Waverley Library (Quarto Edition) (no. 183) (1883 05 15)
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‘She Cheapest and Kest Library: Th ene: of Amew.wim and Foreign Noveis for Bivertencs 4 TENT Peace Tea r a i its ¢ ra ah Po eee wae Vi CaF 1° Mit mt eA TT Fs ™ eA: a eae B io 183. VoL, VIII... PUBLISHED WEEKLY BY BEADLE AND ADAMS, 98 WILLIAM ST., N. Y. PRICE, A POINT OF HONOR: « DIAMOND, cUT_ DIAMOND, Breer TLLIAN LOVEIOY ne AUTHOR OF “SINNED AGAINST,” ‘HONOR BOUND,” “4 STRANGE MARRIAGE,” ETC., ETC. H THE TWO GIRLS WERE.NORA STANDISH AND HER SISTER ADA.
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i ede 1, Ts. | o Point of] of itiiar: “DIAMOND pans DIAMOND. BY LILLIAN LOVEJOY, “AUTHOR OF ‘‘TEMPTED THROUGH LOVE,” ve BUYING A HEART,” ETC., ETC. CHAPTER 1 RASH WORDS. “ Anp I tell you, sir, that not one cent’ of my money shall ever go to pay your disgrace- fuldebts! I wonder you are not ashamed to ~ look.me i in the face and suggest such a thing to “me, when times are so bad! can’t get in half the rents, and the whole coun- try is going to the mis schief, ou have no de- ~- eeney, sir!” Re any - “Tam very sorry to have to ait it. I should not have been obliged to do so if my aunt Henderson had not treated me so shamefully. No one could count upon her cutting me off at the last, after she had always led me to sup- pose I should be ber heir, I should not have ‘lived up to what I did, or owe a penny now, ‘only for her abominable treatment of me. She bas regularly swindled me, the old skin- flint a : ’t dare to speak of my sister as an nflint, sir—a most sensible, just wo- who saw the sort of fellow you were, and was too wise to leave her husband’s hard- earned money to be squandered by a worthless spendthrift!” _“Spendthrift, indeed! I wonder when I ever had the chance of beinga spendthrift! I bave been kept a precious sight too tight for ~ that.” “What do you mean by ‘ too tight,’ you un- teful scamp? Haven't I allowed you a thousand a year ever since you became of age? _—asum more than many a respectable man has to support a lJarge family upon! What I ought to have put let you have you to show for it? you into your uncle’s banking-house; _ try to make some money, instead of squander- ing my small income to keep up a set of idle, good-for-nothing, smoking, betting, drinking . scamps. What do the whole lot of you do from morning till night but idle and dissipate, _ dressing yourselves up like fops, and dangling after a lot of women as silly and beggarly as yourselves? What are you scowling at sir?” _ “T think, my dear governor, we had better postpone this conversation uutil you can enter upon it with some degree of calmness and rea- son. I find it bard to believe that itis Mr. Loftus Tracy who is speaking. Thé sentiments a Yand manner would better become some of that % _ codfish aristocracy your sisters did us the ses Sa honor to bring into the family.” . ‘And deuced lucky they were to get the same codfish aristocracy, I can tell you. The fel- lows were so pleased to enter a family like ours that they never asked for a penny with your aunts; and the property was not drained to give - them. ‘fortunes, as it should have been had they married into any of the beggarly high-toned families y ect. Little as you'll have, my fine fellow, when I am gone, it would have been a precious deal less if my sisters hadn’t been so well taken off my hands.” Mr. Loftus Tracy was a wealthy irate old real estate broker, and the above amiable 1n- terchange « of civilities took place between him and bis son. and heir, Gerald, one fine summer m™ in the beauti ful grounds of his country residence. A lovetier spot never charmed the eye of man; dark mountains rose boldly round the handsome dwelling, and the richly wooded _ Jawn sloped down to the sides of a béautiful fe Jake, dotted ‘with pretty little islands. Everything that art or nature could do to beautity a Sed ‘had been done for Tracy 4 Ths Gealks and gardens were in perfect order id all appertaining to the establishment well ored and won haem fies 52 You know [| } “eae ‘Through the Tracy family ran a considera- | an‘end; his creditors were pressing him, as ble vein of shrewdness. It had led the ladies to choose their husbands from among the rich manufacturers, and sent the second brother to make a large fortune sheep-farming in Australia, instead of endur- ing genteel poverty at home, while Loftus, the eldest of the family had by his energy and | prudent investments amassed a no inconsider- | able fortune, which was steadily increasing as | the years rolled on. Loftus was decidedly fond of money, and no | one could be guilty of a greater offense in his eyes than to ask him to part with any of it. Gerald Tracy, unfortunately, bad not in- | herited his father’s prudence. Money and he soon parted company. ‘he had been dri iven to apply to his father last resource to save him from ruin. Under these circumstances be might be more tractable, and be ready to listen tobim. — When his father refused to help him in any ° way he would be driven into a corner, and be glad to extricate himself by the only means — which presented itself to him, | “IT think, with property worth retin tro” thousand a year, you might afford to help your eldest son a little more,” remarked Gerald, angrily, after a pause. “Twenty-five thousand a year, you fool!’ Not twenty-five hundred. What.is the good | of a lot of farms, ard real estate that don’t He was easy-going, | good-natured, and extravagant; and, without | being either vicious or very fast, had managed | to involve himself pretty deeply in debt. From his earliest years his father had taken pains to impress upon him that his real estate | was hopelessly mortgaged, the income derived | from it miserable, and that he had the greatest difficulty in trying to make both ends meet. ‘Of late years Gerald had become very skep- tical on this subject. different version from others, and made as mavy inquiries as he could on his own account; but his father kept his affairs too close for any one to know exactly how they stood. Gerald had really been treated very unfairly by his aunt, Mrs. Henderson, as she had led him and every one else to suppose he was her heir. Acting on this supposition, Gerald Tracy had lived considerably beyond his allowance; and: now that his hopes in that quarter were dashed to the ground, he had been forced to confess his shortcomings to his father, and ask for money to pay bis creditors, The effect of this demand on Loftus was like putting a match to a barrel of gunpowder. He raved, and stamped, and shouted, and de- clared he was ruined himself and on the verge of bankruptcy. He cursed his son’s folly aud wickedness, and solemnly declared that if five dollars would keep him out of prison he would not give it to him. Gerald was very angry at the abuse heaped on him by bis father, and had great difficulty in keeping any sort of command over his temper; buat he knew that, like most violently passionate men, Loftus’s bark was worse than his bite; and he hoped that, after having given vent to bis wrath, he would come round and help him out of his difficulties. But in this instance Mr. Tracy was perfectly fixed in his determination not to pay his son’s debts. Indeed, he was. rather pleased than otherwise at finding him in such a scrape, as he considered it would render him more amen- able to the planus he and his mother had formed regarding him. Gerald was now twenty-six, and as fine and handsome a young fellow as any one would wish to see. His only faults were extrava- gance and a little wildness. A good wife would cure him of these little failings and keep him straight. A most desirable lady in every respect had been found for him, and it only remained for him to settle down and marry her at once. But both Mr. and Mrs. Yracy knew very well that it would not be such a very easy matter to get Gerald to act as be ought in this affair. He had flirted with every girl in his set, and come through the ordeal heart-whole; though from one, as he laughingly acknowledged, he had only escaped “‘ by the skin of his teeth.” He openly expressed his contempt for his fellow-men who had put their necks under the }; matrimonial yoke, and declared his determina- tion to enjoy his own freedom for many a long year to come, This was all very wellas long as he was independent and expected to fall in for his aunt's large fortune; but things were changed | man some day. now, His expectations from that quarter were at | the ‘Rtas but you throw Sab atl your | He had beard avery | pay enough to cover its taxes. You know very | well it is as much as ever I can do to make” | both ends meet at the best: of times; now it is sheer starvation, and. then there is Burke’s — charge on this property for five thousand | dollars. If the breath was out of me to-— morrow, and you stepped ‘into my shoes—as I have no doubt you are longing to do—a nice start you'd make with that mortgage, your | own debts, and the support of your mother , and the children. - Faith, if I were you,-I’d. cut the whole thixg, and be off to Australia, or. Texas, and make a livelihood, as your uncle did before you.’ ‘*T can hardly believe things are in sucha | mess. I never saw any signs of poverty about, and you have the name of we oe snugly off.” “And you have the name of bein egregious fool, sir, and an extravagant, g ¢ for- -nothing fop! Talk to me about: thitgs » being in a mess, indeed! A fellow who hag made such a pretty hash of his own affai: Tbanks to the good management and self nial of your mother and myself, there are visible signs of want in our establishment; b your unprincipled extravagance will bring. the crash we have staved off for a little. _How. much do you owe, sir, to the fools who were so i green as to give you credit?’ “Eam sorry to say I am in debt for four — thousand dollars.” ’ Loftus received this anncuncement with a hollow groan, and started back as if be had been shot; but, happening to come against the — trunk of a tree, he received a shock which re- — stored his equilibrium. : “Oh, this is worse than anything I could ¥ have imagined!” he groaned. ‘It will kill | your poor mother! I thought you might have been a little wild and foolish—owed five hun- dred, perhaps—but four thousand! ‘You have gone to perdition entirely! You must have | plunged into every species of vice and depravity | You have sunk to the lowest depths of in- . famy!” ae “You bave no right whatever to make such — assertions about me!” cried Gerald, goaded to passion. ‘‘I have done nothing infamous or depraved, neither have I disgraced you or my- self in any way. Counting on my aunt’s money, I lived beyond my allowance. Had | she not misled me, I should not have bought my yacht or so many horses, However hee out and rid you of me entirely.” ‘Clear out! May I ask what is to wane of you after that? You are no use for any- thing; and if you think I am going to keep™ you Joafing about idly somewhere else at my expense; you are greatly mistaken.” * “Tt is not very likely, as as I am in my senses, that I shall bory myself alive, or indulge in the exciting pastime of ‘ ‘loafing | about,’as you call it. You have suggested, Australia. I shall go there, or to some othe 1] country. The world is large, and the further } away J can get. the better I shall be pleased.” “Of course you will, you unnatural scamp!. You never bad a spark of affection for xourg home or family, or the sligbtest instinct of a gentlemanly spirit. You might be a leading, You belong to an old f and will have as nice a property as there is ix
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a — ; chances, and prefér being a aw woe or a miner ip some outlandish place! Oh, you are a satis- factory heir for a man to have! I wish to Heaven there was no such thing as sons!” * Your admonitions are not very logical or ‘econsistent!” sneered Gerald. ‘‘One instant you tell me Iam aruined beggar, and advise me to emigrate; the next moment you abuse me for agreeing to your proposition. May I ask if there is any other course you can suggest to me?” “Yes, sir; there is another course open to you by which you can retrieve your errors and follies—a pleasant and honorable course. Such a chance has been given to you as you don’t deserve. You have neither brains, energy, nor steadiness ever to earn a dime honestly for ee, yourself. All you are good for is to dress > yourself up and idle about. You look weil, it is true, in your dress-suit, for the Tracys were ' always a handsome stock, though I say it that - ghouldn’t. Now, what you have to do is to make the best of the good looks you still have left after your dissipated life;, make up to Dye’ ‘some woman who has money enough to set you a on your feet, and marry her at once.” : “Tl be shot if I do anything of the kind! I am not quite such a fool as to run my head in- to such a noose as that; and if you con- i sider that an ‘honorable’ course, I can tell you sir, your ideas on that point are very different from mine; for I consider it one of the mean- est and most dishonorable actions a man could _. be guilty of to marry a woman simply to make » a convenience of her to pay off debts. I con- 4? sider that I should forfeit all claim to be called i a gentleman if I descended to that.” Are you really such an idiot as you are ey pretending to be, or are you entangled with 4 some factory or ballet-girl, and so, prevented 5° . from making a respectable match?” wy ‘“T am entangled inno way, vor have I ever frequented the society of the class you men- tion; but ‘I shall preserve my independence ' and self. ‘respect even if I have to lose all else!” “Self-respect, indeed! I wish you would add a little common-sense to your other quali- ties. You talk like a love-sick school-girl! I should like to know who ever thought it dis- honorable or ungentlemanly to marry a wife with means? Itisa fair exchange, and done every day. Look at Maurice Blake! His prop- erty was mortgaged up to the very hall door when he came in for it. Did he moon about ranting of ‘self-respect’ or such-like rubbish? Not he. Like the sensible fellow he was, he looked out for a woman to help him out of his _ difficulties. He married forty thousand dol- lars, cleared his property, and has a neat in- come besides, and can enjoy’ himself like a man. Did you ever hear any one speak of him as ‘mean or ungentlemanly ’ for doing so?” “Yd rather cut my throat than have such a sour-faced old tabby sitting opposite me every day! No wonder Maurice spends half sey time away from home!” It was surely some mischievous imp that put those words into Gerald’s mouth at that mo- ment, for Mrs. Maurice Blake was standing just ‘behind @ row ‘of evergreens. She bad come over to pay a morning visit; but, hear- ig. the lively altercation between ‘Loftus and son, she had drawn near, under cover of | the hedge, and listened with great amusement ' and satisfaction until she received the one punishment of listeners in Gerald’s speech, turned livid with rage and spite, and swore ie be revenged on the young man; and she was not a woman whose hate ended with idle threats, ** All women are pretty much alike after a few years,” sagely remarked Mr. Tracy; “but the solid advantages of money always remain.” “Were those your sentiments when you aT married my mother?” asked Gerald, scorn- at SLs nist That has nothing whatever to do with the Ae ee i’ present case, sir. T never led the life you have dove. ‘I was vot head and ears in debt. If I ao beev such e fool, of course | could not ech et Ibo please imyself with a wife. | - te j ; ban anes easel Ae *s nase cousin of hers and mine, Nora Standish. have got yourself into a regular fix, I can’t and won’t help you; and only for #his chance you would really have to emigrate: But I don’t think you can be such a fool as to sacri- fice all your prospects in life when you have it in your power to redeem yourself.” Gerald Tracy was very fond of his home and all its surroundings. He had always been made much of and spoiled, and led a pleasant, easy life. He was not in any way suited for a hard or rough life, and he knew it. It would have been a great grief to him to be obliged to quit the circle in which he had always moved, and begin an untried mode of life. “What is the chance you spoke of?” he asked, moodily. His father brightened up. yielding in the question. ‘Well, you know, your aunt Henderson left the money you thought to get to a distant Thad a letter from Mary Standish, the mother, a few days ago, alluding very kindly to the dis- appointment you had had, and asking me to send you there on a visit. Of course, that is only one way of proposing a match between you and Nora. There is no possible