other side of it. “Yes, sir,” were the first words that fell on her ear, and the voice she recognized as the voice of her grandfather’s secretary, a man she had never liked; ‘‘ 1 should say the whole prop- erty is worth ten thousand a year. Butit would bring in balf as much again if Mr. Grandford would follow my advice. The factory, sir? Wby, it’s letat a monstrous low rent, and there’s two or three more investments almost thrown ovens Celia wondered whom the man was addressing. Was it Captain Kingsborough?—and could he be really a fortune-hunter, as Mrs. Sutherland had said/—and was he trying to find out the exact amount of the wealth she was to inherit? “The carriage has come in, sir,” went on the secretary; ‘‘so the young Jady must have re- turned, and you'll be wishing to see her; so good- evening, sir!” He moved off, Celia blushing scarlet at the tone of his voice, and rushing down a side-path lest he should discover they had been over- heard, or that the captain (if it were Captain | wh Ep mal he had been speaking to) should find her, She reached the house, however, without meeting him; and it was not till she entered the drawing-room, dressed for dinner, that they met, is greeting was a mixture of tender warmth and deferential respect that could not fail to touch Celia and banish from her heart the sus- picions that had found rest there. Where was there another so gallant, so attentive, so fae>i- nating and clever as George Kingsborougu? Surely he must be true also! Mr. Grandford seemed well pleased at his granddaughter’s return—pleased, too, to hear her chatting so pleasantly with his friend. Once or twice he began muttering to himself, as he often did; and Celia overheard the words, “A capital match for her—good old family— she could not do better.” And she felt a rush of joy in her heart, Her grandfather, at any rate, did not think Captain Kingsborough a fortune-hunter, Indeed, Mr. Grandford treated him with an amount of confidence and cordiality that aston- ished Celia, accustomed as she was to his repel- lent manner. He called him several times b his Christian name, talked to him of family af- fairs about which she knew nothing; and she found herself wondering how it was that he had gained such an influence over the stern old man, As days passed on she wondered yet more at what she saw, and fancied she often detected an air of possession about the captain that vexed her; but the next moment the impres- sion would be obliterated by some word or look that made her reproach herself for her sus- pee, and wonder at the hold Mrs, Suther- d’s words had taken of her, PUT TO A TEST. A letter reached Captain Kingsborough about this time that made him look grave. e read it over twice and pondered deeply. “Do you know, Miss Saville, that our old friend, Mrs. Sutherland, is in trouble? I hear vn has lost her aunt—almost her only rela- on. Celia started and blushed scarlet. “Only fancy my forgetting to tell you! > was so happy at getting home again I forgot everything else, so you must forgive me. But Mrs. Sutherland was in Alderton the other da and came to see me, She told me of her aunt’s death.” ‘“Jndeed! And—and I see my friend Roy- son says the old lady has left her all her money.” “Yes, she told me; all her little fortune, she said,” returned Celia, uneasily. “Indeed! I wonder howmuch? Mrs, Suther- land is poor, and extravagant; it will be a god- send to her!” said the captain. ‘‘ Did she tell you what the amount was? Royson speaks as if it were a large sum.” ‘She said not; and I did not inquire further, as it was not a matter of interest to me,” re- turned Celia, coldly. ‘OF course not; neither does it matter to me,” he rejoined carelessly. But he read the letter again, and then put it carefully away. “Vl find out all about it. Tll ride over to Alderton this very day,” he thought, ‘‘and write to old Paulet for all the particulars, if.I can’t see Olivia herself. He knows everything, and will be sure to be able to tell me.” CHAPTER IX. PLAYING FOR HIGH STAKES. ACCORDINGLY the next morning saw Captain Kingsborough on bis way to Alderton, eager for an interview with Olivia; but early as he set out, he found her just stepping into the pouriege that was to take her to the station, where was to catch the first train to town, “Captain Kingsborough, I do declare!” she cried, facing him with a playful smile on her face. ‘*Well, how goes it with the heiress? Am I to congratulate you?” ““T—I hardly know what you mean,” he fal- tered; ‘‘ but if you allude to—” “Hush! bush! no names; but of course I do,” she returned, He shrugged his shoulders. “What foolish story have youbeen listening to?” he asked. ‘I only heard yesterday that you were at Alderton, or I should have been over to see you and to congratulate you, Olivia.” She looked at him sharply. ““What on? Oh, the little bit of money m poor aunt left me, Nonsense!—it is not wort! mentioning, Captain Eeingsborongt Well, I must be starting, or I shall lose my train. Good- “ Let me see you off; it will be quite like old times,” he said, imploringly. He was not yet quite convinced of the small- ness of her aunt’s legacy. ‘Oh, yes, if you wish; there is a seat for you,” she replied, ‘
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PUT TO A TEST. And before George Kingsborougn saw the train start for New York, she had managed to throw dust into his eyes most completely, and to convince him that she was not worth giving up his designs on the heiress for; while she had discovered exactly how far things had gone between him and Celia. “T can save her and balk bim,” thought Olivia, “and I will do it. What a mean creature he is! One word from me, and he would have left that poor foolish child to ery her eyes out about him! But she has common-sense enough, and when she reads a little note I will send her, will surely understand his true character.” “It’s no use thinking of her any more,” mut- tered Captain Kingsborough to himself, as he rode home. ‘1 must speak to old Gngndford, and settle matters at once; of course he’ll give Celia something on her marriage, and I sha’n’t have long to wait for the rest. The old fellow may recover his sight, but it’s easy to see he’s breaking up fast.” Next day Captain Kingsborough put his plans into execution, and without much beating about the bush, asked Mr, Grandtord for his grand- daugbter’s hand. ‘*T love her devotedly,” he said; ‘‘ and I shall do allI can to make her happy. I am not a rich man, but bave enough for us both, and if I have your consent to speak to her, I do not think TShanl be refused. Money is a secondary consideration with me. We can speak of that if you please, after I have made myself sure of her affections,” “Very good—very good,” said the old man, rather sarcastically. ‘* Pleasure first, and busi- ness afterward. 1 don’t say, however, that you are wrong. And you think that Celia is not disinclined toward you? There is no great con- fidence between us—my fault, 1 fear—so I must trust to your judgment as to that; but you have | my consent,Captain Kingsborough; and as Celia is not accustomed to go contrary to my wishes, I have no doubt when she hears that I approve, she will accept you.” * And we will talk about money matters and so forth afterward, I suppose?” said the cap- tain, hoping the old man might be led into ex- plaining his intentions toward Celia more fully. “Certainly; as I said before, there is no hurry about that. Make it all right with the young lady first, Kingsborough, and the rest will follow.” “Then I'll go and look for her, sir, with your permission,” replied the captain, gayly. ‘I dare say I shall find her in the morning-room.” **Go, and good luck go with you. If she won’t listen to reason, bring her to me, Kingsborough. I know how to manage ber. Ha! ha!” laughed the old man, as he rubbed his hands gleefully together. “Good!” he chuckled; “the ver match for her! But will she take him? He's somewhat old for a girl of ber years, ‘* Margaret was but two hr my junior, I re- member. Ab!” and he hid his face with a groan, “he can’t love the girl as I loved Margaret, not he; but he’ll make her a good sort of husband and I shall see her settled in life before I die. half thought Geoffrey Dumont might have been her fancy; but he’s a foreigner, and my prop- erty should never have been his!” 19 In vain Captain Kingsborough searched for Celia that afternoon. She was neither in the morning-room nor drawing-room, nor in the garden; and though he wandered far out through the park into the village, he could not find her. She had gone out, the servants said, some time before, and had not returned, She had gone out, So far, they were right; but she had returned with a letter given her by a postman, and had retired with it to her own room to read: and when Captain Kingsborough was searching for her through the grounds, she was sitting hidden in her own little dressing- room in a passion of grief and 1 ee The letter was from Mrs, Sutherland, and along with it she had inclosed a note: “Tsaw you did not believe what I told you about George Kingsborough the other day, my dear Celia,” she wrote, “Iam sorry to hurt your feelings, but I implore you to read the letter 1 inclose, and by no means to give yourself to the captain before your andfather has read both my letter and the note I nclose. I think my duty to you ond to him who trusted you to my care requires me to ask this of you. With a trembling hand, and hot, flushed cheeks, Celia had read the note sent her, At the first glance she perceived it was from George Kingsborough, and of very recent date; and when she laid it down, a rush of shame and de- spair filled her soul. Hither Captain Kings- borough did not love her, and sbe had been de- ceiving herself with false hopes, or he loved only her fortune, and it was to gain it that he was striving so earnestly. She read it again, and a sickening feeling of disgust filled ber heart. Then she laid her head on the sofa-cushion and wept bitterly. She took up the note again. Surely the ex- ressions it contained, though warm, were not eyond the warmth of friendship? There was no word of marriage in it, There was regret at parting, and protestations of never-dying af- fection and regard. Nothing beyond, except that the writer hinted he had once hoped they might have some time been more than friends; but that, Celia thought and tried to persuade herself, might have been a long, long time ago, She puzzled and pondered. It was hard to drag down from its pedestal the idol she had set up, to see in the brilliant man of the world she had looked on as a hero nothing but a deceitful, designing fortune bunter. She felt crazed with doubt and uncertainty. Was Mrs. Sutherland laying her false, or was George Kingsborough? Bhe began to doubt both, Then she thought of Geoffry Dumont. If it had been he, there would have been no one to dispute her love with her. There was no doubt of his truth and honesty; no suspicion had ever been cast on if. She sat thinking, sadly enough, looking out of her window, till she saw pi co Kings- borough coming toward the house, looking cross and tired, just as the dressing-bell rung. *““What! you couldn’t find her?’ she heard Mr. Grandford say, as she entered the dining-room, “‘ Ab, here she is! Where have you been biding, child, all the afternoon, leaving us to ourselves in this way?” ‘*T have had a—a headache, and have been in »>
