Waverley Library (Quarto Edition) (v. 2) (1880 06 15)
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The Only Young Ladies’ Library of First-Class Copyright Novels Published! Price, but 5 cents each. Nu “@ 60 die Oe Oe eee ebweeevesee A 8 ACHAT S{iiiult HIN $2.50 a year. Entered at the Post Office at New York, N. Y., as Second Class Mail Matter. Copyrighted in 1880 by BEADLE AND ADAMS. June 15, 1880. No. 31. VOL. Il. | PUBLISHED | WEEKLY BY BEADLE AND ADAMS, 98 WILLIAM ST, N.Y. : PRICE, 5 CENTS. LFF ge: : z= nee ZA Fixed S SHE LOOKED ANXIOUSLY AROUND. * * “I AM HERE!” SAID A MUSICAL VOICE. HE WAS STANDING BESIDE HER—A TALL, WHITE- FACED STRIPLING, LOOKING EIGHTEEN OR NINETEEN YEARS OF AGE. : F : for his favorite morning paper, which, for want of a wife, he always sat = a alti, p Or A ll down with at table. ap am ’ ’ What was the man thinking of? Advertising for a housekeeper, and a nn offering fearfully good wages to that as yet unseen personage, when BY MARY A. DENISON, there were no less than nine or ten pretty, marriageable girls in that very street, each ready and willing to become his wer wart gk stipwia- CHAPTER I ting for no wages except board and clothes—and — a husband. ae oy “Yes, yes, 1 know—too ready—altogether too willing,” he suggested, te, THE BACHELOR. laughingly, to a friend who called in and hinted as much, while ‘g “Horace DUDLEY.” busy concocting the advertisement. A larger, handsomer, and bolder That was the name on the door-plate, and the man who answered to it | type of beauty was that of the new-comer, rage’ was both wealthy, and in the best sense of the word, an aristocrat. * Altogether too ready,” he repeated, the saucy fellow. ‘There's He sat in his study, a handsome, resolute man, inditing a paragroph | Miss Ant ala Smythe, »v very charmingly attired! always suing. so ¢ a i 3 > , ; PP ae ‘+
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eas alia, a A MAD MARRIAGE. toward street. ere’s Anne Bradbury, to whom I hinted that blue was my favorite color, making herself hideous—forshe’s so dark, you know; how can I help thinking that it’s on Liigd pote to attract me? No, Le Roy, I'll tell you what: I once saw a girl on the streets who drove all the women I had ever ad- mired out of my head. You look incredulous, but upon my honor it’s a fact—nearly a year ago, too, and until I meet her again, women, even young an adorable girls, smiling with an indefinite iggle, or be from head. to foot; areto me as if they were not. (4 { “And pray what did this paragon of paragons look like?” asked ‘his*friend, as they both arte to leave the house. , ‘ ““T only saw her for a moment-her eyes were turned from me.’ By her stature and manner (she could hardly be sixteen. Her whole face hada golden tinge and yet it was exquisitely fair. Her eyes— ah! what eyes, my friend!—that same tinge of gold in their brown depths—her hair—that was golden too. I could compare the warmth and richness of her complexion to nothing but a Parian vase of exceed- ing thinness within w ich alampis burning. I don’t think she was rich—she might have been poor, for she had a bundle in her hands such as working girls carry. I should know that oe among a thousand. I should know her if disease had dimmed the glorious eyes, or paled the cheek. I should know her in the velvets and jewels of a duchess—I should know her in rags aud poverty.” - Dudley—I never knew before that you were romantic,” said his friend. “That you were an en- _. thusiast was perfectly clear to me—but this little ~~ eonfession of yours has placed your character in a new light. Til be bound now you quarrel with your housekeepers so as to have the chance of advertising. hoping, in your dreamy soul, that this paragon o human vases with a light shining through, will stumble upon your darkness some of these days. Haven't I hit it now?” “‘No, Le Roy—you’re wide of the mark, I’m a particular man, and whenT see any special untidi- ness in the woman who undertakes to keep me afloat on the tide of housekeeping—I'm all out with her. I suppose I’m too fastidious—but then as I can have the opportunity of seeing new faces about me, why, — I improve it. You would not ima; 6 there wassuch | fun in the world as there is in answi the ap- _ pin plications of those who consider themselves com- petent to cheer my unsocial path through life. Oh! that I eould find one of those Madonna-faced creatures who are never obtrusive—who take no liberties cs are not shamefaced—who can ask after your healih with just the sg dash of matronly solicitude, and do not care to look at rh closely. finished, so is - But Iean*t do it. There, the matter i my discourse. I must hurry with it to the office—so, good-morning.”’ wet CHAPTER II. VIRGINIA AND THE SCHOOLMASTER. Pernarps you know that some of the prettiest. laces in this country are in Connecticut. In a little wn famous for bd mantic beauty, lived V: ia, Owen with widowed Virginia was not yet sixteen, but Florida was eight years older, eir house stood on the side of a hill from which the sunny vales below, with their bright meadows of shining green, their waters, shadowy wom and knots of clustering houses, looked a, radise. Petrom the cottage, which we will describe present- Wy, a winding ri led to a grove of young pines. nother path took its direction straight down the hill, ending on the main thoroughfare. The day had near! gone, as a small, lithe 2, graceful as a fa’ left the house by the back way and bib alo path on the road to the little grove. ) su e was leaving the surface of the river and crimsoning the distant before its final disap- pearance, as the young girl turned a moment, her quick eye searching out at a glance all the beautiful points of the unparalleled scene. The child—she looked scarcely more—seemed her- self, as she stood there, Ve with a kind of cunlight - lendor. Her beautiful tresses i ed against a cheek through which the rich blo ghed str , luminous crimson, and her brown eyes, liquid with a peculiar molten light, gave evidence that the temperament which they t, was that of exceeding sensitiveness—tender and full of poetic _-dreamings. Hers was one of those natures whose tu et a 85 in the sweetness—the harmony which controls it—in its similitudes to all gentle, beautiful, clinging things in creation. ; Her brow, fair and white, : I wide-brimmed chip hat, from -whose crown ribbons . of a pale blue flutte Her dress was white—its material of a coarse texture, but so perfectly did it shape itself to the delicate outlines of the rounded e. His raat, years of cheeks w: re dashed fatally with a blazing red, his taw- fme imaginary friend as I drive up the | mother and astep-sister. | ite, was partly hidden by 2 e, a queen could not have wished for drapery | | splendid proportions. His. eyes seemed shining as with moist electric sparks—his lips were brighter, , more crimson than his cheeks. He was dressed_in | a well-kept suit of black broadcloth, but for all his | care the seams were dust white. His hands (he | earried a book in one of them) had a bloodless trans- arency, and appeared aJmost as luminous as a atterie's wings. : pe you had a pleasant day?” she asked aloud, | smiling. - = 2. “Oh, no; just the contrary—for you were absent. You know I looked for you—my eyes were among | the trees oftener than on my classes till the clock struck ten; then I knew'there was no hope. Why did you stay away?” “Because Florida said I must. She was in one of her worst moods to-day.” “ And she made you work horribly, I know. Your | poor little hands; how red they look! Upon my | word! Why, Virginia—they are v ounded!” | “That is nothing,” said the girl, striving to Bun | away the bruised ers; “it is only the washing; | I shall get used to that.” “Phe wanhine ae wash! a little fairy thing like | you? Impossible; 1 can’t and won’t believe it of her. | She is an ogress.” “Don’t be silly, Parker,” said Virginia, laughing; ‘she is a very superior woman—only so cross! We enerally have all those things hired, you know; but | Florida, taking on an uncommon fit of economy, | thought we two might just as well save the expense. It seems as if, failing in the attainment of the great things she wishes to do, she is determined to put as muc toil and burden upon herself as she can carry.” “Bat you—to make you work so—’tis shameful. She is large and pene sinon as a man, I should say; while you are so little an delicate—fit only to wash rose-leaves if a a “What a conceit!’ cried Virginia, her musical ' laugh ringing out again. ‘“‘Come, now you know my day’s discomforts, tell me yours.” ‘Your absence made all my sorrow,’ said the man; for, being a school-teacher, he should oung e honored DY the title of manhood, even though his | cheek and chin were almost beardless. He led her / to a seat—richer in its emerald braid and em- broidery of moss than a queen’s throne—and threw himse are beside her, on the dry, sweet, slippery | pine-earpet. , | “And yet, not quite all,” he added, “for that Madge Spicer worried me into a fever. It hasn’t left my face yet. I believe the girl is crazy; for. because I gave Miss Spenser a little help in one o her mathematical demonstrations, she flung her slate and book across the floor, and declared she would go right to the committee and tell them how partial I was. For a few moments she was out- rageous.. I could do nothing with her. I tried reasoning, coaxing and threats, but all to no pur- pose. She is a spoilt girl, but her father is a man of great influence and could set me rr dae 7 any . Iwon- pon my moment. Oh, dear! it’s a wearing life tho der what makes that Madge train so? _ word she will worry my life out of me.” | Virginia felt her cheeks glow. “Tl tell you what,” she said, without thinking, ‘it’s the same motive that troubles my sister— asm cl “Jealousy? Oh! Virginia.” “You know what 1 mean,” said the girl, rapidly “that is—Florida, you see, never was pleased with me—well, because her father— everybody, perhaps, liked me the best—no, I should not tted me and showed me the most at- tention. I remember she said me once, lf ogame whoever 1 love you must come between us; it is my fate,’ Sheissuch a strange creature—a fatalist— ' and oh! so superstitious. I sometimes think one of | those old, grand, but dark rn: oye spiritsewe | read of has taken possession of her—she is so mys- terious, so unhappy!” The student was thinking, and, like say that— Virginia’s, his cheek had taken on a deeper crimson. ‘‘ Hvery one ni re Ne he muttered to himself. ‘‘Can it be, ' then | _ “*Well—I think, to be candid,” said Virginia, after. a question, ‘ vexed because She is hand- Poor a pause, as if she was answ Spicer likes you mightily, and she you don’t pay her all the attention some, you know, and, as you say, spoiled. child! ghe has no mother!” Bat ji Idowt know, Her eyes are too bold, like’ Her glances you—are hurled at you. Virginia! when I write my book —that dear book that shall make us both famous— what women I shall paint! You shall stand for the portrait of my best and highest type. But they will not all be angels, most assuredly; [ have your sister and Madge Spicer, and some others I could tell of, who are models in their way.” “Do you know it is getting very dark?” cried Vir- ginia, starting up. “Do you know there is moon?” queried Parker, as he wound an arm about _ her waist, and, spite of her blushing, forced her gen- ' tly to sit down again. ne but we shall not see that for an hour,’’ she ' replied. ; | ‘*Well—you are not afraid of the dark, or of me either, are you?” he asked. ‘Do stay; itis so sweet to have you here. The wind:seems like fingers of marble patting over my cheeks; I wonder what ' makes them so hot? I wish Madge Spicer would be- have herself, I always think, when she has one of her | frantic turns, what a character she would have been | in the French Revolution. There was a woman, you know, who made a speech to the noisy crowd, and because one lavgied at her she boxed his ears. When they set out for Versailles, she led them on, a wee Pur going to be a beautiful | saber in her hand, took a cannon from the Hotel de Ville, harnessed a horse to it, and led it to the city, holding a lighted match in her hand. Well, 1 al- ways identify Baie with that audacious female. L can see her, her cheeks reddened with anger, her eyes shooting flames, and hér red hair flying wildly. in the air. “Oh, Parker! yon know she has not red hair.” “Yes, she has; I call it red—and so lusterless! At any rate, there’s a fiery red tinge about it. Isn't it lovely here? I could think ‘up a oem,” he added after a Aik of silence. ‘Oh, Virginia, I wish I was rich!”’ “T have heard Florida wish that so often,” said Virginia; ‘what good will the wishing do?—not make you rich, certainly.” , “No; but itis pleasant to think what one pushe do,” he said, lazily gathering the pine-leaves in his fingers and throwirg them dcwn in a shower. o more drudgery of teaching then—for, say what you will, Virginia, the mind does contract, shut in a never-ending circle; the same lessons over and over and over; the same class of intellect to interest; the same faces; dull and pagssionless aps sacsy oy like those of a parrot. If they would only show some genius— ask what this is for and why that is so—it would wake up my soul; for positively it goes to sleep, un- He I can feel that your strange eyes are looking at i ” very thoughts behind them; and your gaze _pene- trates me—I am jealous of all I say to myself, and feel; for it seems as if you knew. Virginia was looking down; her heart bounded at this sweet praise: “T thought it was Florida who had the strange eyes,” she said, after a short pause. “Well, she has, in another way—singularly pas- sionate eyes—wells, but not clear and limpid ones— fires, but burning and destroying. What a peculiar being she is! I could admire, but never love her.” “Yet she has her good qualities,” said Virginia, ‘** Who has not?” was the reply. *‘And so ambitious as she is! I do believe were she wealthy, as she wishes she was so often, she could do every thing. It is a pity she was not kept longer at school—she has a wonderful mind, She is not at all like common folks that we see moving about us every day. Did you ever notice that? There’s a sort of dignity even in the way she han- dles a broom,” “Yes, I have noticed,’ said the youth, speaking with emphasis. ‘‘I’ll tell you what she puts me in mind, when in motion: of an electric machine, highly charged. lt seems asif sparks could fly out of her if you but touched her. She is full of power of a certain kind—and can easily influence others. If she were a teacher, now, in my place, there would be no insubordination—the flash of her eye would settle every thing. Sheis out of her place—out of her sphere—but she’ll work up to it, Nature never intended her to be a drudge, even with all her splen- did physical attainments, no more than it did you bc Thad little taper fingers and airy form like a sylph.’ by Oh! hush—no flattery !” laughed Virginia. ‘Look there, darling,” he said, pointing through the slim opening to a glowworm-like light. ‘‘ That’s the moon rising—the beautiful round moon. In less than twenty minutes we shall see her royal mantle thrown over the hills, And it will flutter, flutter along, till the invisible hands of night carry its star- like folds and wrap the old Connecticut in them til! she looks like a river of molten silver. I wouldn’t lose the view with you by my side, for the world. See, how fast the darkness opens—here an avenue, there a kingly road. Do you tremble? are you afraid now?’ ‘‘No, I believe not,’ said Bee? gy reassured. “But lam staying too long; Florid: will call me to a@ woeful account.” ; : ‘Florida! who cares for her?’ cried the youth. “She is a dragon who eats up all your little joys. Take care that you don’t sow some of her | in my heart; though, perkaps—Heayen knows—if I was more like her, I should be better fitted for the world and its struggles, This morning I ate stale Indian bread.” PA oy, be cttnd le po era burst into a mellow laugh. “That transition reflects no great credit upon your taste, she said, stil laughing merrily. ug happened to think of it on the moment,”’ he re- plied, laughing likewise. “It was sour, and has made me sour all day, I’ believe—that and the dearth of your face. I think sometimes when I am sitting down to these coarse country breakfasts—oh! for the corporation of a honey-bee and the heart of a redrose! All sorts of delicious visions rise up be- © fore me to cheat my senses. Perhaps one of my scholars sits opposite with round eyes and gaping mouth till his plate is filled, and then down goes pie It makes my jaws ache to see the rest eat—and I, famishing, can only nibble here and there. Istayed once at farmer Spicer’s, and Madge was so attentive. She heaped my platter (it was blue, and had a little boy with a pitcher in his hand glazed on the surface) with hot, clammy bread, a something they call scrapple, and, most odious hor- ror of all, a gigantic green pickle! I was particular- y sensitive that morning, as I had been standing at the door among the honeysuckles, and they always suggest the idea of food as ethereal as their fra- rance. You don’t eat anything,” she said, ooking at me so compassionately, while her bread and scrapple and two enormous pickles vanished. I pleaded indisposition. ‘ Well.’ said she, ‘if I am c} 4
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ever so sick, I ca: cat pickles.’ Seemed sourer than ever,” “You are toreeing yourself now, and talking seandal!”” cried Virginia, laughing heartily, even as she spoke. ets “tis very unkind of me, I suppose,” he replied, “and Ui I ought to go into the brown bread, _ Serapple, pork and beans, and learnto eat them. But Tam strangely constituted. I have shed more tears over my mother’s accusation that I was a dainty child, than I shall perhaps ever shed again for far greater trials.”’ “Yor pity’s sake, what ecm you eat?” cried Vir- ginia, a small alarm in her voice. “ Whatever is seasoned well by the sun,” he re- plied gravely. ‘‘I reject artificial condiments en- tirely—and confess I should like to live in a world without cooking stoves. Ugh! their red oe makes me sick, A month ago I boarded at farmer Lin- scott’s. He is a man after my own heart, Oh! what honey they had! Honey and miik of their semblance, at least, must be angel’s food.” “I was just going to say that you should never eat and drink at our house, but since honey and milk satisfy you, perhaps you may. We'll set you a white cloth, too—a relic of my mother’s family—a perfect wonder of whiteness and beauty—and if you cannot eat Florida’s cooking, you can enjoy none, She is an artist at that, and sets her table, I some- times tell her, as if it were going to have its por- trait taken. We have old silver and cut glass, too, for company; so when will you come? I’m going home now.” ,_ They both walked slowly out of the grove, tread- ing daintily upon embroidery, silver-like, that they touched no sooner than it (esd) Se their feet and Sometimes ran in waving lines like shining floss up to their very faces. They stood on the left side of the little quaint homestead. The moon shed floods of amber luster all over its old-fashioned porch, rich with hanginz honeysuckles—made the ueer, diamond-paned win- dows glitter as with pale fire, and showed the wealth of flowers that grew in the cultivated garden. It Stood so boldly out from the shadows of the trees grouped around it, that every shingle—every spot of green and yellow moss upon its roof—every ledge, Swallow’s nest, window-sill, and tiny creeper was Snes pd penciled by the wonderful limning of the moonlight. It’s a dear old home,” half sighed Virginia, as though fearing that in the far-away future there Was a prospect of leaving it for another. 13 The oldest in the county, isn’t it?” asked Parker. €s; my ancestors among the ie ms came Over from Plymouth, and were the first, or nearly the first, settlers here. When Florida is in one of her best moods, I’ll take you in to see the old leath- ern-covered chair that was brought from Holland— he most curious old thing! And then we have sil- ver, dating from 1600—not much worn, it seems, either, only some of the ornaments rather flattened. f mother is not in too much pani she will tell you Some stories will help you make out your book—thut book—you know, and—” e started—there was a step near them, and a oe of the breaking of a branch, but ifany one ad passed them, it was done so quickly that neither Saw what nor who. i esently one of the little casement windows slow- the Opened. Out into the moonlight, that wavered f , a glory all around it, looked a face dark, beauti- ang but, just then, evil. ' Its flashiug eyes, unnatur- ° y large, seemed glancing over to where the lovers a A full, round bust leaned over the window- Virginia!” it said, sharply. The voice was low- toned and by no means ridatvets yet it was a weird Oice that one would listen for again. als et eat cat os ene at ess, springing out of the shadows t) en- vironed the two. gars I thought I heard you; come in, It is time that children were abed.” in aying this, and knowing that her word was law mi, at little household, she shut the casement ars There was a whisper or two—among which Could be distinguished the word, ‘She is an ogress ” : clasping of hands for good-night, and Virginia an eee the little gate, hurried up the flower- ‘ ha path, tarned to take one more look at the _ ‘ous night, then the door closed her in; and the young man, waiting till he saw the last of the white he nents sighed, turned and retraced his way to i ¢ farm-house in which he was * boarding out,” << ng forward to a night made dleopless that bs Caring fever and the burning thoughts that con- umed his soul for want of utterance. CHAPTER IIL. ‘ow. FLORIDA AND HER DECISION. Tannen ham have had a famous evening of it, whe mgt If father were alive I very much doubt ginia.» € would allow these night walks, Vir- nia. at ne Fae of the two girls spoke thus, as, standing dle that sent. f the narrow staircase, she held a can- ficient, h, faint light into the little entry below. was black ang vor © Show that the balustrade polished with age, and heavy with ng. Enough to give prominence . heme net was eining on one side ique w. . near tlie porch, and the an- . alnscoting over all. The gor} gleam—the ‘hetia ; low-—the beautiful face upon Since then she has shin ol t made a red glory, and the rare p rer " moving reluctantly up, made a “I don’t think he would care uid 2 ” half sighed the maid, her white rord aking veal d A MAD MARRIAGE. ' 3 | over the somber banister—‘‘we all know every- hairy she added. ‘* Still it is talked about much more than I-should wish if I were you,” said. Florida, holding one hand: over the candle-flame, now that she had turned into another passage where the draft was airy “Talked about!” cried Virginia, with a little depre- | catory motion—‘‘ what is talked about?” They had entered the low-ceiled chamber now, and Florida, placing the candle down, turned away with a look of gloom darkening all her forehead as she replied: “Your walking here and there at such unreason- able hours—meeting that boy of a schoolmaster in the woods at night—in unusual places at unusual times. I confess Iam out of all patience with you.” ‘‘How do you know I meet him in the woods?” asked Virginia, “Because I do know,’’ replied Florida, in the cross, short way that always intimated she wished no more questioning on the subject. Virginia hardly knew yet how to defend herself. She stood irresolutely, unpinning a pretty sash of blue that depended from her waist, when a thin uerulous voice cried out from the distant gloom of the chamber: “Ts that my Jenny? Come here my own child.” The room extended the entire ene of the house. and on one side the ceiling sloped. It was furnished with a few calico-covered arm-chairs, two ve claw-footed tables, a lounge of home manufacture that served Virginia for a bed, and two bedsteads, one of them high-posted and covered with long sweeping curtains, the other that stood in the cen- ter of the chamber, quite small and tasteful. Toward the first of these two went Virginia, and drew aside the curtains, taking care to insure a place of greater safety for a couple of well-worn crutches that stood near. “My;own darling, why didn’t you stay—Florry didn’t like to tend me,” said the same i, Sy while the light showed a thin attenuated figure, whose sunken eyes, Pree ong cheek-bones and high, un- naturally white forehead, from which strayed a few scattered silver hairs, gave a ghastly and preterna- tural look to the whole being of the invalid. “You told me I might go, mother,” said Virginia, gently — and kissing her forehead. sak thought then you would bring me home some flowers, or a few berries—I am so neglected!” said the voice, wearily. ‘I wish I could get away from here,” she continued, still fretfully. ‘‘I came, as pone and pretty as you are, Jenny—my eyes were lue, and could shine, then. Thomas, your father, used to straighten out my long curls and let them go, quick, to see how naturally they would cling up against my temples. Thomas was a handsome man —and my first love. I don’t know—it seems sort 0’ fanciful, you know, dear—but sometimes I think he sits here, at the head, just as he used whenI was very ill, and a strange calm steals over me. I for- get Iam old and lame and sick, and to go sleep still thinking, you know, that he is watching there. He used to say, ‘Mary, I hope we shall die very near together, for it seems as if I could not sleep in my rave and know you lonely.’ So, gh you see, e may come sometimes; but for all that, Lwish we had wee together—I Yon bp Ete Virgini other, you must stop ing; a, come away, do, and Tet her rest. She'll be miserable to- morrow, you know. As itis, I must give her some medicine; I didn’t like the looks of her eyes to-day— she’ll keep us all awake.” The invalid caught the hands of her child as she heard the footsteps of Florida. “Dear mother, don’t you see Florida is right?” whispered Virginia, soo hingly. “You will ost die with the pain to-morrow, if you get no sleep to- night. It is late, darling—won’t you let me go? | won't you try to sleep?” “Yes, yes,” murmured the sick woman with a sigh, as she released the little hands, and took the preparation of opium which Florida had mixed; ‘perhaps when they all desert me he will come | pape ae added, in plaintive tones; ‘‘ go, Jenny— go, child.” |. Virginia retired to her simple couch; but Florid | lighting another candle, took a book to the table an ! was soon busy with its contents. As she read, | or studied, she shifted her position, nervously, again and again. Virginia lay scanning the beauti- ful but stern profile, as often as it turned that way and wondered at her as she always did—wondered what the power was of whose mystical influence the schoolmaster had spoken. That this woman, so full of vitality, so strong, determined and energetic, did possess such a power she knew, for she felt it. She could never e excuses to her—never even defend herself from any charge. Angrily as she might feel toward others who infringed upon her rights, toward Florida she was conscious of a blind subservience— a sort of helplessness that made her a very child. _ Not that she loved her, for she did not; what senti- ment of sisterly affection she felt was so inwrought with fear—a kind of nameless dread, that it pro- duced gare, Bs that quiet happiness existin between members of a family who have long live | together. Virginia’s father had died when she was | but two years old. Her mother, by one of those strange occurrences that almost seem fatalities, married a foreigner, who had some little fortune; so for many years, even from her infancy, Virginia had been subject to this ambitious, erratic Florida. The second husband, however, loved as devotedly as the first; and on his death-bed extracted a faithful romise from his own child—a promise that, in ts nature and amid its surroundings, psi of the character of an oath—that she would nevet his widow or her child. At that time, Virginia was , ben, and Florida eighteen; so it was six years pre- Baile never desert bes Jodt weaken ire ate men vious to the commencement of ed story that Flori- da,.on her knees, in tears, and filled with the most passionate grief, had give her vow. From that time she took eve’ thing into her own hands and man- aged the litile property admirably. The widow meeting with an accident that made her an almost helpless cripple, affairs were thrown more com- pletely on her, and she ruled without let or hin- rance, Still, the girl, possessed of a powerful and original mind, did not feel satisfied with her lot. She thirst- ed for knowledge, fame, and a high station. If she could not compass these by the power of her own intellect, she determined to obtain them by resolu- tion, will and management. At the head of some- thing she would be—whether of a district-school, a college, or a splendid establishment, time should determine, Virginia, with her sweet, fresh bloom and beauty, she looked upon as a rival, already. She felt that the might of her pie goodness wi.3 greater than any combination of forces or attctn- ments:-in her own character; and, knowing ner influence upon the gentle girl, she wished to © ubor- dinate—to absorb her as it were, and so keep her restricted to the bound of her own desires and intentions. At last, as she sat reading, Florida turned her eyes toward where Virginia lay, as she had thought asleep. They encountered the innocent look o Virginia. fixed full upon her as it had been since she had first. sat down. “That is what has made me so uneasy,” she said, &, aloud, “My looking at you?’’ queried Virginia. “Yes—and f tryin, ; You ought to be asleep, and, perhaps, dreaming of ni yiteiniepirtied a, ed, but to hide h f ia turned a rosy r uu ide her confu- dion che asked: “What are you doing?” eae study, I suppose some people would call it,” be ed Florida; “but as you have broken the spell, it’s of no use for me to try and fix my thoughts n. She put aside the book, lifted herself, threw down with one hand the great waves of hair that she had bound in her own capricious style. It hung long and glittering like a vail of many folds, a slum- brous luster in it that only waked and shone when she moved. «She is like a queen!” thought Virginia. : At that moment Florida turned round, the hair still hanging uncoiled in both hands, é “Tam ahi to the city,” she said, abruptly. It was her way—but Virginia did not comprehend her immediately. “ You—going to the city?’ she asked. ‘‘ When? to-morrow?” hg No, not to-morrow, but whenever we can get rn yi é!” almost gasped her sister. ‘‘ What! to— “Stay!” said Florida, finishing the sentence. * ae stay! You—I—and mother?” cried Virginia, lowly. “Yes; you, land mother. Of course your mother will g e has no one to depend upon but me, for some things; of course you will go, for you have no other home, and no prospect of another—unless you married that boy,” she added, with a half sneer, ‘and his chance is worse than yours.” “To live in the city—in the great, dreary city,” cried Virginia, her voice sharp with sudden horror, ‘* Hush—you will wake your mother. Oh! I for- get,” she added, half to herself, ‘“‘she has taken the medicine—she’ll not wake till morning.” “Tt is a stupid sleep,’’ exclaimed Me pee pg» pare over to where her mother , ber thoughts ora moment diverted from the strange news she had just heard; ‘I don’t believe it is right to give her narcotics.” "It is right to do anything to put her out of pain,” -gaid Florida; at which Virginia recoiled, looking at her in the childish, almost fearful way in which she was used. ‘ Well,” Florida spoke again, after a pause.so still that the tick of the death-watch sound- ed weirdly, rapid and strong, ‘‘are you reconciled to the idea yet?” “Oh! for heaven’ssake, Florida, don’t say that you meant it!’? exclaimed Virginia, half-rising: * don’t say you meant that we should leave our dear home and go over to that wilderness.”’ “ “You are a little fool,’’ exclaimed Florida, : fiercely round, now pinning the great meshes of hair against the back of her head; but, as she stood there, it seemed as if she repented of her harshness. Her eye grew softer, her lip lost its curl, and she seemed irresolute whether to soothe or reproach her. Vir- pee lying there, seemed so infantile, so helpless— er white arms folded and her face hidden upon them—her linen night-robe swaying so delicately to the rounded shoulders and lithe waist, sobs s ing - 7 her whole frame. tes ‘‘ Hear to reason, child,” said Florida, more softly; — “what are you grieving about? Look here-I will tell you something if you willlisten. You are beaut ful—you have no idea how beautiful you are. I am not repulsive, notwithstanding ’’—she seemed to think better than to speak what was uppermost, s she paused. a moment, while Virginia grew more © quiet. ‘I, too, am what some call beauti is ; . to forget myself, could not. ee” , * ul, though in a different way from you. Do you—did you, ever ~ think what beauty may command?” “T don’t understand,” replied Virginia, who had raised her head, and while tear-drops like big white pearls stood under her lashes, regarded her half- sister with a curious though piteous look. ‘“You poor little goose y, wealth, child, un- aracter. influence, everything. ré are men in the city who would lay a fortune of 4 ie et a, ~— 2 a oy a