objection you can raise to it. The girl is young and handsome, and has the money you want to pull you through. I think you are the luckiest dog I ever heard of, to get such a chance—a chance far better than you deserve. If you can only get the girl to accept you your fortune’s made,” * And although I have never seen this Nora Standish, I have the greatest aversion to her, knowing the deceit and the arts she must have used to wheedle my aunt into leaving her the fortune.” “There you are out again, my wise fellow; for she did not see your aunt for two years be- fore her death, and it was expressly stated in the will that she was chosen because she never toadied to my sister.” ‘‘She might have made the same remark of me, too. I took good care never to toady to her. It would have been better for me if I had.” “Well, you know now exactly how matters stand. Will you go and look after the girl or not?” SE suppose there is nothing else left to me; but I don’t commit myself to anything. Tl have a look at her, and if I can make up my mind to the sacrifice af all; I'll go through with it. It is a toss-up between Scylla and Charyb- dis, and I'll see which is the worse of them.” “You are an impudent, ungrateful hound!” was Loftus’s last paternal remark, as he and his son walked off in opposite directions, When they had gone, Mrs. Maurice Blake emerged from her hiding-place, and shook her fist after Gerald. ‘Pll spoil your little plot, my fine fellow, as sure as my name is Laura Blake!” she eried, with a spiteful laugh. ‘‘I know the Stan- dishes, and can put a spoke in your wheel! Laura is as proud as Lucifer, and I’ll prepare her to receive you. I have the game in my own hands!” He saw signs of CHAPTER IL. THE TABLES TURNED, It was three o’clock on.a lovely July after- noon, and Gerald Tracy and his friend Captain Wallis were walking along Sea Beach. That lovely spot had never looked lovelier than it did at that moment. The view all round was clear and beautiful as a panorama of fairyland, lying sparkling in the sheen of the dazzling sun. But neither of the young men paid much at- tention to the charms of nature so lavishly displayed before their eyes. On Gerald Tracy's face was depicted gloom and scorn; on that of his friend, ‘compassion- | ate sympathy; for Gerald had come here to | it.” iz Bs, here it is ‘to ‘the ee, lier. Her hair and eyes were a dark br possible that any one su | man would be such a mean, dest hes POINT. OF “HONOR. a altar, and he regarded the deed « as 8 an martyrdom. ; te Captain Wallis, his college ae and Achate , had come to stand by him, and him safely through it. : An invitation had been proeured for hited t¢ stay at the Standishes’ while Gerald remained, They were both slowly wending their way to the house. oe Had any one suggested to Gerald Tracy that he was more an object of envy than of pity if he won Nora Standish for his wife, he would simply have thought they were out of their. senses, Captain Wallis shared his friend’s feelings on the subject, and was loud in the praise of the noble self-abnegation he had shown, by ac- — quiescing in his parent’s plans for his: settle- 3 ment in life. * ald, a railer fe a the ‘ Nile state, ” but, on — the contrary, was engaged to a very protty girl, and felt deeply aggrieved that her ga insisted upon a year’s probation before be” would give bis consent to the marriage. 3 ‘Pretty, round here,” he remarked, iinet : toward the sea. F both puffed away at their oleate and pursued their way in silence. ‘Suppose we must soon show up at the house?” remarked Gerald, in lus iegnat ey , a Captain Wallis looked at. ith eer - pity. Lag oe atl “Well, old fellow, ocsaned tee i it’s | got through with the better,” he replied, en- 4 couragingly. “It’s just three now.” vad “‘T don’t want to put in the ae afternoon there,” growled Gerald. js “Tf we turn up at five or six it will be time’ enough. Let’s stay here for a while.” They threw themselves down on | just behind a buge rock, which shelter from the sun’s rays, and drawing thei over their eyes, seemed disposed to take an But they had not been very many min there when the sound of footsteps and wats voices roused them. They both looked briskly around the | g der, and nodded approvingly iia they made their inspection. Two exceedingly pretty girls cam 1 in and each such a contrast to the o tbe, they served to set off each other’s beauty, The smaller of them was a piquant, coquet- — tish blonde—archness and roguery . Jurking in 4 the depths of her lustrous blue eyes, an / ing round the corners of her tiny ros mouth, Shé was tossing her head walked and shaking her golden hair abou distracting disorder. Her companion was much taller anni, her nose slightly aquiline; her mouth She seemed greatly mover at ‘something she approached. Her large eyes wer through their long lasbes; a egos: on her cheek, and her wh : candidly; ‘only I have t black and white! I could n t hav ture!” if ‘Walking into some poor ren Walia to Gerald, blonde, in a ree cooing BS so i odious wretch. I at glad we know a beforehand.” “Yes,” replied : “Tam thankful for that, ane had made up my mind to be as. could be to him, and felt so s¢ appointment, horrid, double- I see now he was just served es Have you ite —, ‘Team y
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PW 6 = ee See eed, eae: Site i aim RC TE ENS STW SY a —itover. I don’t feel as if I could ever make - up my mind to yo back to the house and be _ «ivil to the reptile,” _ .. They sat down a little in front of the two gentlemen, who were hidden completely from their view. _ Gerald and Captain Wallis looked at each other in amused perplexity. si , They could not retire without being seen, 5 ae and thus letting the fair speakers know that ‘am _ they had been overheard. Besides, it did not ene concern them, and was very amusing, and “a anything which served to raise their depressed F- Spirits was welcome; so they remained per- fectiy quiet. The two girls were Nora Standish and her 2 “sister Ada. Nora drew a letter from her pocket, and _ with great scorn and emphasis began to read: “4 Dearest NorA:—No doubt you will be surprised _ toreceive a letter from me before your mother has answered my last, but I am writing on a very solemn and important subject, and for your own private reading. Ineed not tell you, my sweet girl, that I have always admired and loved you, and that - which I now communicate is dictated only pers the sentiments of affection I bear toward id _ consult my own inclinations only, I sho a not cater: _ ferein a matter so delicate and important.’ “YT wish she wouldn’t prose so,” remarked _ ‘Ada, impatiently. “Now, just listen to this, Ada; _ By the most extraordinary, and, as I feel bound _to think, Paes, chance, aN hap ened to over- hear a conversation between Mr. Loftus Tracy and . his precious son and heir.’ “What in the world was that noise, Ada?” “Qh, T don’t know, Nothing but the tide, ~ Tgu-ss. Do goon.” e aids di se old man, who is a great miser, was furious oung Hopeful’s conduct. It seems he has plnnged into the worst kinds of vice and dissipation. panged in and ears in debt, and unless he marries “some po gy pA ae jwith money, he will have to clear out * ale a wee a pesos And that’s the man who Cg fe coming tostay in the house with us?” Yes; isn’t he an acquisition? But you ‘ sata heard the worst part yet. “+ Hisfather swore he would not give him five dol- : last to save him from prison. (I expect he is tired - elping him out of his scrapes.) = Oy - pet ‘Young Tracy, who had a most violent temper and lanblent J ott Be answered his father in such xe Seco apart and daring a way that I felt afraid the uld open and swallow him up, te ‘After a horrible and unseemly altercation, that a saben have given worlds to avoid, only I could not escape without being seen by them, Loftus told his Ne, t there was only one chance left for him to “8a e himself from ruin. ‘*@Quess my horror when I heard the old schemer » name you as the victim to be offered up to save this ite from the just punishment of his villainy, ,in the coarsest possible words, refused to at any price.’ Bs c profi ihe you * “Ob, the impertinent monster! I wish I f ‘Gould run this parasol through him!” Me _ Never mind, Nora; we will pay him out e “A ‘eee way or other, never fear.” _. “J never felt so humiliated in my life,” said eP- Nora, bursting into tears, ‘‘I did not think me there could be such an abyss of degradation in = any buman creature! ; _“¢Then,’ the letter continues, ‘Mr. Loftus Tracy Z a Sianed and hinted at some disgraceful naan lament . money." ie “Oh, the abominable story-teller! never went near her!” af he would like you.’ _ “Now, Ada, may I ask what you think of that?” which prevented his son from making use of your ‘ «What can you expect but falsehood and : ; - oft Tt re more ‘and more dreadful; but please money; yr, old him he might either marry you or o Australia. This drove the vile yo man into pap but he remarked that altho oug he never seen you, he loathed you for the deceit And you me * slander, from such a man, my dear?” said Nora, 3B great scorh; and continued to read: + AE last Loftus admitted that your mother her- oF self had proposed a match between you and this wheedling you used to get Miss Henderson’s _ young man, and invited him on a, visit to let him see ~ “the repro in a gion arg tenet iat onte my b Moon boil at last signifi pie Frece faa as “Tobe at you, and said that if wu SSDS Se" SEES ADGA ges CYNE RN ape NGS EPSP AGES NEUE RCRD SAGO UPL PLDEEEeSe=oe cass ee | | fortune- hunter. be ‘POINT OF HONOR. would go through with it, as he was s between veete and Charybalis, and had no way of escape.”’ his own odious words. As soon as I could wes pon I did so, feeling deeply thankful that I had been so marvelously led to the spot as to overhear the plots against you, and perhaps to be the humble instru- ment of saving you from their base designs. ‘My dearest Nora, believe me there is no lot on this ear rth so utterly wretched as that of a woman who has been married merely for her money.’” “Ah, poor thing! she speaks from experi- ence; but I must say Maurice Blake bas always been’ very nice to me whenever we met,” “Yes; but, you see, you are not his wife, Ada, and that makes all the difference, I shall always feel deeply grateful to her for opening my eyes and warning me against this heartless wretch. It is pure kindness on her part for sbe says:— “ *Tf this Gerald Tracy possessed one good or hon- orable quality, or gave the slightest promise of ever becoming a reputable member of society or a steady husband, I should have let matters take their course, knowing how much it would add to my happiness to have you settled near me; but I could let no such selfish consideration prevent me imploring you, as’ you value your self-respect and future happiness never to let yourself be made the tool of that ruine scamp and his miserly old father,’ ” “Not much fear of you being such a fool, Nora, dear. I wish we had some way of pun- ishing the wretch.” “But just to think of mamma offering me to him! I think worse of that than anything.” ‘* Well, you see, she did not know the sort of character he was, and I am sure it was all on account of the way you flirt with that Mr, Spread.” “ You need not talk of flirting, Ada, for you flirted twice as much with Charley Wade— and you engaged, too!” ‘‘That’s just. the difference, dear. There is no harm in my amusing myself. I’m safe— like a married woman, almost; but papa and mamma were afraid you might be taken in by that scheming fortune hunter. ‘‘Not much fear of that. I detest those straw-colored men; but even if I did choose to marry him, I wonder what objection there is to him more than to this Gerald Tracy? Both are men of bad character, and simply coming after me to be able to make use of my money fer their odious vices. I wish I had never got the abominable thing!” ‘“‘Not you, my dear; that’s only a meta- phorical way of speaking. Look at poor me— obliged to wait until Tom gets promoted before I can marry him! Oh, dear! if I had the slightest idea that Mrs. Henderson was looking out for somebody to leave her money to, I should have put forth all my fascinations to charm her. Tlove money.” “That’s all talk, Ada. If you cared as much for money as you pretend, you would have married a rich man instead of engaging your- salf to a poor one.” * Ab, all the money in the world would not make up for being tied to a savage. But let us settle what we are to do with your disinter- ested suitor. If it were not for poor mamma we could pretend to be each other. I should glory in accepting his offer, and seeing his face when I told him I was the pauper.” ‘“¢-Yes, that would just pay him out; but itis impossible. Look here, Ada, you know you are very pretty.” ‘“A thousand thanks for the compliment! Only I am too lazy I would rise and courtesy; but I may remark, in return, that I have beard the same opinion expr:ssed about you. Might I ask why you feed my vanity in that bare- faced manner?” ‘Because I want you to make a fool of this I believe you could make any man fall in love with you, if you tried. Do try to fascinate him. Of course, at first he will make up to me; but I shall turn the cold shoul- der on him, and you can easily attract him; and when he loses his heart to you, we can both laugh at him.” “ That’s all very fine, but do you suppose a man like that has any heart to lose? If he were anything of a noble animal, I might succeed; but greed for money is a passion not to be in- p his thind ‘to the sacrifice, a fluenced by any tender emotion. I might have all my trouble for nothing, and then I should _ . feel small.” “ Well, you can try, at all events. I have heard that he has always been running after girls; so he may be weak on that point and easily taken in.” “So be it then. I shall equip myself ss conquest and blaze forth in the full splendor of my charms, You must hold yourself aloof, anah indulge in none of your intellectual ee Don’t make use of your speaking eyes, as on of your ardent admirers calls them, “You bad better take his friend in hand; it will keep you from occupying yourself with him at all. It will be the safest way, and the other may be nice,” ‘Very likely, indeed, when he is a friend of Gerald Tracy. Another edition of himself, I expect,” “ Well I think the whole thing promises to be “very good fun, and nothing at all for you to look so woe-begone about. Let us go back now; it is getting late.” CHAPTER IIT. PLOT AND COUNTERPLOT, Ags soon as the two girls had gone a safe dis- tance, Captain Wallis gave a long whistle, then burst into a hearty fit of laughter, and ex- claimed: “Gerald, my boy, you are in a pretty fix! By Jove! how they both did pitch into you! I would not be in your shoes for a trifle.” A wonderful change had taken place in Ger-” ald Tracy. All his listless and gloomy expres- sion had vanished. His eyes were sparkling with anger, and his whole framé quivering with suppressed wrath. ‘Tl be even with her yet,” he said bitterly. ‘“‘ A woman who could misjudge and slander a man like that deserves to get alesson. It is unbearable!” “But which of them do you mean? I think the little fair one was the hardest on you.” “Do you think I mind what a doll like that says? I think as little of it as I would of the scratching of a kitten; but Nora Standish is different.” “JT must confess that I don’t think her so much to blame at all. Recollect she has never seen you, and can only judge you by what she hears. Who could have written that diabolical letter, and is there any foundation at all for what is asserted in it about you?” ‘lt was written by a Mrs, Blake, who lives near us, and who must have been prowling about, and meanly listened to the row between me avd my father. The governor was in one of his furies, and provoked me so that I hardly knew what I said; and when he advised me to marry money, and quoted Maurice Blake as an example of prudence, I told him I would rather be shot than live with such a sour-faced tabby as bis wife,” “A woman never forgives a speech like that. She would be sure to take her revenge, and she has done it neatly. You can easily disprove the slanders about your charac- ter, and I am sure you can deny ever having spoken about Miss Standish as she repre- sented.” “ That’s just what I cannot do. I was ass enough to talk a lot of bosh in sy temper, and I did think she must have acted badly about my aunt’s money, and said so; but now Iknow I was mistaken. I refused to marry any one for mere money; but when I saw myself com- pletely cornered, I said if I could at all make up my mind to the sacrifice I would go through with it, and I did finish up with that beastly speech about Scylla and Charybdis. You thought yourself that it was very hard li-es that I should have this marriage forced up n me,” “« Well, I don’t think so now, for I think Nora Standish is a splendid girl, and’ you will be a lucky dog if you get her with or without money. If she devotes herself to me as the two planned, I shall have to cut and run, or poor Clara might go to the wall.” ,