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20 PUT TO A TEST. my room all the afternoon. Did you want me, grandfather?” she replied. ‘‘A headache! Iam so grieved!” began Cap- tain Kingsborough. “A headache! Bosh! Well, we’ve got some- thing to say after dinner that will take away her headache, George, haven’t we?’ laughed the old man. Celia paled, and looked from one to the other, and met the captain’s eyes. “T trust so,” he said, meaningly, while Celia ees her arm, as usual, to her grandfather, and ed him to his seat. There was an understanding ‘between the two men she plainly saw; and if Captain Kings- borough did propose to her, she saw that her grandfather expected that she would accept him at once, She spoke little during dinner, but the two gentlemen kept up the conversation briskly. There was something, however, in their tone that jarred on Celia’s overwrought and sen- sitive nerves, and she felt a feverish impa- tience for the meal to be over, so that she might make her escape. But no such luck awaited her. Scarcely bad the dessert been put on the table, and the ser- vants left the room, when, on rising to depart, she was bidden at once, by Mr, Grandford, to remain. “Faith, Celia! you must not be too cruel,” he ‘cried. “Here has George Kingsborough been Jooking for you all the afternoon, and you have ‘been hiding yourself from him, Now you are iyere, my dear, he has something to say to you. Eh, George?” “il have, sir,” faltered Captain Kingsborough, who, however, rather shrunk from proposing to Celia before her grandfather, ‘‘ but if Miss Celia would prefer to wait till to-morrow to hear what I have to say—” “Wait till to-morrow! What is the use of patting it off, George? I'll tell her if you like. hhy friend, Captain Kingsborough, has done you the honor of offering you hishand. He wishes you to be his wife, Celia.” Celia turned pale. “Well, George, haven’t you a word to say now. You seem quite flustered! Do you want me to do all the love-making for you?” he con- tinued, with almost ferocious jocoseness. “Speak, man, or I shall think—” “Tam afraid we have frightened Miss Celia, ‘sir, by oy sning the subject so suddenly,” said Captain Kingsborough, his brow darkening. ‘*T should have preferred to speak to her—” “By moonlight alone, I suppose?’ sneered Mr. Grandford, who appeared to be in one of his most eccentric moods. “I did not think you were so sentimental, George, or—” “But,” continued the captain, “‘as you have broached the subject so openly and unexpected- ly, I will speak to Miss Saville before you. She must have seen how dear she is to me, and will not be rised to. hear that my first and reatest wish is to make her my wife—that I . love her—” “Is it so?j—can that be true?’ asked Celia, abruptly lifting up her pale face, and looking the captain steadily in the eyes, eee “True? Can you doubtit, Celia?” he replied, fervently. “ eg long ago—last winter, when we were abroad, longed to tell you what I am telling you now, only—” “Only what?” asked Celia, in the same tone, “Only I thought it best to secure your grand- father’s approval and consent before I did so,” he replied, after an instant’s pause. ‘“*Ts this so, sir?’ she asked, calmly turning to her grandfather. “Ts it so? Listen to the girl!” eried Mr. Grandford, half in anger, balf in surprise. “Yes; it is so, Celia, nd I have given my consent and approval; and I tell you, my dear, I consider you a fortunate girl.” ‘* But—” began Celia. “But what?” cried Mr, Grandford, ‘TI will have no nonsense; I—” “But let Miss Celia speak, I beg,” said the captain, in an agitated voice, ‘She will not keep me in suspense longer than she can help, I know, for lam sure she feels that suspense is very painful to me.” : here was a real tone of anxiety in his voice that touched Celia’s soft heart, and for a mo- ment she thought of setting his mind at rest, and settling the whole matter by consenting to throw in her lot with his for weal or woe; but Mrs. Sutherland’s words of warning came back to her forcibly, and she checked herself, ‘*T must ask for time to consider,” she said, slowly. ‘‘As you say, Captain Kingsborough this has come upon me rather suddenly. I did not expect it, believe me,” she continued, hur- riedly, seeing the expression of real disappoint- ment that gathered on his brow. ‘I feel the honor, the compliment you have paid me, and am far from indifferent to your kindness; but yet—I can only beg—give me time to think of “Just like a woman!” sneered Mr, Grand- ford. ‘Doesn’t know her own mind! Time, indeed! Haven’t you had time enough?” “Certainly not. Oh, grandfather—Captain Kingsborough, do not burry me !” she cried. “Of course not, Miss Celia; your will is my law,” replied Captain Kingsborough, gallantly. ‘*Mr, Grandford, you will agree with me, am sure, that we should do as Miss Saville wishes,” : ‘* And when does my fanciful fine Jady think she will be able to know her own mind?” asked the old man, scornfully. “Tn ten days,” replied Celia, quietly, without noticing his tone. ‘* You will give me till then, Captain Kingsborough?” “If you say so, I cannot refuse, much as I feel the disappointment,” he replied. I had so hoped and believed that— But I will not urge ou.” + And he turned away; while Celia, without another word, left the room. There was still a great doubt in her heart. She did not believe it was to secure her grand- father’s consent he had refrained from speaking to her when they were in Italy, Some other m Otive had restrained him, —_——: By,
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PUT TO A TEST. 21 CHAPTER X. THE RIGHTFUL HEIR. Tu doubt grew and strengthened itself as the next few days passed slowly on. Captain Kingsborough was more gloomy and silent than usual, and although he lost no opportunity of making her gallant and pretty speeches, there was an uneasiness in his manner that she could not put down to his suspense as to what her an- swer to him would be, Meanwhile, the doctors had allowed Mr, Grandford for a short time each day to remove the bandages from his eyes. The operation had been successful, and after a year of darkness he beheld once more the light and the world around him. , ‘Well, Celia,” he said, as on the appointed morning his granddaughter entered his study alone, bolding in her hand the letter she had re- ceived from Olivia, and Captain Kingsborough’s note, ‘‘ you have come, I presume, to show me those mysterious letters you spoke of, and which have prevented you, as you tell me, from ac- cepting George Kingsborough. Ah! from that fool, Olivia Sutherland! 1 thought as much. She set her cap at Kingsborough, as every one knows. But whatis this?” And his brow darkened for an instant as he read George Kingsboroughb’s name at the bottom of the letter Celia banded to him. ‘* You see it cannot be that he really loves me, grandfather, when only a few weeks before he came here he was in love with Mrs. Sutherland, I’m afraid it is only—only because he believes I am your heiress he wants to marry me.” Mr. Grandford was silent for a moment, and then burst out with an angry oath. “It is that idiot—that spiteful little idiot— who has done all the mischief,and set you against Kingsborough. Here,take these letters and throw them into the fire. Iam a fool to have wasted my time and ayoaaht over them. Kingsbor- ough is a gentleman, and loves you as much and more than you deserve. Put all this jeal- ous nonsense out of your head, and behave like a girl of sense. Give me my shade again; the Hans hurts my eyes.” ‘or a moment Celia hesitated. ‘Grandfather, I cannot marry him!” she burst out at length. ‘‘I do not believe he is true, There is something about him that makes me believe he is deceiving me. Ob, how could I ever have fancied I cared for him?” And at that moment Celia felt that her idol was, indeed, but an idol of clay. “Ob! so you have changed your mind, have you?” retorted Mr. Grandford with cutting sar- casm. ‘Just likea woman! You lead on m friend Kingsborough, and then for a foolis whim or fancy you throw himover. Now, once for all, I tell you, whether you be my heiress or not—” : ‘‘She is not your heiress!” said a calm voice beside him, And starting with a sudden terror, Celia per- ceived a tall, graceful-looking woman, dressed in black, standing close to her grandfather's chair, and behind her a figure, so like the por- trait in the picture-gallery, she had in former days playfully called the Prodigal Son—the picture of her cousin, Christopher Grandford— that she stood struck dumb with amazement. There was a deep silence for a moment, and Celia could hear her grandfather’s long-drawn ‘ breathing. Ph na gang fue eel dangrily, “1 u at, you here?” he cried angrily, eave the room at once! Go!” he added. And tearing the shade from bis eyes, again he faced his unexpected visitor. _, No look of recognition betrayed ‘that he had any prevons acquaintance with her. _, “Who are you?” he asked, his breast héavimg. “Who are you who dare to speak such wortiss in my presence? You have never seen meé'bee- fore. * ©¥ouw are right, sir,” she replied, coldly¢; + but here is one whom you cannot fail to recog-* nize. the old man turned round. As he caught ‘ sight-of her companion, a ghastly change came ! over his face. “Christopher!” he muttered, ‘‘ Christopher * Grandford! my nephew—after all these years!” ' “Not your nephew Christopher, but his son’ Geoffry!” he answered in a voice that made Mr. Grandford start again. “Pardon me be- cause I came to you using only my mother’s name. I came with a@ purpose!” ‘*Doubtiless,” interrupted the old man, a bit- ter laugh issuing from between bis white lips, “Your purpose was not far to guess—to ruin me and turn me out of house and home, and jlaim the property I have always believed to be mine—” “That you have always chosen to call your own!” put in the lady, calm}y. “T am Mrs, Lintoni, Mr. Grandford — Emile Dumont’s cousin! We have never met, but wa have cor- responded before,” A burning flush passed over the old man’s brow, His secret was about to be made public: —the secret he had buried so deeply that he be- lieved it would never rise again to confront bim:. “Your proofs!” he muttered, looking at Geof- ry. “‘Thave ample proofs of who I am, sir, and} am prepared to show them to you if you wish: it! But do not think I come here with the; desire or intention of wresting from you the: property you have so long looked upon as; your own. No;1 am your nephew’s son—. our own flesh and blood, sir! 0 you think: would wish to bring disgrace and dissension . on the family?’ Mr. Grandford looked from one to the other - as if stupefied. “ But why did you steal into m a false name?” he muttered. “I nephew; if—” ‘“*T will explain it all, sir,” replied Geoffry, eagerly. ‘‘ Believe me, no ill-motive actuated me, would not for worlds do a mean or dis- honorable action; but—” And he hesitated, and Mr, Grandford laughed coldly and cynically. “And you expect me to believe all this— to believe that a poor needy adventurer, com- ing for the first time to the land of his fathers, with full proofs, as he declares, of his claims to the family property, will drop these claims house under - you are my,