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‘ gomfort as the cow turned its mi - giving long, gentle glances. f “ A MAD MARRIAGE. millions at your feet for the sake of calling you e. “Don’t sell me,” sobbed pe with an a peat ing look, ‘‘don’t talk to me o: such things. on’t want wealth—I don’t want influence; but, oh! to give up Kennie, dear old Kennie!”’ “Pshaw! what’s the use of wasting my words!” cried Florida, rising from the side of the little couch. ‘“ And mother? how will she, how can she live in the close city?” cried Virginia. : “You know at well how she talks, said Florida, in her usually cold, contemptuous tones. “She is longing all the time to get ort My brain fairly aches sometimes with the repetition of her cry—‘ Oh! I wish I was away from this place and never could remember the past.’”’ ‘“* Poor mother,” sighed Virginia; ‘‘ she will be away soon enough withou any one's intervention; and I think—I fear, she will die the sooner for leaving the olc cottage.” ‘* Well, Jshan’t,”’ retorted Florida; ‘‘and I’m sure I die here daily. Once in the city, Tl let the rent support your mother. I’ll work for you and myself, too; and you—only think of the thousand and one re- sources of young girls! Why, you can dress so well! no more need of turning’, dyeing and making over, but elegant fabrics of all kinds and—” 40 My head aches so—I had rather we -wouldn’t talk,” said Virginia, gently. ‘Oh! I’m willing,” was the response; and, putting out the little light, Florida went to her rest. CHAPTER IV. UNCLE BARBY’S PHILOSOPHY. “ Srop—it was a dream—no—no—it could not be, after all. There she stood, her long, dark hair in ‘er hands, the rich gloss gleaming out here and there as she said it.” Virginia strained her eyes through the blue gloom of the dawn. Then she sat up, and, drawing herself together, began to think. Her mother still slept, with heavy breathing. Florida was up, as Virginia knew by the bustle below stairs. . “To go from here,” murmured the young ]— **to leave my dear home, the place where I was born —to leave Kennie—and—and—Parker! What a fear- ful feeling it gives me—as if I were dying!” and, pressing her hands to her face, she shivered. “It’s very hard to have such a sister, and she not my own, yet taking my destiny in her hands,” she went on, murmurously. ‘ Well—ifI must, Tmust; but, I know I shall die there—I know I shall Slowly and with little spirit she performed the duties of her toilet and hurried down to help Florida. At sight of her glowing face, and large, shining eyes she shuddered, and then she thought of what the young schoolmaster had likened her to—an electrical machine. She felt her influence, as the steady eye, now cold, bent fully upon her, and obeyed her, mo- tions like an atitomaton. “You must milk, this morning Virginie, Florida said, hurrying about her work. Her dark dress was not becoming, save that it sat closely and displayed her beautiful form—and the sleeves were turned up far above the elbows, showing splendid arms that flashed bee al as she moved them to and fro. Virginia took the milking-pail and went out to the barn. The old cow gave a low cry of recognition, at which the gentle heart of the girl swelled again. “Oh, Kennie!” she cried, ‘I can’t leave you; and yet I feel that I must—she willsit. Oh, Kennie! lam going to the city. Iam going away from everything 8 and beautiful—how can I bear it?” So, through the tears, she seemed scarcely to see the rich, white fluid that fell over her fingers, and ~ slowly brimmed the pail, but sat there talking to the quiet creature, and seeming to oes strength nue eyes upon her, A shadow entered the doorway. She looked up and met the kindly brown eyes of an old man, who, leaning on his crutch, stood regarding her intently. ‘As soon as he met her gaze his brow contracted, and he moved his crutches uneasily. “Uncle Barby, good-morning! how are you to- day?” Virginia asked, in as cheery a voice as she could a sume. ‘Oh, I’m *bout as well as I ever expect to be, Miss Jenny,” he replied; ‘“‘rheumatism’s shifted to my feet an’ wankles, and I’ve got the Lombardy in my back, besides shaking all over with the ager that I eaught in Jarsey, along o’ fighting them red-coats; and the Lb ope toothache, with an nold man like me kep’ awake nights, an’ suiferin’ in the j’ints and the marrer is rather hard, countin’ in old age, an’ no chance o’ getting the pension, menor the old woman neither; so, say |, ‘blessed be the Lord for all His marcies ‘_which T always acknowledges the hand o’ m. “Thope Aunt Barby is well this i ne said “is a slacking her hand as the pail filled to the im, “The Lord is marciful to all his critters, Miss Jenny, and not to say nothing of her period-like - headache that comes jest as soon’s the moon's at its full, the wrist she sprained come ten years Christmas - that’s troublous when the wind changes, and not. te gay nothin’ ag’in’ a temper that wasn’t naterally _ from the first sweeter than molasses, and eae in a little trouble with the spine, a corn or two, an the touch of the numb palsy she had when Deacon Joe’s darter died, and that’s kept her head goin’ wiggle waggle, and never a stop to it sence, I may say that my mistress enjoys her kealth—for the like may the Lord make us all thankful—I always gives Sg Him.” - #6 at! even for trouble, uncle Barby?” asked ee her beautiful cheeks glo as she’ stood y to poise the rich milk that bubbled and dim- pled with the airiest, most fairy-like motion, ‘* And why not, Miss Jenny? If everything comes from the hand o’ the Lord, why shouldn’t we glorify Him in everything? When I was shot down by them red-coats in Jarsey, and left for dead, thinks I, ‘ well, it’s mighty onsartin whether I eversee daylight ag’in from the window of that little red house where I was born; but if I die, an’ it’s the will of the Lord, why so mout it be; and if I’m saved, it’ll be the will 0’ the Lord just the same ’—so you see, what should I care, anyhow? So I didn’t give myself no sort of trouble ‘about it, but jest lay still till I was picked up—and the Lord let me live, for which blessed be is name; for I enjoys my food now, at eighty, and has my sight pretty reg’lar, and my hearin’ oncom- mon.’ ‘But uncle Barby, what if the Lord don’t always send trouble? what if we make it. for ourselves?” asked Virginia, preparing to leave the barn. “Well, it don’t matter much, I expect,” said the old man, musing over the question. “I guess we’re born for trouble, mout it be more nor less, anyhow, and I reckon the’ ain’t much done in the world but what the Lord has his hand in it; and with this piece of wisdom sententiousl delivered, Virginia was obliged to be content, for the old man hobbled off, and she entered the house. f Then fell the old trouble upon her. Every object looked doubly dear to her. e sun, in great golden reaches, compassed the pine door—gilded up the pretty oaken book-case set in the wall—fell yellowly on the simple breakfast a Sosa for two; and, as Florida passed in and out of the soft, fluidlike gold, her ae was transformed with somethibg purer, but her eyes were yet glowing, passionate—nor at all like Virginia’s, with their melting, amber transpar- ency. She longed to speak of the last night’s proposal, and assure herself, painful es it would be, that she was notin a dream, wandering to and fro without will and without purpose. She wished Florida would allude to it, but the busy woman seemed wrapped about with her usual cold impenetrability. “ T don’t know whether I can do that ironing alone,”’ at last fell on Virginia’s ear. She looked up anxious and wistful, so anxious and wistful that Florida half smiled, yet Bg pe daha oe “T suppose you want to go to school,” she added. ‘“*T should like to, very much,”’ said Virginia, timid- k Wa it is such a drawback to lose a lesson here and ere.’ “ And to lose some other things,” said Florida. Jaee blushed and looked vexed, but answered nothing. “Well, I will leave the ruffling to you, then, for I have sewing that must be done, so you can get away earlier at noon, and earlier at night; but, what are be going todo for school when you get into the city?” “Oh, I can’t think about it at all—I can’t think it at all,” said Virginia, hurriedly, the tears brim- ming up to her eyes. “Your pictures of the city are dolorously framed, I see,” said Florida, a wicked light in her eyes; fe , perhapsif you can’t think of it at all, you can op some Hough some suggestions from others— ur consumptive teacher, for instance.” *Consumptive!” cried Virginia, her eyes flashing through tears and indignation, while she tried to keep down the choking that filled her throat. ‘How cruel you can be!’ “T will Me to you by-and-by whether I am cruel,” said Florida,her tones lighter. When I see you in the magnificent house I have planned for you— wealth at your command—some nobleman of nature, not to be despised because he has a fortune, willing to surround you with all that your heart ean desire— then you will say to me, ‘Florida, I thank you_ that you kept me from a miserable fate—I acknowledge that you knew best what was good for me.” pt sim said nothing; not that there were words wanting, but the sense of her dependence, the over- ne exaction of her sister’s character, and, be- sides that, the grief at her unkind reference to the schoolmaster, prevented her from speech. She arose silently from the table, st not without bend- ing a giense that reproached her sister more elo- quently than could the language of keenest reproof. CHAPTER V. MADGE SPICER’S JEALOUSY. On that same morning rose the schoolmaster, un- refreshed, That dull ache of the vitals to which long suffering had accustomed him, stole his sleep, and robbed rest of all her magical power. The phys- ical regeneration that comes with morning to every healthy frame, it was not his to know. As he combed his straggling locks into order before aglass wofully cracked and stained, it occurred to him that his face was growing thin. ‘‘ And yet, there’s a look of health about it, too,” he said to himself; ‘‘none of my urchins at school can boast of ruddier color;”’ and the poor boy smiled as he thought of the aching chest, and deemed it was all owing to his irksome round of duties, and that when he should conquer circumstances, and surround himself with little leasures that should not interfere with his plans of ream-life—above all, when he should enter that vose-leaf existence, in which all coarse things (coarse rod included) could be banished by the magic er of genius—then he should be well—oh! how well! After partaking of his breakfast. with an indif- ferent appetite, groaning often in his soul because food was urged upon him which he could not re- fuse—seeing the sneer in the face of his hostess, which said as plainly as ever expression can speak, “dainty,” he took nis hat for a walk. As usual his steps tended toward the pretty cottage where Vir- | inia lived, and, as usual, the young girl met him “way. ‘Virginia, my queen!” he said, proudly, then paused irresolutely, adding: “* but if I was goin to crown you, I’m afraid it would be with rue. hat makes you look so solemn?” “Because I feel twenty years older,” said the young girl, trying vainly to clear her brow and as- sume the cheerfulness she felt not. “Ah! Isee; Florida has been manufacturing time for you. Some of her harsh words are swinging i your heart like a leaden pendulum; isn’t it oO ” ‘Oh, dear! don’t speak of it, Parker,” Virginia ex- claimed with almost a cry, while blushing cheeks and tear-filled eyes attested to the bitterness of the pang she suffered, and felt she should inflict. “I migh as well tell you, and have done with it. Florida is going to the city, and will take mother and me along with her.”’ “No! Virginia—no—no ;” said Parker, stopping abruptly. His voice was unwontedly low, but then the tones were fierce and hollow. “ But what canI do? Oh! I had almost rather die ’’—here the tears choked her voice—‘‘ but when Florida wills a thing, you know it must bedone. I have seemed ina dream ever since, Ob, Parker! do you really feel so bad?” She had looked up almost unconsciously; but now her gaze was riveted on his cheeks, crimson with a assionate hectic, his lips white and bitten, his eyes ashing angrily. : “She is a serpent, Virginia,’ he said in a slow hissing whisper; ‘“‘she wants to part us, as the thing of evil parted Adam and Eve from Paradise.” ‘She can not part us, Parker,’’ said Virginia, soft- ly, though she was alarmed; for it seemed, looking at him, as though there was a freshly dug grave at her feet, and that the strange aroma of the thrown- up earth penetrated her senses till it made her faint and sick. Was not death written on that brow, so beautiful and white? : “T tell you it is for cannes else, Virginia. I can read her. There is speculation in her eyes. She prices your beauty, charm by charm, and sets it op- osite figures. She isa mercerin flesh and blood, irginia; she will sell you—oh!—sell you.” irginia grew giddy ; the vehemence of his words —the weight his soul’s anguish gave the syllables oppressed her, hung on her heart. Still she seeme to have little to say, though she felt to the very core of her being. “T can’t lose you, love.” Her hand clasped his arm more He gem atsound of this wailing cry. How this man did love her. ‘* Parker, what shall I do? counsel me. She will take my mother—I never could let her go without me, even if I was independent of Florida, which, alas! Lam not. I wish 1 could—I wish”’—her very powerlessness left her without heart to conjecture or even to wish. “Tl tell you, Virginia. There is no other way to check this woman's wild, imperious ambition—we must be married, Virginia.” “Parker!” With crimsoned cheeks that rivaled his own, she recoiled from him for a brief moment—then drew near again, and hid her face on his own. “Yes, ae Thave never spoken of it, but we might as well be frank now as we have ever been. I love you--only Heaven knows how well! You are as my life, my very soul, tome. Without hope and faith in you, I should die in a week, I know I should, so strangely am I constituted. Do not fear but what Ican take care of you, dearest—and you shall not leave your mother. I have an offer still open to take charge of the second department in a large public- school in the city. I have hesitated because I pre- ferred a smaller salary and the sight of your dear face. Come, Virginia, let us outwit this dragon—the wicked, wicked woman who wants to sell my life— ruin me.” gia “T must think of it, Parker,” said Virginia, trem- art yet not unw ng eed ‘“We shall always be — then, darling, we can defy Florida. All day I shall toil like a hero for my blessed little wife, and, when I come home, Vir- ginia, then—then for the book! How I shall write, you beside me—your clear eyes to look into as in wells, from which I shall draw up such love pes eF Then, sometime the book will be finished, a publisher found—it will come out, shining in gold my name and yours, too, inside—for, to you shall 1 dedicate it—and, oh! how sweet! think, dearest, think—it will be ‘to my wife!’ Oh, Virginia! I need to feed on nothing but thought to-day.’ They had reached a spot where two roads branch- ed off. The roses shone through dew-drops, and the grass seemed like fine suraye of emerald. An old maz sat sunning himself at the foot of a great oak tree wiiose roots, sinuously bending, formed natural branches. It was Uncle Barby. ‘This ig one of the Lord’s finest mornings, sir,” said the old man, who had unbounded reverence for the “ ” and all “scolards,” and lifted himself up hy dificulty that he might not seem wanting in respect. ‘Don’t rise, Uncle Barby, don’t rise,” said Parker solicitously. ‘Lord bless you; my limbs is never got over the rheumatics I took in Jarsey,” said the old man breathing heavily—‘for which,” he added a mo- ment after, as if he had forgotten something, “the Lord make us all abundantly thankful.” Be ne. sparen Dalat “You're goin’ e school’us I take it,” i the old man. oe re “Yes, uncle—to teach the young idea how to : shoot,”’ was the gion 3 reply. ** Don’t, don’t,” cried Uncle Barby; “human crit- ters never was made to shoot anyway. If you'd had a brother shot down by your side, and seen your own flesh and blood and brains, as it was, spattered le ; eth Se: 5) ——__
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a A MAD. MARRIAGE. cuto you, you’d never want to hear or speak of shootin’ agen, I reckon—however, praise the Lord!” “That was only a figure of speech, Uncle Barby,” said Parker, ‘‘comparing the young mind to a young tree, you know, shooting up in the air.” “Oh! ha—well, yes, but I thought trees growed; howsoever, you’re ahead o’ me in larnin’ if you’re behind me in years, bless the good Lord!” In the back-ground stood several young girls, among them Madge Spicer. _ Her face took on a look of spiteful, jealous inter- est, as the young schoolmaster advanced, Virginia how loitering a little in the rear, conscious that the eyes of many were upon them. The vengeful-look- ing girl, Madge Spicer, seemed ready to burst with rage, as she turned to enter the low-roofed school- ouse. It was so easy to interpret the teacher’s plance of worship, bent upon Virginia—it was so ard for him to forbear aiding her tenderly up the flight of rude steps. _ Anybody could tell,” whispered the mischievous girls, with winks and shrugs. ‘‘ Madge is a capital arometer.’’ The girl seemed more than usually evil-minded, to-day, and but for the beautiful hope that filled the mind of the young teacher wlth vague but delicious Picture-dreams of the future, he had been all but be- Side himself. As it was, the fatal flame mounted his cheeks, his forehead, at every repetition of an inten- tional insult, until at last, with one blaze of resent- Ment making him sem all fire, he exclaimed, re- Solutely, almost fiercely: “ Madge Spicer—you ma; go home!”’ The girl turned fiercely—her eyes glittered like those of a snake, her brow contracted. The com- Mand had petrified her for the instant. ‘* Perhaps it is not necessary, but I will repeat it— ss Madge Spicer is dismissed from this school. Her conduct is unbearable, and I shall no longer Submit to the degrading effect of her example upon the rest of the pupils.” “What, sir—me—sir?” gasped the girl, her face, heck and arms reddening. You may go home,” was the calm reply. (,L.won’t!” shouted the rebellious girl. Very well, whether you stay or go, you have dis- graced yourself,” said Parker. The pupils looked 0n in breathless amazement bebe socnen g how the Contest would end. Madge glared round defiantly, en meeting the now, pitying ty of Virginia, she Sprung toward her likeafury, and, giving way to her Ungovernable passion, seized her ‘fs shoulder, Screaming all manner of revengeful epithets, and e little figure that had gathered itself back bose the wall, a terror in her eyes—her d hands uplifted. [t was but the work of a moment. Amid the Cries of fright and of indignation, Parker hurried Orward, pinioned the girl’s arms to her side, and quietly carried her, struggling and screaming as she Was, to the door, where he calmly set her down out- R Side, and came back trembling with excitement . . » black from head to foot. The window was dashed open. A face distorted with rage—a demon looking out over the barriers of 4n evil soul—appeared, defiant. b You keep school here no longer, sir,’’ shouted a oarse, unnatural voice, as the pale master—now how deadly pale, turned’ that way. “Ill have you Sgraced to-morrow—yow'll keep school nowhere, after this—your character is ruined. Everybody Ows you, and Virginia Owen, too—the bold, for- Ward creature!’’ she cried, shrilly. ‘‘See how you'll Bg for this!” ittle knot of sympathizi irls had gathered about the half-fainting ir ina. = # b We all know what a fury she is! don’t feel so eee about it—she’s always making mischief,” said «.No, no—don’t mind it,” whispered another; She’s not worth minding; if you could see how Wretchedly the master lookg y they had touched the right chord. The color the ck to Virginia’s cheek, her eyes brightened, Meee saddened as it traveled toward Parker, who ‘aS as much surprised at the effect of the insubor- ination as he was grieved at the insult offered Vir- hia. His breath came in gasps—his heart beat ra violently that it swayed his slight form back and et ns oe oe pressure on his chest made his Well for him that he did not see the con: that were shortly to ensue. aiakinae Ta e . CHAPTER VI. THE SECRET WEDDING. THERE is a figure creeping stealthily but rapidly from the cottage-door. Under the edges of gl wantle the hem of a snow-white dress may be seen. 2 genes turning warily, the figure stops with rane glances—then tremblingly gathers the path fe upser: and hurries down the road. The Byes a. Closed in, shortly, by pine trees, yet still, leaves © soft carpet of mosses and glossy green little feoh one ing to mold even in their beauty, the . that slight forme as thelr wey Agel it is seen, : i the rging on the pre reen op- » posite the minister's house, The atsonhee iene Scoupant mae modest and unpretending, like its before the fee ties the brass knocker. Almost hall, the doer jeontle blow has traveled into the S thrown asi : 3 mount au aaa aa, # * You can almost h nf : : No we It all—there is such a silence everywhere, The very forest has forgotten its whispered vespers to-night. The great hill, blue at the top—purpling, deepening into huge ridges, ink- at the bottom, seems listening; so do the trees—those graud elrns, Swaying forward so gent- P Boy ‘ “tet Ss i) ” ” oe ly. There are kind words, then a prayer, then a benediction. i What can it be? Ah! the table is divested of its | snowy hapkins, and there glisten the frostings of a wedding-cake, And she, standing so droopingly, yet withal very happy, the white dress falling in exquisite folds to the floor, the two hands clasped over somebody’s arm—that is Virginia. And he on whom the benignant eyes of the pastor beam so kindly, yet pityingly, noting the hectic, the wonder- ful brilliancy of eye and smile, the quite little maneuverings to hide the tokens of disease—that is the youthful schooimaster. Oh! how beautiful they are!—she with that strangely transparent fairness that the old painters gloried in with exultant pride when they caught the tints on canvas—the luminous eyes shedding their amber light into cheeks and lips, ra a glory, that at times seemed almost a trans- guration. ‘*My darling, God bless you;” whispered the el- der’s wife, coming forward, her open arms ex- tended. Virginia scarcely knew why she did so; it wasa sudden impulse born of the ying for a mother’s sweet presence; but she fell with a sob upon that gentle bosom, and there the pocd woman gathered and held her as she wept softly—so softly! speaking words of comfort, for she knew that her home life was not a happy one—and who, looking at one of them, certainly, could feel much faith for the fu- eres however earnestly hope might mingle in the ear. There was but little eaten, little drank. No one tried to be merry, though there was no lack of sweet smiles and pleasant words. Then came a fervent good-night—the two newly wedded were threading again the forest-path, now laced with slender, quivering beams of pale moonlight. They | talked little, but when they spoke it was rapidly—on | his side passionate words of endearment. “And now those walls will hide you from my sight for a while,” said the young man, while she stood as if ready to spring toward their shelter. “You will surely keep our secret as long as we re- main here, dearest?” “T will try to,” whispered Virginia, one moment clinging to his hand, the next starting forward. “Why need you hurry so, darling? The house is quite dark—Florida can not have returned,” “Oh, Parker! let me go—I could not bear her anger to-night of all times, and her very eyes would turn to tongues—I never could endure her to see ‘*Then, good-night again, and God bless you, my own—my wife!” The lights are all out as Virginia enters the quaint little hall and softly feels her way up the stairs. There is a rustle in her chamber while she stands on the threshold—a light suddenly gleams in the dark- ness, and there is Florida, a hard, cold look in her brilliant eyes, her black cape and somber bonnet not yet renoved. Poor Virginia! The child droops forward, her cheeks one moment all scarlet, the next death- white, as she stammers, “I thought—you—” “Thought I was out—and so I was till a moment ago; you see I have not yet taken off my thin the lips curl into a smile, the eyes glitter. you, it seems, have taken the same a paseo to | visit somebody. Why, child, you are dressed in white—quite a bridal style upon my word! Where have you been?” ‘““J—I—" the words die upon her lips. and “Tf you were going to a party, I don’t know why you should keep it a secret from me—I do believe you are afraid of me, Virginia.” ‘Oh, no!”’—the quiet manner of her sister quite deceives her—‘‘ Oh, no!—but I thought as—that is— to-night, I would not tell any one.” “Don't, for pity’s sake, be so secretive ain, then. Come here—why, how very pretty ie: ook! gg ribbons—where did you get them? Beauti- ‘ul! ‘““Mother gave them to me,” stammers Virginia, still confused, ‘“Suppose this were white brocade, now,’—she | takes the muslin up with a contemptuous touch— ‘and this, the rich lace of the German looms. Sup- pose pearls or diamonds encircled these pretty wrists, and glorious gems shone on this bosom—while one of the bridal vails that we have heard of fell in gleaming folds from these curls to the floor. Some time I hope Ishall see you dressed thus; it would be a much prettier bridal robe than this.” Virginia catches her breath; does this megs witch-like woman know that this is indeed her bridal dress, her bridal night? What shall she say or do? how fathom the deep, dark depths of her designs? ‘‘I never wish to wear a better dress than this in | all my life,” she says, half passionately. “Oh! yes you will—when you are married *—and the glance she meets causes the blood to rush over neck, arms and brow. “But now let us talk of other things, and then to bed; we have so much to do, to-morrow, we need all the rest we can get. Come—how strangely you stand _ there, looking at me! What do you want? Shall I help you?” “No!’