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“It is nut at all probable that she will de- | v«te herself to you. You seem to torget that | the opinion she has of you is quite as low as the one she hasof me. I wonder what would be the wisest thing todo?” “*] think your best course would be to make a clean breast of it to the girl, Tell her the yin co truth; say you spoke in a passion, and in complete ignorance of her real character, Vas let her know why Mrs. Blake has such a spite against you. That will open her eyes, and make her distrust the letter, If you play your cards properly she will forgive you.” ** Forgive me, indeed! You seem to forget what I have to forgive ber. She has vilified and abused me beyond the power of endurance. I swear on my honor, by all I hold sacred, that I will never ask her to become my wife!” ‘Now, don’t be a fool, Gerald. You are ‘angry and don’t know what you say, When you think it over calmly, you will acknowl- edge that any girl of spirit’ would have felt the same,” : “Tf it is in the: power of man to do it, I will make her alter her opinion of me. Jl bend her pride yet! Wallis, you promised to stand by me in this affair!” ‘€So I will, old fellow; but I never thought things would take this twist. What will you do?” “They would have persuaded each other to take us in, only they could not manage it. Vl adopt tbe idea. You shall be the reprobate, — Gerald Tracy, and I shall be his triend. Nora will be thrown off ber guard, and we shall take them in.” ** T don’t think the plan feasible. Some one down here is sure to kuow us, and then what apology have we to make to the old people? And even if we manage to escape detection, I ~ . don’t see any object to be gained by it.” “Don’t you see that if I now appear before her in my trae form, she will avoid and re- pulse me, and I shall bave no opportunity of making ber know me and like me? As Captain Wallis, she may endure my society until ] make my inving:, when she may fiond I am not the odious wretch she thought me.” “Very good, my friend; et apres ?” “6 Apres, my dear Wallis, when I have right- ed myself in her judgment, I shall politely take my leave. Oh, you may look as incredu- Jous as you like, I have made up my mind.” “You will be playing with edged tools, and end in being head and ears in love with her. Vl help you in your little game, for I know it will all come right in the end.” “Tf I loved her to distraction the result would be precisely the same. I shall never ask her to marry me. Yes, whistle away; you might know me well enough now to know that I can be firm.” ‘We shall see what we shall seo, I thick we shall come to grief; but I shall throw all the blame on your shoulders!” “So you may; [I am willing to bear it. I have been so little in Boston for years, that there is not much chance of my meeting any- body I know here. I shall drill Trim into bis . part, and I have no doubt but that all will go right long enough for what I want, at all avents.” | “And \’m to be delivered up to the tender mercies of that pretty little flirt. What wi.l Clara say?” “Yoaare too eld a bird to be canght witb chaff, and can take care of yourself; “and for Heaven's sake don’t let Clara get wind of the affair at all! Women never can keep a secret, and we have had enough mischief done to us by one of the sex already.” ‘Clara is discretion and good-nature itself. There would be no fear of her letting out our seeret; but she is as jealous as the mischief, and 1 think would tear the eyes out of our little Ada if she knew ber designs on me. _ So, on the whole, I shall make a mental reser- vation when I write my letters to her,” Yes, do; the fewer who know of our af- fairs the better. Now, come along; the farce mes sip w begin.” Tiey reached Aspell House about half an hour later. It was a very handsome residence, and situated so as to command a good view of both land and sea, and the grounds were taste- fully laid out, and there was a profusion of flowers every where, Coming up the long avenue, they fortuvately met Trim and their valet, and impressed upon him that he was always to call them by each other’s names. The man immediately entered into the spirit of the thing, and was greatly delighted at hav- ing such an important secret intrusted to his prudence, Mr. and Mrs. Standish were a handsome, easy-going, hospitable couple of the o!d school type. When the gentlemen were announced, Captain Wallis, as Gerald Tracy, was wel- comed so frankly and heartily, that he felt ready to sink through the floor with shame at his duplicity. Not so the true Gerald. Thinking only of his scheme of revenge, he viewed with great complacency the success of his trick, and kept his eye steadily fixed upon his friend, while that unhappy individual floundered through his replies to the various inquiries made to him respecting his parents, neighbors, Tracy Park, ete. Fearing he might find bimself out of his depth if these questions were pushed too far, Gerald adroitly turned the conversation, and exerted himself to such good purpose, that both Mr. and Mrs. Standish were charmed with him, and congratulated themselves upon having found two such nice young men to brighten up the house avd amuse the girls. Mrs, Standish rung for tea, and told the butler to ask the young Jadies to come down. That functionary returned in a few minutes, and gravely announced that the young ladies were still walking, but the roguish twinkle in his eye belied his words, Gerald and Captain Wallis knew perfectly that the two girls were in the house, but de- termined to have as little of their society as possible, The old couple invited their guests out of doors, and they. sauntered about the grounds until the dressing-bell rung. Mrs. Standish several times expressed sur- prise at the non-appearance of her daughters, and the moment she returned to the house she asked if they had come in, and gave a sigh of relief when she heard that they were in their rooms. For the said young ladies, ‘having been all their lives spoiled and indulged to the top of their bent, were very apt to act just as their caprices moved them, and it would have been nothing very wonderfui if they had absented themselves altogether if they did not approve of thcir visitors. The low opinion which they bad formed of Gerald and his friend did not in the least pre- vent them using every means to make the best possible impression on them. They spared no pains to enhance their natural beauty, but ap- peared in exquisite toilets, and looked bewild- eringly lovely, Ge:ald Tracy watched them both keenly when Captain Wallis was presented to them as their cousin, end he could not withhold his ad- miration at their wonderful powers of dissimu- lation. Nora received him with an affectation of ‘ perfeet good-natured indifference; shook hands with him; with a smile, asked after Mr. and Mrs, Tracy, and remarked tbat it was quite too good of him to come and stay in tbeir dull bouse; and all this with such a true air of go- ing through a polite duty, in which she had not the slightest interest, that Captain Wallis felt his cheek flush with annoyance, although he knew what was beneath the surface. Ada, on the contrary, shyly cast down her eyes as she greeted him; then, looking archly up, asked, with a pretty pout, whether he was to be “Mr. Tracy” or “Gerald.” If he was. their cousin, she thought he was just horrible tor never coming Sy see thom before. ? as ‘POINT. OF F HONOR. __ This direct attack restored Captain Wallis's> ‘ equilibrium. He was in his element in)a mo- ment. With a look of beld admiration, which — made even the practiced Ada blush, he re- — plied promptly that he should insist upon bis — cousinship; that he was well punished for any — remissness in the past by the knowledge of what he had lost by it; and for the future sho would find that he erred in the opposite ex treme. Ada smiled and showed her little pearls of teeth, and brought the full artillery of her eves in play. 5 Nora curled her lip and entered into conver- % sation with Gerald Tracy. Bey While she talked, she mentally compared — the two men, and congratulated herself that? B} this cousin of hers, though plausible and good- | looking, was not at all the style of man to Br whom she would lose her heart. Hemight uso all his: fascinations, and she could feel safe. ae Had it been this handsome, half-sad, half- stern friend of his, it might been more danger- z ous and harder for ber to be firm to her re- ei solve. She had to admit that neither of the — young men looked at all like the hardened vil- ee laius she had imagined them; but she decided 4 that men were so deep and artful, that noone — could ever guess what they really were. es es She felt very much inclined to be agreeable to this Captain Wallis, who looked as if he baa) something on bis mind; and the very coldness . he showed toward ber piqued ber into phen a ! to win his attention, for indifference to a wo- man accustomed to admiration is only an ma citement to coquetry. * The dinner passed off gayly. Gerald Tracy was the owly one who was net really in good spirits; but even he contributed | to the general amusement, for he was deter mined to appear at bis best. As he was hand=~ some, witty, and well-informed, he had no difficulty in attracting general attention and — admiration. tas * More than once he found Nora’s eyes daca”: aa on him with au expression which filled him with triumph, which at once turned to a sharp % pang of pain. Be Mrs. Standish had so arranged that Captain Wallis shou'd st near Nora, and remembering © his assamed character, be began to pay ber — rather extravagant attention; but her supreme — compesure and indifference ‘disconcerted hh fen. imwensely; and when, at the end of what he ah considered a very delicately turned ca es ment, she started as if rousing herself from a reverie, and coolly asked him to repeat his re-. mark, he felt completely annihilated, and gave — up trying to act the lover, and devoted his at- — tention to Ada, wbo sat opposite to him and favored him with every variety of coquettish glance. ee, Gerald was exceedingly pleased at “his ' friend’s discomfiture, and plumed himself on ay his cleverness in exposing him to it instead of himself; and while he felt greatly gratified « being able to attract Nora’s regard, be did not feel the least ashamed of doing so under false pretenses, for it was “diamond cut dia In the drawing-room that evening, Captai Wallis devoted himself openly to Ada, ¢ there could be no doubt whatever tbat t two young people were carrying on ie: flirtation. itd Their cousinship gave them an excuse their sudden intimacy. Sea a Mr. and Mrs, Standish looked disconcerted; < but they never ventured to oppose any - whim of their daughters, so were helpless, Ada had bound them over, under threats of her dire displeasure, not to mention her e ment to any one. She therefore passed as except to a very few initiated pe scien cae The old people thought it a great pity when she did not want Gerald for herself 5 should prevent Nora having one but — their happy way of looking at every thing a cheerful point, they decided that as_ seemed to fancy a Wallis, ie all for the best. ‘3 He was a sgn ys) we man, and =, & :
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Les ieee The he Sona ae POINT. OF ee ee ee ee eee ned aa, aS hate ye 17) |) ‘3 8 is a fr. " ly to’ make a good busband as another, and there could be no difficulty about monéy when dear Nora had so much, — ae ‘Nora and Gerald seemed very well satisfied _ to be left to each other’s society. They found that their voices went very well - together. They tried over several duets; talked over music, poetry, and things in gen- eral; while they found that even when their opinions did not agree, there was a marvelous sympathy between their tastes and ideas. - Gerald’s antagonistic feelings toward his cousin were fast vanishing. He had to ac- knowledge to himself that he had never met ‘any one who came so near his standard of per- fection. _ Nora was very handsome. She had a digni- fied composure that did not in the least take mits the girlish sweetness and freshness i interested in her ‘subject, her hike face 7as irradiated, while her lustrous eyes dilated, a a she looked like one inspired. © _ Gerald felt bimself fast falling under tho spell of ber beauty and fascinating manner. _ The more he resisted the influence which was stealing over him, the stronger it grew, and a hundred times he cursed the vindictive malice irs. Blake, which had destroyed all his opes of 7 happiness. ‘Now, 2} Nora, let us talk them over,” ex- claimed ‘Ada, flinging harself into an eusy- hair in her sister’s bedroom, when they had re- _. tired for the night. ‘Tl begin with mine. He is as nice as ever ag be. I can hardly believe a word Miss : wrote of him.” “Unfortunately there is no room for doubt the subject; but I always heard he was a irt. Now, he naturally likes you best, and _ knows how to make himself fascinating.” itv ‘Yes; but if he were the sordid wretch she said, and wanted to marry you merely for ae money, he would not lose his time mak- to poor little pauper me.” ell, be did attempt a few elaborate com- its and tender looks at dinner; but I pee ‘his ardor on the spot. I think he ave been a perfect stoic if he had re- ~ Sui ros. You did your part splendidly. I ic og saw sucb a consummate flirt!” RF As a ot just look in the glass at once, dear, e you'll not be able to say that again. Any evans judge would say that you flirted outrageously with handsome ‘Sir ae ? as I shall call him. I admit that our i are different. You go in for exchange A sentiments, finding out affinities, murmuring Ree ana unutterable things out of your big eyes, and all that sort of thing. It is far | = than any harmless fun I may : you call it flirting to have a sensible n oeaies on general subjects with a well- sed man, I can’t help it. It is very All that passed between me and Cap- “I Wallis might be printed to-morrow for all » 29 Now, Nora, don’t be such a hypocrite! You k now you did flirt, and why not? It-was tural and right. I don’t see why you d deny it. I never do. He is awfully somp—a melancholy, deep style; very in- g, though, on the whole, Gerald suits er. Don’t think I was too selfishly en- iat cagide an eye to your future inierests. it Mites as it m ay appear to you, it ccur to me that, in the remote future, iracle might happen as you and he in love with each other, so I was re- find out if he would do, and I think Tol ‘are mors. emai than ever to-night, do not think it very jikely tbat 1 shall e with either of those young men yy the e sort of charactors! oy wre; but what wonderful things did you discover about Captain Wallis?” “7 asked Gerald where his friend came from, and what Wallis he was, and heard that he was second son of old Mr. Wallis, of Ashleigh—a My next query was whether his eldest brother was at all delicate, or likely to lonely place. die soon?” ‘‘I hope you never said such a thing as that?” “Yes, but I did, though; and Gerald roared with laughter, and said unfortunately the eld- est son was a most muscular Christian, and likely to outlive his friend. “The next information was that the poor wretch had only a thousand a year. *T suggested that he should look out for a wife with money. ‘Gerald virtuously replied that his friend would never ask a rich woman to marry him. “He regretted that he would be obliged to wait for two years before the next leap- year would enable some heiress to propose to him. *“‘T then inquired, artlessly, if my cousin shared his sentiments on that matter. Gerald, with a profound sigh, which seemed to emerge from his very boots, remarked that all the chance of that was over for him now. This statement, accompanied by a killing look, I take to mean that he is satisfied to be the victim of your humble servant’s charms and has given up all designs on your money; and if he has, he can’t be so bad, you know,” ‘JT don’t believe he has done anything of the kind. He is a weak fool, and can’t re- sist your fascinations; but he will try to se- cure my money, all the same.” - ‘‘T don’t mean to let him, for I like him very much, in spite of his rascality; and it is pleas- ant to have somebody while Tom is away. Be- sides, you have your ‘Sir Lancelot’ to take up your time, and