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and give up these rights for the sake of a miserable old man who has knowingly” (and he emphasized the word) ‘‘kept him out of them—for I did know of your existence when I took my place here as head of the family, though, year after year passing away without your appearing to disturb me, I had grown to persuade myself that you were dead, and I really what I called myself, the owner of m brother’s property. Now you know atl—all that I, or this lady, whom [ also believed dead, can tell you of me, and you will perceive that you are not bound to me by any ties either of gratitude or affection! Produce your proofs, sir. and when you have done with the lawyers —for I will fight my cause out to the end, bad as it is—you can have the pleasure of turning me and my granddaughter out of bouse and home, and exposing my perfidy—as I sup- pose the world would call it—to the public!” *“Do not speak so, sir!” replied Geoffry, quietly. ‘‘ As I have told you, [ have no in- tention of disturbing you, and if you have done me an injury, I freely forgive it. Will you believe me, uncle, and give me your love and confidence, instead of mistrusting me, as I see you do?” And Geoffry held out his hand to the old man. ‘““What!” he muttered, drawing back. ‘To save the family honor will you give up your claims, and—and—” ° “T have no need of wealth,” repiied Geoffry. ‘In Italy, uncle, I have estates inherited from my mother to which your property will not bear comparison. 1am neither poor nor an ad- venturer; I have no need of the money you enjoy. It was not even to claim it that [came to Americas Until I saw Miss Saville, I had no idea of making myself known to you. Now, love for her, and the hope of saving her from what I would look on as worse than death or poverty, has induced me to declare myself.” “Celia! I had forgotten her,” muttered the old man, hardly looking at Geoffry. “You have promised her hand to George Kingsborough?’ continued Geoffry. * Ay, and you love her?’ said Mr. Grandford. “T do,” replied Geoffry. “My word is given,” replied the old man firmly; ‘‘and if you are a Grandford, you will understand that it cannot be retracted.” “ But if Miss Saville refuses?” said Mrs, Lin- toni softly. “*Then—” began Mr. Grandford angrily; but in a moment his face changed. ‘Ab! she is not my heiress now.” “She is your heiress as long as I do not claim the property, sir,” replied Geoffry; ‘‘ but 1 tell you plainly that it was to prevent this mar- riage, if possible, I came bere to-day, George Kingsborough does not love Celia. It is her money he cares for. He isa ruined gambler and spendthrift, sir, and no happiness to Celia could come from a marriage with him, though I fear” (and his face fell) ‘‘she loves him.” “And how do oe De eo to prevent this marriage?’ asked Mr. Grandford, with a touch of sarcasm in his voice. ‘In love and war all a are fair, they say; but—” 'o me the method is a simple one enough,” PUT TO A TEST, replied Geoffry quietly. ‘‘You have given your word to Captain Kingsborough, May I ask you if you have also given him to understand Celia is your heiress?” “‘Waith! the world knows, or fancies it knows, that,” laughed the old man harshly; ‘‘ but we have had no talk about money matters yet. He put that off till after the betrothal should have taken place.” “Good!” cried Geoffry. ‘‘Then all is clear steering before us. You bave only to tell Cap- tain Kingsborough that Celia is not your beir- ess, and he will soon find an excuse for ridding you of his company and giving up his preten- sions to Celia’s hand.” “Good Heaven, sir! do you believe him to be such a wretch?” cried Mr. Grandford, ‘If I thought so— But no; it is impossible.” “Try, and you willseeIam right. It is the only favor Lask of you. IfIam wrong, thena week at most will see me on my way back to Italy, and I shall never trouble you more.” There was a long silence, broken at last by Mr. Grandford, who spoke in a strangely soft- ened tone, “Tf all you say as to your intentions, as well as to your identity—and I do not. doubt the lat- ter—is true, you are a wonderful man, sir; but the proofs—let me see them.” “ Certainly,” replied Geoffry. ‘‘Mrs. Lintoni has the marriage-certificate of my father and mother, sir, which my mother sent her to take care of when she went to India with my father, As hee are aware, he died, and reliable proof of his death was given you, as also of my ex- istence.” Mr, Grandford moved uneasily, and seemed about to speak, but Geoffry went on: “From Mrs. Lintoni you had this informa- tion, and you promised her, in this letter, to spare no pains to find us; and three years later, when she returned to Italy, after a long absence, she heard that my mother was dead, and that [ had left Naples with a stranger. She concluded I had gone to America and to you; instead, I was traveling almost in igno- rance of my father’s history, and of my rela- tives in America, till, among my father's papers—wbich I, as my poor mother had, most religiously preserved—I found the whole history of his life, and learned who I was, I let a year or two pass without starting to visit the land of my father’s birth; then a yearning to see the place that he had known and loved as a boy, and to make acquain- tance with the places he spoke of in bis letters, seized me, and last spring, only a few weeks before I came here, sir, for the first time, [ started for America. Here, sir, are the letters my father left.” r. Grandford took them up one by one, and slowly perused them, his face stern and cold, while Mrs. Lintoni and Geoffry sat silently by, watcbing him. “Tt is well,” he said at last, ‘‘ You are my great-nephew, Christopher’s son, and 1—” “You are owner of Cedar Grove, and my father’s uncle,” replied Geoffry, firmly. “And Celia—” began Mr. Grandford. - “She must on no account know who lam,” cried Geoffry, eagerly, ‘‘I love her, and you
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PUT TO A TEST. Ca ee ge know, sir, how strong and unchangeable the love of a Grandford is. f she marry this George Kingsborough (which Heaven forbid) you will hear and sne little more of me. Buf if not, then I purpose to remain, and strive to win her heart—not as Gecoffry Grandford, your nephew, but as Geoffry Dumont, the Italian, as | she has always believed me to be.” **-You love her truly, then?’ said the old man, in a voice of emotion. ‘More than life itself! "Will you not give me the chance [ ask you for, sir?’ he returned. “You have aright to demand it,” answered Mr. Grandford, with a sigh. ‘Yes; I will tell George Kingsborough this evening that Celia is not my heiress. And faith! I cansay so’with truth now.” For an hour or more they sat talking of the ast and future; and then Geoffry and Mrs. intoni left, and Mr. Grandford sunk back in his chair, and covering his face with his hands, sat till darkness closed in around him, alone and silent, hs heart filled with shame, remorse, and bitterness, Celia had fled, as usual, to the shelter of her dressing-room, and seated there, with her let- ters beside her, had wondered long who the stranger Geoffry Dumont had brought to see her grandfather might be, and why she had spoken such strange words, and as she thought of them her heart beat with joy. “Tf they are only true,” she thought, “my doubts of George Kingsborough will soon be cleared away. ft Iam not grandfather's heir- ess, as she said, he will have no reason for mar- rying me save for love; and then I shall know that this bateful letter,” (and she tossed Olivia’s letter from her lap to the floor) ‘‘is all a lie, George Kingsborough cannot be such a cold- blooded deceiver as she would have me be- lieve!” x And then she thought of Geoffry, and his strange likeness to Cousin Christopher she had discovered in him since he had shaved off his beard and whiskers. What did it all mean? She was puzzled, and could give no answer to the question that troubled her. CHAPTER XI. CHECKMATED. Meantime, Captain Kingsborough, who had gone into Alderton that day, had been passing anything but an easy time. He had received letters of various sorts, some of which had per- plexed, and some of which had alarmed, and all of which bad annoyed him. Two told bim of racing losses; and another was an angry demand for money from a credi- tor: another, a not less Penets reminder from a money-lender, and another, the one that perplexed him, was from a friend, asking bim why, in the name of fortune, he had given up Olivia Sutherland and her enormous fortune, to bury himself in the country for the sake of a little heiress, whose wealth was as nothing com- pared to the other’s. “Come up and try your luck at once,” the letter concluded, * or you will be too late; unless, indeed ” (and Captain Kingsborough could quite appreciate the ironical intention of the writer), ‘‘ you are really in love with your country beauty.” “In love with her!” he muttered, angrily. “Hardly; although she is pretty enough, and would make an excellent wife, and one a fellow might be he of, with a little more training and knowledge of society. But what does St. John mean by Olivia’s fortune? She told me herself it was a mere nothing, Things get ex- aggerated so. 1 wonder why old Paulet hasn’t answered my letter? He’s sure to know the truth. I wish he had written though, for by to- morrow I suppose [ shall be formally engaged to my country heiress,” It was late when Captain Kingsborough re- turned to Cedar Grove, so late that Celia had | gone to bed, but late as it was, Mr. Grandford sent to request him to come into the study, as he had some business to talk over with bim, “To tell me I am accepted, I suppose, and what [ may expect with my bride,” thought the captain, stroking his long black mustache thoughtfully. ‘‘ Bother old Paulet! I wish I were certain about Olivia’s money.” “‘Good-evening, Captain Kingsborough,” said Mr. Grandford, as he entered the study. ‘‘ You are late to-night.” ‘Yes, later than I could have wished,” replied Captain Kingsborough. ‘“‘ { knew, I trusted, at least—you would have some news to tell me to- night, for the ten days for which I was to wait for Miss Celia’s answer are over.” “Yes, they are over,” he replied, turning a white, haggard face toward Captain Kings- borough. “You are ill, sir!” he cried. ‘ Let us put off this conversation for a few days. I have to run up to town to-morrow for a day or two, and I can wait till—” ‘No, no, better have it over at once,” replied Mr. Grandford. ‘I fear I ought to have been more open with you, Kingsborough; and if what Ihave now to tell you puis you out at all, I shall bitterly regret my mistake. You love my granddaughter, Kingsborough, is it not so?” ‘* With all my heart and soul,” cried the eap- tain; inwardly, however, much perplexed by Mr. Grandford’s speech. ‘It is to learn if she loves me in return that I am now here.” “IT believe—I fear she may,” returned Mr, Grandford, musingly. “You fear! I believe you approved of me, sir, and sanctioned my suit to your granddaugh- ter,” replied the captain, warmly. “Yes, yes; don’t mistake me. I have given my word, sir, and do not recall it; but I fear ou may have made your proposal for Celia’s trad under a ge a Feb and with the idea that she is far richer than she really is,” “How so, sir?’ asked the captain, turning pale. ‘‘Is not Miss Saville your heiress, then? ‘* No,” replied Mr. Grandtord, firmly, *‘ she is not my heiress, Beyond a few hundred dollars, the wreck of her father’s property, she has nothing, and at my death will receive nothing from me.” There was a dead silence, which lasted a full, minute, Captain Kingsborough’s face had grown very blank. “This certainly takes me by surprise,” he said, at last. ‘ I—people—rumor always—” **People always believed Miss Saviile to be my heiress—I know that,” replied Mr. Grand-