—and Virginia turns away, feeling tears upon her lashes, and, biting her lips, strives to choke down the struggling sobs. She feels so help- less. and yet defiant—almost ready to fly ‘rom this roof and seek that of one who she trusts, is now her protector—and stilia thousand fears deter her. The past few hours seem dream-like—can it be possible that she had taken new duties, great responsibilities upon her? Thatin ber keeping the happiness of a human being is placed? that she is no longer to live for herself? that a mysterious union, exists between her soul and that of another whict tee ae Ed but death can annihilate? And Florida, moving round in her cool, determined way, does she suspect? It would be just like her to know all about it and never ive asign. However, she has some spirit, thank Goa! A worm will turn, and her ordinary meekness shall not master her. She will not tell unless she is forced—and. yet, how is it to be known? It must be, before a great while; but till the necessity comes, there will be time enough. Meanwhile— { “J. have engaged rooms,” says Florida, “in a qual, out of the way court—a genteel place, too. ‘or a time we must depend on sewing, which a friend will furnish us. McKnight, don’t you?”’ Yes, Virginia recollects the red-headed, gawky country-lad, who left the village three years ago.” ““Well—he has a splendid situation in a large tailoring establishment, and will give us orem. of work. How fortuna a earned a trade k fortunate that I 1 datrade! You will not need one; but for all that you can help me while I am looking round,”’ ‘“‘T hate sewing,’ says Virginia, under her breath. ‘* Oh, well, you won’t have to sew a great while.” “Why! pray what are you going to do with me?” asks Virginia, suddenly turning round. ‘*What you will thank me for,”’ is the reply. Virginia would answer, but Florida, with her quick step and quicker motion, is gone before there is opportunity, and a ota alone, trembling, almost repents of the step she has taken. : CHAPTER VII. THE SCHOOLMASTER’S PRESENTIMEN1. ‘*You haven’t seemed a bit like yourself to-day, Virginia—what is the matter? You needn’t start like a culprit, child!” ‘*T_oh! nothing,” replied the other, sitting back again to her sewing; but the crimson that bre from cheek to cheek, and the trembling fingers tol another sto: about in her energetic Florida has’ been bustling way—putting the touch of improvement wherever over the dullness of an- it was needed, throwin tiquated varnish a polish that seemed to emanate from her ever restless fingers, making all things ready for the moving, and talking, ncw to her sister, now to herself. “Tf she wishes to be rich and great,” said Vir- ate to herself looking half proudly upon. the rilliant, glowing face whose beauty wore an air $0 <a - ‘ why doesn’t she plan for herself and let me one?’ “Since nothing is the matter, then, you had bet- ter come out of dream-land and tell me whom we ought to invite to tea on Wednesday,’ resumed Florida. ; “To tea—on Wednesday ?”’ repeated Virginia. “That’s what I said. Before we go, I am think- ing it would be best to have a little company—a You remember Johnny | sort of festival. I have been waiting to invite the minister and his wife, for some time, and you’ve been wanting to invite the schoolmaster — and his wife, I was going to say,’ she added, with a strange laugh, ‘“‘but that would be anticipating the matter.”’ Virginia’s glance fell. “T don’t see what you want a festival for,’ she said, ‘‘ for my part, I don’t see anything very festive in our going away—that is—’’ encountering the keen, Spent eye of Florida, she blushed and mered again. e How queerly you act, Virginia,’ said Florida, after enjoying her confusion for some moments. “Ts your mind burdened? If so, as our good father Burdick says, ‘Speak out, sister, speaking may re- lieve you.’ At any rate, I’m going have the com- pany,” she said, after a pause, ‘“‘and if you wish me to invite Parker Welliston, say so.” “T_T should like it,” said Virginia. “Well, write the note of invitation yourself—he is your teacher.” The request did not need to be repeated. Florida went out in the afternoon and invited several neighbors, while Virginia dispatched a neatly-writ- ten note to the teacher. She had not met Parker since the hour of the ceremony that had so event- fully changed her fate, and the certainty of seeing him threw her into a tremor of anxiety and expec- tation. How should she meet him, all eyes upon her? What should she say to him? It was impos- sible to accost him in the cold, calm tones of friend- ship—her very voice would betray her, especially under the ee ee of her sister. Since then he had been in the city, and had probably re- turned on this very morning with, perhaps, news that would justify her in announcing her marriage Florida’s exclamation that she had not seemed like herself was true. She had, indeed, for the last week, appeared a different being. An air of timid sadness hung over her—her cheeks were unusually pale and her manner hurried and somewhat nervous. She could not employ herself with any continuous work, but went reatlessiy from one occupation to: another, oftener standing in an absent, listless way and think- ing, than doing any real business, save when Florida was near. Then she seemed to f eel the necessity of employment to divert her. sister’s ever-watchful eyes, and labored with a will. She could not tell, with her utmost vigilance ever on the alert, whether Florida suspected the truth. If she did, surely never more consummate actor than she. If she did not, Virginia dreaded the revelation. Madge Spicer had busied herself in circulating the most injurious reports of the schoolmaster, and her father threatened him with expulsion. Mr. Spicer was a power in the place. His wealth was enormous, and, being an uncultivated man, he was not over courteous in his wrath. If it had not been that the majority of the citizens, who heard the true version » othing | from the pupils, and who knew that Madge possess- .. oe ant bd ae fg,’
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; ry 2% b= 2 unt a ened color prepared for a. walk. . The latter, however, had man: ef MARRIAGE. ALM Be ed her father’s violent tem r, expressed their con- viction of the young teacher’s justice in language not to be misunderstood, the father of Madge could have gone back to the schoolmaster, and, as he ex- ressed himself, ‘‘ whipped the life out of him.” As it was, he contented himself with trying so to con- trol events that the place would be uneasy to that degree that Parker would leave to save himself. ‘he. ed to forestall the vindictive farmer, and on this his week of vacation, had secured the vacancy in the large city-school. How bright the little cottage looked to Virginia, now that she was to leave it, perhaps forever! It seemed strange to her that her mother, who had spent so “em 3 happy years within the bumble walls, should babble her childish pleasure at the be i pe change. She was sure the dear old urniture would never look as well in any other place, and oh! how she should miss the broad ex- panse of blue and greeh! Then she consoled her- self with the reflection that Parker might get a sit- uation, Florida be reconciled, and they could all stay happily together. The city would not be so gloomy then—how could any place seem gloomy and Parker there? Florida kept her very busy for the rest of the day. There was cream to whip, cake to be made, and various delicaci*s conjured up for the coming festive occasion, so that Virginia had little time for solitary thought before the day was done. Then she threw on her hat, and with hight- ‘‘Out on one of your old rambles, I suppose,” said Florida, meeting her at the door. ‘I beg you won’t stay late; it is very damp out, and I have particular Serco for wishing you to be careful of your ealth.” ‘“*What can she mean?” queried Virginia, as she ran along the little path that led to the wood. ‘Why is she so unusually solicitous about me? She never was before. It is impossible that she knows— it must be. She thinks to make a match for me in the city—she is laying her plans accordingly. Well, we her plan; I know something that will outwit even er. Her pace grew slower—a dread she had never felt before came over her; she almost wished he might not be in the old place. It was an experience so novel that she could not reconcile herself to it. There was a step—yes, he was loo for her—he was near her, close by her side. Not. was felt now save the joy of meeting. ‘““My darling! my own! my wife!” he whispered, passionately, kisses falling between the words. ‘Oh, Parker! I have been so unhappy without you!” she cried, almost hysterically. ** And so have I, away from you my dearest,’’ re- plied the young man, who, feeli crowned his endeavors, never had seemed so bril- liantly beautiful before; ‘‘ but then I have been gone for some purpose. are no longer in the power of that splendid ogress, Miss Florida the indomitable. Come, our old seat is waiting for us.”’ They sat down together, she feeling that all the happiness of her life had been as nothing to the | Now I can claim you—now you was sent to school. ecstasy that thrilled her beside him. Yes, Slorida | should acknowledge that her choice was a wise one. He, to whom she had given her heart and soul, would yet electrify the world mf his geniys. With bashful eagerness she scanned the face t hope had made so brilliant. Surely it was like no other human countenance. The eyes so luminous with soul—the vivid crimson of the cheeks, like, yet un- like, the blush of a gentle woman—the fi beauti- fully-curved lips—and the rich abundance of wavin hair that, with a poet’s conceit, he allowed to fa upon his shoulders. Oh! yes, she might look the world through and not find his “* Well, and what have our old friends been doing— particularly my favorite, Miss Madge Spicer?’ he asked, with a ote Jongh “Of course she don’t in- tend to let me alone. hat will she say when she hears the news, I wonder?” “T don’t dare to think of it,” said Vi nla, wish burning cheeks. ‘‘Of course you know she will try to injure you.” “Let her,” he replied; ‘I defy her power now— I'm safe. But about Florida—what are her plans?” Virginia detailed them. “Good! So I’m invited to tea, am I?—that — suppose, to honey and milk, to say nothing of the nectar of your sweet presence. t do you think, Virginia, of my claiming you then and there?’ “Oh, no, no!’ Virginia shrunk away. “Oh, yes, yes!” He laughed a light, happy laugh —then’sprung to his feet with a violent exc tion c* pain. Parker, are you ill?” cried Virginia. ‘It is nothing ’’—his hand pressed heavily against his side—‘“‘ nothing, but—I could never be convivial. ‘Strange, is it not? Whenever I laugh with any de- gree of heartiness, this terrible pain shoots through —literally tears through my side. Now, I have frightened you, timid one. I assure you it is all over, and I am as well as ever.” ‘Are you certain?” =~ “Very certain—don’t think of it again. It is, I suppose, constitutional. I remember my mother was troubled with it.” “Your mother! she is not living, is she?’’ queried Virginia. Ro. Why did the crimson rush to the vend roots of his hair? ‘She died years ago—not wit. 8 though—she was killed with care and trou- | ie.” ; were grown?” ‘*Remember her!” he oried, with a passionate en- “You remember her? or did she die before you apron-strin nesda; oye tha sent the blood rushing over his face again. “Ay, I do remember her. Virginia, I can ‘nor > * ~~ 6 _———- aA” ee eS A. “ | | | a a ee => vou how beautiful and loving she was. You, more than any woman I have ever seen, remind me of her. My poor, suffering angel-mother!” Some sudden emotion overpowered him; he cov- ered his face with his hands. His frame trembled. “Did your father die before her?” Simple and natural as the question was, Virginia had cause to regret it. He turned sharply round, his face as deathly white as it had been crimson be- ore. : “Why did you ask that, Virginia?” His voice sounded unnaturally deep. “I’m sure I don’t know,” she answered, half cry- ing. "Ey father—is not dead,” he said, in a hoarse voice. Virginia dared not trust herself to reply. ‘And more, Virginia—that we may not speak of it again—never, never again!’ he added, bitterly—‘‘I do not know my father; whether or not he knows me, I can not tell. He’—his face was turned part- ly away, his tones were low and rapid—“ he deserted my mother, Great Heaven! that 1 should live to tell ay other than him! Oh! could I but see him now —tface to face—the base, unnatural—villain!” he added, after a second, as if he were seeking for a word that would express his utter and entire abhor- rence, : ‘Virginia,’ he said,” in a softer voice, ‘the last recollection [ have of my poor mother is this: A low- cciled garret, overlooking dingy walls; a miserable bed, poorly furnished, on which she lay, gasping for breath. Poverty and sorrow had eaten into her vi- tals. She hungered—while he—oh, God!—I should not have ventured so far. It is like tearing soul from body—worse than the agony of death!’’ ‘“*Parker, what have I done? It was my thought- lessness; but how could I know? Forgive me!” “For what?. Your questions were natural—but the past swept over meilike a surging wave. I felt— forgive me—as if some one might have come between us—might have endeavored, with false stories, to alienate my darling. I know the strong prejudices of these New England people—and—but I was wrong, was I not, Virginia?” ~- He took her hands; his own were cold and shak- ing. Virginia knew not what to think. Her mind bakin nee h k ainst me?” h ss a, no one has spoken ag: me () said, almost ye pniee' “No one,”’ she replied. “Then, thank God, my impression was a false one. I was not born here, Virginia. I never told you, I think,” ‘You never did.” ‘** No—one of those far-off West India islands was ng that success had | the place of my birth, but I was brought to America when very young. My mother lived till I was thirteen. Then, through the kindness of a friend, I Oh! to be motherless, friendless, with a soul so keenly alive to those petty insults ex- perienced always by the timid school-boy whose mother’s smile has been his heaven! Virginia, you have felt the loss of a kind father, but you had still something to lean on—your mother was left. If she is your idol, as was mine, then you have a blessing in ee of every grief. Virginia, are you super- stitious?” The question was asked after a thoughtful silence. There were tears in the eyes of the listener—she would not wipe them away for fear of causing him regret that he had told her some part of his life- history. She pitied—she longed to comfort him. ¥ * Am Isuperstitious? I don’t know but Iam, some- imes.’ “Do you know at this moment I have the strangest impression? It seems to me as if you were going to. be taken away from me. “Ot! no, no—never! don’t think that—you chill me!” she eried, throwing herself nearer and within his encircling arms. “T wonder what it is that comes over me at times —such a cloud, pressing me down! But I will not oe way to it—it is cruel in me to make this, our st meeting, sosad. Howhasithappened? Inever felt more joyous than when we met. Some dark spirit is present.” “Parker! now I do believe you are superstitious! no darker spirit than your own fears will trouble us —no darker spirit than Floridaever vexesme. She’s so strange, so unreal, that I seem to fear, dislike and love her at the same time. She has some noble at- tributes; but then she can make one so thoroughly uncomfortable with a look, As for yourimpressions and presentiments, they may be, after all, only the bugbears of an excited fancy. Come, tell me—what did you have for dinner?” “Toast, tea, and two ripe peaches,” he answered, laughingly. “And for supper?” “Sweet smiles, a soft voice, and two clear, brown eyes looking into mine, with an occasional kiss,” he answered, ili his spirits rising. “Oh, Parker! then you have not nm to supper at ff ; “On the contrary, I insist that I am full-fed; m appetite would not bear a rose-leaf,’’ he asserted. “The truth is, I could not look at food, I so longed for a look of your sweet face. I sup now, celes- tially.” ¥ t think you would fare better on something more substantial,” replied Virginia, in the same laughing tone. ‘You had better go to tea—and I home. Florida will need me.” “Still tied to Florida. Well, I will not cut the till I can claim you, asI will on Wed- y. en everything can be arranged. You x0 to the city on the following day, of course.” es—we shail leave that dear home—this pleasant It almost breaks my heart to think of it.” ty ," Sy -4 - “Do you regret it so much?” “Not if you go with me,” she whispered softly. “Only two hours,” Florida said, glancing at the clock, as Virginia entered. ‘*‘You must have had a pleasant time. Did you call mat Bahiceps “T met a friend,” said Virginia quietly. ‘Oh! a dear friend, Ipresume. Is the schoolmaster at home?” “Yes.” This time Virginia looked full in_her sister’s face. Florida met the glance with something like surprise. ‘‘T supposed so,”’ she replied. ‘‘By the way, I’ve a long story to tell of him, but I will postpone it till some future time. I am going to the city to-mor- ” “To the | city! I thought you could not go till ursday. ** And so I shall not—that is, to take mother and ou—the goods and chattels; but I have received etters to-night that make the duty imperative.” Virginia did not mind; other matters claimed all her thought. She sat down to her knitting, after visiting her mother’s bedside to see if she slept well, and hardly thought of Florida. But, as her busy fingers flew, her thoughts grew confused. It seemed as if some irresistible impression drew her toward Florida. She turned slowly and in a sort of maze, and beheld the large, glowing eyes of her half-sister, pk pad | brighter than ever, fastened upon her with a sort of hungry, eager glance. ‘What did you look at me for?” queried the latter, a flash of triumph and a peculiar smile crossing her ace. **T don’t know, I’m sure,” Phy Neeeee who was ina vague wonderment. ‘TI felt as if I must, that was all; but you were looking at me.” “Your slow movement made me,” said Florida the strange smile not yet gone from her lips. cs Midi with my book before. Are you frighten- ed?’ _ Virginia laughed a little as she resumed her knit- ing. “ Frightened—no,” she said, and et she wonder- ed what had come over Florida. That she was not like herself she had seen in that glance. There was an almost exultant—the bearing was more qu than ever—the red lips worked rest- lessly. perceptible uneasiness destroyed the self-poise so remarkable in her usual manner. She kept her eyes fixed upon the book, s now and then to herself. At last, rising, she left the room, Some moments passed, and Virginia wonder- ed whether she would return. lt was late—nearly ten —a la our for the cottage inmates, and the candle was burned almost close to the socket. Vir- gins prepared to put her work aside. Smiling a right, secret, hopeful smile, she arose and threw the loose curls from her temples, Quietly moving to the place occupied so recently by Florida, she cast a glance toward the book. It was a volume she had never seen before. “T wonder what it is?’’ she queried to herself, and turned the pages, running their headings over in a low voice: © ‘Fascination — Attraction! Animal Magnetism! The Magnetic Force in Metals!’ What a queer taste!” she ejaculated; ‘but she is strange in everything.” Three little raps sounded at the window. Startled, for her nerves were not on the nicest balance, she turned toward the sound, and there saw a face look- ing in—pale but beautiful. Springing forward she opened the window, Rice | you see howI dread to lose sight of you,” sai Parker. “I have been watchin here al- most since your return. Don’t be frightened, there’s astationary light up at the window of the ogress. I wish I could see you to-morrow.” “You can, Parker, Florida is going to the city.” “And, of course will stay all day. Oh! darling, what a happy time we'll have! e’ll be two chil- dren and play keep house.” “Go away, you silly boy,” said Virginia, blushing and laughing, and still looking over her shoulder. “You forget my new dignity, madam. Mrs. Vir- ginia, if you please, Iam a married man.” ‘Oh! the idea!” laughed Virginia. ‘ But, do go—Florida would think it so im roper.” “Florida may go to—Florida,” he retorted with merry impatience. ‘‘Have you a butterfly’s joint that, you could broil in a minute or two? I feel hun- Parker, ery. ; x Poor fellow!—but then it’s your own fault. You'll have to fast now, unless I can get you a glass of milk and a wafer.” “No, no—I was only jesting. By the way what book was that I saw you buried in—or rather that I saw Florida buried in, and you skimmed over? You did not look particularly pleased with it.” “It_is nothing I care about or understand,” re- plied Virginia. ‘Some work on some science, about bare oe and metals, I believe.” ‘**Magnetism—hem!” he said, smiling to himself. “ She’s a tremendous magnet, of one kind. I prpetere want her to hate me very much, or love itto. “Hush! for mercy’s sake, don’t let her hear you. ee na i coed : is ne late, my young en at at such an hour the sho uid be abroa at ic ih schoolmaster e schoolmaster not be abroad much longer,” said Parker, catching her hand and holding it to his lips. “Wait a day or two, and I'll. carry you off in triumph; then see if you dare say saucy words to me when am your lord; and master.” Virginia!” was heard from the top of the Stairs, ~ is es ria hh open?’ “I’m just closing it, Florida,” said Virginia, hard- ly able to speak for laughing at the aneeninse es: tures of Parker outside, and yet feeling a sort of . san ¥'> ee
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- _ half-guilty terror, mingled with admiration of the face now fading into the darkness. “The draught was terrible,’’ said Florida, as Vir- ginia made her appearance. ‘‘ Why in the world did you want the window open now? ere you moon- azing ?’ “T didn’t know there was a moon,” said Virginia, ae aghast, as she saw her half-sister on her cnees before a great nay chee unrolling bun- dles of old papers that looked as if they had never seen daylight, and very rarely any other. ‘‘ Why, what are you doing?” “T.ooking for some documents of importance,” said Florida, rising and placing a stained pile on the table beside her. “‘Now I am going to get every- thing ready for my journey to-morrow, for I must start at six.” Virginia’s heart gave a great bound of relief at the rospect of a whole day to herself. She quietly Tummed a little air as she adjusted her hair for the night. I always had an impression,” said Florida, in slow, even tones, ‘‘ that I should be rich yet.”’ “Tm sure I hope you will,” responded Virginia, * And for yourselfi—have you no ambition?’ que- ried Florida, turning half round. “Not to berich,” replied Virginia. ‘‘T don’t think I’ve any taste for splendor or show of any kind. I should always be contented to live in this dear little cottage.” “You think so now, but wait awhile. You will be as fond of pleasure, even of gildings and trappings by and by, as any one. You don’t know yourself, Viteinia. Wait till you stand where I can place you —it will be a giddy hight, but I’m not afraid of your falling.” Virginia suspended operations to gaze upon Florida. Her manner so absolute in its self-com- mand—her voice so even in its low, firm notes—her air, regal as that of a princess, and Oe ay patronizing as she seemed to look down upon Vir- ginia, quite bewildered the young girl. Surely Florida was in a strange mood, for, pausing a mo- ment, she took Virginia by the hand, and, without speaking, led her to the old mirror. Conscious of the wonderful beauty that there azed at her with startled eyes, with a dim perce on, also, of her half-sister’s motive, Virgin blushed and smiled. “There, child, you see what you are, and what I think of you,” said Florida. ‘“ Now go to sleep and dream as strange things as you may. I will show you something stranger when you are wide awake some day.’’? And with this quaint ere ringing in her ears, Virginia sought her rest. CHAPTER VIII. A VISIT TO THE LAWYER—A HAPPY DAY. Tas next day Virginia was awakened by an im- atient call. Th was scarcely light, but, remember- ing what was before her, she sprung hastily up. Florida was already dressed, and held a packed car- et-bag in one hand and a bonnet in the other, “7 thought you had best get up for I’ve made the fire,” she said. *‘Of course you'll attend to mother, and to getting all the meals. ‘ ‘You needn’t expect me home till after dark, to- night, for I have a great deal to do. Good-morning, now you are thoroughly roused.”’ Another moment, and Florida and carpet-bag were both gone. It wasa walk of nearly an hour to reach the place for which the coach started on its ten miles’ jaunt. The air was cool, and the drops lay like showers of silver on the path by the house, and covered the fields far and near with a white splendor. Florida walked on with a quick step and an animated face, She did not heed the faint twittering of the birds, now few in number, (for the fall had set in,) nor the soft flushing of crimson just lighting up the west- ward gates, where the sun was preparing to enter. It was not the glory of nature that gave her face such an exultant beauty, but ever and anon she would glance at the carpet-bag in her hand, and murmur, “I knew it would come some time.” The humble tavern in which the post-office was kept soon came in sight. A few persons stood on the steps, talking sleepily, and watching the motions of a lazy hostler, whose steps were as uncertain as his temper. The men moved respectfully aside as Florida came in sight, and she entered the little room set apart for the reception of letters, “Good-morning, marm,” said the postmaster, landlord of bi y Irving.’ “It’s a right pleasant day before us, I guess. - ay should judge so,” said Florida, coldly. ? «There’s a furren letter come for you last night postmarked London, England, I sent my boy right away with it—I s’pose you got it last night with two other letters.” } 3 “T received them all, replied Florida, f “°Tain’t often furren letters from such a long dis- tance comes to this office,” said the landlord, evi- dently longing for some inkling of their contents— but he was doomed to disappointment. Florida pre- served a dignified silence, and frowned at the man’s impertinence. It seemed an Lagicwag} 5! long time till the coach was ready, but at last the driver mounted the eet) reins in hand, Florida was helped in, and away rattled the old stage, almost the only one that railroads had not superseded in that sec- tion of the country, The drive was a rapid but agreeable one; several ladies took the route at different points, and all were affable and conversational but Florida. She seemed wrapped in a pleasant, but, at the same time, far-off reverie, aud did not notice the ques- tioning glances of her companions, who wondered the vehicle rattled over he a. fee that proud, beautiful creature could be. At the stony streets. _A MAD MARRIAGE. Rae Cas .. ee " i banks and railroads, conglomerated in Fiorida was set down at the destination of the coach, and, after a few minutes of rest, took her way to the central part of the city. alking oy onward, she did not pause till she found herself opposite a block of tall houses, orna- mented with scores of signs set off by fiery colors. Attorneys at law, judges of courts, ee tee of gi con- fusion. Seeking for the name to which she had been directed, she was soon seated in a handsome office, waiting for the lawyer who was in rapid conversa- tion behind his desk curtain. Presently two gentle- men emerged from the niche in which the desk was placed. One of them was a thin, sallow-cheeked man, her lawyer; the other was tall, poe and very handsome, though apparently over forty. Both started slightly, and gazed, and bowed with some confusion, the latter stealing frances at the dignifi dark-eyed woman who sat asif conscious of deserv homage, and, with wonderful self-possession, sus- tained the surprised and admiring looks directed toward her. “ Good-morning, Mr. Burney,” said the tall gentle- man, as if suddenly becoming conscious of the fact that his business was over. He took a few steps. made a_half-bow to the stranger, and vanished through the double baize-door. “This is Mr. Burney, I presume?’’ The lawyer bent his head in acknowledgment. **) received a letter from you last evening. I am Miss Florida Owen, the daughter of Charles Wiston Owen, of Wiltshire, England.” *“ Ah!” the lawyer’s face grew all alight. member—the brother of Charles deceased, and left a large fortune. His lawyer immediately placed the business partly in my hands—he is a cousin of mine, I congratulate you, Miss Owen. But, I understand that Mr, Charles Wiston Owen had left a widow. “He has, sir; she is, however, most of the time, bed-ridden, and so far gone in intellect, in conse- quence of protracted illness, that she is wholly in- adequate to the transaction of business. I came myself, partly to consult you on that account, and to see if any means could be taken that would put the burden of the trouble upon me, who am so much more able to bear it.” ; “Is your mother incapable of signing her name?”’ asked the lawyer.” “‘T do not know, indeed, sir. It is now seven years that she has been nearly helpless.” ““Your best method, then, would be to jay. the matter before her, when she wouwid undoubtedly be willing that you take the responsibility off her hands. There are, however, very few steps to be taken to put eon in possession of this fortune. There is xo need of rehearsing what I stated in my letter. You can probably procure your mother’s marriage-certif- icate, and, if possible, that of your father’s mother, or documents equivalent.” “T have them all here,” said Florida, pointing to her carpet-bag.””