if you can overcome his _ scru- ples about a rich wife, or your own in pro- posing for him, you would make a nice couple.” ‘How you do rattle on! You know quite well you are talking nonsense. I am not so ready to throw myself at any man who hap- pens to spend a few days here.” ‘Of course not, dear; but you know, ‘There is a tide in the affairs of women,’ etc., and this may be the critical moment to take it at the flood. Don’t wax wroth. I’m off to bed. Good-night. Dream of dark eyes!” “Well, Gerald, a nice scoundrel I feel to palm myself off as you on those kind, simple people! A sweet row there'll be when we are found out! I hope you admire me doing the cousin to pretty Ada and calling her by her Christian name. I couldn’t screw up my courage to attempt the same with the other.” ‘I think the whole thing went off very well, The old people would merely look upon it asa very justifiable trick if they knew all, and of course I shall tell what led us to act so, when we are found out, You see yourself that if Nora had known who I was she would not have given me a chance of speaking to her.” “You managed to get in a good deal of | speaking, and looking, and various other things, in your borrowed character. What do you think of that sbarp little cousin of yours pamp- ing me delightfully as to Captain Wallis's family, prospects, etc. She saw how you and her sister were suited for each other, and I think quite approves of the match. You are lucky; she is a splendid girl.” “ And whatis that to me? I would rathera thousand times she was hideous and disagree- able. I could resign all thoughts of ber with less pain.” “Don’t keep up that farce. You can’t be such an idiot now, as not to go in and win? You see she likes you, and I am sure sbe is worthy of any man’s love.” “You know perfectly well, Wallis, that I have sworn never to ask her to be my wife. mane what pxcormc I seta. not: break |. Veietenas but I hope to prove to her before I leave her forever that I am not so utterly despicable as she thought.” ‘Tf Timagined for one moment that you were such an ass, I would start off to-morrow, and leave you to your own idiotic devices; but I live in hopes that you way come to your senses in a few days, and get over your silly temper.” r ‘*T shall not argue the point. You shall see for yourself whether I change my purpose or not. You need not mind; your role is agree- able Pe a “Yes; I have no objection to keep up my pS with the charming Ada. And now, old fellow, take my advice, and sleep off your morbid fancies, and be clothed in your right mind when I see you to-morrow morning. Good-night!” tp aes CHAPTER IV. A BOLD MASQUERADER. | A WEEK had passed. Ada Standish and Captain Wallis had enjoyed themselves thor- oughly. Both practiced flirts, and able to keep their hearts and heads cool, they had carried on the game with all the zest and skill of true artists. Yet Ada was greatly puzzled. No one could be more devoted than her new admirer. He never lost an opportunity of being in her so- ciety or paying her marked attention. But she felt that, in reality, she had not subdued him or made bim fall in love with her, as she. had intended. She had been met with her own weapons, and partly foiled. The laughing compliment, open love-making, daring looks and speeches, were not, she well knew, the signs of a man deeply in love. She perceived that he was simply carrying on a violent flirtation with her, and responding to her own advances. What his object in this was she could not di- vine. If he had come on the serious business of - marrying her sister, inorder to make use vf her money to save him from ruin, why bad he abandoned his object without any effort? And if ruin were staring him in the face, how could he be so light-hearted and indifferent to consequences? Nora and she had talked it over and over, but neither could solve the difficulty. It did not interest Nora much, for now all her thoughts were occupied by her cousin’s handsome friend, who was quite as great an enigma in his own way as the other. She had never before met a man who fas- cinated her as this man did. She admired his appearance, his intellect, hisvery melancholy, unaccountable change of mood and manner, for Gerald was strangely perplexed in his mind, and was so torn and swayed by conflicting emotioas, that this behavior was most caprici- ous, One day he would seem all devotion and tenderness, and exert all bis powers to cap- tivate Nora. The very next day he would be cold, indifferent, almost rude. At other times he would be so dejected, and plunged in suck gloom and depression, that: he found it impos- sible to shake it off and rouse himself sufficient- ly to take bis part in the ladies’ society, and would make excuses for absenting himself from the circle, Nora felt almost sure that he loved ber. It seemed impossible that such subtle sym- patby and intuitive appreciation of each other could exist unless some deeper feeling lay be- neath it. Sbe knew she loved him, and | thought she had pride enough to hide the fact from every one’s knowledge; but Gerald read her secret in her true eyes, and his heart: swelled with a strange, wild joy, for he valued the love of this girl more than anything in life, ii He could not.always remain firm to his. miserable resolve, or deny himself the gratifi- cation of enjoying the society of the one he loved, and yielding bimself now and then to the full ne ot rs moment. ae
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It was then that they felt the full confidence in each other’s affection, which they confessed as plainly by looks and tones as if they had spoken; but Gerald brought himself severely to task after these fits of weakness, and after a sharp struggle, determined not to give way again. Then would ensue dreary hours of coldness ’ and reserve, and Nora, in the solitude of her chamber, wept bitterly over the power which this man used so cruelly over her. a She attributed bis changeable conduct en- tirely to his pride and delicacy. (" The dread of being thought a fortune-hunter prevented him asking her to be his wife. She began to hate her wealth, which seemed ‘to have some ill-luck attached to it that stood between her and her happiness. For the first few days the young men were strangely averse to mixing in the society of the neighborhood; but they soon learned that there were no people at Sea Beach whom they had met before. _They had become more daring, too, and hardened, less fearful of a discovery. They j entered so completely into their different roles, that they almost felt as if they were in reality the individuals they personated. They therefore allowed themselves to be exhibited at the hops at the hotel, joined in several tennis-parties and afternoon teas, and made themselves generally agreeable and use- ful. Nora and Ada were greatly envied by their ~~ lady friends for having two such delightful escorts actually staying in their house. They said among each other that it was a most charming arrangement, and seemed likely to turn out well. That handsome Captain Wallis, who bad no money, was devoted to Nora, the heiress, who evidently liked him; and Ada, who had hard- ly any fortune, had made a conquest of her cousin, who would be a wealthy man some day; for although no one knew either Gerald Tracy or Captain Wallis personally, almost every one knew who they were, and could give full particulars of their family and means. Thus a month passed, a month full of gayety and laughter, love aud pain, weakness and pride, It was about eight o’clock in the evening, The two girls and their companions had strolled out after dimer to bear the band, but they had wandered away from the crowd on the beach to a quiet path overlooking the ocean. The sun was setting in the full splendor of his gorgeous evening glory, and tinted the beauteous landscape with bis roseate shades. The sea was rippling gently and plashing softly against the beach and rocks, All around was lovely, peaceful in the hazy summer evening. Ada had been more than usually piqued that day by the conduct of her supposed cousin. She had boldly asked him if he were in love 4 “ | with any one, and had received a reply in the | affirmative, so promptly and heartily given, that she was quite convinced of its truth. All the stereotyped speeches, sighs, and hints, to make her believe that she was the object of adoration, did not impose upon her in the least; and she was exceedingly annoyed to . think it possible that any man could be ex- posed to the full force of her charms and arts, and not only remain unsubdued, but acknow- . ledge that his heart was given tosome one else. fi She redoubled her efforts; and between her ¥ ; - wondrous beauty, her daring coquetry, the soft | intoxication of the hour, the seene, the distant | ( iausic borne on the breeze, Captain Wallis be- gan to lose his head, and vowed that she was | the most bewitching siren that ever tempted a man to make a fool of himself. It must be said for Ada, that believing Cap- tain Wallis to be her cousin Gerald, she treated him with a degree of familiarity she never would have indulged in had she known that, in - reality, he was a stranger. While Gerald and Nora were sitting dreami- ing the sinking sun, and sighing a soft i oly) ‘ “sige cee eee toat the mgt of the: Pi Ada and ela Wallis were baiting on a lively battle for the possession of a rose, which he maintained she had promised to give him. Ada, with the prettiest pouts and brightest flashes of pretended anger, defended her treas- ure, and finally ran down the sloping path as if to escape from her tormentor’s importunity. Captain Wallis considered it a challenge to follow, and promptly did so. As he came up with Ada, she sprung lightly aside, and perching herself on apiece of rock and laughingly holding up the rose, declared she had put it and herself out of his reach. She looked so provokingly pretty and so mockingly defiant, that Captain Wallis without a moment’s thought, sprung up beside her, caught her in his armé, and taking the rose and a kiss at the same time, lifted her down to the path beside him, and asked her if she would acknowledge herself conquered now. Ada was really furious. Her cheeks blazed; her eyes flashed in earnest now. She stamped her tiny foot on the ground, and exclaimed, angrily: “ How dare you be so impudent, Gerald? Do you think I would have allowed you to come near me if I had thought you capable of the | meanness of using your horrid brute strength to get what you wanted? You have behaved abominably !” ‘You should not have provoked me to it by looking so distractingly pretty,” replied he, quite unabashed. ‘‘1 don’t see that there is anything so very dreadful in your cousin giv- ing you a kiss; or what you are in such a temper about.” “Tf it were not that you are my cousin, I should tell papa at once of your conduct, and get him to punish you for it,” retorted Ada, with severe dignity. Captain Wallis only laughed. ‘‘Now, Ada,” he said, coaxingly, after a moment, “you and I are not going to quarrel. Just think how disagreeable it would be for both of us if we were not good friends! Don’t be always so hard-hearted.” “T think you are the greatest flirt I ever met in my life,” remarked she, beginning to relent. “Tam not quite sure about my being the ‘greatest’ ” he replied, demurely. And Ada blushed, and had to acknowledge to herself that she had brought all this upon herself by her own coquetry. After a little more sparring, these two kin- dred spirits made up their difference and shook hands. As they walked away, emerged from behind some rocks, near enough for them:-to see the little scene which had just been enacted, though they had not heard what had passed. For quiet and desolate as the spot looked, it was often frequented by those who preferred to be away from the .crowd, and was a very unsafe place for any exchange of private confidences or endearment. “Well, I suppose that little flirt has landed her fish,” remarked one to the other. “Ill back Ada Standish against any girl in the ‘world for making a fellow lose his head.” “Did you say Ada Standish?’. asked his companion, quickly. “Yes. Do you know her?” ' “Not personally, But who was that with her?” “A sort of cousin—eldest son of Loftus Tracy, of Boston. He and a Captain Wallis are staying at the Standishes’, and since his arrival, Ada has bad neither eyes nor ears for anybody else. They are always spooning about together. From the pantomime we have just been favored witb, I conclude they are engaged, for she manages te keep fellows at .a certain distance through all her flirtation, and this looks like business,” There was no reply to this, and the conver- sation drifted into other channels. But by that night’s posta letter was dispatched to Tom Newman, from his old schoolfellow and bosom ‘two gentlemen | | large eyes to his with such a pitiful, tender — of Ada’s flirtation with Gerald Tracy, ann forming him that he had himself seen the afore = said Gerald kiss her that very evening, and concludivg with the safe advice to give the girl up at once, or run up and insist upon an ex- ra planation, * “How very lonely and. still ervoty Childe remarked Nora Standish to Gerald Tracy, ina — low, sweet voice. ‘Is it not strange that such perfect beauty and rest, instead of giving al mixed pleaure, fills the heart with sadness and! dissatisfaction?” ; ‘You can have: little to make you sad or Me dissatisfied,” replied he, bitterly. ‘‘ Young, — beautiful, rich, clever— what lot could be more perfect? Ifyou are not happy in it, it must — be from fancied sorrows, You have all you: could wish for.” She did not answer in words, but raised her nt yearning and reproach, that his cheeks paled from the pain it cost him to maintain bis os control, He pretended not to see or understand her mute appeal; but continued in a bard, in different tone: ‘‘Tf it would amuse you to see a bustooic’ contrast to your own bright wisdom, just dis- sect my miserable position. I stand here this evening without a hope or possibility of lead- — ing any other life than one I loathe. - Beg- gared, ruined by slanderous malignity, all rok s: prospects blighted, I present as complete a foil a to your happiness as you eould desire.” — ie She was frightened and inexpressibly wounded by his words; but in her tel 24 love, she forgave bim his ‘harshness, and grieved — for his misery. “ Why do you talk so wildly?’ she asked, in 4 ~ friend, James sie phases him a full PROTA wer her to ci superior to ae sais 47a} her low, soothing voice. ‘‘ Surely things can ae not be so bad as you say?” “They could not be worse. When | leave. your house, I leave hope bebind, I , after paying my debts, I have sufficient mon y, I go. to Australia or some of the Western Terri- tories. If I cannot pay my passage, I shall work my way out, and under a new name, a iy a new country, in a new position, I shall : ; to keep body ‘and soul together by dig :gin - blacking boots, or some such noble and con genial occupation. Should I fail to obtai even that—well, perhaps a bullet may sete] the affair more quickly and efficiently.” oR ee ‘“‘] cannot bear to hear you talk like that,” she exclaied, as the tears started to her eve ‘*Can you find no way out of your trouble: without ruining yourself?” She was carried away by the ‘intensity of. her feelings, and fast losing all ber self- -con- trol. Sbe stood before bim with her eee clasped, and her eyes fixed pleadingly on. bis face, , He read clearly all ‘she would have said ‘th unspoken appeal to take her to himself; an not force her to outrage her womanly pride b driving her to offer herself to him.. x A fearful struggle raged in his bre On the one hand were love, happin plenty; on the other, disgrace, ruin, arid’ gradation. But bis wounded pride and | vow held him back from seizing the panies. held out to him. He told himself ee word and honor would be sacrificed and bro! if he yielded to this weakness; so, sa wrench, he tore from his heart bis last hope of redemption, and looking Nora full in. ai. face, he said, harshly, “‘ You ask if there ‘is no. ; way out of my troubles? Well, none sa beget & and that one I should not stoop to take. Her heart turned sick at his words and | ‘man- ner, but blinded by her love, she only foun¢ them an evidence of the exaggerated honc ble pride and delicacy which held bim oes from asking her to marry. him, when he so little to offer her in return for at wealth, She only admired him tho. more ‘te termination and strength of hs dapie ae hero in her eyes, ‘All the wild nobility of br acting x