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24 PUT TO A TEST. ford; “but, as usual, people are wrong. TI thought that before things went any further be- tween you and Celia I would let you understand this fully.” “Then am I to understand that you give your echt dagua nothing?” cried Captain Kings- orough, in angry amazement, ‘*Nothing but what is her own—some fifteen or sixteen hundred dollars, sir,” he answered. *“*You told me you were well off—had enough, it fact; for both—otherwise I might have told you sooner what Celia’s fortune was. I do not hink I ever told you I intended to leave her anything.” *Perbaps not in words, sir,” retorted the cap- tain, getting more and more angry; ‘‘ but you allowed me to imagine rumor tor once spoke the truth.” “T know little, and care less, what the ouf- side world says of me and my intentions,” an- swered Mr. Grandford, abruptly; “tat any rate, i have spoken plainly enough now.” “You have, indeed!” answered Kingsborough, ibitterly. “And now, if you wish it, I will tell you what Celia bas said to me. Girls, you know, irequire to be humored, I’m afraid I was cross ‘with Celia, and we were interrupted before we ‘bad had our talk out, Still—” “Then, if you please, I will wait to hear Miss ‘Saville’s reply till—till I return from town; and ~-and I must say, sir, before [ leave you, that I ‘think I have not been treated fairly; that, in- deed, I have been treated very unfairly by you. I love your granddaughter, it is true; but—~but this entire want of fortune will embarrass me not a little, I doubt, in fact, if it will not oblige me to put off our marriage for a time; but we must talk of this another time. I will leave you now, sir, as I tniist start for town early. Say good-by for me to Miss Saville, and tell her I await her answer on my return.” * So be it, sir!” replied the old man, And without giving his hand to George Kings- borough, he slowly rose, and walked from his study to his bedroom; while Captain Kings- borough, sorely angry and disappointed, retired to his room to make preparations for an early start on the morrow. He felt bimself to ba an ill-used man; he felt as if he bad been cheated out of his rigkts by Mr. Grandford. What had he gained by spending weeks in his society? Why had he willfully misled him as to Celia’s position in his house? “The old fellow’s mad—that’s my impres- sion,” he murmured; ‘‘ but it’s well he told me in time. It’s all that little viper Olivia’s doing. What a spiteful, treacherous little creature she is! It was she who told me Celia was Grand- ford’s heiress. Hum! I wonder why Paulet has not written? If her fortune is really large, I must strive to regain her confidence. She was very kind to me the other day at Alderton, and did not seem to bear malice for what has assed. I wonder did she know the truth about elia? Vl soon find out. Poor little girl, I wonder if she’ll be much cut up at losing me?” Next morning, just as Captain Kingsburough was leaving, a letter from General Paulet_was put into his hand, It was written from New York, and confirmed the news of Olivia’ Sutherland’s wealth, “T’ve seen all the layenaners myself,” said’ hes ~ “so you can believe what I tell you, Come aiid * make up your quarrel with Mrs, Sutherland at on¢é--~ She has a great future before her.”’. The captain rubbed his hands in glee. “What luck!—what an extraordinary piece of good fortune! If I had once become engaged to Celia Saville, I might have found it hard to break with her; but that confession of the old man’s last night saved me. Olivia shall be my wife, and with five hundred thousand dollars, I would not wish for a better partner!” And all the way to New York, Captain Kingsborough meditated on the wonderfw} good fortune in store for him, for he had little or no doubt that Olivia would accept him for her hus- band. There was only the task of writing to Mr. Grandford, and crying off his match with Celia to be got through, and therf'atl would be plain sailing; and he felt a life of luxury and idleness lay before him, When he arrived in town he drov@straight to her house, but found she was awayin' the country. He was not sorry. It would! give him time to write to Mr. Grandford, and’ settle matters with him before he saw her; and with a cheerful smile, he turned his steps toward! bis ; hotel, and next next day he penned the folliwe~ ing epistle to Mr, Grandford: “Dear sir,” he began, “the very extraordinary ” news you communicated to me on Tuesday evening * obliges me to write to you in a strain which I had - never imagined it would have been necessary to use, I have every respect and esteem for Miss Saville, but + being a comparatively poor man, I can not afford to marry unless my wife can bring a fair portion to me, to enable me to keep her in the style im which she should live, I regret, therefore, to inform you that after your disclosure, so long and so strangely delayed, to me the other night, I feel it my duty, much as I suffer from doing so, to resign-my preten- sions to Miss Saville’s hand.” “The mean cur! Celia was right, after all!” muttered Mr, Grandford, as be flung the letter savagely from him. ‘‘Geoffry was right- By Jove! the girl owes him a good turn, I must tell ber her suspicions were correct, and she Mad! better forget the fortune hunting rascal as sooni as she can. Poor child—poor Celia! But. h trust she has not given him her heart.” Celia, with some surprise, had seen the cap-- tain drive off that morning, and a fitof remorse) seized her when she thought that perhaps her: grandfather had given bim to understand that ; she was unwilling to become his wife; but Mr. Grandford had said nothivg to heron that day - or the next, and she half-expected Captain Kingsborough would return on the morning she . was summoned into her grandfather’s study, and saw the letter in George Kingsborough’s handwriting on the table, Her heart beat quickly as it caught her eye, and Mr. Grandford accosted her in a voice so kind and gentle that she hardly recognized that it was his, r “ Celia, my child,” he said, “have sad news for you. your doubts of Captain Kingsbor- ough, together with—with other things I have learned, caused me to tell him, when I spoke to him the other night on business matters, that,
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PUT TO A TEST, % 7 you were not my heiress; and that, beyond your own little fortune, you would bring him nothing.” Yes, “and he?” “He seemed greatly put out, and left the house the next day, as you know; and this morn- ‘ing I received this letter from him. You were right in your suspicions, my poor ehild; it was ae fortune, and not you, that he really want- e grandfather,” said Celia, eagerly; inne took up the letter and read it through slowly. “Mrs, Sutherland was right,” she said, in a husky voice. “I was unjust to doubt her. Grandfather, I thank you. I have had an es- cape. I had made up my mind to trust him through all, and you have prevented me from making a fatal mistake.” She was silent, and two big tears rolled down her cheeks. “Celia,” said the old man, in an almost frightened voice, ‘‘ you won’t fret over this— yu won’t let it prey on your mind? Oh, child! have been harsh, and hard, and exacting, I know, but yet I love you, and your tears go to my heart.” n a moment, Celia’s arms were round her grandfather’s neck, and for a moment or two she sobbed quietly on his bosom, while he sooth- ed and petted her. At length she dried her eyes. : “You are right, grandfather; he is not worth erying for,” she said at last, with an effort. “T was foolish even to fancy him ahero. I ought to have seen through him sooner, I will try hard to forget him.” “‘That is a brave girl,” rejoined Mr. Grand- ford. “Never give him another thought, child; he is not worth it.” But though Celia put a brave face on the matter, her heart ached for many a day after- ward. Not only were her feelings wounded, but her pride and vanity were deeply hurt. She had believed George Kingsborough loved her for herself only, and behold! it was only her grandfather’s money he cared for. At the first intimation that this was not to be hers he had left her, without so much as wishing her adieu or expressing a regret for the pain he caused her, And quite carelessly, almost forgetting the existence of the girl who he had imagined would soon be his wife, did George Kings- borough, ten days later, enter Olivia Suther- land’s drawing-room and seat himself beside her with the air of a privileged friend. There was a look of confusion and bustle, however, in the room that surprised him. Olivia shut up her blotting-book on the letter she was writing as he entered, and threw her handkerchief care- ms over sogmething that lay on the table be- side it. ‘Well, George, you are come at last to con- gratulate me, I suppose?” she said, holding out both her little hands to him. lara took them and pressed his lips to them gal- ntlv. “Viel fie! she said, playtully. “That can- not be allowed now, you know.” ** And why not?” he said. ‘Dear Olivia, if only a tenth part of what I have heard is true—” “Do Pe mean that my aunt has left me five hundred thousand dollars?” interrupted she. “Yes, or a tenth of that, don’t you see that all obstacle to your marriage is at an end?” he continued, “Our marriage? I don’t understand!” began el putting on a face of baby-like per- plexity. “Was it not poverty that parted us? Surely you know I only left you because I dared not ask you to give up gece small fortune for me, but you know all the while how devotedly I loved you, and you know I love you still!” Olivia burst into a fit of shrill laughter, “Oh! is it that old, old story you are telling me? George Kingsborough, forgive me for laughing, but you must never mention it again. I am to be married to Henry Astor next month. I thought that was what you had come to congratulate me on!” CHAPTER XIL AT LAST. Tr was a lovely summer morning a year later; the sun had set, and one by one the stars were beginning to shine forth in the deep blue sky. The sea was as calm as glass, and tinged here and there with a lovely pink hue, as it reflected the last dying rays of the sun; and the little white waves broke with a playful ripple at Celia Saville’s feet as she sat on the beach of the watering-place where she and her grandfather were staying. She had a book in her hand, but she was not reading; her eyes were fixed on the smoke of a steamer—all that could be seen of it - present—and a happy smile played on her S. NOrhat must be the Sound steamer; it is late this evening. How glad poor grandfather will be to see Mr. Dumont again! He was so sorry to lose him even for a fortnight, but of course it was right of him to go and see Mrs. Lintoni off for Italy. Grandfather says that besides being his mother’s cousin, she has done bim a great service, and I’m sure he must be fond of her. She is the kindest, cleverest person I ever met. How slowly the steamer comes, and yet it has the wind in its favor!” Celia was wrong, however. The steamer was going twelve knots an hour, and very soon it entered the little harbor, hidden from her eyes, however, by the cliff and little town. She took up her book and tried to read, then laid it down again. “Mr, Dumont will go straight home, I know, to see grandfather, so I can stay here another hour, and let them have their talk out. Per- haps they won’t want me to interrupt them, I sometimes think grandfather cares a great deal more for Geoffry Dumont than he does for me. Heigho!” Steps on the sand behind her made her ven . ' and, turning round, she perceived the object o her thoughts close to her.