. The lawyersmiled. ‘You have more forethought than some ladies,”’ he said. ‘* This business does not create any symptoms of nervousness, I see. Be kind enough to let me examine the papers.” An hour passed, and still Florida sat absorbed in the work before her. She had listened to explan- ations and advice—she had heard the story of her uncle’s death, his lonely state—his want of friends— for an avaricious disposition had shut out sympath from him to an unwonted degree; she had learne also, that the fortune amounted to forty thousan pounds sterling, after all the expenses of transit, travel and fees should be paid—and there she sat, as calm, as apparently unconcerned, as if the mat- ter were of scarcely any moment to her. The lawyer was lost in admiration, and said to himself: “She is precisely the woman to whom such a fortune should come—able to cope with adversity, able to bear oblast 2 “T beg your pardon,” said a bland voice, and the stranger, who had been closeted with the lawyer some time before, entered—his keen orbs encoun- tering the dark eyes of Florida. ‘I beg your par- don, Burney, but I left my cane, I believe,”’ he said, coming forward. “I’m the most careless mortal.” ‘Yes, yes; like all men on the look-out for a wife,” said the lawyer, laug’ . Yes, there it is in the corner; 1 see the gold head peeping up. Good- morning. One of our millionaires,” he added, in an on to his visitor, as the gentleman again left the office. Florida smiied, and immediately took up the point they had lett in their conversation, ““Tt seems pape clear to me, now,” she said, quietly, ‘‘ andI shall act upon your advice. I have been thinking, ever since last fall, of moving to the city. I engaged a few rooms, appropriate to our position at that time, which of course I shall now give up; but I can not relinquish my plan of moving 0 the city. Still, I do not wish, yet, toundergo the trouble of house-hunting and furnishing. Is there any plan you can think of that would not involve this care—a house ready furnished, for instance, that I could occupy for a while?” Y .. Really, I don’t know,” mused the lawyer, who did not feel time hang heavy in conversation with so sensible, beautiful and business-like a woman. ‘““ Yes, I have it! I have it!” he repeated, striking his te potty together. ‘‘My friend, Mr. Horace Du ey, is on the eve of a journey to England—ex- pects to be from homeayear. He is at this very time on the look-out for a housekeeper, to take charge of his domestic matters while he is gone. Now, it strikes me that he had better let the place to a responsible person who will have an eye to the good of the whole premises.” ‘“* Where is the house, sir?” “Tf re- “In Grand street—and by far the 0 est | residence there. It strikes me that, if ae 1 not. ag 2 a ie -. RS 7 ~ ns i EE, alba want the whole, as itis very large, you could ac- commodate yourself with as much as you need. At any rate, Il am quite sure my friend would like the arrangement, and if you wis accompany you to his place. It is quite near,” Florida assented with pleasure. The interview re- sulted in a in; the house was at the dis of Florida. Indeed, from the first moment, Mr, Dud- ley seemed anxious to accommodate. He appeared struck with Florida’s face, and searehed mem- oy which assured him that they had met before. ter the preliminaries were settled, Florida wende«d © certain stores where various, elegant by the time she was ready return her carpet bas ad grown to three large trunks, two bandboxes and sundry bundles that caused the driver to exclaim not‘a little as he stowed them carefully together upon the top of the stage. Meanwhile, Virginia, totally unconscious of her sister’s errand and light-h as a bird. in her freedom, went merrily about the house. Her mother’s breakfast prepared and eaten, she; aided her to-dress, saw her carefully placed in her wheel- ed chair, and brought out into the room near the window, her favorite seat. ‘““Where’s Florry, child?’ ejaculated the. invalid, looking cautiously around. ; $e She’s gone. te sta, t ae day, pga coag.tt said irginia, gently smoo g back the gra: S, “Well, there — I’m glad, ain’t you?” said the woman, querulously, her face losing a shade of its age. ‘Jenny, she’s a good girl, but she’s very odd, isn’t she, darling? Never mind the house—do stay with me, my heart’s love; do stay with me, won't you?” “Yes, mother, nearly the whole day, if you like; T must first see to some things, and by- ~by, per- haps. I will pring. you some OOMEART:. . Company! that will be good.. It will seem like old times, won’t it, dear? Your father loyed to;invite his friends home, for I was always ready,and the ood aoe did enjoy it. Who are you going to bring, U, ne, her way cones were on hand, an * ‘You remember the school-teacher, mother?” **T don’t know as I do—yes, yes; that young man with the long hair—oh! yes, remember. But what is he coming for? Does want to marry you and take you away from your old mother?” “And if he did, darling mother,” said Virginia, hiding her mRy, face in her mether’s lap, ** would you be very sorry?” ) S !"—the mother shook her head with a fee- ble sigh. ‘It is so full of care, that life—and oh! the grave, the grave! for death will come—it came to my Thomas, and laid his dear head low. Oh! there are such ou, child? And et, you could not be happy unless— ! it:is hard or a mother to advise her child, knowing” how full of thorns are both paths. I don’t want tosee that puey face all covered with wrinkles as mine has een so many years. And yet, child, you can’t be happy alone—I never could; and there are joys, married my Thomas to help him. Bless his sweet face! I see it now so pisos) Well, we had poverty at the first, but we toiled, and hoped, and prayed together. That is the blessedness, Jen- ny, my little Ronen tORsaE, Always be together n heart, word, deed—don’t be separate in any- thing.’ ; Virginia listened in astonishment, .Her mother had not seemed so genial so spirited for years. The weight of Florida’s chilling presence. being taken away, her heart grew elastic and young again. For some time the invalid rambled on in this same strain; then she grew silent, and contented herself with watching the en ey in apparent forgetful- ness of all she had said. Virginia, meanwhile, was happy and busy. Every moment. she looked for Parker, and her heart gave quicker throbs when she heard his step on the gravel walk fronting the house. She ran down the stairs, and the greetin cares—how can I tell : wife, loyal and affectionate. } “How many tons lightes do, you feel now?’ asked; “for my part, on the breath o. yar love. Why! how much we miss the beautiful tiger who cages you up wheneve was what it ever should be between husband and she can get the ompOTIERI 0. as -y came in the © re) me door this minute—presto! bea s marble heart, a granite column—anyt happy, loving, breathing man, breezy as the sou th wind. Now put that odious knitting down; I want to be a tyrant all ep loving one, you know, and : certainly shall not allow you to knit while t am ere. 7 Virginia let fall her hands and looked up helpless- Te You obey well,” he said emiling.te the overflow of his joy till his face took on a heavenly beaui ys “Now, to reward you, I will tell you that I have be- gun that book.” “Oh! have you?” cried Virginia, letting the knit? tg set 1 ; ‘“Yes—the title page is written fairly, in my best and boldest hand. I have selected mottoes—begun Timea bin Viet ol Pov iatciaeenaiaet: s ; irginia! your love, lam convin will make me immortal,” * ' “You look, now, as if all superstitions, all clouds were gone,” said Virginia, “ As if they were not,” replied Parker, with much solemnity; “‘ yea, all, as if they had never deen. I'mat the very roof-top of the seventh heaven—perfeet ec- stasy—a jubilation of soul that tells somethiag of its perp angelhood and youth. Oh! yes, lam very appy—ver: Pappy bad Let us see; did I ever _know trouble? Strange—it was only hacks ha | Twas in the fog—I may be in it again to-morrow.” Sometimes we utter unconscious prophecies. ou wish me to, I will . e love you, child? Does he am a feather, blown about | nud
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ror Forthat day, at least, the silver lining was out. They were, in truth, like two children, wild with lib- crty. They ate ripe fruit, and drank milk together. They passed their future in a few sun-tinted antici- ations, for it was as if they lived a long life of ene yiness in those serene hours. For the poor invalid, zlso, the day was a most hatpy one. Her youth seemed to come back to her, for she sung snatches of old songs, and told stories of her brighter days, so that sometimes tears came to the eyes of her lis- teners. Parker called her mother, and she stroked bis head with her soft hand, and, looking in his face, raid to herself: ‘‘ Yes, he shall wed my Virginia— they two are so fitted for each other,” As night crew near, they began to expect Florida, and the innocent mirth changed to apprehensive Sent It vas long after twilight that she came, however, Criven by a boy in a handsome covered wagon. T'arker hurried away by a side-door. Virginia open- cd her eyes wider than ever at the sight of new trunks. Florida was reserved and fatigued, ee ler own counsel. The trunks were left in the hall. Virginia had been gone up-stairs some time when T lorida made her appearance. “JT bought some jellies,” she said, holding up rlasses beautifully crimsoned; ‘‘I knew we had no- thing as nice.” “But the expense,”’ cried Virginia. “ Well, they did cost something,” Florida respond- cd, smiling quietly. ‘‘ The fact is, I took a fancy to Le a little extravagant, and have bought several {rings that may lay me liable to the charge of luna- cy.’ Here she produced two traveling-dresses, both cf the richest and most costly fabrics. z * Oh, Florida! how beautiful!’’ cried Virginia, her cyes sparkling. * Ah! I knew you liked pretty things,” said Tiorida, with meaning voice and glance. “Of course Llike pretty things,”’ spoke up Virginia, vith spirit; “I am, however, quite contented with Yiainer ones.” , ** We won’t argue the question,” said Florida. “I om tired—we have so much to do, that it will be wiser for us to retire. I have other nice things to show you to-morrow.” CHAPTER IX. _ _DISAPPOINTMENT—A TERRIBLE REVELATION. Panxer walked home on wings. He was almost frightened at his ownhappiness. ‘‘ To-morrow,” he whispered to himself, ‘‘I will claim her—she is mine beyond all earthly po to separate.” He reached the little dingy farm-house where he boarded, and from which he hurried every morning at daybreak, to escape the fumes of pork and sausage that were sure to penetrate to his room, and for both of which he had a lively antipathy. It looked so queer, so Llack and deserted—not a friendly light to be seen— that he almost dreaded to enter; but presently, laughing off his fears, he vaulted over the fence—his usual way—and, climbing a low shed, opened his win- cow and lea in. To get a light was the work ofa moment. He looked about; on the table lay a note, neatly folded, addressed to himself. Did his sensi- tive temperament forewarn him that there was trouble there? Certain it is that he folded his arms behind him, and looked long and dep id at the missive. ‘ eer it should be—” a cold shiver ran through his veins, He had aeney given warning of his departure, and a master had been engaged for the school in the village. That situation was gone from him irrevocably, for he knew that the state of fceling toward him in certain quarters was such that even his friends thought the wisest course for him was to resign, although tt, would not have coun- reled it unless satisfied that he could do better. At last, determined to know the worst, he snatched the envelope up and tore it open. Grea heavens! did his sight deceive him? The note was from the head committee of the public that the matter h been cchool in the city, sayin reconsidered, and they had decided that he was not the man they needed. They were very sorry, etc., -cte., but there were circumstances, etc., etc.; then followed the signature. ~ “Oh, God! this is too cruel!” gasped the unfortu- nate young man. “ Why am I thus taunted, thus cegraded? Some one is at work, bent upon my » yuin.” He flung the note down, and sobbed like a oa eo child: This undue emotion brought on violent pain, d the fever of consumption rioted through his , blazing like the signal-fires of death on either heek,. *““T thought it could not last,” he groaned, referring to his overflowing happiness; “I felt the sorrow ~vould follow in proportion to the joy. Now, indeed, cmt homeless—an how dareI claim Virginia, my y-ife? Paroxysm upon peroxy ai of grief surged over his soul. He could not think calmly, could not reason. God had deserted him, and the world was dark, dark as the grave. He longed to die—he was in despair. ‘Not his at all times was that buoyant hope that sinks vith the receding wave only to be lifted higher with the next. He could see nothing before him but in- ‘edequately paid toil, hardly sufficient to keep life in i imself—surely not enough to support a wife. And cyen that he could not. depend upon. Hundreds of sturdy youngstudents, poor as himself, were hunting the country round for opportunities to keep the dis- trict-schools. Seldom was there a vacancy. To crown all his unhappiness he felt his physical weak- sxess more han ever. It-was a sad weight that he Tad carried the last few months—that he would not even acknowledge to himself. But the biting pain, te discouraging debility so hard to fight against, the lmost imperceptible tokens that disease was gain- ing groun told too truly that there was little room howe It a night of bitter struggles; and the s6: A MAD MARRIAGE. luorning that saw Virginie so buoyant with happiness | found him a pe changed being, with scarcely the power to smile. “*T must give her up yet a little while longer,” he said, with weary sighs. ‘‘ Providence may open some path for me, though, God forgive me, I hardly have faith in Providence.” A merry, bustling day it was at the cottage. Florida condescended to be very amiable, and was devising a plan to have Mrs. Owen carried down- stairs, that she might enjoy the company that had been invited. It was not long after that that old Uncle Barby came in. He had been wanting to buy the cow, but could not manage to gather together the sum Florida demanded. “Lord bless ye, young ladies,”’ he said, as he seat- ed himself, at Virginia’s request, ‘ You’re both young and blooming, and, praise the good Lord, you’ve got a long time to sarve Him in. missus is wery wearisome about now, and needs the milk, being weak in the knees and unable to get round— ee! arta ony appetizing the food such as we’ve had, bless God, through His providence. But I’m afeared [shall have to give it up, though the Lord sees it’s for the best maybe, for which praise His name, and let all the airth give thanks,”’ 4s Why, how much do you lack of it, Uncle Barby?” asked Florida. * How much do I lack of it? why, I haven't got half. Fifteen is the uttermost that I can raise, and the cow's worth the forty you ask, every bit of it, for which thank the good Lord in season and out 0’ season,” Florida smiled, queerly. “‘TI’ve;been thinking,’’ said she, “‘ that I sha’n’t part with the cow.” “Eh! miss?” said the old man, and was about to = oot 7 customary thanks, but Florida’s voice pre- vented. “Suppose now I turn her over to you for safe. keeping? I don’t care about selling the hay I spoke for, a month ago; and if you'll see to having it got in, you may keep the cow till I claim her.” irginia’s eyes had been growing brighter and larger every moment. She had even worked herself pe is the belief that Florida might make an angel, afterall—only give her time. ““Why! the Lord bless ye, Miss Florida, for bein’ the poor man’s friend and the friend of his wife. Did you say’t I might take care o’ the cow same’s if t'was my own? ell, I never was more flustered, even when I fou’t in Jarsey—and for which the Lord makes me very thankful accordin’ to His marcies.” “You can drive her over to-morrow, if you like,” said Florida, “Yes, miss—drive her over—well—raly—bless the Lord oh! my—” “Get her away as early as ten,’ said Florida, impatiently cutt: ng short his thanks,” for we are going at eleven, an shall be all day.” The old man took the hint and hobbled off. Vir- ginia still stood in a maze of wonder. “You think I am unusually benevolent, I sup- pose,’ said Florida, ‘“‘Is it a new element in my character?” ““T was only wondering how you could afford it,” said Virginia, rg oe “Would you like a diamond necklace, or a satin dress?” ed Florida, with a queer smile. Vir- ginia stopped her work, and again her glances were fastened upon the face of her foster-sister. ‘‘ You are afraid Iam becoming demented,” said Florida; “*T can see it in your eyes.” “You do act strangely,”’ responded Virginia. “Confess, now, that you always thought me a strange being,” said Florida, with a slight tinge of mirthfulness in her tone, Virginia was silent. Florida smiled, then hurried her work. The widow was_ brought down-stairs, much to her delight, for to-day she was very childish again. “There!”’ exclaimed Florida, as she arranged the pillows with Virginia, “‘ doesn’t it seem comfortable, mother, to be down-stairs again?” “Tt makes me hoppy murmured the old lady, looking fondly toward Virginia. “T saw just the chair you want,” murmured Flor- ida, standing off a little way. “It was green silk velvet of such a charming shade, and moved with a touch, I believe I must buy it for you.”’ “No, no—this is good enough,” said the widow. “Tt was a dear chair, too—twenty dollars Thomas gave for it before the wheels were put on.” “Dear!” said Florida, smiling a little—‘‘ the one I saw yesterday was cheap at fifty!" “T wonder where we’d get fifty dollars for an easy-chair?’? murmured the old lady. ‘‘ No, no; I guess this must do for a little while longer—and it’ll only be alittle while. Jenny, darling, has young Mr. Parker been here to-day?” Vi a crimsoned. She thought her mother would not remember his yesterday's visit. Florida saw the whole thing in a flash. bee! td he spent the day here,” she said, im- patiently. “He was here some part of the day,” Virginia murmured. “Poor fellow!’ said Florida, with an indescriba- ble mingling of pathos and scorn. Bt eee felt irritated, she hardly knew why. “Til tell you about it to-night,” Florida said. ‘TI declare it makes my heart ache to think of it, and he so sadly sick.” “What do you mean?” asked Virginia, her fears taking the alarm. “Has any thing happened to Parker?” “ Not to-day that I know of, ’ was the reply. ‘Oh! it’s something widely different from what you im- are particularly busy now, and | —$—<$$$—_ agine; T'li tell you to-night. It’s time to dress, now, Virginia.”’ The young girl went to her chamber, her heart chilled, her frame trembling. Florida made the most of her secrets, whenever she had any, and they were always terrible. She could not feel any interest in the duties of her toilet, and perpetrated numberless mistakes that consumed her time and made her nerves crawl. At last she had finished the task of dressing. It was very early, but Florida had thought best to be in season, and it was nearly two hours before the company was expected. A scratch of gravel on the window startled her. She looked out. Parker, standing not far off, shad- ing his eyes from the sun with a_ straw hat, held up a note, then deposited it inside a little heap of yellow leaves at the foot of an oak. Virginia hurried down, breathless with anticipation. She did not encounter Florida, and secured the note. A nameless terror crossed her heart as she read: “DEAREST, DEAREST:—It’s all up for the present. T’ve been jortunate enough to lose my city situation through the malice of the Spicers, I expect. I can’t claim you yet, my darling. God knows I repent that rash deed. You might have been free—free to choose some less luckless mortal than myself. Oh! Virginia! Virginia! Yet if I should hear you say, ‘I repent,’ I should go mad with grief. No, no, dearest—I am certain 73 love me well enough to wait with patience till IT am_ righted again; but it seems so hard. Oh! I thought to claim you to-day —what shall I do? Iam almost crazy. I can’t.come till late, an late this afternoon. Oh! Virginia, what would Florida say? In proportion as I grow helpless, I begin to fear her. Thank God, though she could keep us asunder, she never can blot cut the fact that you are my wife. Then, again, when I think that we are both minors—I scarcely twenty-one, you not seventeen—my heart trem- bles. Virginia, be true to me. I will yet compass a living for both of us, I will work my hands off but Pll do it. Don’t fret, darling—don’t take my trouble upon you, for my sake. Let me see you smile, and I shall be brave. I would not plunge you into poverty for worlds. I shall see you again’ be- fore you go to the city. I dare not go just yet, till I lrave-matured my plans, but I shall be there. My book shall be written, if I have to live on bread and water to accomplish it. You know it is not hard for me to fast. Oh! darling, I was angry, at first, when I thought of our yesterday’s happiness, but I am glad for it now. As the hours pass it seems a deli- cious rest in the stormy past; fresh and green in my memory. Keep itso in yours. Good-by, darling, fora brief time. Your hoping and despairing, “PARKER.” The color deserted Virginia’s cheeks; she sunk down, faint and cold, upon the nearest seat. Flori- da’s words were ringing in her ears, and they, with this sad letter, almost deprived her, for the moment, of life. Perhaps his enemies had defamed him— they must have assailed his character, to throw him thus from a responsible situation at one blow—and what besides had he to dependupon? The glow- ing, passionate face of Madge Spicer, as it ap- 90 cae on that miserable day, looking in at the roken window, fiendishly, came up before her like a spirit of evil. Those hissing words, “Your char- acter is ruined!” rung in her ears. Brought up to regard a pee name beyond all price, Virginia’s faith staggered as she thought of these things. Another moment and suspicion had received a deadly blow. “Whatever they say,” came through her white lips. “T will still believe him. Oh! howhe suffers! andl cannot be with him to tell him of my sympathy and to soothe him in his sorrow! Poor, poor Parker!” The day that was to have been so happy was to close in gloom. Instead of being the companion of her husband, she must still, by his orders, be as a stranger. Then, to go into the great city on the n:orrow, to see faces that she had never seen before —cold, uncaring faces—to bear with her the weight cf Parker's woe, and to have none to tell the story of her grief to—for confidence in Florida was simply impossible. ; “She will try to keep me from him,” was her-next bitter thought. ‘‘ There I shall be more completel under her rule, and yet I cannot help myself, for care not leave my mother.” This tumult of the mind fitted her in nowise for the reception of company. They came, little sus- pecting how heavy was the heart under that quiet, unsmiling exterior. ““Seems to me Jenny’s growing slim,” said one and another whose vision was keener than the rest, and the young girls invited found her poor society. As the hours lagged on, Virginia was on the look-out for Parker. Florida seemed to take pleasure in commenting on his absence, and more than once brought an angry color to her cheek. The supper- table was set with exceeding good taste. As Vir- Po once said, it seemed as if it had been laid to ave its portrait taken. Snow-white and ancient was the linen cover, and the old silver shone again. Virginia still looked for Parker, and yet she was disappointed; he did not make his appearace till it was nearly time to light the lamps. Oh! that haggard face! Virginia felt the burning tears start to her eyes as she met it. She strove hard for composure, but her hand was hot and trembled in his; he felt it. His beauty seemed un- earthly. It was nothing sentimental, nothing wo- manly, for the bold contour and the resolute expres- sion were there; but suffering had stamped it with a delicacy and pureness that seemed some way un- real. At times the fitful red dashed his cheeks, set- ting his eyes in a blaze—at times his face was color- less as the pale alabaster, and almost as transparent, * ae ayes ¥ " ie
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oe He found a chance for a few moments’ chat with Virginia. ‘Oh! Parker!’ was all she could say. ‘“ Well, darling, don’t think of it. Since Iam_here with you, the old happiness comes.back. I feel as if it would all be made right some time. Let us hope and wait. Oh! Virginia, you are dressed exactly as you were the night we were married.” She smiled through her tears at the pleasure it seemed to give him. “Tell me truly, love—are you sorry?” **Oh! Parker, how can you ask?” she cried in a broken voice, ‘And if I should see it was my duty to leave you perhaps long years—for it may be, darling, I can ge nothing to do here, and I think I am sure of a situa- tion in the place of my birth—still you would not re- ret?’ “Don’t leave me, Parker,’’-—the lips were grieved as those of a babe. : “T would not, God knows I would not, but—Vir- ginia, I am ill.” She looked up with new alarm. “ There is something the matter with me, love; I can no longer conceal it from myself. You see this burning color, which seems, sometimes, fire, eating into the bone—you do not see my hours of suffer- ing—when the pain forces ee drops to my fore- head. I must prepare you for the worst, and I am oye to prepare myself.’? ‘The worst!” gas ed Virginia, “The worst, darling. sep with renewed hopes, and less excitement, I might get over these unfavorable symptoms; but, if I do not, for your sake, as well as my own, I shalltry a voyage some- bet a: search of health, Tonly say, perhaps, dar- lingy It may be that I am giving heed to my fear sinee this trouble has come; let us hope it is so— and let us be happy together now. If you don’t take care, they will all see that you have been weep- ing. "ER Let them,” said Virginia, passionately; ‘they may say and think what they please. Parker, I am your wife; I will not be parted from you. Let us go somewhere together; I will work and help you.” “My poor little darling—you do not know what ros say. It would break your mother’s heart, and— “Oh! 1 had forgotten mother,” cried Virginia; “but, Parker, I can not live in this miserable way. You have even me a new cause\for alarm. Oh! Parker, of long, dark mien I shall keep awake and think you are dying. You need nursing; you need care. Come and stay with us—Florida will yield when I tell her. I think sh» loves me some, come— shall we tell them all before they go? Some way will be provided.”’ “T can not, Virginia, I can not,’’ he said, huskily. “To live dependent in any way on her bounty, or youurs cr any other, would soon kill me. am roud, Virginia, I can not help it—but I would rather ie, than let them know what a helpless man you have married. No, my love—for a time it will be better for us to live as we have lived—only love me still, Virginia, love me still with all your heart and soul—don’t mistrust me—don’t listen to what others may say about me, andI shall be happy. WhenI think of you, and say to myself, ‘There is one who cares for mé, who is even now, perhaps See me ’—oh! it restores me so much. That is I want, darling. Don’t think of the symptoms I spoke of—I was in low spirits then—now I am happy ain. But, they will begin to wonder about us. Come come; who is strongest now? Let me see you smile.” She tried to smil e. peor child! but it was a sad smile enough—so sad hat it made his heart ache. By ten, the little co e was still again. The in- valid had been wheeled only into another room, that she might be ready for the morrow’s journey, and Florida, never quiet when she was awake, mov: here and there, putting the final touches to her arrangements. “T thought your friend seemed more under the weather n usual,’ she said, casting uneasy glances toward Virginia. “You mean Parker,” murmured her sister, trying to be calm, and anxious though dreading to hear the news. “I believe he is not guite as well as usual.” ; “T was afraid, once,” said Florida, assuming a careless manner, “that your intimacy was really bordering upon the sentimental. I was afraid he’d want to marry you, Virginia.” — 2 4 “And what if he had?’ queried Virginia, not dar- ing to lift up her eyes. ‘Iam afraid you would sorely have repented of it. Not only is h®@ incompetent to gain a livelihood in eonsequence of ill health, but—” She turned— Virginia’s eyes were fastened upon her, wild with the terror in them. ; “For pity’s sake, child—you look at me as if I were a ghost, or a spirit of evil.” “What were you going to tellme?” “i Spraee oom mother had never married your fa- ther,” asked Florida, slowly, ‘‘ with what feelings would you have regarded yourself, to-day?” Virginia could not answer; her very blood seemed curdtiteae in her veins, and the weird, mysterious manner of her half-sister—the face that looked like a judgment in the dim light—sent a thrill so sharp through all her frame that she could with difficulty suppress a ery of terror. Sie remembered with the rapidity of lightning, a poor girl who had once lived in the village with her mother, and whose doom was this unhappy one. Gentle as she had always been, yet the strong Puritan ¢lement infused in her nature, by the strictest religious culture, teach- ing her, with an uncharitableness found nowhere in the lessons of the Master, to hold no fellowship $ 3 A MAD MARRIAGE. ‘with those who went astray from virtue, led her to | might die. Courage had yet not come to look with horror upon this poor, innocent child of shame. She remembered, now, the pale unhappy face—the shrinking ways of the unfortunate—her downcast look, her miserable attire. She thought of the intense pity, mingled with loathing, which she herself had been taught to feel. “Oh! Florida —what an awful question!” she cried, bursting into tears. ‘‘Why do you think of such things?” ‘*T wished to tell you about Parker.” Virginia grew chill again—she had not thought of him in con- nection with such a terrible doom. Nor, strange to say, did she now, although the directness of her sister’s speech might have impressed one less in- . ‘ of their charms as their daughters, floated by, all terested. “T have Jooked upon your intimacy with him as mere girl and boy affection, that would in time burn itself out,” said Florida, now seating herself, ‘‘and I did not wish to lower Aim in your estimation by telling you the facts I have learned; but I be- lieve the time has come when it is inevitable. It is known now, Virginia, that Parker bears his mother’s name, having no father in the eye of law. His mo- ther was a dancing girl in a low theater, somewhere in the South, of no reputation whatever. I pity the poor fellow, but—Virginia!” ; fe oy she cried, some terror in her voice—‘ Vir- gin a ” The young girl neither answered, or moved. Her very eyes seemed set in stone. Florida was fright- ened. She sprung to her feet—placed both hands on her shoulders, and shook her violently. The motion restored consciousness to some degree. Vir- givia twined her arms wildly about Florida, sobbing as she cried, “‘ Are you sure?’