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-of conventionalism, and freely offer what he was too proud to ask. _ She had conquered ber natural shrinking against the apparent boldness of this step, and was on the point of uttering words which _ would bave committed her forever, when a _ merry laugh broke upon the stillness, and the - next moment Ada and Captain Wallis appeared upon the scene. mt _. «© Their arrival scattered all deep feeling and gd seriousness to the winds. Their nonsensicai _ ehatter gave the others time to recover from the agitation which still overpowered them. Gerald purposely placed himself by Ada’s ike lk dpa returning home, and gave. Captain ‘Wallis an expressive glance to stay with Nora, . He did so, and rightly guessing that some- ~ - thing disturbing had occurred, he sustained the conversation, rattling on about indifferent 2 _ subjects, and considerately ignoring her silence or irrelevant replies. fe: _ By accident or design, it happened that Nora ” ~ and Gerald did not fiud themselves alone to- . gether either during that evening or the next E day, and both felt a sense of relief at being * spared a repetition of such a painful struggle, at all events, for the present. CHAPTER V. A COMEDY OF ERRORS. kaeke AS the four young people came out of the _ gate of Aspell House on the evening of which we bave just been speaking, they did not notice a Vulgar, over-dressed man who was lounging at the opposite side of the road, smoking a cigar. | _ As they passed, he looked after them, keen- dy, and muttered, “I suppose theold boy told the truth, and it’s all right; but I had best - glean a little information on my own account;” -—and so saying, crossed to the lodge, and wished the woman who was standing at the door good-evening. “Are those your young ladies just gone out?” be asked, pleasantly. “Shure enough they are, sir, God_ bless ' their purty faces!” “Tf looks as if you’d soon be having a wed- ing?” hot **God send that same—two on ’em, maybe.” _ . *T have seen ove of those gentlemen before _ Mr, Gerald Tracy; but who is the other?’ - . “A friend as come wid bim; a fiue, clever, nice spoken gentleman, too, but more quiet-like than Mr. Gerald.” I bear Mr, Gerald and Miss Nora are hioking of making a mutch of it?” “Deed, thin, you beard wrong. They don’t go nigh each o’her, at all, at all. Is the other way about.” - “What do you mean? Isn’t it Miss Nora that has so much money?” _ “ Paix, it is, and well she knows it; and a _ handsome pair herself and the captain ‘ill make, I'm thinking he’l! Le more gayer when he’s sartin she'll have him. They do say he ‘has not much money of his own, but when one _ has it it'll do for both.” “And didn’t Mr. Gerald try to get Miss Nora and ber money for bimself?’ asked the stranger, forcing bimself to appear cool. __“Badad, he didn’t, and for why should he? When the ould gintleman dies. won’t he have lenty, and an illigint place in city and country? just loves the ground Miss Ada walks on. Sho ige the one wedding ‘ill be long be/ nd ir other.” +, en * “Are you quite sure, now, that it is Miss that Mr. Gerald is after? I heard so posi- ely it was her sister.” , “Is it shure I am? Faix, that’s a quare question to ask. Ifa young yintleman is al- ways walking and sp’aking to a purty young , I’m thinking it’s her he cares for and nts to marry, and not the one he niver s near or nigh. And what ’u’d be the use of him looking afte? Miss Nora, when she’s al- _ ways wid the captain? Every one is axing me ; ne widdin’s is to be, and the sooner the a | his own apartment, mye tein tat the hse aod 2 | 8 a SOS oh eu pr AN ti LF i ADE TY yh ae ould people ’ll be rale lonely when the young | ladies is gone,” ~ ‘-Good-evening, my good woman,” said the map, curtly, and walked quickly off toward the town, The sarge post that carried off Mr. Lane’s cheerful epistle to Tom Newman also brought one addressed to Mr. Loftus Tracy from Mr. Wasp, money-lender, bill-discounter, and many other trades and professions. This gentleman was Gerald’s principal credi- tor; but Mr. Tracy had given him privately to understand that his son was about to marry Miss Nora Standish, the heiress, and that no steps were to be taken about the money until the affair was arranged. Mr. Wasp, always cautious and prudent, de- termined to find out for himself what way the wind blew; with what satisfactory result we have just learned, His note informed Mr. Tracy that his son, instead of securing the heiress, bad allowed her to be snapped up by his friend, Captain Wallis, and was himself generally believed to be en- gaged to the sister, who had not a penny. Under these unexpected circumstances, Mr, Wasp wished to be informed what were Mr. Tracy’s intentions regarding certain Lills due to him,.ete. The letters delivered at Aspell House on the next «urning but one were, to all outward ap- pearance, ordinary and harmless-looking mis- sives; but had they contained the most deadly secret explosives, they could not have occa- sioned more pain and consternation to their several recipients. Half an hour after the letters had been de- livered to their rightful owners, Gerald Tracy, defiant and reckless, was moodily pacing up and down his room, repeating to himself that the game was up, and it could make no great matter to him whether the denouement came a few days sooner or later. Should he stay and face it, or bury himself and his disgrace out of sight and knowledge of all his former friends? Captain Wallis was not less perturbed, in He sat, staring helplessly at a letter which lay on his knee, and which he more than once struck with his clinched hand; perplexity, anger, grief, were by turns dis- played on his countenance. By his pale cheek and tightly-compressed lips, it was easy to sea he was going through some painfully sharp conflict. A muttered curse from time to time give relief to the fury that was raging in his breast, Ada Standish, haif-dressed, lay on the floor of her room, where she had fluug herself just after reading her letter. She was crying ana ‘sobbing hysterically, cliaching her little hands and tearing her golden hair, which lay, in long, disordered curls, over her shoulders, In the next room sat Nora, pale, cold, and still as a statue. She looked stunned from some deadly blow; but not for long did she remain so—her pride revived her. Starting up with raised hands and fain-distended eyes, she exclaimed, ‘‘ Tbank Heaven I was saved from the last stage of humiliation! Oh, what should I have done had I not been interrupted in my madness?’ The shortest way to explain the cause of all this woful excitement and confusion will be to make known the various contents of the letters received that morning, We begin with Gerald’s which was from his father:— “*T did not think you could surprise me by commit- ting any act of foolery or disobedience. 1 have had along and bitter experience of your performances’ in that line; but I must confess that your last act of idiocy has astonished even me, It seems as if some extraordinary blindness has descended upon your moral vision, which prevents you ever acting in a sensible or proper way. ‘{ have heard of the weak fool you have made of Aiglaocd at Sea Beach, allowing your clever friend snap up Nora and her money from under your Mert 4 nose, while her sister, an artful 1 ttle chit without a penny, twists you round her finger, hop- ing, no doubt, that your bad conduct will soon hurry me to my grave, and that then you will come infor anice property, Pe ee “Etold you your only salvation from ruin lay in ; ts 4", \ Be Lo +4 m* ath Dg obi ; eek Na Nes ay ee “ eo Se a ¥ pa Te fe Say “Shee Rag ety se g. peiiedaen es) oe PON Ae eg Se ME 8 ele a, * Sal, ee ab re | eee eh Tw 1}. ea a” Oe) —- "A Wee - me ESR ets ie chee ae i, iy Ss Bs ae i Ce ppalad erga A othe Ne i ah F 5 + warad dig Nethe N.Y Pee RS Ms FN me i Ne te Ms ia yt *
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ee By as aca bo, ee . ~o y I have been told of your conduct with him on i beach las t Tuesday evening. It was a pleasant ‘thing for a ag aes to hear about a girl he once thought of making his wife. I should have thought that Roland Standish’s daughter would have more of the self-respect and refinement of a lady, and not allow herself to be kissed and romped with by her Sweetheart before everybody, like some servant- maid out for the evening. “But Vl pay him out for his share of it, never ear. If you have not peony, him to the point, the ore shame for ou to be carrying on in that shameful way with him. I could never respect you again. ‘Oh, Ada, you have broken my heart! I wish you had never crossed my path. You cruel, heart girl, how could you treat me so? But I will not upbraid a yon: You have ruined my life; T don’t care now at becomes of me. My only hopeis that I may never see you more! “Tom NEWMAN.” Nora’s letter was a much more common- place one, and a very pleasant, polite epistle. Tt was from a married cousin, and ran as fol- lows: “My Dear Nora:— “What an age it is since I wrote to you, or heard from you!. We are staying on a visit with the Ver- nons, and drove over to Tracy Place yesterday to see Mr. and Mrs. Loftus Tracy. My dear Nora, I was delighted to hear from them that Gerald was stay- ing with you, and that it is as good as settled that you and he are to make a match of it. Nothing could be nicer. It isa capital way to settle:the mis- understanding about Mrs, Henderson’s money. He is a nice young fellow, and very handsome; I saw him when'he came down to our neighbor. hood with his friend, Captain Wallis. “By the way, I hear you have him staying with you, too. What do you think of him? He is en ag- ed to Clara Roche, a dear friend of mine. ‘they are ‘not to be married for some time yet; and she comes over to me to get me to condole with heron her hard fate, I think it is well, for Ll believe he was rather ‘fast, although Clara always fires up when I hint it, and declares he is steadiness itself, ““We dined at Maurice Blake’s yesterday.. Such a disagreeable evening! I always disliked her, and she seems more spiteful and cross grained than ever. I think she has some special grudge against the Tracys, for she put extra vinegar into her remarks about them. But you need not mind anything such @ woman says. ‘“T hear from every one that Gerald is a right good fellow; and I only long to hear from yourself that it poe all right and that I may soon order my bonnet ess for the happy event. ; “Your affectionate cousin, “Mary Roriipas.” Phe tec CHAPTER VI. | A FORMIDABLE ENCOUNTER, ‘Tae first breakfast-bell rung. Nora made a ! step toward the bell. Her natural impulse was | to order the servant to bring ber breakfast up toher room. She dreaded going down-stairs; but before she rung she changed ber mind, and determined not to give in to this weakness, but to go through the usual daily routine, and not ow any one to see how she suffered, She walked over and looked into the glass, starting back with horror when she caught sight of her pallid, drawn face. The next moment she had seized a rough towel,‘and was vigorously rubbing ber cheeks. The friction, and the indignation she felt on account of her supposed bad treatment, soon brought a bright color to her cheeks and a brilliancy to her eye. She contemplated the result with satisfaction, and bracing herself up for what lay before her, she left the room. Seeing Ada’s door closed as she passed, she thought she would get her to go down with her, and entered. Every thought of her own sor- row vanished when she saw her beloved sister in such a state of wild and despairing grief. “Ada, darling, what can have happened?” she cried, rushing toward her and throwing her arms round her. “Read that!” sobbed Ada, pointing to the letter which lay crushed up like a ball, a few paces off, Nora picked it up, smoothed if out, and be- gan to: read; but at every fresh sentence her . cc aeaiae of astonishment and indignation increased. — “How dared he write such a letter to you?” she exclaimed, angrily, when she came to the end. “Such a tissue of lies, from beginning to end!” . Mf Tf is true,” gasped Ade i £5 ge RES STO hae | 4 ey eee feet . ie Sree wee ae eae ie Wy SL ST). a> © a “" ce Sat ork = ge ay a a ce en nn You don’t know what you are “ What! saying, Ada. True that you threw him over for Gerald? That you let him kiss you on the beach in view of every one? You are raving!” ‘Oh, I only wish Iwas! I never gave Tom up; but that abominable Gerald did kiss me when we were out the other evening, and some vile, prying sneak must have seen it and told Tom.” ‘““T am exceedingly sorry to hear that there is some shadow of foundation for Tom’s asser- tion; you ought never to have allowed it.” ‘* How cou'ld I prevent it? It isall very fine for you to speak so, You are tall and stately, and men are afraid of you; but because I am so little, and ean’t defend myself, he seized me before I knew where I was, and kissed me. I was very angry, and told him so—odious wretch!” ‘And what apology did he make to you afterward?” ‘* Apology, indeed! Just grinned like a baboon, and said it was no harm to kiss his cousin. Oh, I don’t know what to do. If is so unkind of Tom to abuse me like this. He has broken my heart!” “Don’t cry like that, dear. I am sure it ean be settled—explained. Tom had no busi- ness to write such a letter to you on mere hearsay gossip. I expected better things of bim; and as far as that goes, I bave no doubt he has kissed plenty of girls himself since he saw you.” »** And I am quite sure he hasn’t,. I’d like to see him! Ishould hate him if I heard of such a thing. Tom suited me so well, and so few people do. Ishall never care for any one else. I can’t bear it!” . “You will see, it will all come right yet. Tom and you love each other, and no silly mis- understanding can separate you like that.” ““No, Nora, it will never be made up, He is quite determined; and besides, what could I explain? I can’t deny that that creature kissed me, and that will be enough for Tom. He was always most unreasonably jealous. It was an unlucky day for me when Gerald came here. I do wish I hadn’t laid myseif out to make him like me. I have got the worst of it.” “You have done nothing at all to cause any honorable man to break off his engagement with you. 1 shall explain it all to Tom, and if he does not see it as he cught, I shall think he is only trying to find an excuse to be set free.” “Indeed he is not. He is as true as the sun. If he knew all about it, and how we bad planned to humbug those two men, he could not be angry. But I feel he is gone forever. I wish I was dead; though, indeed, Nora, if you and Captain Wallis are happy, I shall have done some good by it all.” “ Don’t talk of him!” cried Nora, with such a sharp ring of pain in her voice, that Ada looked up in wonder. ** What is it, Nora?” she asked, half-fright- ened, ‘Captain Wallis is nothing tome. I have just heard from Mary Rutlidge that he bas been for some time engaged to her friend, Clara Roche!” “Ob, good gracious, Nora! Did you ever hear of such villainy and daring? To come to any one’s house, and act with such bare-faced impudence and deceit! I was sure he was in love with you!” : “T have been a fool myself, Ada, but it is over now. I have pride enough to keep me from grieving over it. I know you will help me through it, and say nothing.” “That I will. I feel better already at hav-, ing it todo. Wemust punish him some way or other.” ‘Don’t let us talk of that again; we settled to do ic before we saw them, and look what trouble it has brought upon us! Women are no match for men in that sort of thing.” “J should bope not, indeed! Men are all wretches! I hate them!” * You won't say so wate: you and Tom make A “POINT OF HONOR. S | | A up. Imust godown now. I wish you could | have been with me to back me up; but you are — too great an object to appear. I shall say you ~ have a headache.” ‘ “No, Nora; hay-fever, please. Look at my nose and eyes, all red and swollen, It mustbo hay-fever.” ‘¢ Very well; I shall send you up your break- : a fast Try to eat something.” uy “ You are a brave darling,” exclaimed Ada, throwing ber arms reund her sister’s neck, + 7M “You bave trouble enough of your own to & break your heart, and you can comfort Ine, bef and never think of yourself!” This tenderness almost made Nora break av down. For a moment she was silent, then said, in a choked voice, “I must not give way. . I cannot trust myself to speak of it;” and she _ ies ran out of the room. 4 “The fat’s in the fire,” remarked Gerald te. Captain Wallis, as he found bimeelf alone with 4 him in the breakfast room. .‘‘Tbe governor will be bere to-day. The game is up, and we ” had better decamp.” Pie A hollow groan was the only reply. “ What in Jupiter is the matter with you?’ exclaimed Gerald, looking at Captain Wallis — with astonishment. ‘‘Surely your flirtation, with Ada has not hit you so hard that yeu need to groan at having to stop it?” ge “To the mischief with all flirtation!” re- sponded Captain Wallis, viciously. “Iwasa fool to allow myself to be drawn into this, b Ey have got the worst of it.’ Read that "and he banded bim Clara’s letter. ia Gerald perused. it, emitting, as he did so, 6 several low whistles. and sounds of disgus’. — As he handed it back he observed, “By Jove! the ladies nowadays can give it a fellow in ry: pretty good style! Between Muss Roche's _ choice epithets for you, and Nora’s for me, ng, ought to bave a rather small opinion of cate ce ts i X j — om iyh ha * selves. But the whole thing can ne easily ex- plained.” “Can it, indeed? It's little you per de® Lay § Clara’s jealousy; and, besides, I don’t believe os: she wants me. . There’s that beast, Digby, staying there. He has always been POCNS +. after her, and now she willtake him.” “If she can act like that, you are well ria of ber.” “ Well rid of her! There’s not a girl in the Union fit to bold a candle to her; and if: throws me over, | will go to the oat: as fast as Ry ig I can.” 5 2 ath Aa “Join me, then; I'm bound roles the came destination. I dare say by this day month, I aA shall be a steerage passenger on board some — vessel bound for Australia.” : The bitter tone and haggard face of his : friend struck Captain Wallis keenly. _ “Gerald, my poor fellow,” he said, holding out his hand, ‘‘ don't be a fool. Ycu love this girl and she loves you. What toon sesses you to put such luck from you, nes: to perdition?” *} cannot break my word. I have swe never to ark her to marry me, and I wou't Even if I did, and she knew who I really was, ¥ she would spurn me.” ‘ fe ies “Take advice. Try whether she mil oe ise . Mr, and Mrs. Standish, lively and anny as usual, entered the room, greeted the men cheerily, and expressed enue baat girls were not down, 5 Nora appeared a few minutes later, ok = picture of blooming health and pee " “Bho announced that Ada was suffering from hay-fever, and wished her breakfast per snbae her room. ‘ “ Hay-fever!” exclaimed Mrs. Standish, i i} dismay. ‘“ Poor child! I never heard of a thing. It is very strange, too, for pale always lived near hay- fields, and never had fever before.” Nora rattled on with a vivacity. and ness very unlike her usual ae