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26 PUT TO A TEST, “What! did you not go home first, then?” she cried, a blush of joy spreading over her face as she timidly held out her hand to Geoffry. “T did,” he answered, taking it, and seatin himself beside ber; ‘but Mr. Grandford tol me you were here, so, after a few words to- gether, I came to look for you.” * And you saw Mrs. Lintoni off?’ asked Celia, feeling she must talk, and yet scarcely knowing what to say. ‘She must have been sorry to say good-by to you; it will be a long time before you meet again.” ‘Perhaps. But I don’t know; I am not so certain of that,” he answered. “Why, is she coming back, then?’ asked Celia, in surprise. ‘‘She told me ‘she would not be in America again for three years at least,” “That may be,” replied Geoffry, slowly; “but I may return to Italy before then.” The pink flush died out of Celia’s cheeks, and she looked blankly at Geoffry with large, re- proachful eyes. “What, you—you are thinking of leaving us?” she faltered, “ Sometimes I think of it,” he replied, “But not seriously?’ she said, in an imploring tone. ‘Think, what should we—what would grandfather do without you?” And the tears rushed into her eyes. Next minute, however, she forced them back, “Tt is very natural that you should wish to return to your own country and friends,” she said, apologetically; ‘‘and I am very selfish to wish to detain you, but—” “Would you care if Ileft you, Celia? Would you miss me?” he said, earnestly. Celia started, and trembled at his tone. She bad learned during the past year to love Geoffry with all her heart, and the a ae of parting with him was more than she could bear. ‘‘ Believe me, Celia,” he continued, “if it would grieve you to part from me half a tenth part as much as it would grieve me to_go away from you, I would never leave you. With you rests my fate. If you bid me stay, I will do so; but if so, will you consent to share my life with me —to be the wife of Geoffry Dumont, the Ital- ian?” : ‘‘Geoffry Dumont, the Italian!” How dear the name and designation had grown to her now! She raised her eyes shyly to his. “Tf you are content to take me, plain Celia ee as I am—no longer an heiress, remem- r! And she smiled timidly, “1 love you, Celia—it is you only [ want!” he replied. ‘‘ Are you not afraid to trust your- self to a poor Italian adventurer?” : “Hush!” she replied, laying her hand on his lips. “Rich or poor, American or foreigner, I love you, and you only, Geoffry; and if you are willing to take me, I will be your wife!” “What, even if you should have to live in Italy some day with me?” he said. “Yes: even then,” she replied, with a smile. “But, oh! poor grandfather; we must think of him ” For half an hour they sat together, hand in hand, on the beach, till the last faint glimmer of sunset died away, and the tide began to rise; then they got up, and turned their steps toward the town. ‘What will your grandfather say, darling?” said Geoffry, as he looked fondly into the beau- tiful face. ‘ Will he consent to give you up, do you think?” ‘Poor grandfather! But he loves you, Geof- fry, more than any one on. the face of the earth. And do you know I sometimes believe it is because you are so like the portrait of cousin Christopher, his nephew; yes, you are, indeed, though I never noticed the likeness till the day you came down to The Chase with Mrs. Lintoni on some mysterious business, the par- ticulars of which neither she nor grandfather have ever divulged to me.” ‘Perhaps he will tell you now, darling, or I will, for there must be an end to all secrets be- tween us,” he replied. They had reached the cottage which Mr. Grandford, in obedience to the commands of his medical advisers, had taken at the sea- shore for the summer and autumn, and pushing open the door that led into the garden, Celia and Geoffry entered. They found Mr, Grandford seated in his easy- chair beneath a clump of shady trees. He gave a start and an exclamation of pleasure as they approached, looking eagerly into Geoffry’s face, as if he expected good news. ** Well?’—he said; ‘' well?” ‘You were right; itis all right, sir!” he cried joyfully, putting bis arm round Celia. ‘She has promised to become my wife—the wife of Geoffry Dumont!” “Grandfather, you will not say no, will you?” said Celia, [deewaptit f “Nay, my child; lL say yes with all my heart; but yet I cannot give you to Geoffry Dumont, the Italian.” “But I love him, grandfather! -[ have promised to be his wife; to return to his coun- try with him, if need be,” she cried, clinging to Geoffry’s arm. ‘*And you shall be his wife, child—the wife of the man beside you. No Italian, however, my dear, but your own cousin, my great- nephew, Geoffry Dumont Grandford.” And Mr, Grandford held out one hand to his nephew, and drew Celia, all perplexed and as- tonished, to him with the other, “Don’t you see—can’t you understand it, little goose?” he went on, playfully. ‘Geoffry came over to America to see the house wherein his father was born. On the way he met you, and his foolish heart was set on making you his wife from that day. He wished to win your love without making himself known to either you or me. Circumstances compelled him to discover himself to me; but he bid the secret from you, little one, and [ think he did well in so doing. Geoffry, look at her, I think you have won what you set your heart on. “T owe everything to him,” went on Mr. Grandford, gravely. ‘Do you know, Celia, this young man is the rightful possessor of all my property; that you were not, as | teld you a year ago, an heiress; that he could turn us both out of the house we have so long considered ours if—” “But do not talk of that. To all intents it is
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PUT TO A TEST. 27 yours, uncle; you know that. Never speak of it again in that way,” said Geoffry, while Celia regarded him with eyes of admiration. ** Ay, boy, I know—I know,” said the old man with a sigh. ‘‘Celia, the husband of your choice is a model of chivalrous generosity. I am proud to think that ere long Cedar Grove will have such a worthy possessor.” “Not for many a year yet will it lose its present one, I trust, sir,” answered Geoffry. And Celia kissed her grandfather silently on the fcrehead, and the three sat in deep, calm happiness in the quiet moonlight, till the old church clock warned them of the lateness of the hour, and they re-entered the house, Before autumn was over there was a quiet wedding at the pretty little village church, and an hour or two aiter it was over, Geoffry and Celia Grandford started on their wedding tour. **You must try and not be dull while we are away, dear grandfather,” were Celia’s parting words, ‘A fortnight will soon be over, and then we shall be back again to home and you.” “Nay, nay, my dear; a month—a month! You must not hurry! In my day all newly- married folks took a month’s holiday, in order to get tired of one another! You must not think of returning on my account—I can not hear of that!” he replied, ‘‘Good-by, my children, and Heaven bless you! Cedar Grove shall be ready for you this day month.” And a month later the newly-married couple drove through the green avenues of Cedar Grove, and up to the door of the old house, where Mr. Grandford was waiting on the steps to receive them, “Who do you think we met in Washington, grandfather?” said Celia, as they talked over their tour together. ‘My old friend Mrs, Sutherland—or, rather, Mrs, Henry Astor, as THE she isnow. I thought her much improved; her husband is a sensible man, and has done her good.” “Hum! he ought to feel thankful to her for having set him on his feet again; he was a comparatively poor man when he married her, Her five hundred and fifty thousand dollars saved him from ruin.” “They seem to get on pretty well together,” said Geoffry ; ‘‘ they don’t see too much of each other—they are too fashionable for that; but she is certainly improved by her marriage, and she really is good-hearted. She made her hus- band get a position for her old friend Kings- borough in some Western State, and—” “Hum!” interrupted Mr. Grandford; “it is more than he deserves. Much too good for the mean fortune-hunter!” ““Well, we can afford to forgive and forget, can’t we, Celia?” replied Geoffry. “For my part, ’m glad he was only a fortune-hunter— eb, Celia?” ‘Yes; and that you found him out in time!” she replies, softly, ‘‘I wish him no ill, how- ever!” “Nor I—nor I!” rejoined Mr. Grandford; “but that Olivia Sutherland always was a foolish woman! Any position is far too good for a man of that sort; Mr. Astor should cer- tainly have known better!” But it is doubtful if Olivia ever told him that George Kingsborough was in the opinion of most people only a fortune-hunter, or the clever way in which she balked his attempt on her own fortune, and on that of Mr, Grandford’s supposed heiress, END,