—are you very sure?— oh! Florida, you have broken my heart.”’ There was a long silence, for Virginia had fainted in her sister’s arms. Florida lifted the insensibie form and carried it to the nearest couch. There depositing her, she hurried for water. There was a strange vindictive- ness in her manner, that at such a tlme seemed al- most demoniac. “Let her suffer,”’ she cried, between locked lips; “l hate her for loving, for pay loved by him. it would have given my very soul for a smile, even if crime had been added to shame; but she is weak, and will renounce him, Then—l am rich—I have power. Virginia!’’ she cried again, as the strained eyes amare, opened—* foolish girl! I had better held m ngue.”” KON eet fae staged Pra ae ge ae cnet Ve inia, passionately, gly. was abou arker—I remember now—I am sick, deadly sick— but not for that—no, no; I never, never, 7éver will believe that. Oh! he has such bitter enemies!” “Tt is true, Virginia; still, if I had known how the matter would affect you, I should have held my tongue. Now you see why I have always been so cool toward the schoolmaster, You could not under- stand it; for at first the matter was only hinted at; then whispered about, and now it is publicly known all over the town.” “T don’t believe it, Florida; I tell you it is a lie!” Virginia almost shrieked, flinging herself from the couch, ‘You should hear him speak of his mother. | He called her pure and holy—do you pappoee if that was true, he would mention her name? No; he would | never hold up his head again, with all his pride; it would kill him, I won’t believe it, Florida; I won’t believe it.” wi Your belief or unbelief will not alter the facts, i ia.” “Florida, do you hate him?” cried Virginia, with he vehemence that her sister started and changed color. lieve you hate me. Oh, I wish we both were buried, buried.” “Virginia ’’—Florida had grown deathly pale— ner mingled sorrow and grief. ‘‘ Yes, for I promised my father I would guide you, protect you from evil; and, through the consciousness of a responsibility so feel that I have little to reproach myself wit did not deserve such language from you.” “Oh! Florida, forgive me—oh! Florida, forget ful. late—Florida—J—am—lI love him,”’ she sobbed, bro- ual ignominy, to hear his name coupled with another that has been lightly spoken upon foulest lips— if you are —— to give life to innocent childhood that shall blush for its parentage—if, after countin the cost, you will willingly bear all the trials of suc a fate, marry him. The dishonor will be felt only for a lifetime,” she added, with soft but cruel irony. “Oh! what a night!’ cried Virginia, despairingly. She was as yet a child, stiil under the influence of the stern principles that held such a sin to be worse than murder. Ridicule and scorn were terrible wea- pons to her, for she was sensitive, and had never felt the breath of either, though all her trials were mag- nified tenfold. She thought of Parker’s agitation did not know, and the recoilection shook her whole being as with a mortal agony. Yesterday!—she could not bear to think of it. ages ago—and let what disgrace might come, she was irrevocably his wife; so, for a time, she was im- mersed in the cold waters of despair. Reason and hope were prostrate, but they would rise soon; even love fora brief moment slept, but its waking was ‘Yes, you do, I believe you hate him—I be- | erie may have made my manner less eat Sin ; were ““Well—and if you are prepared to live in perpet- | “even in this thing have I not endeavored to do a | sister’s duty ?’—her voice was mournful—her man- | 9 her; the world seemed all dark, and fate cruel. ,It was her first heavy sorrow. CHAPTER X. IN THE CITY—A GREAT SURPRISE. party is given ett honor, of course.” orida had _ surprised with “THIS The gentleman whom | Mr. Burney was the speaker. A slighter, more ele- att mip folded, ., ed—a smile on his lips as he cool- | ly surveyed the glittering vista beyond. Flowers ant man leaned against the mantle is dark eyes kin and diamonds, floating drapery, tissues and feathers, and beauty made gorgeous by the gas-light, met the view everywhere. White-armed dames, as careless having smiles and nods for Horace Dudley, the eligi- ble bachelor of thirty-two. A shrewd smile was the answer. A moment after Horace Dudley spoke. ‘They are very kind. if Mabe how they would manage if I brought home a wife.” “Oh! you rich young. fellows must expect to be ogled and sighed for. Iam past all that nonsense, Society has about made up its mind that 'm not a marrying man, and, perhaps,” he added, with a good-natured grimace, ‘‘ they are—wrong.” “T shouldn’t wonder,” said Dudley. “T'll tell you what,” spoke the elder, whose name was Le Roy, ‘‘if ever I should think of settling down in good earnest, I saw the woman yesterday that I should like to make my wife.” “Yes—a magnificent creature; none of your petite beauties with little languishing ways and zephyr-like sighs, but a nobly-planned woman—large, full of life, steady-eyed, self-poised; oh! I admired that woman poe be be hough, at first Bemis I saw that ch.’ .| she was far from fashionable or “Quite a description,” said Horace Dudley, who felt but little interest, having listened often to ha- rangues of similar import. “I'm going to find her out, too. She was in at Burney’s this morning.” ‘Ah! at Burney’s!” The listlessness had gone Horace Dudley waked up and concentrated his at- tention upon the matter in hand—‘‘a full formed, dark-eyed woman,” ‘* Superbly pro with new enthusiasm, ‘‘ and an eye—I tell you Dud- ley, it goes hard with whoever that eye lights on. I’m ashamed of myself but, absolutely, I eve [’'m taken in and done for—to use a most inelegant but ressive phrase.” “T know whom you mean, perfectly well; she called upon me to-day;’’ and ‘the lips parted in an amused smile. ““She did! called upon you? Who is she, pray— what is her name?”’ “*Miss Florida Owen.” Le Roy drew a long breath. “Florida! the very name of all names. Tropical, luxurious—full of summer verdure and beauty. But come, I’m somewhat interested to ascertain how you came to know this woman. Who is she?” “T know nothing more of her than that she has hired my house as it stands, for the winter—the whole establishment through—stables, horses and all. Now what do you think of her?” Le Roy stood aghast. “The woman is rich, then.” ““Yes; I understand from Burney, suddenly en- riched. I have seen her before, though—her coun- tenance is very familiar. Do you remember what I told you the other day?” ne at! the nonsense about a vase, and all that?” ‘You are the last man to laugh at the ‘ nonsense,’ ”’ said Horace, ty awn “Well, well; perhapslam. But, now—how?” is barely possible that I may be mistaken, bu think it was with her’ I first saw that face, that made all others, since, seem tame by contrast. At any rate, they will be here day after to-morrow. On that afternoon I have made my arrangements to sail; but I declare to you, if I had not for so long a time announced my intention of going, I should “This Miss Florida Owen has a younger sister. Ss oe ne t - > tempted to put it off, provided things are as they what I said. I am ungrateful—I have been ungrate- , If you had but told mé before—but now—so | seem to promise.”’ ‘“Perhaps the other sister is married or engaged.” — “She distinctly said Miss Virginia Owen,” was th reply; ‘ will re have an opportunity to become better acquainted.” “T tell you what, Dudley, if you find this yo lady is your ideal, Tu say a good word for you—thai is, if I — in my a if I don’t, the dickens take the whole of them. Saher -gtt what. are you thinking about? You, the catch of the season, wast- _ ing your superb talents in idleness. Rouse up; the ladies are dying to tread the light fantastic toe with you, and really they must feel slighted.” At that moment a tall, fleshy woman, with cheeks — | so vividly crimson that they suggested a comparison when he spoke of his mother—of the father whom he | with those purple-red dahlias one sees in fine gar- | dens, moved by with a stately tread. On her arm | hung the belle of the season, her niece, the daughter It seemed ages and of some general or other, whom she had dragged | from a fashionable watering-place to make a sensa- tion here, and, maybe, with faint hopes that she might insnare that rich and handsome bachelor, sure. From henceforth the child had ee the wo- | | man had taken her place. She crept, haggard and suffering, to her couch, wishing in vain that she + Pied | Zour | ' Horace Dudley. The management was so admira- ble, that Horace and the fat woman were instant engaged in conversation; an introduction too place, and Mr. Dudley asked for “the honor ”’— offering his hand mignon engling ao the “ae * r rtioned,” responded Mr. Le _ y they may both of them be engaged for all | we can teil.’ i “T shall contrive to drop in on Thursday,” said Le Roy. ace Very well; I will introduce you. After that, you Stee
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10 ois A MAD MARRIAGE, room where sets were already forming. The gen- -eral’s niece was really a very attractive girl—ta well, though with a certain air of affectation. She professed to be familiar with the name, ‘There is a family in my native town,” she said, ‘‘ English born, who spell their name with a ‘leigh;’” and she looked at him questioningly. “Mine cannot boast of so aristocratic a termina- tion,” he said, smiling a little. ‘‘Iam of the old New Hampshire Dudleys, a race of farmers from the beginning, as far as I know.” he belle looked a little shocked, but seemed to reconcite herself, with a high-bred inquisitorial lance at her partner, for he was unquestionabl, he most elegant man in the room, She wished, thaps, that she might get him—perhaps she hought she could. She was disappointed when he led her to a seat but could not be charmed into an absorbing conversation; she was less pleased when he left her for another and no¢ a prettier partner—a oung lady who appeared to have no fear of Madam rundy, or of society, fashionable or otherwise, be- fore her eyes, but whose manners amused men and shocked maidens. ‘Indeed, Mr. Dudley, it’s too bad of you to take this tour,” she said, as they paused for a moment; “all the girls feel dreadfully about it, but I don’t pe! | any one would say so for the world, beside myself.” % Iam much flattered, Miss chips Ate he replied. “Oh! you needn’t be, in the least. After all, most of us only care enough for the beaus to dance aad flirt with them, you know. I suppose you can say ditto. You, however, would fairly tire the ear- nest ones out. ‘We get weary of trying, you see.” “Then you confess—”’ “Of course I do,” retorted Miss Fanny, before he could finish his sentence; “of course, we all try; and the successful fellow is the best. Why, what do pe think we take so much pains to rig up, for, and show off in this pi fos if it is not for some specific ee I thought you men knew it,”’ she added, naively. “Oh! no; we are to be supposed entirely ignorant, and look upon you young ladies as so many angels, innocent of all intention to captivate or subdue. Angels” — she gave a light laugh; “you ae dn’t think us angels if you saw us at home, nie—that’s my sister—and I had an awful quar- rel over our ribbons this very night. She wanted blue and so did I, and neither of us would wear it if the other did.” “Well, how did you manage?’ queried Horace, much amused. “Oh! I bought her off with a she has pny for this great while. You see I triumph in blue; but I'll make a bargain before many days that will Les back that ring, you’d better believe,”’ she tcssed her head nitcloua “But how long are you going to stay, Mr. Dudley? I heard it was a year. will Miss Loyd and Miss Carey do?—there! I am be- traying secrets.” e young man opened his eyes and bit his lips. She saw his movement, and deepened the impression by saying: ‘Oh! I don’t know as they care about you. Come now, don’t look so conscious; there, see, you are forgetting the figure.” “T shall be heartily ie when the figure is over,”’ said Horace Dudley to himself, “ How dreadfully dull it willlook about here when ‘our house is closed, Mr. Dudley,” persisted his pret- but rude partner. ‘Tt will not be closed, Miss Fanny. You will have ac one for I have let it.” “Indeed!” echoed the young lady, as, lifting both hands, she adjusted a stray ringlet with more per- sistency than grace. “Yes, indeed.” a ye Oh! Mr, Dudley, I wish you'd tell me all about “With pleasure, Miss Fanny. The house is taken for a lady slightly aged, and almost bedridden.” “Horrible! and will she have no one with her? no “wo, Miss Fanny.” “Oh! I wonder if I shall like them. Are they agreeable?” : ** All ladies are agreeable to me, Miss Fanny.” “They wouldn’t be if you knewthem as well as I do,” retorted Miss Fanny, in such a blunt, matter-of- fact way, that Mr. Dudley lost his self possession, : laughed fetol gid *T trust you will find these people exceptions,” he said, recovering himself, All over the room there was a general mourning at the prospect of a loss so.detrimental to ‘‘ ourset. Mr. Dudley was, I might remark, a bright and shin- in — in more respects than one. In fact, he was a desirable friend, a man to be loved (by some hope- lessly) for his simple, manly virtues, and it had long been the ambition of the ge beauties to secure him for a husband. Vain all their attempts; he was ot to be caught with chaff, nor with wheat either. is heart was faithful to that one memory, se un- , it was succeeding day in the agreeable business of os erik ing his bes gre da and rearranged his hair, the inmates of the little cottage were in no less a state | | ed | seemed as one unconscious of life. It was | count of Mrs. Owen, and he followed them t | saw not Florida’s reserved but glowed in her brown hair—was all gone, ar ae itiful to see the weary droop of her eye—its patient, though sorrowful uplifting, and the mouth, that should have been curved only to sunny smiles, grieving now and then with the helpless passiveness of a babe who sees strange shadows about it, and hears not the step of its mother. In fact she took no heed of what was going on. It did not astonish her that the cottage furniture remained unpacked or that a hand- some city carriage stood at the door to convey them away. She arranged herself in the rich traveling- dress, and the new, neat bonnet Florida had brought from town, mechanically. without giving one thought to their beauty. She had a confused idea that her half-sister had sacrificed every thing to ap- pearances so far, but that they were going to some out-of-the-way place, where all the sweet comforts of their country-life would be denied them, and where, in the dark days of fos and gloom, Florida would toil with her needle, while she would do the work of the household. And all this was so differ- ent from her plans hitherto. In them she saw the dark rooms made cheerful with love: a glowing fire and a table drawn up before it; Parker at her side writing out his beautiful story; Florida, reconciled and busy, listening and taking part in the genial hearth-side talk. Now she was separated from the man she Joved; doubts and fears had been cast in her way; the terrible consciousness of his disgrace made her wretched, though her affection never wavered, At last they were ready. ‘*T shall leave the house as it is, for the present,” Florida said, as, after her mother was aba in the carriage, she ap lied the key to the loc * But if the t s do not come to-day, how can we possibly manage?”’ asked Virginia. neither cared nor asked for more, but, throwing down her vail, gave herself up to the gloomiest re- flections. To the toll-gate, was a two miles’ drive. Thecoach- man had instructions to proceed at his ak a i e 5 They reached the ata itl iy and the driver stopped. A vessel was going through the draw at some little distance. Virginia had been sitting listlessly holding her mother’s hand. Suddenly her beautiful bloom came back—her eyes gave bright, ee glances. There stood Parker, not a yard distant, resting against the door of the toll-house, and at that mo- ment speaking with the keeper. Virginia forgot a everything but that he was there, and, leaning ou of the carriage, to the discomfiture of Florida, she called him, Let them say what they would; let him be what he would—in her eyes, then, he was noble and beautiful. She threw back the accusations of Florida from her own soul. He, on his part, saw nothing but her— nervous manner, and barely spoke to the invalid, whose eyes closed again with the old weariness they had borne so long. He must have passed an uneasy night, for his face, in glow and sparkle, was almost supernaturally beauti- ul, and it was ever so when disease had kept him wakeful or restless, “T stole a march on you,” he said; “for, seeing a carriage driving through the village, I thought it might e for you and I walked on. you are really gone.” Virginia could not speak for emotion, “Virginia, I am afraid the air from that side is too much for mother,” said Florida, in a cold voice, **She is asleep now.” ‘*T will go on the other side,’’ said Parker, smiling toward Virginia, ‘‘and you can put the window 4 I hope you have no a ech Miss Owen,” he added, turning to Florida, who moved uneasily, but said, ‘*Oh! no,” in as careless a voice as she could assume, though her heart fairly ached with envy and rage. “Tam glad we met him,” said Virginia, as the carriage started again, and both voice and manner implied that whatever unpleasant impression she might have had was now obliterated. The scornful curl of her sister’s lip was her only answer; but Virginia, too happy now to heed op- position of any kind, smiled as she sunk back in her seat, her hope and her love und hed. Proceeding now without delay, they soon reached the city, where the uneven motion of the carriage awoke the invalid, who gazed around her in bewilder- ment that soon merged into a childish delight. “ What are you stopping here for, Florida?” Vir- zn ee on seeing her sister apparently ready to et out. ‘“* Because this is our home,”’ said Florida, evens “This! this elegant house! I can’t understand it, Florida, it must be a nfistake.” ‘* We shall find it out, soon enete if it is,” said Florida—and, like one in a dream, ‘cinia descend- ed the steps of the carriage and was motioned up those of the house by. a servant who stood near, Astonishment had given her a fine bloom, and through the little gauzy vail that fell from her bon- net, her face was most charming. Entering tho vestibule, and striving for command to sustain this altogether novel tion, she encountered the re- spectful gaze of Horace Dudley. It was at once ad- and reverential; for he saw before him, move fully developed into womanly, symmetrical beauty, the very being of whom he had thought and oven m, since that chance meeting years miri dreamed so 0 0. a: flashed over Virginia’s mind on the moment that Florida had engaged to fill some position in this gentleman’s household, and she was quite confound- ed at: the humble courtesy of a middle-aged woman who asked if she should show ‘‘Miss” to her room, Virginia assented, still dumb with wonder, and, fol- lowing the woman, landed in the hall above, from : ¥ ; 7 * , Ay _ - ’ a m _ on 4 eel i” a ao “You will see,” was Florida’s reply, and Virginia |" which opened a suite of rooms, splendid enough in her sight for a princess. Into one of these, con- nected with another large and elegant apartment, she was ushered. The beds were hung with lace, underneath which shone soft colors, and richer shades in masses of flowers closely grouped on a white ground, adorned the carpet. A mirror, rest- La in a frame-work of massive gold, reached to the ceiling. ; They were assisting her mother up-stairs. The old lady was led into the room next to Virginia. She was voluble in her expressions of delight, as Virginia went toward her. “There, thisis the easy-chair I spoke of,” said Florida, pointing to it. It was a beautiful affair, of deep green velvet, highly ornamented, and so con- porucued that it could be changed into a couch at will. “ Did—you buy it?” asked Virginia, hardly credit- ing her senses. 5 ‘To be sure I bought it,” replied Florida. ‘ You may go now,” she said to the Ab ireri woman with all the nonchalance of the thoroughbred mistress; ‘7 will ring when I want you—and see that lunch is made ready.” All this time, Virginia, wonder-eyed, looked on. Florida laughed, ‘“ Well, well—what a beautiful place,” murmured Mrs. Owen, her glances roving delightedly. * How ene nig we going to stay here, Florry? Is ita hotel, ear?’ “No, mother, it is our home, your home for some time to come yet,” said Florida. “ But I don’t understand, Florida,” said Virginia, a little impatiently, ‘‘ what’s to pay for all this?” “Money,” re lied Florida, sententiously, ‘“Of course; but we have no money.” “That is, you think so,” replied Florida. ginia—we are rich.” “Rich!” murmured the young girl. “Yes, at last, rich,’’ was the reply. ‘“ We are rich?” repeated Virginia. “My father’s brother died recently in England and left his whole fortune to us,” said Florida. ‘*Oh! then it belongs to you, of course,’ respond- ed Virginia, drawing a long breath. “Tt belongs to your mother, Virginia; but as she is incapacitated by illness, the management of the property will, of course, as his own daughter, fall upon me. But you, though you have no legal right, shall share in our good fortune; I will do every- “sé Vir- Sy ae you, Virginia, that the truest sister ould.” “T thank you,” was all Virginia could say. Her heart swelled at the thought of Parker’s loneliness and poverty, rendered doubly appalling in her sight, now that luxuries and wealth surrounded her. Her sister watched her yop but saw no brighten- ing of the eye, no signs of pleasure, and she, too truly, gu kf Poor Parker! @ care was on her mind all day. She tried to divert herself by assiduous attentions her mother, who had to be repeatedly told of the cha in her fortune, But the intruding thought would return. What would come of it all? Could she, much longer, drag this consciousness about, and deceive those who were so near and ought to be so dear to her? There was a weight on her heart that made all her joys bitter. If it could only have been that she had a right to any of this money, she would have taken it, no matter how small the share, and gone with her husband even to the ends of the earth; for she felt, now, since that last interview. how dear he was to her. To be sure, the hot blood shot up into her cheeks as she remembered the story that Florida had told. It must be true. Florida was very cautious and careful—she would never have ken of it, unless it had been well sub- stantiated. Once again, as she was going down- stairs, she encountered Horace Dudley. She could not but be struck with something in his appearance that interested her, and when her sister, who was nisin Te ev then into the hall, introduced her, she wonde at the tremulous pressure of his hand, “Who is he?” she ask i pe alone together. ‘The owner of this house,” Florida replied; ‘‘ he is just starting for Europe; but I think, if he has a chance to see you a few times more, by the way he. looks at you, he will feel like giving up his tour and staying at home,” irginia blushed crimson. Perhaps his glances to- ward her had a somewhat magnetic effect; for the same, or rather, an impression, that she would not for the world have put into words, and which, with- out Florida’s speech, might not even have been ac- knowledged to herself—had crossed her mind. In her very soul, however, she was glad that he was going to Lurope. In the afternoon, the lawyer called, accompanied by Mr. Lo Roy, to whose face Virginia was instanta- neously uttracted—why, she could not tell. Even his voice charmed _ her, ‘put it was with no warmer feeling than a childlike friendship. There was some- i in his look and manner familiar to her—his clear, dark eye, his musical voice, his quite unpre- tending speech, all had for her a nameless attrac- tion, ‘Oh! how like that man!” she exclaimed, when the two were left alone again. “Ho is very handsome, certainly,” said Florida, aes not that—what is it? He is charming!” re- iterated Virginia. * And a :nillionaire in the bargain,” said Florida, looking at her with a meaning smile, “Ts he so very rich? Oh, dear! I wish I had some of his money—I know what I would do with it.” “ Perhaps you might have it all,” said Florida, warily. a moment after, when