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Her | gayety jarred upon Gerald, who felt tterly. miserable, and yearned for some sym- pathetic response from her, Nora noticed it all, but attributed his gloom to some bitch in the course of his love affair, and felt the more bardened against hin). _“ Your father will be here to-day,” observed sy Standish, smiling blandly at Captain Wal- thio own i eae dae at the moment to think f his rove. + rald gave him’ a warning look, which ught him back to his senses. “Yes:sol heard from him this morning,” he stammered. ‘I shall run up to town and meet him.” “TJ regret that we must bring our delightful to a close,” observed Gerald. ‘I have re- ny d a letter to-day which obliges me to leave ‘town at once.” “Ob, dear, that is too bad!” exclaimed Mrs. ‘Standish. + . And she and her husband were loud in hos- - pitable regrets. d looked steadily at Nora. _ Bbe did not change a muscle; but remarked, with a placid smile and voice: “Tt is too bad of you to run away so pruptly, Captain Wallis. What shall we do without you at the tennis match this after- coal bit his lip with mortification. ‘He replicd bitterly: ae Unfortunatoly, | must sacrifice my pleas- and inclinations to far ynore serious and inful matters. You may remomber i men- ‘tioned: s sore of my plans to you the other end ‘Oh, ‘80 you did!” exclaimed Nora, with a rry laugh. ‘We both got very tragical er it, too. I suppose it was the effects of the mantic | time and scene.” Gerald could stand it no longer. He ab- I ore path the table, and stepped out on the | Wallis looked at Nora in amaze- je could not understand this new of scene in the comedy they had been oing through, It seemed fast turning to a 1 and Captain Wallis had settled to go wn that afternoon on pretense of meet- ‘Tracy, and so make their escape before Xposure came: but he, after posting his thought himself that the sooner: he eed upon the culprits the better, and the ance they would have of being able to him. e therefore came to Sea Beach by the ing train, and was just walking up the of Aspell House as Ada Standish was - off. for a solitary walk to try and re- her looks and composure. e had thought over the whole matter, and rtably shelving the question ef her own y, had arrived at the conclusion that ea ‘ousin Gerald was the cause of all her Sean trouble, and that she bated him and everything __ connected with him. She-was, therefore, in ing but an amiable frame of mind when “face to face with the indignant fei giaceed At onée who it was, She was ite, the descriptions he bad heard of Je determined to have it out with her there n $ Mise” Ada eee I presume?’ he said, g¢ his hat. ‘Allow me to introduce my- Mr Loft s Tracy.” spon ded with a most frigid bow, and im with great disfavor. sca sand be said that he was not more iabacl her. ——. money you wanted. ry. “You are’ - Kaiti! ee ivan business!"’ he deanna sternly. ‘If you have a few moments to spare, I should be glad of a little conversation with you.” ‘*I was only going for a quiet walk,” re- plied Ada, with lofty indifference. ‘I sup- pose a few moments cannot make much differ- ence one way or the other, though I cannot, for the life of me, think why you should honor me with any conversation concerning your son.” This was said in such an ungracious tone and manner that Mr. Tracy at once concluded that Gerald had communicated to Ada the con- tents of his letter, and that she was prepared to do battle. ‘‘Hrom what I have heard, Miss Ada, you ought to be particularly interested in anything that concerns my son,” he remarked, sarcasti- cally. ‘‘No doubt he made you aware of the contents of the letter he received from me this morning?’ “‘T know nothing whatever about him or his letters, and care less.” “You don’t seem particularly amiable this morning, miss.” ‘ No, I am not in the least so; perhaps you had better defer your conversation, if it is like this.” “No, madam, I will not defer it. I know the cause of your rude conduct to me. You guess Iam come to put a stop to the little game between you and my son Gerald; but perhaps when you know that he is a beggar, and likely to remain so, you won’t be so anxious to marry him!” Mr. Loftus Tracy was not quite prepared for ‘the outburst of fury which followed bis words. Ada stamped her foot and ground ber teeth, and fora moment was too enraged to be able to reply. ‘Anxious to marry your, son!” she cried, shrilly. ‘*That’s toogood! J would not con- descend to take him if there was not avotber man in the United States. I hate the sight of him, and you, too!” “ Hoity, toity, young Jady!—there would not be much condescension in your marrying the future head of the Tracys. That sort of talk won’t go down with me. I am quite aware that you and he have been carrying on a pretty brisk flirtation since he came here. I suppose you will deny that?” ‘*No, I won’t. Before ever I saw him I set myself out to flirt with him, and make him run after me, and I succeeded.” “You acknowledge that?’ exclaimed the irate father, aghast. “Yes, I do. And now what have you say to me?” ‘It is a most charming and modest avowal for a young lady to make! As you wouldn't have him at any price, might Iask your object in making this dead set at him?” “‘T haven't the slightest objection in telling it to you. You disgracefully sent your pre- cious son here to try and get my sister’s money to pay his debts with. We were, fortunately, warned in time, and determined that he should not succeed in his base schemes, [ took him in hand, and Nora was saved from his persecu- tion,” It was now Mr, Tracy’s turn to grow furious. He sincerely wished this audacious little fiirt was a boy or a man, that be could thrash her as she deserved, or even use the freedom of speech she merited. He was half-afraid to trust himself to speak. Then, iostead of the abusive, he assumed the sarcastic mode of ad- dress. “You and your sistér must be most charm- ing young persons!’ he observed, with a smile anda bow. ‘Be perfectly assured that, had I ‘| known of your moral excellence and deli- cate refinement, I would sooner have sent my son to find a wife among the Zulus than here!” “Oh, , no, dear “Mr. Tracy, you wouldn't. You forget the Znlus “wouldn’t have bad the It they had, of course I know you don’t mind anything else.” ‘ 1 believe your riestpar tthe and all this story is just to cover your own defeat.” “So natural that you should think so! You could never fancy that, when you were holding out all sorts of threats to te promising heir, until you got him to consent ‘to go and have a look’ at Nora, that some one heard the whole scene, and warned us? You bave been most splendidly outwitted !” “T am not accustomed to hear young ladies speak thus; but it is quite in keeping with the rest of your bebavior! If you had a million, I would not let my son marry you!” Ada’s ironical laugh rung out loud and clear. “Tt is well for you that you wear petti- coats!” roared Mr. Tracy, shaking his stick at ber. ‘‘ You take advantage of my inabil- ity to chastise you as you deserve! Men have but to submit to the scourge of a woman’s tongue.” “‘T don’t see much submission, but I can well? fancy how mad you must be at not getting Nora’s money into your clutches! Itis enough to put you out! I excuse you!” “‘ You excuse me, indeed! Then I don’t ex- cuse you! You have acted in a most forward, unladylike, and artful manner! No gentleman worthy of the name would choose you for his wife if he knew what you really were!” Now this bit a vulnerable part in Ada’s armor. It was too like what she had heard from Tom Newman that morning not to wound her. However, she was not going to let hor adversary see the advantage he had got over. her. Sbe covered her mortification with a show of temper. “ You are a rude old wretch,” she exclaimed, “‘and a great deal worse than even what I heard you were! Isball not stay one moment lonzer to be the object of your ill-tempered. violence!” And with these words he sailed off in great dignity. “Little spitfire!” ejaculated the outraged man as he watched her retreat. ‘‘ What the mis- chief should we have done if Gerald married her! It would have been like letting off an in- fernal machine! Ill go up to the house now, and see what that ass has to say for himself! A pretty mess he has made.vof the business! But if those two imps put their heads together to cutwit bim, he badn’t a fair chance at starting!’ As long as Ada felt there was a possibility of her being seen, she retreated with flying colors; but as soon as she got away among the | sheltering rocks, she flung herself down, and sobbed as if her heart were breaking. Captain Wallis had also gone out for a solitary walk, to think over his wrongs, and the best plan to bring Clara Roche to her senses. . And Ada had not been very long in her rest- ing-place when he came in sight of her. His first impulse was to avoid her. He considered her the cause of all his troubles, and was in no mood to keep up their usual flirtation; but ak -a second glance toward her convinced him that the girl was either ill or in some treuble. With a man’s generosity, he at once pitied her, and advanced to offer his help. “What is the matter, Ada?” he asked, in a kind voice. She looked up at his aperonay, and he was shocked to see the grief depicted on the little face, which he never before had seen except sparkling with mirth and mischief, : Ada had felt very angry with bim, and de- termined to treat bim with the same severity and scorn -she bad sbown to his supposed fa- ther, but he spoke so kindly and looked so sad himself, that her heart melted, and all her re- solves vanished, There was no doubt about it. These two had become very fond of each other in a frank, cousinly sort of way. “You have got me into such trouble!” she | said, between her sobs, es _ Captain Wallis =r ey Kier in amaze arts f ve bx raprie ae a mt “ment. A
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i What possible Guichen can I have vol: you into?” he exclaimed. “You have destroyed: all my future happi- ness and nearly killed me!’ was the despairing response, Captain Wallis was thunderstruck. ‘‘ Could it be possible that this little coquette had fal- len in love with him?’ he asked himself. “I wish you would explain, Ada,” he said, very seriously. “You know the other evening when you behaved so rudely and kissed me? Well, some horrible wretch was prying about and saw you, and wrote and told Tom; and my heart is broken!” In spite of his gloomy out-look, Captain Wallis could with difficulty refrain from laugh- ing out at this intelligence. After all, he was _ not the only one to get his fingers burnt in this little game. : “Who is Tom?” he asked, with apparent innocence. ‘Tom is Tom Newman; and I am engaged to him,” “Oh!” said Captain Wallis, prolonging the sound, as if in astonishment. *‘ And so you have been engaged all this time?” “Yes, I have!” answered Ada, defiantly. ‘And do you think your conduct has been such as exactly becomes an ‘engaged young lady ? demanded he. - “T had a reason for it,” sitammered Ada, feeling rather ashamed of herself. ‘I did all for the best; but I have lost everything through you. I wish you had never come near me!” And she began to cry again. “T don’t think my coming near you Gale have led to much mischief if you bad not laid ‘yourself out to make me fall in love with you.” ‘‘ How dare you say I did that!” “Do you deny it?” “T wouldn’t Fs deaceiel to deny it.’ You have not suffered in auy way, so you need not mind.” “Excuse me, I have suffered deeply and severely.” “ Oh, doa’t begin to talk that sort of rubbish now—I am in no humor for it; and don’t imagine that I was such a fool as to believe a word that you said. I saw all along that you were only amusing yourselt with me.” “That showed great penetration on your part. Nevertheless, leaving all ‘rubbish’ aside, you have got me intoa fearful mess; for I, too, bappened to be engaged, and the young lady has thrown me off, hearing 1 had deserted her for you.” “That’s too absurd!” cried Ada, with a hearty laugh, her merry nature scizing at once the Indicrous aspect of the affair. _ “Tt is not at all ludicrous to me,” said Car tain Wallis, dolefully. “ It threatens my tu- ture happiness quite as much as your lover’s conduct does yours. What are we to do?” ; “I? it weren't that you kissed me, I could explain my whole conduct to Tom; and he would see that I had done nothing wrong.” _ +] think you owe me an explanation, too.” “ Why, I should like to know?” “Por doing your. best to make a fool of me, A nice fix I should be in now if | hadn’t been engaged before I saw you; and, also, if we hadn’t heard of your plans,” “ Heard of my plans! —what can you mean?” asked Ada, ‘with crimson cheeks, **As the game is played out, and you will probably never see me again after to-day, I may as well make a clean breast of it. You remember the day you and your sister sat on the beach talking over Mrs Blake’s letter?” Ada could not answer. Her eyes opened to twice | their ordinary size with astonishment and dismay. “You. don’t answer, but I see you do re- ber. You both abused us pretty hd that, day, aud concocted a nice little plan to 3 our supposed wickedness.” you know all this? Oh, do tell me that before you say anotbee wordl! cried a, eagerly, | é- os spina 3t come right.” aged ore a ts “Well, under the ameter Ss our uae angel, my friend and I were led to the spot, and were actually lying on the sand a few feet from where you were talking, and I heard | every word.” “You miserable creatures!” cried Ada, with all her usual vehemence. ‘‘How could you have been so mean and dishonorable? Oh, if I had only known you were there!” “Well, you see, you didn’t. mean and dishonorable, in the first place, we could not get away; in the next, ‘allis fair in love or war,’ and this was both combined.” “Oh, dear! I never heard anything so hor- rible as this! Your guardian angel, indeed! I think it more likely you were under the pro- tection of his Satanic Majesty!” As to being “ That’s a matter of opinion, but you haven’t heard the pith of the matter yet. As soon as you were gone, we gave vent to our feelings, and arranged a plan for paying you back in your own coin.” ‘“Paying us back, indeed! I wonder how. I suppose you thought we should fall violently in love with you both?” ‘Not at all; that would have been very in- convenient—at least, as faras I was concerned; but I had no objection to a tilting-match, and I must confess that I have grown very fond of you during the course of it—fond, in a frank, straightforward way, you know.” “T got to like yon, too, better than I ever expected I should. Isuppose your being my cousin had something to do with it?” «Yes; but Iam not your cousin at all.” ee Not my cousin! TI cannot understand you. Surely, Gerald, you must be my cousin?” “‘T am not Gerald at all.” ‘There was a pause. Ada fixed hei eyes piércingly on her companion, aud thought it over. ‘*Ob, you double-dyed deceitful pair!” she exclaimed, starting up. ‘‘I see it all; you are that Captain Wallis.” ‘At your service,” he replied, making a low bow. “T can’t express what I feel,” continued Ada. “The whole thing, from beginning to end, is nothing but tangle and stories. I don’t know how you can justify such conduct.” “By your own. You would have pretended to be your sister, if you could. We took the idea from you. It was ‘Diamond Cut Dia- mond,’ only I don’t know where the victory lies. Weare all more or less hit. You are left in the lurch by Tom; I am repudiated by Clara; Gerald is in Jove with your sister, but has made a vow never to ask her to marry him. I don’t know about her feelings. Until this morning Icould have sworn she liked him; but now I am quite at sea.” “Nora thought Gerald was you, and heard this morning that you were engaged to Miss Roche. Of course she would pretend not to care for him then.” ‘“That’s capital. Each new step in this uffair is more absurd than the last. May I conclude that if this supposed engagement bad not been’ made kaown she would have returned his af- fection?’ “Well, I don’t know. ‘You see, when she knows he is Gerald, she will remember all the horrible things he said of her, aud how he only wanted her money.” ‘Now, Ada, answer me truly; do you be- lieve that Gerald and TI are the scoundrels that wretched old woman would have led you to be- lieve?” *‘ Why should she have ent it, then?” “To gratify her feminine spite, Gerald told bis father that not-for all the money in the world would he have such asour-faced old tab- by sitting opposite him every day as this Mrs. Blake, She was listening.” “No wonder she hated him! T begin to un- derstand things now. I should like Gerald and Nora to marry each other, if he were not such a monster as we thought.” : “He certainly adores her. If he will give up his h ee idea of ae asking her, all may. a POINT OF HONOR. ie ay tS eet “Tet us go up to the house beter that sis: dling old Tracy has spoiled everything. © ee, sure when Nora knows that Gerald is not pomer: ah i or you not Gerald, and that he is not engaged, © me irs she will be so delighted that she will agree to 4 everything.” aie * “Come along then. I think as we have got - oe along so well as cousins, we had better remain f ra so to the last.” - ‘* You have behaved most dinnistisllers put ee ey could laugh at the whole thing if it were ee for Tom’s cruelty.” “Oh, I'll make that all right. Don’t ‘essing ie to ery again. I only wish I was as sure of get-" Pe ting well out of my scrape with Clara. By Bein the way, how did you know Mr. Tracy seen a ae here?” “ Didn’t I meet him on the avenue? He aby tacked me about trying to catch bis son. week.” ie: may fancy that I was not in a frame of mind | to receive his impudence. We had a battle — Ps royal; but I think I got the best of it. He was” ae speechless with rage.” WPS, a Captain Wallis laughed loud and nee ashe ty it pictured this engagement, and they sie: — cm ee in the direction of the house. aa ‘ CHAPTER VII. qe. . LOVE AGAINST PRIDE. ed Apa StanpisuH and Captain Wallis had been’ so engrossed in their explanations that they had not noticed two gentlemen who were standing near, and evidently looking at them and talking | of them. ‘ny SEX 4, Their conversation was animated, and at = a the shorter of the two broke away from bis’ companion, as if in great excitement, made a few steps forward. The latter lowed, and taking him by the arm, ld Sa ; suasively: “Now, Tem, recollect you oust be calm and firm. You will give them an ad-— vantage if you get excited,” 1 ‘No fear of my being excited,” cried To in a voice shaking with suppressed fur : fear of my losing my self-control. “Pin fectly cool.” The Mentor walked away, and Toms every moment, came toward Ada and ( Wallis, and stood still before them. Mr. Gerald Tracy, I presume?” — marked, raising bis hat with lofty po and ignor ing Ada. Captain Wallis looked. bewildered, ‘ait exclamation of “Ob, Tom!” enlightened at once. Xe “‘Y think, Miss Standish, it would be as v if you retired, ” observed the dignified “My business ‘with this gentleman me e: actly such as you would care to assist. Cajtain Wallis had been silent so far, ing utterly unable to speak without lat and knowing that if he did so he woul the enraged lover’s dignity beyond po 'p of soo*hing. “T think, sir, you are Dabortitg siete strange mistake,” he remarked. pow. rame is not Tracy.” Se i Tom was taken aback. ay ee “Not Tracy!” he stammered. | ney Captain Wallis drew his card-case fr b pocket, and gravely handed his card to Ton who became more and more ae sh read the name, ‘ Ada saw her advantage, and seized : * ‘*Now, Tom, I hope you feel asham« Te yourself,” she said, saucily, “and see h have let yourself be deceived by slan gossip. What is your business “inet Wallis?” ' Tom’s business was to thrash the mi had kissed Ada; but as he did not exe know how to ask the gallant captain if so transgressed, he wassilent. = “T am quite at your disposal,” Captain Wallis, smiling blandly. — uy will soon explain what you’ wish. age “There bas been some mistake,” but for all that, you seem to kh want. Perbags you are not ot was 60) ngaged to m ig Tbe it Fa
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- * Wy ? ~ lf _ “On the contrary, I was aware of the inter- esting fact before I had the pleasure of making her acquaintance,” “Now, Mr. Tom, what do you say to that?’ demanded Ada. , “T bardly know what to say,” admitted -, Tom; ‘‘but you know what I heard about you _. be other evening, Ada. Is that true, or is it not, and is this the gentleman you were with?’ _/ “I must answer for Miss Standish,” said Captain Wallis, more seriously. ‘‘ And I think, Mr. Newman, when you know all the ins and _ outs of the absurd farce we have all been mixed up in the last month or so, you will be quite satisfied that Miss Standish bas done nothing to forfeit your love or respect.” . *T wish I could be sure of that,” said Tom, ruefully, ~~ You have behaved in such a manner that should never speak to you again!” cried Ada, indignantly. “ You accused me of throwing you over for my cousin Gerald because he was _ abetter catch. You find out that that is false, - and you do not apologize!” ~ YT shall not apologize until I am satisfied about the rest of what I heard,” replied Tom, doggedly. 2 Come, Mr. Newman,” said Captain Wallis, ' ' laying his band on Tom’s shoulder, ‘‘let us | __ elear up this absurd storm in a tea-cup at once. ' . ‘Now, what did you hear? Out with it!” Phat Iwas engaged to Gerald, and kissed _ him on the beach before every one!” put in __ Ada,.ia scornful tones, ‘ ieee “Well, you see, there is not a shadow of truth in that, for she is engaged to no one but you, and it was I who kissed her on the beach last Tuesday evening.” ___» ¥oul—and you dare to stand there and tell - meso? You shall pay dearly forit! Do you think I will keep my engagement with a girl + who acts in that disgraceful manner?” ¥Youmake a mistake in threatening her,” ‘said Captain Wallis, with a strange gleam in ‘his eyes. ‘Ineed scarcely remark that neither _ tear of you or any one else could influence my conduct one way or another. ! surprised her, and paid dearly for my presumption.” »- © Of course you say so,” sneered Tom; “ but what explanation have you to give for your daring to take such a liberty?” It is not the Ne, “None whatever. first time I ivesnatcbed a kiss from a pretty girl, and, _ please the Fates, it won’t be the last.” “Do that as you like; but the girl sha’n’t be my wife.” + “Well, if she has any spirit, I don’t think she will after your treatment of her. I should like to know what she has done that she could ave avoided?” ~ & She could have kept you at a proper dis- tance if she bad wished to.” “Could she, indeed? I am sorry for your ience if you think that; but doubtless you ) far too immaculate to dream of such a thing kissing a pretty girl without asking her per- jission.” _ * Tam not in the least immaculate,” exclaims stung deeply at such a supposition; ‘* but fou were engaged, you would know that a ; jfellow does not like the young lady tecarry on at.” “4 As it happens, I am engaged, and have 1 for some time; andI have no objections ver to my fiance e carrying on any little hnless flirtation she likes, provided I am not @ to feel slighted by it.” You see, ycu baven’t an excuse left,” observed Ada, composedly, “You accused me of making up.t» Gerald. You fimd that 3» false, Now you know I éould not pre- vent Captain Wallis kissing me, and as to ur abusing him for that, pretending to be cked at my impudenee, you are a regular ypocrite; for men are all the same, and you eas bad, or worse than most!” = ‘Captain Dey Aneel, and a faint smile ‘ Thad heard such a different story,” he be- 4 And me you would believe any story telling a / aa "eA ApS : ox neh ih ms te val! Cee eat ° 9 4 Lae ae 6 ae NG olan ie ee F we ET SE Sen als iat ad ie Fabien aime dig Po neeaN Sinaia. city Ve Br Bali Ne So, Say eh ah SY aa AL bn ea ats . a 3% i { . rons i; yn ‘ ae A | gossip before me?’ asked Ada, lovely eyes reproachfully. Tom was fast relenting. ‘‘Lane is most particular about anything he states,” he mut- tered. “So it was Mr. Lane that told his tales?’ said Ada, between her teetb. And she there and then registered a vow to make the house too hot or too cold for that gentleman, should he ever come to pay his visit, when she was married—a vow, we may remark, she kept most religiously. “I think I had better leave you two ta settle it between you,” observed Captain Wallis, with a knowing smile, ‘I shall smoke my cigar at the end of the road; you can join me when you like. Recollect; we must not be too late going up to the house.” And he walked off, in spite of the assurances from Tom and Ada that “there was not the slightest occasioa.” Needless to say that before ten minutes had elapsed, Ada had Tom as firmly in her power as ever, and deeply repentant for his base sus- picions and the pain he had caused her. And when she told him the whole affair from begin- } ning to end, with all its absurd misunderstand- ings and complications, Tom's roars of hearty laughter nearly reached Captain Wallis and also his sedate friend, Mr. Lane, who could not believe his ears until he came near enough to see Tom and Ada io amicable converse; when, .with alook of deep disgust at Tom’s folly and weakness, he walked off and left him to his fate. Loftus Tracy did not immediately go up to the house. His encounter with Ada had ex- cited him so much, that he did not feel at all fis to make his/appearance before the Stan- dishes. He walked up and down to recover his composure, and to think over what. was to bo done with Gerald, since his matrimonial scheme had so completely failed. Gerald had spent his morning wandering about in the vain hope of meeting Nora, and giving himself one more chance of finding out her sentiments toward him. Nora had been watching him all the time, and took good care to keep out of his way; and when she did at last appear, was accompanied by her father and mother. “Where have you been all the morning, Captain Wallis?” asked Mrs. Standish, “ My husband was wonde.iug what bad become of you.” ‘‘T had several things to pack and arrange,” replied Gerald, ‘‘aud have been kept pretty busy getting ready to start,’ “We are all very sorry to lose you, Wallis,” said Mr. Standish, ‘You and Gerald have kept the house alive. Perhaps you can come to us later on, when you have settled your business?” ‘There is not the slightest hope of that,” re- plied Gerald, moodily. ‘‘I havea good deal of disagreeable work before me, but I shall al- ways look back to my stay here as one of the happiest periods of my life.” He looked at Nora; she did not appear even to have heard him, : ‘*Papa, you never thought of telling James to mow the tennis-ground,” she exclaimed, as if that subject alone had occupied her mind. Gerald turned away that she might not see the expression of his face, and in doing so found himself witbin a few paces of his father. It must be confessed that his first impulse was to take to his heels and get away from the place as quickly as he could. But since Nora’s extraordinary change of conduct, a feeling of defiant recklessness had taken possession of him; tie decided to let matters take their course, since nothing could make him more miserable and hopeless than he was. “Why, bere is Loftus!” exclaimed Mrs. Standish, advancing to meet her relative. ““We did not expect you until evening. I think Gerald bas gone into town to meet you.” “Eh?” said Mr. Tracy, in astonishment; but thinking he bad not rightly heard what Mrs, Standish said, he paid no further attention to ‘it, “Thad pressing busingss in town,” he said, e v ik = : ay) Vie ee Pete 13 raising her ’ at raphe mt haere ata NT OF HONOR. | Tracy.” ' 4 Wn te . 2 pil chet eee Ny / 4 wis, | é ae eel “and thought it better to come up at once and get if over. Miss Nora, I presume?” He had shaken hands all round while speak- ing, bestowing a private paternal scow! on Gerald, en passant. very haughty and cold, but she was much more to his taste than her pert and flippant sister. ‘““You have brought out your baggage and will stay with us, of course?” said Mr. Standish. “Tam sorry I cannot. I have only a day to spare, and have some things to arrange— connected with this son of mine,” he could not help adding, with an ominous glance at Gerald. “That son of yours!” echoed Mrs. Standish. “Have you adopted Captain Wallis as your son?” Captain Wallis!” exclaimed Mr, Tracy, in astonishment. “‘T must tell you, Mr. and Mrs, Standish,” said Gerald, holding bimself very straight, and looking very proud and handsome, as Nora thought, ‘‘ that Captain Wallis andI have been guilty of a great piece of impertinence toward you. He took my name, and I his. Perhaps, when you know our reasons, you may forgive us both.” “God bless my soul!” ejaculated Mr. Stand- ish; after which picus expression there was silence. Mrs. Standish could not collect her ideas sufficiently to realize the whole affair; but when she and her husband had stared helplessly at each other for a few moments, they seemed to see the prospect of a good joke,. and broke out into their usual beaming smiles, Loftus Tracy’s brow cleared. He began to think that bis son had shown more of the wis- dom of the serpent than he bad given him credit for, and that his doings had not been so bad, after all, Nora changed from pale to red, and from red to pale, and could with difficulty prevent the signs of her agitation being seen. She felt angry at having been so duped—so tricked into being civil and finally loving this cousin, to whom she owed such scorn and contempt; but above all feeling of anger rose a wild joy, which would not be controlled, that this was not the engaged Captain Wallis, but a man free to woo ler, and who certainly loved her. While these ecnflicting emotions raged in ber breast, she assumed a very proud and defiant louk, and said, in chilling tones, “* Might we venture to ask what object you and your friend had in carrying out this absurd masquerading?” “Certainly,” replied Gerald, meeting her look with one quite as lofty and cold. *‘ We accidentally overbeard you and your sister discussing tbe charming and veracious epistle which you received from Mrs. Maurice Blake. I need not repeat the opprobrious epithets you lavished cn me, or the basevess of which you believed me guilty, without a shadow of proof. I expect you remember all that. I shall never forget it. We also heard the plan you and Ada arrarged to punish us, and agreed that the best way to defeat it.was to pass for each other during our visit.” Nora flushed crimson as she heard that these two young men had overheard her conve1sa- tion, and that her words stillrankled in Ger- ald’s breast. She was ashamed of it now; but, for all that, he was the man who had come to try and get her money, and she was bound not to sur- render. “J am still at a loss to see the object of your very questionable behavior!” she remarked, scornfully. He thought Nora lovked | .