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HALP-DIME SINGER'S [TBRARY. = 1 Waoa, Fanta! and 59 other Songs, 2 Caprain Curr and 57 other Songs, 8 Tue Garnssoro’ Har and 62 other Songs. 4 Jounny Moraan and 60 other Songs. 5 l'un Srrme You Wir a Frearuer and 62 others, 6 GrorcE THE CHARMER and 56 other Songs. 7 Tar Bertie or Rockaway and 52 other Songs. 8 Youne Feiuan, You're Too Fresu and 60 others 9 Say Youne Girt and 65 other Songs. 10 I’m THe GoveRNor’s ONLY Son and 58 other Songs, 11 My Fan and 65 other Songs. 12 Comin’ Toro’ Tue Rye and 55 other Songs. 13 Tae Rotiickina IRIsHMAN and 59 other Songs. 14 Otp Doa@ Tray and 62 other Songs. 15 Waoa, CHartiz and 59 other Songs, 16 In Tors WHeEat By snp By and 62 otner Songs. 17 Nancy Ler and 58 other Songs. 18 I’m THE Boy THat’s Bound To Biaze and 57 others, 19 Taz Two OrpHans and 59 other Songs. 20 WHAT ARE THE Wiip WAVES Sayina, SISTER? and 59 other Songs. 21 InprianantT Potty Woe and 59 other Songs. 22 Tae Op Arm-CHarr and 58 other Songs. 23 On Cony Istanp Bracu and 58 other Songs. 24 Otp Sion, THE Hot-Corn Man and 60 others. 25 I’w i Love and 56 other Songs. 26 PARADE OF THE GuaARDs and 56 other Songs, 27 Yo, Heave,. Ho! and 60 other Songs. 28 "Twit Never po To Gin iT up So and 60 others. 29 Buve Bonnets Over THE RorpER and 54 others, 30 Tue Merry LAUGHING Man and 56 other Songs. 81 Sweet Forart-me-Nor and 55 other Scngs, 82 Leerte Bapy Mine and 53 other Songs. 88 Dz Banjo AM DE INSTRUMENT FoR Me and 53 others- 34 Tarry and 50 other Songs. 85 Just ro PLease THE Boys and 52 other Songs. 86 SKATING ON ONE IN THE GUTTER and 52 others, 37 Kotorep Kranxs and 59 other Songs. 88 Niw DesprRanpuM and 53 other Songs. 89 Tue Grew I Lert Beninp Me and 50 other Songs 40 "Tis sur a Lrrrtx Fapep Ftiowxr and 50 others 41 Prerry WaHILneLMtna and 60 other Songs. 42 DANCING IN THE Bakn and 63 other Songs. 48 H. M.S. Prvarorse, CompLETE, and 17 other Songs Sold everywhere by Newsdealers, at five cents per copy, or sent post-paid, to any address, on re= ceipt of Sia cenfs per number. BEADLE AND ADAMS, PupiisHers, 98 Witiam Street, New York. THE Sunnyside Library. 1 Latta Roox#. By Thomas Moore........ Aepeeelt 2 Don Juan. By Lord Byron ..... 83 ParapisE Lost. By John Milton 4 Tae Lapy or THe Lake. By Sir Walter Scott. 10c 5 Lucie. By Owen Meredith........ ........ . 10e 6 Unprng; or, THE Warer-Sprrir. From the German of Frederich De La Motte Fouque.. 10c For sale by all newsdealers, or sent, postage paid, on receipt of twel.e cents for single numbers double numbers twenty-four cents. ADAMS, VICTOR & CO., Publishers, 98 William street, N. Y. LIVES OF GREAT AMERICANS. I.—George Washington. | VI,—Daniel Boone. II,--John Paul Jones. VIil.—Israel Putnam. Til.—Mad Anthony Wayne X.—Tecumseh, TV.—Ethan Allen. XI.—Abraham Lincoln, V.—Marquis de Lafay-| XII.—Pontiac. ette. XI1.—Ulysses 8. Grant. Song Books. Brapir’s Dime Sona Booxs, Nos. 1 to 34, containing the only popular collection cf copyright songs. MI at, Mane ant Wont Joke Books. Pocket Joke Book. Jim Crow Joke Book, Paddy Whack Joke Book. The above publications for sale by all newsdealers or will be sent, post-paid, on receipt of price, tem vents each, by BEADLE AND ADAMS, 98 WiILLian Srreet, N, Y. :
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THE DIME SPEAKERS, Dime Funny Speaker, No. 21. Col. Sellers Elucidates, Clory Mit Ter Sthars und Sthripes. Lotism, Terence O’Dowd’s Patri- Lime Kiln Club Oration, Farmer Thornbush on The Fiddler, [Fools, The Regular Season, The School Boy’s Lament, Dot Baby Off Mine, Bluggs Once More, | Views on Agriculture, One Hundred Years Ago, De ’Sperience ob de Reb’- rend Quacko Strong, A Dollar or Two, On Some More Hash, Where Money is King, Prof. Dinkelspeigel man on the Origin of Life, Konsentrated Wisdum, Joseph Brown and the Mince Pie, John Jenkins’s Sermon, | A Parody on *‘'Tell Me Ye Winged Winds,” | A Foggy Day, New Sivtickoans (Vulcan), The New Mythology(Pan,) New Mythology (Bacchus) I Kin Nod Trink To-Nighd, New Church Doctrine, Wilyum's Watermillion, Josiah Axtell’s Oration, Parson Barebones's An- athema, Cesar Squash on Heat, Fritz Valdher is Made a Mason, Joan of Are, Blessings of Farm Life, The People, Thermopyle, Cats, Jim Bludso. A Catastrophic Ditty, The Maniac’s Defense, Woman, God Bless Her! Be Miserable, Dodds versus Daubs, The Cadi’s Judgment, That Calf. Dime Jolly Speaker, No. 22, Grandfather's Clock, The XIXth Century, Mary’s Von Little Ram, A Lecture on Science, Old and New Time, Clayfoot’s Spirit Race, The Village School, A Sermon for the Sisters, De Filosofy ob Fun, Disappointed Discoverer, A Heathen’s Score, Der Dog und der Lobster, The Young Tramp, Delights of the Season, The Delights of Spring, Josh Billings’s Views, Beasteses, How tew Pik out a Watermellon, How tew Pik out a Dog, How tew Pik out a Kat, How tew Pik out.a Wife This Side and That, Nocturnal Mewsings, The Lunatic’s Reverie, A Bathetic Ballad, The Ear, | Backbone, | A Weak Case, | They May Be Happy Yet, | Orpheus, <A Side View, | Perseus. A “ Classic,” | Rigid Reformation, The Funny Man, Don’t Give It Away, A Dark Warning. A “Colored * Dissertation | An Awful Warning, An Effective Appeal, De Parson Sowed de Seed, Pompey’s Thanksgiving Turkey, | The New Essay On Man, A New Declaration of Independence, The Jolly Old Fellow. A Christmas Welcome, My First Coat, The Fire-Brigade, A Patriotic “ Splurge,” The Good Old Times, In- deed! Stealing the Sacred Fire. Owl and the Pussy-Cat. Dime Dialect Speaker, No. 28. Dat’s W'at’s De Matter, The ae bo Miracle, Ven Te Tide Cooms In, Dose Lams Vot Mary Haf Got, {man’s Rights, Pat O'Flaherty On Wo- The Home Rulers, Hezekiah Dawson On Mothers-In-Law, He Didn’t Sell The Farm, The True Story of Frank- lin’s Kite, [Again, I Would I Were a Boy A Pathetic Story, All About a Bee, Scandal, A Dark Side View, Te Pesser Vay On Learning German, Mary’s ShmallVite Lamb, A Healthy Discourse, Tobias So To Speak, Old Mrs. Grimes, A Parody, | Mars and Cats, Bill Underwood, Pilot, | Olid Granley, The Pill Peddler’s Oration WidderGreen’s last words Latest Chinese Outrage, The Manifest Destiny of the Irishman, Peggy McCann, Sprays from Josh Billings De Circumstances ob de Sitiwation, Dar's Nuffin New Under deSun, A Negro Religious Poem, That Violin, Pienic Delights, Our Candidate's Views, Dundreary’s Wisdom, Plain Language, My Neighbor’s Dogs, The Stove Pipe Tragedy, ee Condensed Mythology, The Mligant Affair at Mul- Pictus, — doon’s, {the Corner, The Nereides, That Little Baby Around Legends of Attica, A Genewine Inference. A Doketor’s Drubbles, The Coming Man, of Liberty, Out West. The Crow, Readings and Recitations, No. 24. Trishman’s Panorama, When the Cows Come The Lightning-rod Agent Home, The Tragedy at Four Ace | Tommy Taft, Ruth and Naomi, [Flat, | A Michigander in France, Carey of Corson, Not One to Spare, Babies, Mrs. Breezy’s Pink Lunch John Reed, Rock of Ages, An Invitation to the Bird The Brakemanat Church! J. Cawsar Pompey Passun Mooah’s