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“Gecdness! such a thought never entered my mind,” was Virginia's response. ‘I hope you don’t think he was smitten with me, too,” she said, laugh- ing. "hon! no; if I am not mistaken, it is all the other way,” said Florida, frankly. “I think he rather ad- mires me, but, as I have no fancy for the gentleman, and as. you are a great deal prettier than Iam, there’s no knowing how matters may turn, You may choose your own cage, now, Virginia; we are no longer poor nobodies; we shall soon have the in- fluencs and the society that wealth commands, How you shrink, you foolish little goose! You will get accustomed to all that sort of thing, in time, and wonder how you ever could live without it.” “Oh! but I wouldn't marry the richest man in the world, now,’’ said Virginia, chokingly. Florida looked at her, in her own keen, penetrat- ing way—and only saying, ‘“‘ We shall see,” turned to leave the room. “ Wlorida!” cried Virginia, entreatingly. Her half-sister looked back in some surprise. “T wanted to tell you—I wanted to say—”’ trem- bling, flushed, her. eyes dilated, her lips quivering, she attempted in vain to finish the sentence. “Well,” said Florida, imperatively, “‘ speak quick- ly, then—I am hurried.” Virginia’s hands fell powerless—the color faded from her cheeks, the light from her eyes. “Tt’s—no—matter,” she almost gasped, and Flor- ida, seeing that she said nothing more, walked leisurely out of the room, “T do believe she knows all,’’ sobbed the girl, the tears now raining down her cheeks. ‘Oh! Iam so very wretched! How long will this terror and this misery last. I must tell, or it will drive me mad. If she does know it, she is cruel—if not, then she will be—I have no mercy to expect from her, for she never loved.” Blind with tears, she hurried from the room and gained her own chamber. A soft, weak, tremulous voice struck upon her ear, quavering unevenly, yet sweetly, through the mazes of some old church- tune. Half frightened, she crept to the door. It was her mother, crooning to herself—a sound she had not heard for years. There she sat, her hands folded os grid over her lap, her head resting against the back of the chair, her eyes closed, but a erp light enveloping the face that was aged pre- maturely. It made her heart light, notwithstandi her mother so happy. knees beside her. ‘“*Mother, it sounds good to hear you sing,’ she said, softly. “Oh! does it? But that isn’t singing, you know Jenny dear, Did I ever tell you how I used to lead in the old Greenwich choir? Ay! a hundred times had those old memories been poured into the willing ear of Virginia. “T think you may have, mother,” she replied, with an innocent caution; “bat I’d like to hear you | , to see e creptin, and sunk on her ain. “Ah! those days are lo invalid. ‘‘ They used to say and once a great singer wanted to educate me. said I might make my fortune; but father, being a very strict churchman, never was willing, though I wanted to go, dreadfully. Well, they had a fine choir in old Greenwich. The singers never used to quarrel, as they say singers do nowadays. Let me see: there was Mary Alder, she was second treble; Gerusha Shepherd, she was counter—and such a voice! why, for clear tones, like a bird’s, she aston- ished everybody. I sung first treble; and I could sing then, Jenny. At my right stood first base; that was old deacon Rider—such a severely good man that everybody was afraid of him! en came Thomas. Dear! dear—little I thought, when I first saw him—and how nice he did look, in that blue suit with bright brass buttons!—little 1 thought that he would be my own dear husband. You don’t know how handsome he was, Virginia. You look like him, chikl—I mean when he was young; for hard work made Thomas old before his time. Well, what good times we used to have in ap RS Deeper we met in the school-house, and the seats were ve low andsmall. Ie t’twas a funny sight, chil to see us all sitting there, old and young; for the old folks went to keep us in order. used to boil up chestnuts and eat them on the sly, with somebody to help. Oh! dear—I can seem to see old deacon Possom’s snow-white head. We used to call him granny Possom; he had a face that ti might al- most light a candle at, and—and—well—where was I, child?” and her glances traveled, wearily, painfully around. ‘But what were you singing, Nee now, mother?” “Why, don’t you know Corinth, child? You ought to; you’ve been sung to sleep hundreds of times by Corinth. I do hope they sing in heaven, forI should like to hear that old tune sung once_as it ought to be. It came the nearest to it in old Greenwich meet- ing-house.”’ irginia had hidden her face in her hands. Her mother took no heed, but mused in silence for a time. “Ym sure I never thought to live in such a fine house as this. Florida is wonderful smart, Jenny, and I’m certain she tries to be kind to me; but for re cee there’s a want of something—I wonder what is?’ __“Tt's love, mother, real love and tenderness. Flor- ida knows every thing—or it would not take her long to, - she wished; but—” a heavy sigh told more than words. “Jenny—ain’t you happy, dear? You don’t look Aan a some way, of late. I’ve noticed it now and hen, but it’s gone from my memory again. My memory’s dreadful poor—I wonder why? I ain’t so | very old.” past,” murmured the had a splendid Mage e ‘You know ga ae A MAD MARRIAGE. ain the een ad was gone. Virgiria longed to tell her mother all, but she feared the effects of such news upon her in her present debilitated state. Her pela placed her hand upon her head, patting it ondly. “You are so like my Thomas,” she murmured— “so like my Thomas. He’d hold all his grief in from me.” What did her mother mean? Virginia looked pe ota in her face, but again, ap" arently, she had forgotten, and her of tie were closing in BED So Virginia stole away to her room, there to think, to sorrow, and to plan—I should not say the latter, for she had but little encouragement to plan upon. CHAPTER XII. THE PARTY—AN UNEXPECTED VISIT. At last Florida’s ambition was satisfied. She had sent out cards of invitation to the choice and select few, and none of them had returned regrets. Her first party was therefore to be a success. Florida’s taste was of a nature so refined, so subtle in its al- chemy, that she needed neither decorator nor French cook. ‘The parlors were spacious, the drawing- rooms elegant, and, with a new grouping of pictures and statuary, with free access to the conservatory. she managed to turn every apartment into a sort of fairy bower. The effect was almost magical when the gas was lighted. Florida herself was not the least attractive among novel sights. She knew she was beautiful, and, better than that, just what her beauty needed. Her dress for that occasion made her regal—crimson and black, with a very few and well arranged ornaments. Her loveliness in such an attire was almost start- ling, and left an impression on the beholder that did not soon wear off. The effect produced on some persons was more like ashock of fine, pene- trating electricity; though with many it left an un- leasant sensation. Everybody of note had heard of lorida, the handsomest woman in the city, and, of course, all the world was on the qui vive to see her in the capacity of hostess. Many expected to be amused with a bona fide specimen of rusticity suddenly ele- vated, and imagined that their benevolence would be called to undergo very severe rubs and stretch- ings for excuses of her mal intendies. Others ex- pected simply to be amused with country-talk and the aping of stylish manners. Consequently con- | observed of all observers, the closely-followed by fusion and ennut were confidently relied upon for. the programme of the evening’s entertainment. Never did well-bred guests betray astonishment more unexpectedly than they. Florida, in the ex- pheno hrase 0 = sppmiat youth, ‘‘took them all | own.’ Her innate elegance rised them into reverence—the costly materials of her dress, and her exquisite finish in every design, betrayed them into unequivocal compliments. Virginia did nct come down, in her soft, sunny beauty, till quite late, hav- ing found it impossible to leave her mother. Her | restlessness and brilliancy made her very notice- able. She was arrayed, like the pure water-lily, in the snowiest white crape, and moved among the glittering crowd, gathering smiles and pretty say- ings as she went. t was very cruel of Florida to force her into that | crowd, she said, but Florida’s will was law, and some way, of late, she had not felt to resist her in- fluence in the remotest manner. It seemed as if she must do as Florida said—must go where she ap- ointed—must be the passive, unresisting follower. er judgment, however clear before, seemed cloud- ed the moment she felt the atmosphere created b Ficrida’s presence. She often attempted to resist, but as often found herself powerless. If it had not been for the letter of Parker, who seemed on the War, to success, she would have been wretched in- eed. “She is unquestionably a superb woman,”’ said a tall, mustached gentleman, a foreign author, and of course the lion of the hour. The man at his side was @ person of some renown, known as a lecturer on different sciences. He spoke of Florida. ‘ She isa most powerful magnet,’’ muttered the | latter. ‘Good heavens! what a she could ee Fa ae a crowd. I wish I could see her mental organization—it must be a study.” “At your old pet theory again. Even a lovely wo- man can interest you as she shows capacity for science, or an agent for science to work upon. You had better get acquainted; she would make a capital lecturer. ta pity, now, that some reverses will not come, and Cae two, joining interests, go out into the world and astonish the natives! ou would make money hand over fist, as they say.” “That's a delightful little creature,” said the lec- turer, nodding toward Virginia, who stood now in arg repose, listening to some low spoken words, ut whose mind seemed to be far away. “She isas passive as her sister is positive. Ill venture to as- sert that she is the meek Cinderilla of the household —-whose godmother gives her delightful dreams, but whose sister tyrannizes over her to her heart’s con- tent. If you look closely, you'll observe a weary, careworn look that doesn’t come all out on the sur- face. It is rather introverted, as if the heart were prone to gather its sorrows into a secret place ‘for nu . Lreally pity that girlif she is sensitive— and with that complexion and those eyes she can hardly help being so.” ** Hers is a very atten a! style of beauty,’ said the author, surveying her more intently. ‘1 have often deseribed it, but, upon my word I don’t know as I ever saw it in its purest type before. That girl is not aware of her own worth.’ Meanwhile, Florida was going from one to an- other, dispensing graces, smiles and words, and, whether unconsciously or not, bringing scores un- der her influenes by the irresistible attraction that seemed to flow out from her presence, % i Se - sitive creature! | She was the | more than one man of note and wealth. The most favored of the gentlemen, however, was undoubted- ly Le Roy, who was thoroughly in love, and would scarcely have given a straw for existence if assured that she was indifferent toward him. But for some reasons, that Florida knew best, she was unusually attentive. Everybody saw, and not afew laughed over his infatuation, as they called it. ** An old fellow like him!” sneered the young men, though they knew that his personal appearance and his vast wealth were a powerful counterbalance in the scale of a woman’s preference, especially such a woman as Florida. She smiled on him, however, and he felt, diffident though a sincere affection might make him appear, that he was not unattractive to her. He had told himself that to-night he would propose; but when near her, something in her manner forbade him to approach the subject, although she treated him with marked consideration. — ~ Virginia had lost her interest in the scene, She still addressed others and listened with apparent leasure when re aes but her heart felt a long- peg for rest, that had, of late, become almost pain- u Suddenly she was aware of an unusual stir. A thrill ran through her frame,-for which she could not account, till, raising her eyes, she found herself in the presence of Parker. His appearance and en- trance seemed to have made something of a sen- sation. “Tell me, who is that beautiful creature?’ ex- claimed one lady, gazing at him with her soul in her eyes. “If that isnot some poet divine, then forever after let my penetration be at fault.” Virginia was too little schooled in the ways of the fashionable world to keep her delight and her sur- prise to herself. ; | ‘Oh, Parker!’ she said, her eyes overbrimming with delight, ‘‘ you here?”’ “T would not have come, for the world, in an assembly like this,” he answered, in a low voice casting a glance along his threadbare but well-kept clothes, ‘‘ but your servant, thinking I was one of the late guests, I ict ea ushered me right 1, “You look as well as any of them,” whispered Virginia. ‘‘ Better,” her heart said, she Ice in his face and marked the handsome features, the bold, bright forehead. “Oh! I am so glad to see you, but—” at that moment she caught Mlorida’s eye. It was fastened with a curious expression up- on Parker. Was it hate?—a thrill of new terror ran through Virginia’s veins—was it love? Something unusual was revealed to her in that glance. As I said, Florida had stood for a moment, her eyes transfixed as the es met her gaze. For a moment her cool, habitual indifference was gone, and, had an interested person been looking on, traces of a struggle, almost deadly, might have been seen in that beautiful face. Another had seemed as evidently agitated when Parker entered—it was Le Roy. Ever on the watch, he might have followed Florida’s glance; and if he aid, he saw enough to make his heart beat with more violence than it ever had before. For that face just come upon the stage was no common one. Beautiful as it was, it might have parted with the clear outlines and graceful curving and still have been a most superior countenance. The features were a little sharper than usual, but a royal soul jooked forth from the large eyes, expressive of every emotion that might ennoble a man’s nature. There was a certain stern pride, too, in that look with which he regarded the festivities, that strange- ly became the youth, It seemed to aay: “T am above you all, yet—for my furnishing is that of the soul—my ornaments, those of the mind.” Certain it was that three of that brilliant por pan startled if not pleased with the new arrival. Le Roy watched Florida keenly—as keenly watched Parker. Indeed, he chose a position from where he had the latter in full view, and, folding his arms, his lips set tightly, he divided his glances uneasily between Florida and the young man. He had iol g pale, and the color did not return to bis dark cheek, After some moments of anxious gazing, he managed to- gain the side of Florida. ; “‘T see we have a new-comer here,” he said, in a low voice. ““Yes—one of Virginia’s old acquaintances—a schoolmaster, and really quite an amiable young an. > Yes; T should judge him to be one of Virginia's JSriends,” said Le Ro , With a meaning smile. He marked the color come high and quick in the already flushed cheeks before him, and thought it was caused by mortification, for he saw how pain- fully the shabbiness of the young man’s dress con- trasted with the rich garments near. It might have ~ ; been that thought that made him offer his arm to _ Florida, and conduct her to another part of the room. Meanwhile, the fashionables had dropped off from the small area occupied by Virginia and Park- er, though many a glance was cast toward the young man, of haughty curiosity mingled with ad- miration. “How can you bear all this glitter, Virginia?” asked Parker, after a moment of silence. “T don’t like it, Parker; it confuses and annoys me. Among all the faces, I don’t see one that my heart goes out toward, and the whole is something so little in accordance with my taste that I often long—oh! you can’t tell with what pain at my heart —to get back to our dear old cottage—yes, even to be a_child seein and go to school in Sunriy Nook. Oh, Parker! I was not made for such living as this.” ‘‘T heard it only a. few days back. They are going in to supper,’’ he ausing a mo “Let us ent, were
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: aa remain here in some of the rooms—or will they miss you?” “Let us remain, Parker,” said iret eagerly ; ‘it seems so Rood to see you after such a long, long time! They’l! not miss me.” “I was going to say,” began Parker, standing back as the throngs filed by, ‘‘that I onl heard this news a few days ago—and it electrified me. ‘Vir- ginia rich?’ I thought—” “TI have nothing to do with it,’ spoke Virginia, hastily. “‘I am as dependent as ever, livi my mother’s bounty. my blessing to Florida, for she rules here as well as ewhere. “Be that as it may,” said Parker, ‘‘the infor- mation made me unaccountably sad. You seemed, from that moment, lost to me, darling.” At that he made the gesture that Virginia had learned to know, and that betokened severe physical pain. thet at heart sunk, ‘* What shall I get for you, Parker?” “Nothing—it is over; but it is strange—the least mental excitement is followed by that terrible throb, as if the pulse of my heart was wounded.” “JT did not notice at first—but I think you are in trouble, Parker.”’ “Trouble! I was born for it,” he muttered. . ‘I think, darling, that I am expiating, somewhere about the fourth or fifth generation, for the sins of my fathers. I haven’t any business yet. What | shall I do?” “Don’t despair, Parker.” “T have prepared already !’? The voice was so heart-broken that Virginia shuddered. “You may think me weak-minded to a d e when you see how my ill-fortune affects me; but, oh! it is utterly useless for me to try to keep up. Virginia, I must go, before your proud sister re- turns. She is ashamed of me. I am the unsightly _ has given me. blot upon this fair company.” He spoke with such bitterness, in tones so utterly Poe that for a moment paralyzed Virginia, voice and will. “ Parker,”’ she said, when her emotion would allow her, “‘ you will spoil all the happiness this meetin never saw you in such a mood. _ There is surely room for you in the ranks of the world’s workers, and remember that, it is always the darkest just before day.” “An eternal night has settled upon me,” he said. “You cannot understand—oh! my God!” and he _ turned from her, almost writhing with his soul’s from health, from occupation—and from you.” feverish ish; ‘‘you cannot understand. I am shut out “Parker ’’—she laid her hand on h alm—‘' Parker, take me with you. I will desert all ‘or you—God will give me strength Let me go _ where you go, and—” have said, in a° few weeks, even pansy come, let us wait, darling.” irgin forbids,” he cried, almost fiercely. take you from such a home as this? I * * Povert; “What! darken your young life with hardships, and curse it with regrets and reproaches? Never! I'll die first _ —and God in mercy take me soon.” ! | “You are cruel,” she said, half sobbing. Parker! child.” “Tam causing you to suffer,’ he said, a tender regret in his voice. “Why am I doomed to bring misery upon all who know me? Virginia, you must make allowances; I am hardly myself now. Per- haps, perhaps, better times my come’”’—even as he spoke he shook his head doubtingly. ‘‘ They stay “ Oh you do not know me; you treat me like a long at supper,” he added, i a a smile; but there was neither life nor hope in i “ Parker, don’t give up yet; wait—” “T have waited, Virginia.” “A little longer, Parker; you are young, so amT; some good fortune will come. Let me prophesy— _there’s a good time coming.” Yes; but Jam going.” This impressive sentence gave a chill to the heart of the young girl, that seemed as if a wave from the cold waters of death had struck her. Yes, he was going. she saw it in that unearthly luster—she saw it in the burning hectic; she clung to him-~in tears, ‘now, in wild, unbounded distress. 23 You shall take me with you, my husband. Par- , don’t leave me—you are all, every thing to me now, I shall die if you go without me.” “ irginia,” he cried brokenly. “Yes, Parker, your home shall be mine, no matter how humble; if a garret, I shall share it with you. Your claim stands first; I am nearer to you than any other, before God. My mother will te cared for; she will mourn a little while, and then forget me. Besides, she will see me, sometimes; Florida ‘would let me come to my own mother, cold-hearted as she is.” ; As Virginia began this passionate entreaty, there was a stealthy footfall near by, which she heard give the action its best interpretation) had stolen from the refreshment room, and now stood con- ‘vealed where she could hear much that was said. ~ & Virginia—no—not yet,” he said, in a broken voice; ‘“I—am not able,” he groaned, as if the con- fession were forced from him; ‘‘ perhaps, as you ys, better times ia had moved from his shoulder. She was pale but tearless. “Well, Parker, I will wait, since you decide that it \s_best; but remember, it will be only for a little while, And, if you are ill, promise you will send for me, Parker. ill you?” “Yes, Virginia—but it will be only to say a final farewell,’*he added, under his breath. ' There was a stir; the people were coming from supper. ik ne quietly led the way into a room that was little frequented. 4. upon * hat is the same as de aeiag yt. Florida, impelled by an irresistible curiosity | A MAD MARRIAGE “Sit down and rest,” she said; “‘you have been standing too long, and I too thoughtlessly allowed it.” He sunk down with a eh of relief upon one of the crimson couches. Virginia stole away and re- turned with some softly-perfumed lotion, with which she bathed his brow; then going again, she play- fully bade him sleep for a moment till she should return. A delicious sense of rest pervaded his whole being—how seldom had he been thus cared for. It brought hot tears to his eyes, the thought of his loneliness. a Virginia’s step broke upon his rs i She carried a china plate, beautiful with its broad band of gold—the color of the tempting pears that lay uped like a picture in its midst. From her other and swung a small silver basket, heaped with luscious grapes, shining like emeralds. “You are thirsty. know,”’ she said, quietly lacing them before him. ‘‘ Now eat, and be thank- ul,” she added, with a light laugh, that came only from the surface of her heart, for its depths were troubled. “Tf you will help me,” he made reply; and they sat there like children, each pleased because the other was. “You are not so desponding now,” murmured Vir- ginia. ‘* Not quite,’’ he answered pleasantly. “* And you will believe better days are coming?” “*T will—when I see them,”’ he added, with a faith- less smile. ‘‘ Don’t let me put the light of your hope quite o7*, Virginia; as I told you before, I am envel- fe) in _touds; I a way anywhere.” ‘“Not even there?” whispered Virginia, softly. He glanced toward her. Her hand and her eyes were elevated to heaven, and a sweet and serene grace shone on her features. ‘* Virginia, you are too good for me,” said Parker. **T have no trust—no faith in any thing. God does not care for me.” “Has he not sent me to be your comforter?” asked Virginia, Stages. gS “Yes, yes, darling, an thank and bless Him for it..’ His face ge tened; he arose, and, drawing her toward him, kissed her again and again. ‘Yes, darling, my courage is rising. I shall have strength given me—we shall perhaps be happy together, e ’ t. * And then the book.” “Oh! yes, the dear book. Do you know, in the midst of ail my mental anxiety, I have written nearly a hundre : es.”” “That is beauttful!” cried Virginia, clapping her hands together. ‘If I could only hear you read them! But the time will come. Now about home. Do you see thé dea 1d cott e often?” “Every. day,’ he ied; “and of moonlight nights I always walk around there, and fancy you at one of the windows, or sewing inside, if the blinds are drawn. You know, of course, that Bartcl, the gardener, has hired the place. t expect he will make it a little paradise. half like Florida for her determination not to sell it.” “Tf mother was only herself,” said Virginia, sad- ly, with a deep sigh. ** And what then?” ‘*She would give me that little cottage, then you and I could keep school together there.’ Parker’s face said, ““How pleasant it would be!”’ but he did not speak. ‘‘T know mother loves me dearly,” Vitginia said; “but Florida has supreme control, poor m near is as pete in her hands as a child, and I hate to say it ut she seems afraid of her. To change the subject, however,” she added, making an effort to be gay, “vou look after Rennie, I suppose.” “Ou! yes; I visit the good creature for your sake, and taik to her too, Iam not ashamed to add.” ; — “To be sure—why not? Many is the pleasant chat Reus and I have had together. I believe she un- | erstood half I said.” ‘Uncle Barby is one of the | ateful crea- tures I eversaw. ‘I tell youw the other day, ‘when you get s the Lord for nothing, He’ll gi bless him for;’ and his fashion.” “That’s a lesson for yi “T know it;’? and the back, f ‘**T must go,” he adde mood, They are dan join them?” that you can bless give you gees to e went on, giving thanks after Su, Parker,” Virginia said. “old unhappy look came k rising, ‘‘ while I am in this ng, I suppose. Shall you “No, indeed,”’ responded Virginia, ‘I never dance. | om aha go straight to mother’s room, and then to | “ Good-night, my blessed, blessed wife. ”’ ( “ Good-night.” ; One moment they were folded in a close emb oe ff eam in f her eyes, ; .% j “Oh! here you are, Virginia; I’ve been looking f you everywhere. Good-evening, Mr. Parker: are better, L[hope. Virginia, Mr. Leig! must remember your promise to him.” **My promise to hirm,’’ murmured Virginia, be- wildered; ‘‘I did not 9 en him any thing.” — “You know best what Imean. I am sure you do not wish to provoke remark; but this withdrawing yourself to the remotest part of the house may oc- easion talk. Were you going?” she asked, turning to Parker. ‘“You see I have my hat in my hand,” he said cast- ing an angry look at her. As for Virginia, she stood yk Sg under the influence of a strange 5 eee feeling of helplessness that came over her if Florida disputed her will—a numbing sense of the faculties; cert stood, now and then looking imploringly ab arker. ‘*Good-night, sir,” said Florida, coldly. — “*Good-night,”” he answered, between his teeth; and he rushed from the room like one in a sudden rage. “FE Oh Florida! how unkind! how cruel you are!’ cried Virginia. ‘““And you—I am surprised at your want of pro- priety,’’ exclaimed Florida, sternly. “Tt was perfectly proper to stay with my—” she dashed the tears from her eyes—stopped short; she dreaded to commit herself yet. : ““Your lover, I suppose you would say,” replied Florida, with a sneer: ‘‘ perhaps, let: cthed, If so, I wish you joy of your (future) sata ss and name- less husband, A pleasant lot fora young lady to look forward to. Virginia, let me tell you in a few words, that misery and misfortune will attend you if ou marry that man. Andfurther, Horace Dudley lowed you—Horace Dudley, the very pick and cream of B— ee: with a fortune at his command. Mr. Le Roy to d me; he knows, for he corresponds with Mr. Dudley. Come, there’s a sweet morsel to dream on. They are asking for you, and you must go with me.” ‘“‘T can not,” murmured Virginia; ‘‘ don’t urge me, Florida. Let me stay here, and retire quietly to my room.” “T wish bake to go, Virginia; come.” She laid her hand on her shoulder. Virginia shuddered—strove in vain te bring forward a claim to resistance—look- ed once in Florida’s eyes, and followed her with the instinctive dread with which a noble hound follows a cruel master. In the different rooms, varied amusements were in progress. A charming balladist had sung; the ‘stars’? of music had thumped the piano out of tune; several recitations had given unalloyed pleas- ure; and the lecturer on science was holding forth to a select few. Magnetism was the subject under consideration, as Florida and Virginia entered the room. ‘* Suppose you give us some exhibition of your skill,” said a short, thick-set, curly-haired individual, who, from his extreme elegance and laughable dig- nity, was often called the Duke of Somerset— plain Harry Somerset being his name. At that moment the lecturer caught the eye of Virginia. Completely in the power of one positive nature as she was, the passivity of her system felt the will that was being silently exercised. Left to herself, she went slowly up to the professor, and stopped short a few paces distant. He motioned her to sit do nd she obeyed him. She was in precisely the ‘cteunstances to be acted upon by a powerful mind—wearied with her pedis te to main- tain a calm exterior in the presence of Parker—fear- ful of Florida, feeling an oppressive weight on her heart, little short of despair, as she thought of his manner when he left ety ee for rest, let it cor in what shape it would, There was something soothing in the glance of the professor—her eyes yelt upon his and yeas as if they had re- ceived power in the look. He motioned her to a seat. ith an innocent smile she obeyed him.. He advanced and fixed his gaze steadily upon her. The crowd was hushed—Florida stood by breathless and | eager. Virginia sunk back, still smiling; and closin her eyes, with an occasional struggle against drowsi- ops that was fast creeping over her, she was soon asleep. Lp his isa splendid subject,” said the professor, looking eagerly round, ‘‘The whole thing has been done almost without the consent of either. Madam,” he added, addressing Florida, “‘ perhaps you will pre- fer to be put in communication with your sister. Florida shrunk back for a moment; then, with hightened color, assented, She stood before Vir- ginia, who shuddered a little, but soon eae signs of eing entirely under her control. With the help of directions from the professor, Florida made the un- conscious girl respond to her thoughts. “It is wonderful,” said the professor; “‘a case of true clairvoyance. In time, if you wished to make a hat,’ he said to me.} series of experiments, you could send her to the ends of the earth—a splendid subject,” he reiterated. _Florida’s heart bounded with a secret exultation, is she thus found herself in a way to use the power she had felt herself abundantly provided with. She waked the sleeping girl, and together they left the ‘oom—Virginia to retire, wholly unconscious of what she had said or done. ie —— , CHAPTER XII. ICKEN AND AFFLICTED. u ent from the party that night, his s boiling. Florida both manner and ad insulted him, and Virginia—could she > ? He could not believe that; what léxida had said was but to woun mislead him. Walking rapidly on, almost with ought or pur- pose he knew not whither, only he mnst go, a “a sudden sense cf utter prostrass came upon him, He leaned for a moment, against the railing of the d, with the impression bridge which he had gaine that he was dying. If so, he could welcome death, for he was weary of the long struggle against fate, Growing fainter as he stood, he gradually slid down upon the wooden planks. It was midnight, but just over him alamp sent down a dim ray sufficient to disclose him, should a chance passenger goby, The cold wind blew from the river, and lifted the dam locks from his white forehead, but he knew it DOR His hands hung nerveless, bis face looked blue and ghastly in the wavering light. Some minutes elapsed, but the stillness was un-~ broken by the foot of man. _A little gurgling ripple — told that the waters were rising to cover the weedy beams beneath. Mingled with this came the rumble of slow wheels. A teamster who had taken advan- tage of a good bargain to visit the theater, was ma-