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. 24 ey Ne 2 r. Standish, clapping him on the shoulder. “T don’t balf understand it, but no doubt you - young people do.. We liked you for yourself, and are the more pleased to find you are Ger- ald after all,” ‘““The very first night you came we said we liked you best,’ put in Mrs. Standish, ‘‘ and said we were sorry you were not Gerald Tracy; but we think Captain Wallis very nice, too. I am sure now you need not run away, and we shall all get on very happily. You and your friend need not think that we are angry with you for playing a trick to pay out those saucy girls.” “T don’t understand what you said about Mrs. Maurice Blake,” remarked Mr. Tracy. “That charming female did us tbe honor of hiding and listening to our interview at Tracy Park,” replied Gerald, bitterly. ‘We were both very angry, and said many foolish things we did not mean. These she has twisted and embellished so artfully with falsehoods, that J figure as a villain of the blackest dye.” ‘“Why the deuce did she do tha:?’ cried bis father, ‘We have always been on very good terms.”? “You forget her name was brought into the eonversation, and I spoke of her as a sour-faced old tabby, whom Maurice bad married for her money.” “You could not expect a woman to forgive that,” said Mr. Standish. All but Gerald and Nora laughed at it as a “very good joke. “So you are all here, settling the affairs of the nation,” cried a merry voice, and Ada ap- peared on the scene, followed by Tom Newman and Captain Wallis. ‘‘T conclude you have been informed of the unheard of impudence of those two schemers,” eontinued Ada, with a wave of ber hand in the direction of the culprits. ‘‘ How are we ever to get on with them, or talk to them without mixing th-m up together, I can’t imagine.” “You appear to be in a very different mood mow, young lady, to what you were when I met “you,” remarked Mr, Tracy, dryly. “Tam, thank you, quite different,” replied Ada, nodding frankly at her former antagonist. “‘T even feel quite amiable toward you, now that I know it was not your son I was accused of running after.” ‘You would have kept him well under your ‘thumb if you had got him,” remarked the otber, grimly. “ He ought to be accustomed to that,” was the retort. ‘ You see, as I was already pro- vided, i did not want him. I hope you feel ashamed of all you said to me.” ‘Don’t mind her, Loftus; she is a spoiled ehild,” said Mrs, Standish. * But Loftus was quite ready to hold out the olive branch, and make his peace with Ada, now that he felt sure of his hopes being fulfilled with regard to Nora and his son Gerald. In the midst of the explanations and laugh- ter that followed, Nora quietly left the group, and turned down a side walk. Gerald followed her. No one passed any re- mark, but an exchangé of meaniug glances went round, and all congratulated them elves ou the happy termination of the intricate af- lair. “I wish to have a few words with you, Nora, before I leave,” said Gerald, when he case up with her. He looked very stern, and had braced himself for the part he had to go through. Nora had recalled to her mind all his slighting remarks made about her, as detailed by Mrs. Biake. She had summoned all her pride to help her to conquer the weakness she felt for one who had so wounded her self-respect. “What more can you have to say?” she ask ed, as if weary of the whole thing. ‘Not very much,” replied Gerald, coldly; “however, that little had better be said, I - am fool enough to wish for your good opinion _-— to know that you don’t think me the miser- able scoundrel I was represented to you to be, Do you believe, Nora, lam what Mrs, Blake depicted me?” “Did you or did you not use those expres- sions about me and my money which she wrote?” asked Nora, looking at him very fixed- ly. ‘*Did you say I had wheedled your aunt out of her money; that you detested me; but that if you could at all brivg yourself to marry me, you would go through with the sacrifice, to use my fortune to pay your debts, as you were between Scylla and Charybdis?” “‘All I said has been so twisted and colored as to give it quite another meaning. I was goaied to madness by my father’s taunts, and said much which I did not mean, and of which lam thoroughly ashamed.” “Then you did say all this?” cried Nvra, bittarly. . “No, not all, but much, for which I now apologize, and ask your forgiveness.” “You judged rightly in thinking that I should show you neitber friendship nor civility bad I known who you were,” continued Nora, with flashing eyes. ‘‘ It was quite in keeping with the rest of your conduct, to try to trick me into liking you under a false name; but you did not suceeed in gaining your ends.” ‘‘ There need be no question of liking or dis- liking between us now, Nora.” said Gerald, sadly. ‘Neither had I any end to gain, ex- cept to clear myself in your eyes. When I heard you credit me with the basest and most dishonorable of motives, without a shadow of proof; pronounce me guilty of the worst crimes, without giving mea-chance to clear myself; when [I listened to the abuse you heaped upon me, and hesrd the loathing you expressed. for a perfectly innocent man, whom you had never éven seen; Iswore to make you change your opinion, to justify myself to you; but I also swore I would never ask so hard and unjust a woman to be my wife. I have kept both these oaths,” “Thank you for your politeness and candor; and let me tell you, in return, that had you asked me a thousand times, and had I known who you were, nothing on earth would have induced me to accept a man capable of speak- ing of any woman as you did of me. Hard and unjust, indeed! I wonder what words I could find to describe your treatment of me! I only wish I had never seen you.” “I most beartily echo your wish. I have suffered pretty well, but I have gained my pur- pose. I don’t care what you say. You could. not have looked at me avd spoken to me as you have often done had you not liked me. You do not, in your heart, think me the wretch you pretend to,” “You do well to taunt me with my weak- ness and folly. It is generous and worthy of you. But, thank goodness! fool as I have been, I have pride and strength enough to crush out any feeling I had for you. I will never forgive what. you said.” “Nor I you what you said of me. I have plainly told you I am here merely to apologize for anything rude or ungentlemanly I may havesaid. Beyond that I have nothing to say but to take my leave of you forever.” “T accept your apology, and hope you will profit by this lesson, and be more successful in your next matrimonial venture, and soon meet with some one with a sufficiently large fortune to pay your debts. Gonod-by!” With elaborate politeness these two young people bowed low to each other, and walked off in opposite directions, models of outraged dignity and proud determination. Gerald gave Tim orders to bring his things to the train, and then left the house without taking leave of any one. Nora took refuge in her room, where she relieved herself by a passionate fit of cry-’ ing. ' Ada, entering some time after, was horrified to find her in such a condition, and furious when she learned the result of the interview between her sister and Gerald. She scolded her soundly, and declared they ee | emis a GO? Oe OPP on ite z 4 4% ear a i: ioe is a | werea pair of obstinate fools, who deserved to — be whipped witb nettles for throwing away their happiness without any cause. The other members of the family were equally grieved and disappointed. anes Mr. Tracy was both angry and uneasy. He — could not understand where Gerald bad gone, , and felt sorry he had been so harsh with him, | and led him to think he would not help bim. He felt particularly angry with Nora for treat- | ing bis son so badly. : ae: The Standishes. persuaded bim to stay that night with them, in order to see if Gerald would either come back or write. : Nora kept her room. Tom and Ada were devoted to each other; and Captain Wallis started off to make his peace with Clara Roche, in which he was pers _ fectly successful. ees. And so the day passed; and the night closed, this little scene of various happiness and mis- ery, anger, hopes, and fears. e 3 2 w 3 k ¢ CHAPTER V.IL ALL'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL. te GERALD TRACY determined to give up vias a thing, and leave tbe country at once, eS would run down to Tracy Park by the after- noon train, make his necessaly arrangements, Se say good-by to his mother, and be off by the‘ — next train West. 1 ap Since Nora Standish had treated him so\ hardly, and there was no possibility of ever winning her for his wife, he felt no interest or | pleasure in anything; and bis only wish wasto get away as far as he could from all his. — former surroundings aud associations, and try to forget the past in a new country and anew life, the harder and more disagreeable the bet-~ __ ter. We = He sent his man Trim back to Sea Beach with a letter to his father, telling him of the, course he intended to pursue; and ended by saying that, in a few days, he hoped to put = the sea between him and his troubles and diffi: culties. fs te ae In the same reckless mood he boarded the train which was to take bim out to his home, _ and sinking into a seat gave hims to gloomy reveries which were only broken into by the trains arriving at the little station nearest. to Tracy Park. Hastily rushingfrom thecarhe — tripped, no one knew how, and the next mo- ment was flung headlong to the ground just as the train was beginning to move. ee A brakeman seeing the accident rushed te — the rescue and pulled him out from between _ the cars and away from what at the next mo- ment would have been a most horrible death, but bis leg was broken and he had fainted from the pain and shock. A carriage was quickly procured and kindly and tender bands lifted him gently into it and he was conveyed to bis — home. : Ce a eee The physician who attended bim was ofthe opinion that he bad received internal injuries, which might prove most serious if he suc: cumbed to the mental distress under which he seemed to be laboring. adr, | Poor Mrs, Tracy sat by her son’s bedside during the night, and wept bitterly as she listened to the sad words he uttered in his | = ravings. He implored Nora to forgive him, — avd to believe him sincere: to at least say good-by to aruined and desperate man. ; Then he bemoaned his debts and difficulties, and suggested wild and impossible plans: for extricating bimself. At fitful moments, recog- ae nizing bis mother, he reproachfully asked her if she wished to banish bim too. a ee She tried to soothe him, and told him over __ and over again that she and his father woul ~ make it all right for bim, and that he was not to fret himself; but he lay, tossing about, and going over all the incidents of the past week; and Mrs. Tracy rightly conjectured that be , ae M + had met with bard treatment at Sea and that unless he could be kept from bre
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“yecovery. _ Early the eee morning his father padetyed atelegram. He sat like one stunned when he zahor it; for, strange to say, this irascible old gentleman dearly loved his children; and, tp he made their life miserable about any they asked for, would in reality gladly ; i hag Wladd down bis own to save them from ri The news flew from one to the other of the tandish household. Many and loud were the ssions of grief at harm’ befalling one ; whom they all liked; but though they talked y ae over to each other, allshrunk from intruding 2 the sacred grief of the stricken father. ‘ He e sat motionless, and seemingly insensible to he everything, while the fatal telegram lay open on on his knee, After awhile, he became conscious of some : one near him, who took up the telegram. He roused himself to shake off this stupor of des- _ pair; and as he rose to his feet, he saw that it er Nora Standish who was beside him. Her ‘ace was white as death, and the expression of ved any one to pity. But the sight of her ‘oduced exactly the opposite effect on the ief-stricken father. it brought him back at once to consciousness, and his passion broke out against the one he | looked as the cause of all. “ Ah, read that!” he hissed, as he watched her. — ay hope you are satisfied with your work! You sent my boy to his death! His ood is upon your head!” _ “Oh, no, no!” cried Nora, holding out her ands, as if to ward offa blow. “Tt cannot be true that I caused his death! I loved him go I would have died for him!” You took a queer way of showing your e. But for your cursed pride and cruelty, would. have been here now, alive and well! low could you be so heartless? » When I thought it was only my money ho or to pay his debts, what else could I “His debts? Do you know all his debts 1¢ to is four thousand dollars which I shall o-morrow? Do you think I would let my - be inconvenienced for a petty sum like If Heaven spared him he would have Tracy Park and ten thousand a year, Talk man with his prospects sacrificing bimself fer hundred dollars! Ob, I could laugh our folly and presumption kad they not IS me my son! May Heaven requite you for Nora buried her face in her hands, and sunk the floor, as if cowering under the curse of man; but Ada, who had come into the and heard the last part of Mr. Tracy’s fwd came forward to do battle fur her 45 rou ave no right to epee in that way to ‘al? she exclaimed. “She is heart-broken ist? | deserves to be, ‘for she has driven my ruction!” * She thas done nothing of the kind. You mo. e toward it yourself. Why did you n you would not help him, and that he I either marry a fortune or emigrate? It ‘your | harsh treatment that drove him to 1@ paused, expecting a violent reply; but re is such cruel truth in her words that ‘the poor old man’s heart; and, onishment, he burst into tears, s, I helped "to do it,” he murmured. te boy, that I was so proud of, snatched 8 : Dear Mr. T racy, don’t think things are so pad!” erie a oe , taking his hand, while the lied down her own cheeks, ‘‘ That , was most likely sent off ina hurry pei rik 2 of real facts, ae of se, eve: g looked more ‘fright! oa: rst. daae ere: mp otis ree anguish depicted on it as she read might have God forgive me, I have oe : ture. \ sctthoal sure oe see over it. And they esa you down at once, and here we are letting the time slip, and doing nothing. I must help you to get off, and you must try to eat something.” “You are a good girl, after all,” said Mr. Tracy, trying to smile as he pressed her hand. ‘Nora, my dear, come here.” She came to hink and laid her hand on bis shoulder, and they wept together. ‘* Won’t you let me go with you? Oh, please do!” she asked, beseechingly. ‘‘I must go to him: I owe it to him, to atone for my con- duct. _ I shall go mad if I am left here in un- certainty !” ‘Of course you shall go, dear,” said Ada, promptly. “I will settle it all with papa and mamma; but if you want to go by the mid- day train, you must both rouse yourselves and do something toward getting off. I can’t eat your food for you, or quite put you into your traveling-clothes,” Ada’s spirits and energy were invaluab!e at tbis crisis. She arranged everything; talked over her parents to consent to Nora going with Mr. Tracy; saw all their things packed and sent off to the station, and never rested until she and her father had seen them off safely in the train from Sea Beach. To the two anxious travelers the time seemed interminable until they reached their journey’s end, The servant was in waiting with the car- riage. ‘How is he?” asked Gerald’s father, shaking with anxiety. “ Doing bravely, sir. Faix he'll pull through it yet!” AS this welcome news, Mr. Tracy and Nora had great difficulty in preserving their out- “ward composure. They could not trust them- selves to speak, and drove in silence to the house where Gerald lay. They were met by Mrs. Tracy, who was much surprised at seeing Nora; but when the latter told her story, and with bitter tears of reproaches accused herself of being the cause of all Gerald’s misfortunes, her mother’s heart melted, and kissing Nora, sbe said: ‘‘ My poor girl, your pride and Gerald’s was near costing you both your happiness; but I think he will be restored to you. Your presence, and the as- surance of your love, will do him more good than all the doctors put together. Everything depends upon his having nothing to trouble him. He has had some hours’ quiet sleep, and is decidedly better to-day. You shall see him soon, when his father has been in.” Loftus Tracy was shocked at the pale and haggard face he saw lying on the pillows, “Well, Gerald, my boy, you have had a tough time of it,” he said, trying to speak in- differently. ° “Yes, I thought it was all over,” replied the weak voice; ‘ but I am disappointed.” “You must not talk like that, Gerald. You never were fool enough to mind my growlings? ‘You ought to know I don’t mean half I say. I always had a devil of a temper; but I stood to you in the end.” “*T wish I could pay those bills,” said Gerald, wearily. “* And what’s to prevent you the very first day youfeel inclined? ‘You shall have a check for all you want. Hang it, my boy, don’t think so much about it! No man should give way like that. It is most incomprehen- sible!” As he finished his speech, the old man’s tears were flowing far more quickly from his own eyes than were his son’s, at which he af- fected to be so much astonished. ‘You are very good, sir; I shall not ‘abuse your kindness. When Nora knows her money was not everything to me, perhaps she will think better of me.” “I don’t think it at all desirable that she should have a better opinion of you than she has’ She might spoil you too much in the fu- Only you are ito be kept quiet. I could tell es a bt of news.’ | she could do no less than follow you. »¢ a Geidiaa yer anes ’ Tf you have any good news to tell me cot” ts her, don’t keep me in» ‘suspense, The dead weight at my heart since I parted from her is far more painful than my injuries.” “Well, that shows what a fool you were to: part from her; ‘and as you ran away from her, you stir an inch, she shall go back by the next train,” ; Mr. Loftus Tracy was fast recovering bis ordinary tone of command. Gerald sunk back with a resigned smile, his father left the room, and thé next moment Norawas at his bedside, He held out his hand to her, and there wes a long pause; Nora could not speak until she had mastered her emotion, so as to do so without excitement, They seemed, however, to read all that was necessary in each other’s eyes; for Nora bent over him and gently kissed his forehead. He closed his eyes and lay back, as if soothed and centented with the knowledge that she was near. At last, be murmured, ‘‘ Have you come to say tbat you forgiveme, Nora?” “*T have come to ask you tomarry me,” sbe replied, looking frankly at him. “My darling,” said Gerald in a tremblin yed voice, ‘you need not have done that. I would break a thousand silly oaths sooner than lose you now.” “Well, it comes to the same thing in the Now, if y ee end; I have saved you from breaking your - oatb, and, when you are tired of me, you can always say I forced myself upon you and pre - posed for you. Now, here is your mother coming to turn me out. Try and skep and eat, and get well, for my sake.” And Gerald, animated with a new hope, did ©. all that he was requested to, and made such a rapid recovery that he surprised himself and every one else. We need not describe his triumphal return to Aspell House with Nora; the intense satis- faction of the old people; the grinning wel- comé of the servants; Ada’s irrepressible spirits and energy; and Tom Newman’s rapt admiration of the same—for the wedding was to take place immediately, and Tom had been summoned to attend; Captain Wallis was best man, and Clara Roche one of the brid« maids. Mr. Tracy behaved most handsomely to the young people, for not only did be pay Gerald’s debts and make a splendid preseut of jewels to Nora, but he allowed Gerald a liberal income, declaring that he would not allow it to be said that his son was living on bis wife’s money. Ada and he became fast friends; and on her marriage, which was not very long after, he presented her with almost as handsome a present as her sister. Mr. Lane somehow feels left out in the cold, and goes about a melancholy example of virtue | unrewarded. He was not even invited to Tom’s wedding, and has been heard to say that he could feel neither friendship nor esteem for a man who had so weakly allowed bimself to be wheedled by such an artful little flirt. Captain Wallis and Clara Roche were mar- ried when their year’s probation was over, and’ are models of a happy and domestic couple. Mrs. Maurice Blake has been “cut” by the | whole circle, and bitterly rues the attempt she made to blacken Gerald’s character to Nora. Her husband stays less at home than ever, © and when she reproaches him for his frequent absences, he retorts by telling her that she has — made his life in the neighborhood intolerable, since her slanderous tongue closed all the pleasant houses to him. | So the several couples of our story, are set- tled down happily and well, and never tty to outwit each other, remembering the trial of skill in which they all once engaged, in which they all suffered more or less, and which at one time threatened to wreck the future — —— of each actor concerned in the little — plot,