Sur-| Squash’s Sermon, mount, Annie's Ticket, Arguing the Question, Jim Wolfe and the Cats, The Dim Old Forest, Rasher at Home, The Sergeant’s Story, David and Goliah, Dreaming at Fourscore, Rum, Why Should the Spirit or Mortal be Proud? The Coming Mustache, The Engineer's Story, A Candidate for Presi- Roll Call, (dent, Accession to the Family, The Donation Party, An Essay on Cheek. Dime Burlesque Speaker, No. 25. Plenty Small’s Proclama- | The Pay we Celebrate, tion, | Dot Fritzy, The Newsboy, Pat’s Correspondence, Death of th’ Owd ’Squire, Mein Tog Schneid, At Elberon, The Ory of Womanhood, The Judgment Day, The Burst Bubble, Curfew Must Not Ring To-night, The Swell, The Water Mill, Sam’s Letter, Footsteps of the Dead, Charity, The Mother-in-Law, The Critic at Work, The Widow O’Shane’s | Fortunate Flanders Rint. LPro, Shows his Teeth, Leatherlung’s Con and A Cockney’s Experience, The “Free and Equal” Humbug, [tions, Scipio Scroggs’s Ques- The Treachery of Jones, Declamation, Shtichen Oats Dot’s Wild, Guilty, of Course, No More French, Animile Statistix, (For, Some Things Accounted The Cats, Astronomical The Poet Bold, January Jones Defends [tor, Corusca- Treadwater Jim, the Eagle, A Leadville Sermon on | The Mule, [Liars, the * Prod,” | Brother Gardner on Address to the Giantess, | That Lamb, [Ticket, The Ass and the Lark, Tony Johnson’s Protest, Watermelons, Very Pathetic, A Telling Plea, Back to Griggsby’s, Advice to a Young Man, The Plagues of Egypt, Julius Ceesar Sumner’s Views, John Jones—His Horn, Sentiment, Man, Bu'stin’ the Temperance Ediket, The Scenes of Childhood, Sancho Brown is Mad, Pilkins’s erg: The Collegian Humin- ates, (Splain,” Uncle Cuff “‘ Rises fur ter Assorted Women Like his Mother Used to Make, Peter and his Lottery The Mosquito Adjured, “That Birchen Tree,” The Late Mr. Shakspere, The Pie for Me, Buckeye Bill, Rev, Peter Bill's Jones’s Wife’s Aunt, A Rhyme of the Time, A Short Debate on Rum, The Good Woman, The Clerk of the Weather That Ncble Animal, Man, | The Bold Fisherman. Cudjo Hardsin’s Pre- scription, A Tale of Two Buckets, Dot Hoboken Bucket, The Sale of Old Bachelors The Difference, Getting a Photograph, As Others See Us, The Cotton Field Hand, Set em Oud! Signs of Summer, Yankee Courtship, A “ Fish Story,” For sale by all newsdealers, or sent, post-paid, to any address, on receipt of or ten cents, BEADLE anb Apams, Publishers, 98 Willliam st., New York, ing, arn-
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THE DIME DIALOGUES, Dime Dialogues, No. 29. Who Shall Have the Dictionary? For six males and two females. The Test of ah For four boys and teacher. Fortune’s Wheel. For four males. The Little Aisthetes. For six little girls. The Yes and No of Smoke. For three little boys. No References, For six gentlemen and three ladies. An Amazing Good Boy. One male and one female, What a Visitation Did. For several ladies, Simple Simon, For four little boys. The Red Light. For four males, two females, and several subsidiaries, The Sweetest Thought. For four little girls. The Inhuman Monster. For six ladies and one gen- tleman. Three Little Fools. For four small boys. Beware of the Dog! For three ladies and three “Dodgers.” Bethlehem. Fora Sunday-School Class Exhibition. Joe Hunt’s Hunt. For two boys and two girls, Rags. For six males, Dime Dialogues, No. 30, Invisible Heroes. For five young ladies. A “Colored” Lecture. For four males. Wishes. For five little boys, Look at Home. For three little girls. Fisherman’s Luck, For two males and three females, Why He Didn’t Hire Him, For several characters. A Fortunate Mistake, For six young ladies, one little pa and a little boy. An Alphabetical Menagerie. For a whole school. The Higher Education. For eight, boys. The Vicissitudes of a Milliner. For six females. Cat and Dog. For two little ones. ss Z@sthete Cured. For two ladies and three gen- tlemen. Jim Broderick’s Lesson, For two boys. The Other Side of the aye For five females. The Test that Told. For five males. Wooing by Proxy. For two ladies and three gentle- men, Learning from Evil. Yor five boys. The Teacher’s Ruse. For ten boys and three girls. Colloquy of Nations. For eleven fy Sg oy Additional Personations for ‘‘ Goddess of Liberty.” A scenic piece in Dialogues No. 24. Dime Dialogues, No 31. Barr's Boarders. For various characters, A Lively Afternoon, For six males. A New Mother Hubbard. For six little girls, Bread on the Waters. For four females. Forninst the Scientists, For two males. Sloman’s Angel, For two males and one female. What Each Would Do. For six little girls. Twenty Dollars a Lesson. For eleven males, sae Betsey’s Ruse. For three females and one male, The Disconcerted Supernaturalist. For one male and audience *‘ voices.” Grandma Grumbleton’s Protest. Fora ‘‘grandma” and several a grandchildren, Nothing Like Training. For a number of males. The Bubble, For two little girls. Medicine for Rheumatiz. Tor two “ cullud pussons.” That Book Agent! For three males and one female. The Well Taught Lesson. For five little boys. A Turn of the Tide. For three male and three fe- male characters. A True Carpet-Bagger. For three females, Eo Metaphysics. For six males. aad arpmphrey: Did. For five males and three fe- by sd pei saat Ras SERIE Oars Dime Dialogues, No 82. A Persecuted Man. For various characters. Too Curious for Comfort, For two males and twi females, ben False Guise. For several females and@ cnil dren, A Sure Guide, For seven males. The Eight Little Boys from Nonsense Land. How They See the World. For five little girls. The Doctor’s Office. For several characters male and female, Too Much Side Show. For a number of boys. be _Mrs. Ponderous Was Paid. For four young adies, Poly wog Versus Wolypog. For numerous citizens. Tongue and Temper. For two ladies. The Flour of the Family. For three ladies and one gentleman, Middleton’s Mistake. For five males. A Valuable Neighbor. For one lady and one boy. The Man of Cheek. For two males. Mr. and Mrs, Blizzard at Home, For man and wife. Morgan’s Money. For five males, The reba of Miles Standish. For School Festi- val. Dime Dialogues, No. 33. The Wrong Trunk. For several male characters and one female. Saucy Jack Lee. For four males and four females. The Pretty Preacher. For two young ladies, A Contrast. For two little girls. Only Joe. For five ladies and one gentleman, The Tables Turned. For several males. Why, Did You Do It? For a school of little children, She Had Him There. For 1 lady and 1 gentleman. A Report of the Affair. For two gentlemen, Mrs. Araold’s Misconception ‘or two gentlemen and three ladies. The Year Round, For twelve impersonators, Defending the Castle. For 2 males and 2 females. A Perfectly Veracious Man. For one male and one female. Sympathetic Sympathy. For 8 males and 2 females. Ananias at Home, For one male and three females, The Man from Bangor. For one gentleman and three ladies. Casabianca in Two Versions. For two boys. Dramas and Readings. 20 cents. DRAMAS. The Hypochondriac. Yor five characters. The Retrieved Name. For fifteen characters, A Moonlight Masquerade, For fourteen ladies, Matches Made in Attics. For five characters. Dandelions. For seven characters. Lottie’s Leap Year Victory. For four characters. The Friend in Disguise. For six leading characters and several subsidiaries. READINGS AND RECITATIONS. Parrhasius and the Cap- fe Last of Little Nell. * tive e Raven. How to Practice Medi- Mary’s Lamb. cine. William Brown of Orego1 Ramon, the Hero of El | Larry O’Leary’s Ghost, Refugio Mine. Which Shall It Be? The Bridge of Sighs. Go Feel What I Hav, A Lecture on Matrimony. Felt. A Ramble in the Wood. Hamlet and Ophelia. Grandmother's Notions. | Scene in a Mad-House. Naming the peby. The New Baby. Address to the Comet. Red Riding Hood. Yor sale by all newsdealers, or will be sent, post- paid, to any address, on receipt of price, ten cents, BEADLE AND ADAMS, PustisHers, 98 William Street, New York, + | \ | .