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king his way homeward. Full of the startling scenes | that had passed before him, he was not a little fright- ened, as he entered on the bridge, to see, as he thought, a dead body lying not two fect from his cart. At first he was for applying the whip and driv- ing on; but a feeling of humanity impelled him, up- on second thought, to get down and see if there wes life there, or if the man had been foully dealt by. He went cautiously forward, then, with a spring and a bound, he was at the side of the fallen man. “ By the living hokey!” he soliloquized, in tones of astonishment, “if there isn’t the schoolmaster! poor fellow!—and dead as a door-nail, I do believe.” He touched him upon the cheek—shook him by the shoulder, but there was no sign of animation. “What am I to do?’ muttered the man, looking uneasily round. “If I had some one’to help me now—but the poor fellow! he’s light enough, I'll war- rant. Ill get him in the cart, and stop at the doc- fork, over the bridge. Maybe he’s only in a faint, f.) ’ Depositing the body upon some straw in the bot- to a of his wagon, the kind-hearted teamster jogged along, every now and then bending down close to the head of the schoolmaster. As he stopped in front of the doctor’s house, a mile from the bridge, he heard a faint groan, “Well, well, Mr. Parker,” he said, leaning over, you're come to, are you?’ ; ‘Who is it—and where am I?” was the faint re- sponse, “ Jim Cuttle—in A——,” said the teamster. “‘ Found you onto the beginning of the bridge, Gad well done for. Ain't been drinking too hard, I hope?’’ he added, in a jocular tone, “You have stopped—where are we now?” asked th> invalid feebly. “Well, we’re to the doctor’s—I was going to put you aboard of him,” ““No—if you Se as Jim, take me right heme. I know what to do for myself when I get there. ’ “ Anything to suit,” replied the man, gathering up the reins. ‘‘ How are ye, now? Gotany painin par- ticular? Pretty sick, ain’t ye?” “Tm weak, Jim, and my head aches, I shall feel better, however, as soon as I’m at home,”’ “ Well, [hope so,” replied the man, and his horsa jogged on. Parker persisted in being left at the door, in not disturbing the family, which was none of the pleasantest, and the good teamster gave a lift, so that he gained the shed-roof with apparent ease, and in a few moments was in hisown room. Here, again, he felt entirely prostrated—-a burning fever rioted Uhh. oe his veins, a blinding pa'n in the tem- ples almost deprived him of reason, Besides theso were the old difficulties—the struggle for breath, the cruel pain at his heart. All night he lay in agony, and the morning brought him no relief. The strug- le with the deadly disease had taken all strength rom him, and he was so utterly ill that he did not attempt to leave his bed the whole of the following day. Virginia, on that same morning, awoke, a sad, de- pressing weight upon her spirit. Again and again she thought over the events of the past night. Par- ker had left her suddenly, but not in anger with her —that was impossible.. She knew not how to ac- count for the darkness that seemed spread over her like a gloomy pall. All night she had dreamed of Parker, but they were together in fairy-land, wan- dering among flowers, eating fruits, singing, smilin and dancing. Of what had happened after he h gone she had, of course, no recollection, save that she had entered the brilliant room and emerged therefrom thoroughly exhausted. And to-day she dared not look forward to happiness. Continual sighs rose to her lips, and the weary thought wes ever uppermost, ‘* What shall I do for Parker?” ' After breakfast she took the morning paper and looked its columns listlessly through. One notice attracted her attention. It read thus: “ Orricr or Grratp LE Roy, “No. 19 Dupont Buildings.” _It flashed across her soul like a ray of blessed light that to him she might apply with safety. She had long seen how intensely he loved Florida, and if he thought a visit unmaidenly, her motive would ex- cuse her, She already looked upon him as a brother, hoping that Florida would be his wife, and she de- termined to find him, and lay the case of Parker (it should never come to his knowledge) before him. He was a rich, powerful man, and the rich and power- ful should help the poor and humble, she reasoned. This decision lightened somewhat the weight in her heart. After carefully attending to her mother, who did not seem as well as asual, having been under the influence of Pe opiates all night, after arranging the flowers for the little stand that stood always near the sick chair, she arrayed herself for a walk. “See here, Jenny,” said her mother, childishly. Yreinis lifted her vail and went toward her + mot er. 1 “See, child—I haven't written my name before for — aay years. Pretty good for an old sick woman, n “Yes indeed, mother—but what set you to writing?” “Oh, Florry did it, dear—she wanted me to put my name to something, I don’t know what, and so she set me to practicing, as if Iwas a child, Jenny, as if I was a child; and a little feeble laugh accom- ‘panied the speech. _ “And do you know what you signed, mother?” asked Virginia, who, little as she knew of such , felt that a signature of that kind was too im- ' portant to be given lightly, “Bless your heart—no, darling, I don’t know as I do. Florry explained, and said something about some property; but—my poor memory—I forgit.” | | A MAD MARRIAGE, 43 “And did any one—I mean, was anybody here at the time?”’ “Only Sarah and the other woman—they wrote | their names too, but I don’t believe twas as good as mine, do you Jenny?” Virginia did not answer. If Florida wanted wit- nesses for the signing of the signature, why did she not call her, or some more responsible person? Clearly, this must be a plot of Florida’s to obtain ab- solute command of the business, or control of the property. She felt hurt to think she had not been trusted, and her dislike to her half-sister took a deeper coloring than before. Still, having no coun- selor, she knew not what to do in the case. She was too proud to let Florida know that she suspected her, and too innately delicate to take any round- about way to ascertain the facts. She kissed her mother, and accompanied still by her thoughts, left the house and walked onward panies It was a long distance to the Dupont buildings. Virginia had seen them—a row of grimy houses built of brick and stone, in the rear of a gothic church. She lessened her pace as she drew near, and the dread of what he would think began to oppress her, “Tt is my duty,” she said brave] I know he is good and _ kind. I wi forward in the strength of God.” So she passed the rows of dirt-beplastered children, engaged in the laudable occupation of making pies of sand and water, and baking them in the sun— hurried by the little peddlers with their lozenges and ginger-nuts and apples, and gained the door, where, after passing through the vestibule, she entered a handsomely-carpeted hall. A servant in waiting took her name and almost immediately came out ‘ain to usher her in. he office of Mr. Le Roy was very beautifully fur- nished, with rose-wood, marble, and Ravelin ala JSresco, with tapestry, carpets and gilded chandeliers, Le Roy himself was already coming toward the door. He met her with a cordial smile, led her toa seat, and, observing her gaze warily round, assured her that no one was. present but a deaf clerk, who scribbled away, his back toward them. **T—don’t know whether I ought to have come,” said Virginia, looking os and then down in an em- barrassed way, “ but I thought of you, and that you would do me a favor if you could.’ “Certainly, Miss Virginia; you counted upon me rightly there. Any thing in my power I will do to serve you. Whatis it—one or five hundred dollars for some sweet charity?” Virginia glanced up in amazement. Money offered her by the hundreds? Why, she had scarce ever had so many cents. “Oh! you are very kind, Mr. Le Roy; but it was not money I wanted. I came for a friend—though that friend knows nothing about it—and if you can to herself, ‘“‘and not fear, but go do what I wish, please consider it a at secret.” He smiled at her in a half-childish, half-dignified manner, ee may depend upon me, Miss Virginia,” he said. ‘Well, then—” her color grew high—after all, it was not as easy a matter as it had seemed. haps, Mr. Le Roy,” she said, beginning again—‘‘ per- haps you noticed the young man—the stranger that came in last night.” ; Le Roy started to his feet—said, ‘‘ Please excuse me for a moment, Miss Virginia,” and went to his desk, remaining fully a minute fumbling among and turning over papers for which he seemed to have no earthly use. When he came back he seated himself very slowly, half-turning away, however, so that but a part of his face was in sight. Virginia was so intently occupied with ber thoughts however, that she noticed only how pale he had grown. ‘*Well—about this young man?” he said, and his voice seemed altered. “Tf you could only get a situation in some school for him, sir. He is not well—not fit for the exertion of finding the place. 1 think, perhaps, he would like a clerkship. Oh! sir, you must not think strange that I, a young—womazn, plead for him. He was my teacher in the town where we lived before we came to the city, and he has been very unfortun- ate all his life long. I ask for him as I would for a brother.”’ Her veice rung musically sad and low through the large room. ‘“ What does Florida think of him?’ asked Le Roy; he waited eagerly for an answer. ‘* Plorida—Florida—she—sometimes I think she— don’t like him very well—but—maybe it’s because he is so very poor,” she added, timidly. He drew a long breath, as if the news relieved him. “‘ How old is this young teacher?” he asked, after a pause. ‘ Old?—not quite twenty-one, I believe.” “ Does he want a situation in the city?” “‘T think he would prefer that.” ‘Has he—any—parents living?” Virginia crimsoned to the temples as she answer- ed, ‘‘ His mother is dead, I believe.” “ Ah!’ exclaimed Mr. Le Roy, turning hastily round, ‘‘ who told you that?” “He told me, sir,” she said. He looked at her keenly, then threw himself back in his cher After a pause he said, slowly: “T think I can serve you—serve this young friend of yours, Miss Virginia,” “Oh! we are so kind!’ she exclaimed, breath- less, ‘How happy it will make him. But you never’ ll tell?” ‘ He smiled again. ‘No, I will never tell,” he said graxely. “Suppose I get him a good place, an eR GUPPORS I put the task of disposing of it upon you?” : “Tam entirely wiling,’’ she said, simply. “Ber | | | | mer residence. V rginia could not rest. Her heart : | “Very well. I will get the place, and a tip-top place it shall be, too. love to oblige my friends so you may set the young man down for a thousan dollars a year, certain—perhaps fifteen hundred.” Oh! how the blood surged all over that young | face! how the eye sparkled with the fullness of de- light! how she felt, for the moment, as if he was e a dear, dear father, and the wi'd thought came to tell him ail--then she was sure he could not think her unmaidenly. She was too glad to speak fora time—there was so much gratitude in her heart, so much admiration for this man. “Ido thank you so much, Mr. Le Roy,” she said, her eyes showing the gratitude she felt. ““You are entirely welcome, Miss Virginia. Inever — did a favor with more pleasure in my life. I assure zon I am quite happy that you came, and at an ime, when you are on your rounds of charity, ca upon me. Stop—I have by me a little money unap- propriated. Lalways delegate my friends to domy . charitable acts, for I contess to no discrimination of that sort. Please accept this fifty dollars, and make some sad heart happy.” Virginia could not refuse—she was so much as- tonished by this magnificent liberality. She took the note mechanically, wondering in her mind to what she could apply it. “T really don’t know any very poor people,’’ she said, timidly. : “Oh! you'll find them,” he replied. ‘‘ They swarm here; but I’m always ready to help if I find them worthy; but I don’t like the trouble of going to see about it. Now for you it would be a nice little exer- cise; and he smiled, making Virginia’s heart leap at the fancied resemblance in his face to another ~ she had certainly seen and loved. , He bowed her out, bewildered and happy, question- ing if she were indeed the same girl who had entered trembling and fearful. She went home on wings, keeping her great gladness to herself, and only wish- ing she had asked him not to tell Florida. That she could easily do, however. A note was immediately dispatched to Parker, and, occupied in the duties and lessons of the day, Virginia enjoyed it moment by moment. Now and then she would be lost in the sweet anticipation of what Parker would say, how he would look, and with what an ecstasy of delight she — meet him —for that he would come directly there she was certain. Florida regarded her with curicus eyes. ‘Your walk seems to have done you good,” she would say, whereupon Virginia, with hightened color, answered as best she could. All that sor and all that evening was the expected note anxiously looked for, but vainly—and the poor girl retired to rest with sad forebodings. It might have been about ten of the following day that Florida, who was busy with some feminine duty, suddenly paused, exclaiming, ‘I forgot it en- tirely—there is a letter in my escritoire that came for you yesterday. Ill get it this moment.” In her pleasure at the good news, Virginia did not stop to wonder, as she might at ancther time, if this was not some adroit planning of Florida’s. She tried to restrain her eagerness when the white enve- ee eame in sight, but at Florida’s exclamation “The superscription looks tipsy,” she :miled, and caught at it eagerly. “Tt is for joy,” she thought. Alas, poor eager heart! These words met her frightcned gaze: “Dear Miss:—The schoolmaster is. very sick in- deed and senses nothing. I think he is dying—and the troubles and expenses which if he is not will be too much for us poor folks and solhope you will see to it or get some of your friends to take care of ‘ ours, “mM, F. WALEER, ““ His boardin’ house,” “Oh! Florida!’ cried Virginia, with a glance of anguisk—and before her startled sister could reach her, she was lying death-white against the side of the couch upon which she had been seated. “ Fainted,”’ muttered Florida. ‘‘I’m glad I never faint.” A glance through the letter made her cheek paler, ker lips quiver. “ NowI can go to him,” she said, and afier Virginia was somewhat restored, she reverted to the note. aS ‘““What shall you do about it, Virginia?” “Oh! I don’t know—God help me! Why! go, of course,’ she cried, starting up, but falling back again from sheer weakness. f “Well, well, compose ycurself, Virginia, I will have the carris ge brought cut—I will go with you.” “Oh! but why did you keep the note—time is so precious! He may be—” her white lips refused to say the word. ‘I tell you I forgot it,” said Florida, “I was about a thousand things, ard talking with ry. 9 tLe ¢ *“ Oh! and he knows nothing of it, and heso kind thinkin sa cried Virginia, distressingly, wringing her cin. ands. } fice “He know nothing about it—why of course not!’ ees Florida, her face flashing. ‘‘ Why should e2”? “He was going to get him a situation, worth a thousand dollars; he tceld me he would, perhaps more --it would have made Parker so happy if he could only have had my letters in time! It may be he has;” and the r girl gained strength from the he mg aren ie “Oh! let us go, let us go this min- u Florida went out, still wondering what Le Roy had ee wer a — taken an — - Bs nameless boy. e order and a few del cacies, and hs less than an’ hour Florida and Vir. ce ginia were on their way to the old town of their for- beat with great throbs so heavily that it shook her
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14° to and fro. She leaned forward, her eyes strained to catch the first familiar object, and when they had gained the road on which the house was situated, it seemed asif she would leap from the carriage in her eagerness to be there. Florida watched her, a burn- ing t on each cheek. ‘Here we are at last,” she said, as the driver paused in front of the low, red palings Virginia oe over to the window of his room with a shud- er. The little white curtain was swayin out—two pillows were at that moment thrust out over the sill. “Tt is all over,” cried Virginia, chokingly, while an unnatural calm seemed to fall upon her snirit. By this time she found herself beside Florida on the broad stone slab. A woman came to the door; she looked at her in surprise, “Is Mr, Parker, the teacher, in?” asked Florida, with apparent unconcern, “No, Miss Owen,” replied the woman. ‘‘Not in?’ queried Florida in real alarm, while Virginia pressed her hands over her head and gasp- ed, with mingled grief and terror. ““Walk in, and I’ll tell you all about it,” said the woman, ushering them into a dreary parlor but half furnished. “A gentleman came for him,’ she added, as they seated themselves. ‘““A gentleman came for him?’’ echoed both Vir- ginia and Florida simultaneously. “And found him dreadful sick—so’t he didn’t sense nothing. I never saw anybody so sick. I thought he was dying.” ‘“Well—”’ ejaculated Florida. ““And so about two hours after that, a splendid city carriage come, and two men took him. They said they had orders, and were going to have proper doctor’s attendance, and so of course I said nothing. Thad all I could do to get him ready.” Florida looked at her sister. faint color had come into des ogege cheek—the color of hope. ‘““What kind of a looking man was he who first came?” asked Florida. “Oh! a tall man—a large man.” “Had he black hair and eyes?”’ “No, indeed—reddish hair, and reddish whiskers.”’ ‘* Who could it be?” “The others, miss, were common looking men; the first was a gentleman.” ‘‘ And did they say nothing of where they should take him ?”’ “Not a word, miss—I thought it was all right, of course. He—the first gentleman, p: “What can it mean?” murmured Florida, who had paid little or no heed to the woman’s hurried talk. ‘‘ Virginia, what can it mean?” “And how shall we ever find him?” queried Vir- . ‘* Where have they taken him?” “That Miss Spicer was a dreatful spiteful creetur,”’ said the woman who sat conjuring up all the ill- news she could think of. “She used to send him notes, and I guess they wa’n’t none of the pleasant- est, by the way they affected him. Then she would come round here and laugh and sing, and sometimes come right in while we were to tea. Then Mr. Parker —we always called him Mr. Parker, for short—would git up and go out. She was a terrible forward girl— and she did hate him.,”’ “Tt’s no use sitting here,” said Florida. “I think it’s rather strange you didn’t inquire the gentle- man’s name—or where they were taking him. “La! I didn’t think about the name; as to the other, I did ask more’n once, but they wouldn’t tell, SO crc aiid, Mina slain st ' ever mind, Virginia, we out some way,’ said Florida. Her sister could have kissed her for those words. At last her heart was touched, at last she was interested. Oh! yes, Virginia would not despair. At one moment she thought of telling Florida all—the next she shrunk from it with the impression that the news might be distasteful, and abate her interest in the matter. Still, the dead weight at her heart filled her with dread and gloom again. Who were the friends thus kind? Could Mr. Le Roy be one? He had seemed so much interested, that for a few moments there was no doubt in her mind, but that he was the prime mover in the affair. If he had not gone himself, he might have sent some one. Then the thought of his words flashed through her mind; ‘I always delegate my friends to do my charitable acts.” If it was indeed so, she should not be jong tn suspense, and she longed to fly home- ward that her anxiety might be set at rest. CHAPTER XII. id THE CLAIRVOYANT. ‘Did you say yon wanted a private room sir?” e best you have in the house.” ery high for such accommodations.” - Yes; one of as “We charge v ss “Charge a hun dollars a week, if you — oa y don’t keep me waiting. You will find your ! ie, i in and | A MAD MARRIAGE. money promptly paid—attendance, nursing, fuel everything. Itis not at alllikely the young man will | recover, and I wish him, while he lives, to have the best of everything.” “ Certainly, sir; we can please you, I think,” said the civil superintendent, who saw at once he was dealing with aman of means. ‘‘When do you re- quire the room?” *To-day—within an hour. The young man is suffering for the want of proper care. I have just sent for him, and, of course, you can accommodate yourself to a case of great emergency.” “Oh! yes, sir; but what name? e might as well | settle preliminaries now.” “* Certainly—yes;’’ and the man looked perplexed fora moment. ‘‘ Where is your register?’ It was pointed out. The rh i took his gold pen from his pocket with a business air, and wrote: “ William Garnet—aged twenty.” “Now lam ready to pay any sum you say, in ad- vance. “Thank you, sir; that is our rule with strangers. Fifty dollars in advance is the amount we expect.” It was paid. “Have the very best of medical attendance; you see in what a substantial way I be able to thank you;” and he smiled grimly. “If he wants any luxury, any clothing, get them for him, and berry i it tome; and remember, Iam very particu lar about the room. Let me see one.” “Tf you will excuse me; we are just rig ion the very best apartment in the house, and it woul be better for you to call to-morrow, by which time we can move the patient in. In the mean while, he shall have my own chamber, which communicates with the other, into which he can be wheeled easily.” “Very well; I'll take your word forit. [amin something of a hurry, and must leave the matter in your hands for the present. Do your best. The patient will be here in an hour. Good-morning.”’ ‘““Good-morning, sir,’ and the superintendent bowed him out. The man hurried away. He was noticeable only for a large frame, and long, reddish-yellow hair, that hung flake-like upon the collar of his coat. Be- sides that, he wore a beard, flaming red, and stoop- ed a little. Florida and Virginia reached home, still specula- ting upon the probabilities of the case. How to dis- cover the persons fa pti in the abduction—for it seemed like a forcible taking away—was now the hinge _— which their discovery must turn. The tall man with red hair! Florida searched her memory, but she could not think of any person of that de- scription who had ever made himself visible to her. Still it impressed her that Le Roy had something to do with the matter, and she determined to watch him'narrowly. Virginia had told her of her errand to him, and it seemed to her a little suspicious that he was ea, upon the moment to aid the young man, whom he could never have met before the night of the party, and of whose previous history he cer- tainly knew nothing. He did not come that night; the next day he called—called as he was sauntering by, he said. Virginia and Florida were both at home; but Florida, not being prepared to receive company, sent Virginia down in her stead. How handsome and smiling he looked—the thought did not form itself into words, but impressed the young girl. “My dear Miss Virginia—how is your health? I have not seen you since the day you honored me with a call, d by the way, 1 am happy to tell you that I have succeeded in procuring a fine situa- tion for your young friend. Come, what do you say to asalary of fourteen hundred, and a good deal of spare time besides?’ Virginia’s heart sunk. “Oh! Mr. Le Roy—then of course you don’t know. We both half hoped you would.” ‘*My child—you are enigmatical.” “T don’t wonder you don’t understand. We went out to see poor Parker, and we couldn’t find him.” ‘“What! Florida, too?” asked Mr. Le Roy, in a strange voice. “Yes, Florida, too. We found he had been taken away by somebody and—oh dear! where have they carried him?” : “Why, that is strange,’’ said Mr. Le Roy, thought- fully. “Pray, who are his friends?” “Y don't think he has any,” was Virginia’s reply. ‘“No friends! he must be wretched indeed,” said Mr. Le Roy, a dark shadow crossing his brow. “Tf you had known, Mr. Le Roy,” said Virginia innocently, ‘* you would have been his friend.” ‘* You think so?” “Tam sure of it—you are so kind, so good.” A singular smile flitted over the ee lips pe: Le Roy ; it was followed by an expression almost of anguish. At that moment Florida entered. His whole man- ner changed under the influence of her dark beauty. “TIT suppose Virginia has told you of our wild- goose chase this morning. I should not wish such poor success always to attend our efforts to do good. It is rather discow ng.”’ “Virginia has told me; itis a somewhat singular case, ould you get no clew whatever to the stran- gers? ‘‘None,” was her reply. ‘I can’t imagine what were their motives. I never knew that he had friends, personally interested, in the city.” “You might inquire at the hospitals.’ Virginia’s face brightened. “Yes, that might be done, if—it was worth while,” and she glanced at Virginia, half smiling, Virginia’s color fluctuated. “Tf you don’t find him there, why go to the first clairvoyant you know. ie can tell everything,” he said, with a mocking laugh, | | ears! He had forgotten the trial at the party—not so Florida. All at once her heart beat wildly—the power within her was at work. ‘Virginia!’ she said for the girl had fastened her eyes upon her in a startled way. At that moment the music-teacher was ushered in. He entered making a profound bow. Virginia drew a long breath as she met his glance; she walk- ed rapidly away to the music-room, whither Florida soon followed her, for Mr. Le Roy had excused him- self, and taken his leave. Florida entered the room quite silently, and sta- tioned herself at the window, a peculiar look in her eyes. For a time Virginia went on smoothly, but soon a restless mood seized her. She seemed not to hear the professor, but to be eee ay to something i away. Presently her fingers fell listless from the eys. ; “You are ill, or tired, miss,”’ said the professor, respectfully. “T really can’t go on with my lesson,” she said, earnestly, “Very well—as miss pleases, Shall I come to- morrow!” “Tt is foolish to give way to this feeling,’’ cried Virginia pettishly. ‘‘I will go on if you are not tired to death of me.’ ‘*Oh! no, miss,’’ and the professor gave a little admiring look. Again she pressed the keys, went on very well for some minutes—the same listlessness came over her; she turned slowly round, encountering the dark orbs of her sister, and saying, earnestly: “Florida, what do you wish of me?”’ “Nothing, child,” replied her sister, a flash of triumph lighting up her face. “If I trouble you I will go. It wants half an hour of my lesson-time.” She went out, smiling. Virginia resumed her playing, and this time she succeeded more to her satisfaction. Still she could not forget that og impression, and wondered if it was possible to be in the power of a human being, and whether those weird old stories of evil spirits holding the weak in bondage could by any possibility be true. As the hours wore on, her fortitude went with them. if Florida would only go out—if she herself had the courage to go out and search the hospitals—oh! to find some clew to poor Parker. If they were friends who had disposed of him, why did they not leave their names and tell what they intended to do? If ene- mies, what had become of him? She shuddered as her imagination Jed her to dark places—to the river with its silent bed beneath—to the great grave of a dissecting room—her brain grew dizzy with dread. Florida drove to the hospitals—there were three within a circuit of six miles—but she received no in- formation at either. They had taken no one of that name. Then, when several weeks had passed, she determined to profit by the suggestion of Le Roy, and put Virginia to sleep. A wet, uncomfortable evening without doors ex- cluded all callers. It was now fast verging into November. The weather had been unusually mild until to-day, and Florida, full of her project, had Fons about thoughtfully. Now she seated herself by e low table on which her work-box stood, and fumbled among spools and scissors, her eyes all the time traveling to a shaded corner, where Virginia ict hcg exhausted with sorrow, lay, pale and listless, e gas burned from a drop fashioned like an acacia, pure, white and lustrous. Within the cir- cumference of its brightest radiance the carpet glow- ed like beds of living roses, the rich furniture glisten- ed, and the marbles further off, the exquisite pictures, all took on a softer coloring and the warm tints of life. Every now and then Virginia moved uneasily— every now andthenshesighed, Florida, after a few moments of indecision, folded her hands before her on the table till they looked like the locked fingers of stone, and, fixing her dark eyes upon Virginia, she sat as rigid as if transformed into a statue, For some moments she was thus motionless—not a nerve stirring, nota lash of those large, still darkenin eyes moving—until a little fluttering’noise was heard. 4 was the folds of Virginia’s dress that divided the silence with the ticking of the French clock on the mantle-piece, : After another short silence, Virginia raised her head and looked out eagerly into the room. Then she lifted herself slowly, sat upright, gazing toward Florida with a pathetic, imploring look, and finally she came slowly toward her, with the question: oe you call me, Florida? What do you want of me Pe: down there,’ said Florida, motioning her to a seat. She obeyed, and sat Peecns | at her, like a helpless thing, fascinated and fearful. Shudder after shud- der passed over her frame. Once she cried, im- loringly: Pm What are you going to do with me, Florida? I’m cold!” Still, Florida did not answer, but, bending all the energies of her powerful will upon her passive sub- ject, she soon acquired the control she wished. Vir- nia closed her eyes as one in a deep sleep, and us rt almost smiling, as if mind and body were at rest. i inia,’’ said Florida, her voice terribly earnest, =y vane you to go and find Parker,” Ms ; The slight fingers of the young girl began to inter- twine; her face took on an almost superhuman look of interest, and she rocked her lody as if to the mo- tengo find his Virginia,” said Florid ; ‘Go find him, Virgin Ss orida, sternly, - “Tt’s very dark,” said Virginia, sities gt how wet the streets are! But I must go—on—on—I must find him. Here is gas-light—ever so many gas-lights —I shail get on finely now, I am not afraid—the watchmen are out. How it rains! how it rains!”