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POPULAR DIME HAND-BOOKS. BEADLE AND ADAMS, PUBLISHERS, NEW YORK. Hach volume 100 12mo pages, sent post-paid on receipt of price—ten cents each, GAME AND PASTIME SERIES. HAND-BOOK OF SUMMER SPORTS—Comprising Walking, Kunning, Jump- ing, Hare and Hounds, Bicycling, Archery, etc, With Complete American and English Athletic Rules. HAND-BOOK OF WINTER SPORTS. Embracing Skating, (on the ice and on rollers,) Rink-Ball, Curling, Ice-Boating and Football. HAND-BOOK OF PEDESTRIANISM—Giving the Rules for Training and‘Prac- tice in Walking, Running, Leaping, Vaulting, etc. f CRICKET AND FOOT-BALIL—A desirable Companion, containing complete instructions in th. clements of Bowling, Batting and Fielding; als6 the Re- vised Laws of the Game: Remarks on the Duties of Umpires; the Mary-le-Bone Cricket Club Rules and Regulations; Bets, etc. DIME BOOK OF CROQUET—A complete guide to the game, with the latest rules, diagrams, Croquet Dictionary, Parlor Croquet, etc. DIME GUIDE TO SWIMMING—Embracing all the rules of the art for both sexes, YACHTING AND ROWING—This volume will be found very complete as a guide tothe conduct of watercraft, and full of interesting information alike to the amateur and the novice. RIDING AND DRIVING—A sure guide to correct Horsemanship, with com- lete directions for the road and field; and a specific section of directions and information for female equestrians. BOOK OF 100 GAMES—Out-door and In-door SUMMER GAMES, for Tourists and Families in the Country, Picnics, etc., comprising 100 Games, Forfeits, ete. DIME CHESS INSTRUCTOR—A complete hand-book of instruction, giving the entertaining mysteries of this most interesting and fascinating of games, YOUNG PEOPLE’S SERIES. 1—DIME GENTS’ LETTER-WRITER—UEmbracing Forms, Models, Suggestions and Rules for the use of all classes, on all occasions, 2—DI. E BOOK OF ETIQUETTE—For Ladies and Gentlemen: being a Guide to True Gentility and Good-Breeding, and a Directory to the Usages of society. 8—DIME BOOK OF VERSES—Comprising Verses for Valentines, Mottoes, Coup- lets, St. Valentine Verses, Bridal and Marriage Verses, Verses of Love, ete. 4—DIME BOOK OF DREA MS—Their Romance and My ry; with a complete interpreting Dictionary. Compiled from the most accredited sources. 5—DIME FORTUNE-TELLER—Comprising the art of Fortune-Telling, how to read Character, etc. 6—DIME LADIES’ LETTER-WRITER—Giving the various forms of Letters of School Days, Love and Friendship, of Society, ete. 7—DIME LOVERS’ CASKET—A Treatise and Guide to Friendship, Love, Court- ship and Marriage. Embracing also a complete Floral Dictionary, etc. 8—DIME BALL-ROOM COMPANION—And Guide to Dancing. Giving rules iquette, hints on Private Parties, toilettes for the Ball-room, etc. 12—DIME BOOK OF BEAUTY—A delightful book, full of interesting informa- tion, It deserves a place in the hands of every one who would be beautiful. FAMILY SERIES. 1. DIME COOK BOOK. 4, DIMM FAMILY PHYSICIAN. 2. DIME RECIPE BOOK, 5. DIME DRESSMAKING AND MII- 8, DIME HOUSEWIFE’S MANUAL, LINERY, §2" The above books are sold by Newsdealers everywhere, or will be sent, post-paid, to any address, on receipt of price, 10 cents each. BEADLE & ADAMS, Publishers, 98 William street, New York.
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THIRTY-TWO OCTAVO PAGES. LA Bride of a Day; or, The Mystery of Winifred 1 46 The Three Sisters. By Alice Fleming. Leigh. By Mary Reed Crowell. 4¢ The Creole Sisters, By Mrs. Anna FE. Porter. 2 The Girl Wife; or, The True and the False, By A Marriage of Convenlenée. By Sara Claxton. Bartley 'T. Campbell. 4 ‘The Wife’s Secret, By Col, Juan Lewis. 8 Was It Love? or, Collegians and Sweethearts, By Sir Archer’s Bride, By bella Southworth, Wm. Mason Turner, M. D. Led Astray. By Octave Feuil 4 Married in Haste. By Rett Winwood. Momeless; or, Two Orphan Girls in New York. By 6 Will She Marry Wim? or, The Masked Bride. Albert W. Aiken, if By Mrs. Mary Reed Crowell. The Maniac Bride, By Margaret Blount. 6 Hia Lawful Wife Myra, the Child of Adop- 4 Pledged to Marry. By Swra Claxton, tion. By Mrs, Ann S, Stephens. & Cecil’s Deceit. By Mrs. Jeunie Davia Burton. ? A Falr Face}; or, Out in the World, By Bartley T. Beatrice, the Beautiful; or, His Second Love. Campbell. By Arabella § hworth, 8 A Mad Marriage; or, The Iron Will. By Mary Without Me » By Bartley T. Campbell. A. Denison. The Baronet’s Secret. By Sarn Claxton. 9A Daughter of Eve; or, Blinded by Love. By Agnes Hope, the Actress; or, the Romance of Mrs. Mary Reed Crowell. Kuby Ring. By Win. Mason Turser, M. D. 10 The Broken Betrothal ; or, Love versus Hate. A Widow’s Wiles Rachel Beruhardt. By Mary Grace Halpine. Did te Love Her? sa tley T. Campb II. 11 The Bride of an Actor; or, Driven from Home, Almost in His Power. By Lillian Lovejay. By the Author of “ Alone in the World,’ etc., ete. She Did Not Love Him, ~ By Arabella South- 12 A Pair of Gray Eyes. By Rose Kennedy. worth, 18 Without a Heart. 5 -rentiss Ingraham, 4 Beastie Raynor, the Work Girl. By Wm. 14 Alone in the World; or, The Young Man’s Ward, Mason Turner, M. D, By the Author of “The Bride of an Actor,” etc., ete. i> A Brave 1 By Alice Fleming. 15 Motherless; or, The Farmer’s Sweetheart. By Col. | 66 Lord Roth’s Sin. ‘By Georgiana Dickens.. Prentias Ingraham. A Wicked Heart. By s axton. 16 The Secret Marriage. By Sara Claxton. $ Wis Heart's Mistress, elin Southworth. 17 Slater against Sister; or, The Rivalry of Hearts, i he Only B Fleming, By Mra. Mary Reed Crowell. Why I Ms > n Claxton. 18 Heart to Heart. By Arabella Southworth, Honor Bound. 19 Sold for Gold, By Mra. M. V. Victor. A Man’s Sin. By Rett Winwooc 20 Entangled; or, A Dangerous Game. By Henrietta His Own Again. By Arabella Southworth. Thackeray. 4 Adria, the Adopted. By Jennie Davis Burton. 21 Sybil Chase; or, The Gambler’s Wife. By Mrs. A Brother’s Sin, | By Rachel Bernhardt. Ann S. Stephens, 4 . 76 Beeause She Loyed Him, — By Alice Pleming. 22 Trust Mer Not; or, A True Knight, By Margaret A Strange Marriage. By Lofian Lov : Leicester. Vor the W oman He Loved. By Agnes M. Shelton, 28 Sinned Against. By Clara Augusta Forbidden Bana, By Arabella Southwe 24 A Loyal Lover. By Arabella Southworth. 80 Twe Young Girls By Alice Fleming, 25 The Country Cousin, By Tose nedy. | A Point of Honor. By Lil 26 His Idol; or, The Il-Starred Marriage. By Mrs. | 82 A Woman's Witch R Mary Reed Crowell. | 88 A Seathing Ordeal. by Mrs. Georgiana Dickens, 27 Flirtation; or, A Young Girl’s Good Name, By | 84 Gutwitted by Hf If, By Arabella Southworth, Jacob Abarbanell (Ralph Royal). ; i> What Jealou Did, By Alice Fleming. 28 Now and Forever; or, Why Did She Marry Hint? A Woman’s Manenver. Sy Lillian Lovejoy, By Henrietta Thackeray. , sf A Fateful Game. By Sara Claxton. 29 Orphan Nell, the Orange Girl; or, the Lost Heir, | 88 A Ministering Angel. Hy Georgiana Dickens. By Agile Penne. 9 Haunted Hearts Rachel Bernhardt. 80 Charlotte Temple. By Mrs. Rowson. Buying a Hes ty Lillian Lovejoy. 81 The Little Heiress. By Mrs. Mary A. Denison. A Desperate Gar By Arabella Southworth. 8B2 Leap Year} or, Why She Proposed. By Sara Claxton. Under a Cloud. Hy Sara Claxton, 88 In Spite of Herself; or, Jeanette’s Reparation. The Cost of a Folly, Vy Georgiasn Diekens. By 8. R. Sherwood. Wa Teves ie Not 30: Citithul Goeacie 84 Wer Face Was Her Fortune. By Eleanor Blaine. | ?* He Loves Be Not. By Millian Lovejoy. BS The Cuban ei ebrees: Baers Pat a Denison. | What She Cost Him, By Arsbella Southworth. 86 Only a Schoolmistress. By Arabella Southworth. | gg> nen 3 ai Mat Shalos 87 The Winged Messengers or, Risking All for 4 | 96-4 Bitter Mistake. By Axnes Mary Sholtin, Heart, By Mrs. Mary Reed Crowell. | 9? Parted by Treachery. By Huriet Irving. 88 Was She a Coquette? or, A Strango Courtship. | 98 Tempted Through Love. By Lillian Lovejoy. By Henrietta Thackeray. ; lot F By A ita 8 . 89 One Woman's Heart, By George S. Kaime. 99 The Hand of Fate. By Arabella Southworth, 40 Loy pads or, AER pees Divorced and— | 100 Her Guardian’s Sacrifice. By Sara Claxton, By Wm. Mason Turner, M. D, > Te. iy Georsis a 41 For Wer Dear Sake. By Sara Claxton. 101 Pat tee By Geor,iaua Dickens, 42 The Bouquet Girl. By Agile Penne. sh a i 48 Mariana, the Prima Donna. By Arabella Southworth, | 102 A Sister’s Crime, By Agnes Mary Shelton, 44 The Ebon Mask; or, The Mysterious Guardian. Ready May 4. By Mra. Mary Reed Crowell. 108 In Love n Mockery? By Arabella Southworth, 45 Lucy Temple. Daugliter of Charlotte, Ready May 11. WheWaverley Library is for sale by all newsdealers, five cents per copy, or sent by mail on receipt of six cents each, Beadle and Adams, Publishers, No. 28 William street, New York,’ ee