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She gathered herself up garments round chilled limbs. : “* Are you almost there?’’ asked Florida, trembling with excitement. “Tt’s very dark again. This lane is so muddy! Somebody is screaming further down. I am fright- ened.” * Nobody will harm er, and go right on.” “Oh! yes, Parker—poor Parker! I must find him —nobody knows where he is—l am i to him. Oh! what a large place—a square! ust 1 go over alone?” , ; “Yes, Virginia, God will protect you,” said Florida; ‘have no fear.” ned. ; “Oh! no, my fear is all gone,”’ said Virginia, while an expression of angelic peace brightened her face. ““t have lifted my heart te God. Ido not fear the darkness now. Thereare very few people here; it must be late,” ; There was along silence, during which only the expressive face spoke, in via ger smiles, or in a BESSY seriousness of aspect. Florida exclaimed at last: ** Well, Virginia, do Ph think you shall find him?” “Ohi yes,” she said, quickly. ‘I’m going right up to the hospital here.” “What hospital?” “T can’t see yet. There are lamps over the steps —a great many steps, and the windows are all light- ed. Now I’m going to the door. It’s a gloomy place,” she said, with asigh. “Oh! ever and ever so many beds, all in rows. Poor thing! And there’s another and another; oh! how sick and miserable! Somebody has just died—there’s a man dying; I—” ‘*Never mind,’ said Florida, shudderingly; “try and find Parker.” ““T wonder if he’s here?” She began to turn her head earnestly from side to side, looking scrutinizing- ly, and now and then sighing heavily. “T’ve been all through the sick wards—I don’t see him. But I think he’s here, somewhere.” “o all over the building,’”? whispered Florida, who was almost terrified at the wonderful exhibition of this subtle agent of her mind. “The doctor is just going up-stairs,” said Virginia, a new light breaking over her face. “Follow him,” said Florida. “T’m tired,’’ responded Virginia. “Only a little longer!” Florida cried. ‘‘Think! you_ may find Parker—dear Parker!’ There was a world of tenderness in her voice. “Yes, yes—now you don’t worry me. I'll go after the doctor.” There was a long pause; then, with uplifted hands, she cried out, her face brilliant with joy, “Oh! T’ve found him! Pve found him!” ‘Are you sure?” queried Florida. voice laughed music; “sure? oh! don’t I know Parker?” and her hand began to wave as if she were stroking down soft, silken hair. ‘* How does he look?” queried Florida, with a half curious glance. “Oh! so white! so pale! so wasted away!’’ The tears began to start. ‘‘The doctor is speaking to him now; now he is giving him something in a glass goblet from a silver spoon. Oh! Parker, dear Park- er! how he has suffered!” _ ; : “What kind of a place is he in, Virginia—one of the wards?” “Oh! no—a beautiful room, with blue paper, and white lace curtains over blue silk. A beautiful room. He is very comfortable, for his pillows are so large and downy. Then there are some alabaster images opposite, and a little glass fountain on a table, anda glass ship—why, how odd!’ she cried, sudden riage changing her description into exclama- ion, What is odd, Virginia?” The doctor calls him Mr. Garnet. Why! it is certainly Parker. 1 can not be mistaken.” “They have changed his name to prevent his being found out,” murmured Florida. 41.2 8S, that is it,” Virginia said, having overheard; that must be it. Oh! dear Parker! I wish I might stay and nursehim. It is surely my right;’’ her lip quivered again. Can you find out what hospital it is?” asked Florida, hurriedly. . virginia seemed looking round for a moment, “There isa Bible on the table,” shesaid. “ Yes, it is pieated on the cover—‘ The Grove Hospital!’ ” orida hastily wrote it down beside the name you, Virginia. Think of Park- “Sure?” her ve that had been given as that of the sick man. That will do. You may come back now,” said Florida ently. Still, and it was not ; irginia seemed iinwilltag. without great effort that Florida could draw her mind from what was impressed thereon. She led her to her old nook, and there, after some difficulty, eee her. rginia looked up, startled; gazed about her, pressed her hand Sher forehead confusedly, then murmured, looking in Florida’s face: pid looked 80 haggard, that florida turned her face he loo so very Wea rreat tria), new where Parkey was!" and she burst into tears. “Virginia, yo ick if i i way” said a. be sic you mourn in this can’t help it—I can’t help it. Sometimes I r I think he may be dead; and if he is, oT ine eS is there OTS ae sanacchali i our go. 0 bed, Virginia,” sai Florida, hersterhest wows = if she were gathering | A MAD MARRIAGE, | Her sister said no more, but quietly left the room, still weeping. 2 The rain beat against the window, and the street lamp twinkled drearily through the darkness. Florida sat down to muse upon the wonderful exhi- bition in which she had been prime actor. Was it true? She had the means of proof in her own hands. ‘* Grove street Hospital,—Mr. Gurnet.” At any rate, she would soon know. And if he was really there, this wonderful power might—she shud- dered. Unscrupulous as she could be, she yet shrunk from the deed but half contemplated. “But, if Virginia should find Mr. Dudley more suited to her tastes, her position—and undoubtedly she will—it will be better for her, and better for us all. This very evening’s work has proved how weak she is, how submissive. She will mourn for awhile, but after a time forget.” CHAPTER XIV. FLORIDA’S VISIT—A STARTLING DISCLOSURE. “Docror,”’ called Parker, one evening, some six weeks from the date of his arrival, “lam getting stronger, am I not?”’ as Something stronger, but you are weak yet, Mr. ‘“‘Mr, Parker Hillman, if you please,’’ said Parker. “You will persist in calling me Garnet.” “That is the name on the book, and according to the ordinances of the house, you are Mr. Garnet, while you stay here!” ‘“Oh! well, it doesn’t matter, particularly—but, doctor, can I write a letter?” “Not yet,” was the reply. ““Tmust!” eried the young man. .“It will reduce my fever quicker than all your medicines.” ‘** Not yet,” said the doctor, decidedly. ‘‘I can not allow it.” ‘Well, doctor, you will at least tell me why Iam here, and who brought me.”’ “You are here to be taken care of,” was the re- ply. “As to who brought you, I can not tell. The | seen has not been near you since, and we only 1ear from him by letter.” ‘* But what does he sigr himself?” queried the sick man. “That Ido not know,” replied the doctor, “as I have seen none of the letters.” “ Has no one called here, then?—no lady?” **No one.” “Alas! what do they think? murmured the pir 2 man, sighing. i ““The nurse will be in immediately,” said the doc- as he left the room. What will Virginia think?’ he cried in a low voice, clasping his hands. ‘“‘And to whom can I be indebted for this elegance, these comforts? Never was I so housed before. If I only knew!’’ The door opened. The nurse, a portly woman, en- tered with an air of a ba “*T don’t know whethe: “though I haven’t had any orders. tor, “A lady!” his cheeks flushed in an instant. He half rais.d himself, then sunk back, exhausted. “There now—it won’t do, I see that,” said the nurse, in her severest tone. “Oh! yes—l’m allright now. I promise you I'll be very oy I wonder who it is?” “The dear knows,” replied the nurse. ‘“‘She came ina splendid carriage, but she wouldn’t give her name.” “Oh! if it ts but Virginia,” whispered Parker.. “Tell herto come. I’m sure it will make me better, just to see a face I have known.” - The nurse went out; in less than a moment she re- turned, and following her was Florida. He looked coger beyond. His eye brightened as he saw her, but dulled again, as he saw 7ot Virginia. “ Parker!’’ she exclaimed, in a voice that she tried to make even. ‘‘Did Virginia send you?” he asked. “*No;”’ her voice grew calm in an instant. “Oh! Florida—didn’t Virginia send one word—one token?” ‘Virginia knew nothing of my coming.” She touched his pale forehead, she smoothed back the light hair. “Thank you; how soothing that is,” he murmur- ed, dreamily. ‘ Florida, I’m sure to come—I always thought you disliked me.” “*T never disliked you,” said Florida, hoarsely, still eagerly stroking back the soft locks. ‘‘ But it is not in my nature, perhaps, to show a great deal. of tenderness. Your head feels better now, does it not?” “Oh! a great ceal; there seems a m etic in- fluence in the motion—it sends a thrill of rest through me. You are very kind. Doyou know how I came here?” ** You were brought here, I suppose,” said Florida, smiling. “Yes, but by whom? Who takes so strong an in- terest in me?—For these things can not be ha? for nothing. Iam puzzled to know. Are you wholly in the dark, too?” ’ “Wholly in the dark, Parker. We went out to see you, hearing how sick you were, and you had been taken away by strangers.” “ “We ’—you say; was Virginia with you?” “Yes,” replied Florida, shortly, her face clouding, though she still pressed his forehead lightly. “And she—of course, she was disappointed.” “We were both disappointed.” He closed his eyes for a moment. ‘““Tt seems so good to see you,”? he resumed; * my | you said. nerves are so quiet now! Your toueh is healing.” Florida aeniteds? : “Ts Virginia—well?” a a ee oe ee ee oe ee ee ee ne ee rite quite right,” she said, | ut there’s a. | | lady ealled, and wishes to see Mr. Garnet.” at ea 7" os ou’re very kind | | dowiy. | sponsibility. If she comes to see you witl ““ Yes,*’ said Florida. “Will you bring her with you if you come again?” “Tf itis posslble,”’ replied Florida, still pressing the waxen forehead. He closed his eyes hig an almost infantile smile lingered along his lips. He slept—his repose seemed so complete that Florida sat and gazed upon him, unconscious how swiftly the time was passing. Once she bent down and touched the white brow with her lips. He smiled in his sleep, a “Oh! if he would smile on me that way when he wakes!’ she cried, with a passionate sob—‘ but he will, he shall.” She li:ted her hand from his forehead. The motion aroused him. ‘‘T am very impolite to go to sleep in the presence of a lady, but my weakness must be my apology,” he said. “You need not apologize. How do you feel now?” “Oh! strong—delightfully strong,” he said, ‘I 1 seem to have. passed wish you wculd come often. You a whole night in sleep and pleasant dreams. have done me good. How I shall write now!” ““ Write!’ exclaimed Florida, in amazement. “*Yes; don’t mention it, but I bribe the nurse to bring me my manuscript after a certain hour, and I am getting along famously. Two hundred pages written already.” ‘“You do wrong,” said Florida. “Don’t say that,’ he responded, with a pleading look. ‘I can not be dependent. Will: you tell Vir- ginia that my book is half written?” “Tf you wish it,” said Florida, Bes Please do so, then; it will give her pleasure, lam sure.”’ “I must go now, Parker; it is later than I thought. Good-morning.”’ He held her hand, murmuring his thanks for her kindness. Then he carried it to his lips. Florida’s heart beat with a strange mingling of love and pain. Her voice choked as she said good-by again. “What a mean fellow I have been to call her an ogress!’ whispered Parker. ‘‘I wish she were my sister, I would ask her to sit by me from morning till night. To a true sister it would be no sacrifice. Florida drove rapidly home. [ On her next visit to Parker, she found him quite ale and dejected. He was sitting up, however, and er presence seemed to give him instant strength, “Do you know what worries me and-takes away the vitality I need?’’ he asked. She shook her head. “The constant desire to get well, and find out who are these friends so careful of me; and the disap- pointment, that is more than I can tell, of not re- ceiving letters from Virginia.” “Was Virginia, then, so dear a friend? and can not I take her place?” He started, violently, and crimsoned; his breath rew short even to gasping, but aftera few moments e controlled himeelf. “You do not know,” he said, calmly, though his a emotion just tinged his voice, *t you do not ow what Virginia was to me,” : “And coulé it be possible that she professed—” she had touched delicate ground, and, like a woman, shrunk back from the subject. “ Florida—Virginia, 1 had hoped, loved me very: much,” he said, mournfully, .“Then she is changed, Parker—she permits the visits of a lover.” “A lover!” he exclaimed, his white face fone ane et “Did I hear you aright, Florida? r 9 7 “It iseven so, Parker; think no more of her—she is no longer true.” “No longer true—good God! She, she my wee! no longer true. It is a lie, woman—false as hell!” Florida shrunk from the glittering eyes, the pant- ing bosom, the wild demeanor. But all these affect- ed her es nothing to the words—‘‘my wife!” They sent her heart-blood surging back in waves of fire. She had never dreamed of this—no, not for a mo- ment. Now she saw as in a flash the key to Vir- ginia’s strange words. “Your wife, Parker?” “Yes, Florida—oh! unsay those eruel words; my very heart is bleeding. See, you have broken my heart, and itis bleeding upon my lips.” | Florida shrunk again, both conscience and terror stricken, as he wiped the crimson life-tide away. Once in possession of that knowledge, she had noth- | ing more to do with him—nothing more to do with | herself, save to trample upon the wild love that had burned in her bosom for years for him, Honorable, inasmuch as the husband of another was sacred to that other in her eyes, she would say nothing more | tender, nothing more loving in the least degree; but strangely mingled feelings chased each other through her breast—it wis best jor him to die away | from. Vir, inia. She could nut yet bear the thought that her sister should rejoice in what was denied her. “She had intended to use her power upon the weak frame—to subdue that will to hers—to wrest his love, as it were, from her gentle sister—but nc’ | now. Though the former was sin, as surely as the latter, the difference in degree appalled her. No— | She wouid leave him—at once and fcrever. What i she might do she knew not; for the present she | should do nothing.” All this flashed through her mind with lightning- | like rapidity, and almost before he had displayed the alarming tokens of his disease. “ Parker, | did not dream of this,” she said, slow- ly, like one coming out of a vision. . “Oh! if ye irginia false? My wife false?” “Twill take it back, Parker,” Florida said ““T will throw the matter upon hol- her sole ae ; ; 3 ou have any love for me, unsay what | re- the — eas " » Lord ee: os Pine |
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16 ao = weok, I absolve her from any desire to love or feel interest in another.” “Tt is terrible to have this Seen to feed up- on,’ said Parker, lying back, exhausted. ‘“‘Ihoped every thing from roteiod should die, deprived of hope. It is all soul and body have had to live upon for many a day. Don’t killmeoutright. Tell her to writc—oh! send ine a line from her. No human be- ing was ever loved as I love her.” Florida's rebel spirit rose. Anger was slowly but surely taking the place of pity. ow had Virginia dared to act thus in direct defiance of her wishes her knowledge? The old hard hate came up an¢ clouded the right that was faintly battling in her heart for supremacy, He was peat: stigmatized, un- der the ban of illegitimacy. if she, possessing his love, could have overlooked all this, feeling him heart and soul another’s altered the entire aspect of the matter. Her husband he might be—she shrunk from calling him brother. Even at that moment, Horace Dudley was telling his love to Virginia. Her cheek was blanched to snow-whiteness when he spoke. She held out whiter hands, aghast. ‘Oh! Mr. Dudley, have mercy, have pity!” she cried. ‘ {can not love you—you must not love me, T—am already a wife.” F He flung at her a strange look, almost of despair —then arose and walked hastily across the room, She, nearly fainting, frightened at her own words, dreading she knew not what for her long conceal- ment, drooped forward, till her face leaned on her hands, and the tears rained through her fingers. “Virginia.” The voice soothed while it roused her. She lifted her frightened face. “ell me all, Virginia, and why this has not been known. Let me be now as a brother to you, my poor, timid, trembling dove.” And, resting with a sweet confidence, as new as it was strange, upon his friendship, she told him all. “T see you are afraid of this sister, Florida, She has held you in iron bonds.” “You will forgive me,” said Virginia, holding out her hand. A spasm crossed his face. _ T have nothing to forgive, my dear; on the con- trary, as an honorable man, [ feel bound to aid you by every means in my power. We must find this husband of yours. There is some secret reason why he has been spirited away. Who knows,” and he tried to laugh, ‘‘ but we may find him heir to wealth and honors? Such things have eri gi sim “You deserve to be loved,” cried Virginia, in im- assioned tones. “Oh! from my very heart of nearts, I thank you, my dear friend, my dear brother!’ 4 ’ “There is a carriage stopping,’’ he said, turning away to conceal a manly sorrow. “Tt is Florida,” cried Virginia. “Then we will go and tell her the story.” TI can not—I can not,” cried Virginia, wildly. “Ter hice! Poect would kill me.” *““Not while Iam by,” said Horace Dudley, in the same tender voice; ‘‘ come.” At that moment Florida entered. She seemed terribly discomposed, and started for the door as she saw the two advancing, throwing an almost evil look upon Virginia. : “ Wait one moment, please,’ said Dudley, quietly. “This little girl has something to confess.” “T know,’ began Florida, hurriedly, then paused. “No, you don’t know how wrongly I have acted. Oh, Florida! forgive me; 1—I—” , ¢ ith aa Me ined pe eantet!: asked Dud- () Eh , thoug. voice faltered. ‘ Ye Fou mean that you are Parker’s wife. I have found that out,” said Florida, coldly, and hurried from the room, Horace Dudley hastened to his friend, Le Roy. Virginia flew to her chamber. Florida sought her own apartment. “T will not tell ber!’ she cried, her whole being co! sed with secret agony—* she shall not know. Let die—let him die.” But all that dreary nee she saw Parker in her dream accusing her as murderer, and with piti- ful voice pleading to see Virginia only once—ouly once before he died. She could not bear this bur- den, and, early in the morning, she rep. ired to Vir- ginia’s chamber, waked her from her troubled sleep and told her to prepare for an early visit to. Parker. On the same wa she replied to an offer of marriage, and crowned the hopes of Le Roy by naming an early day for the wedding, only stipulating that it should be entirely private. Virginia came home an hour after she had sent the note. She walked pale and tearless into Florida’s dressing-room, and to her inquiring look said, wildly: He was not there;” then, with a hysterical cry, she went into her own do you mean, Virginia? Not that he—” “He is gone—went last night. Was taken away in a carriage. But Mr. Dudley will help me,” she cried, passionately; ‘‘he says there is a deadly wrong somewhere, and there must be. Florida, have pity—tell me if you know.” “T do not know, Virginia.” “If I could have gone yesterday!” she cried—and Florida stole quietly out of the apartment. im: CHAPTER XV. FLORIDA HUMBLED, page so. ald Hori serine oO orida, enterin Owen sat, She was aresced was a gray, cold morning, and snow the room where Mrs. the night. Florida was unusually pale, but. she |. irits, smiled and seemed in sp “What is it, Florry? * r in a traveling suit. It had fallen in spoge. 4 ‘Not there?’ cried Florida, followi her. What | seconds. pa Hake “Tam married, mother.” : “ Married?” “Yes, to Mr. Le Roy. ing, at half past + even.”’ “And where is Virginia?’ cried Mrs. Owen, a feeble terror in her voice. “Virginia? down-stairs, I suppose;” said Florida, quietly taking off her bonnet. “ Are you going to stay here?’ queried Mrs. Owen, who could not quite comprehend how her step- daughter stood. “Oh! yes, for a month or two, at least. We have decided to be very unfashionable, and give up the tour. I shall arrange some way for Virginia and you to be together, when we leave, as I only took the house fora year. It is for you to say whether you will stay here or go to the country.” ‘“‘In the country—and will Virginia be with me? She end I together? Oh! I will go back to the old home where Thomas took me. You will not care? ‘*No, suit yourself,” said Florida, who had grown somewhat humbler; ‘‘if you wish to return to the cottage, it will be ready for you by spring.” She hummed a little as she went out, but stopped as the door closed, drew a long. regretful sigh, then hurried down-stairs. On the table in the room below stood some beautiful loaves of wedding cake. A gentleman had been talking with her husband, and seemed trying to avoid her as he was passing out. She encountered him, however, and her husband in- troduced him. She noticed that his hair was very red and very long. “He is my confidential clerk,” said Mr. Le Roy, smilingly; ‘“‘not particularly handsome, but a very capable man. ell, my love, we have stolen a march on all our friends—-what will they say?” “It matters little to me,’’ she replied, somewhat coldly, smiling nevertheless; and he seemed so entirely satisfied with his beautiful bride, that he did not notice her apparent apathy. Nearly two months had elapsed, and Mr. Le Roy had gone to attend to his estate, promising not to be absent over a week. Florida had grown a little thinner, and wore an uneasy, suspicious air at times, that made her seem unlike her former self. One evening, Virginia and Mr. Dudley sat in one of the small drawing-rooms with Florida. The latter was expecting her husband home on the following day. ithout, the wind was high, but the sky was clear and full of stars. Virginia sat in a low rock- ing-chair. Ducley held the orentng paper beneath the gas, but he was not reading. Some counter in- fluence called off his thoughts. He glanced now and then at Virginia, who seemed fragile as a spirit, so much had her great sorrow worn upon her. His look was very sad—he seemed to catch the shadow resting on her face. A deen sigh, louder than she meant it should be, broke the silence. Both Florida and Dudley started, and looked inquiringly toward Virginia, who had covered her face with both hands. An expression of I was married this morn- pity troubled Florida’s features. “Virginia,’’ she said, ‘‘I can help you find Parker, ge to her feet; her hands e young girl sprung to her feet; her hands were outstretched. The mute appeal was enouga. “Sit down here, Virginia, and let me tell you something. I found him by putting you asleep.” Virginia looked her wonder. ‘ You are a clairvoy- ant?’ ‘“ Any thing to find him.” “Sit perfectly passive then,’’ said Florida. In a few moments Virginia’s head rested against the back of the easy-chair. A beautiful peace rested on her face, “Now,” said Florida, ‘‘ go and find Parker.” “Tt is a long way,” murmured Virginia. ‘Tt is very long,” she said, after awhile, drawing a long breath. en looking up, she whispered: ‘‘ How See the stars are! I think they look brighter out ere.’ Florida and Dudley so se lances. “It is the country,” said Virginia, solemnly; ‘‘ the wide, free country. Oh! those farm-houses look so cheerful—there is dancing in that one. It is ve lonely now—what a ways they brought him! Isha soon be there.” ‘* Have you found the house?’ queried Florida. “T see it,” she replied. “It is low and dark—oh! yes, there’s a light at the side. Yes, he is there!” she added, cheerfully. ‘‘He is in bed, sleeping. And—why! Mr. Le Roy is here.” Florida grew pale as death. Dudley moved as if he would go away. “Keep your seat, Mr. Dudley,’’? whispered Florida. ‘*Ts any one else there?’ re They are both Yes, a man with long, red bair. burning letters. Mr, Le Ro. from his other wife.” Florida grew yet whiter—her eyes like balls of fire. ** You cannot believe in this,” said Dudley. -*T do,” Florida responded, her lips closing. “Can you hear what they say?’ she continued, bepgerely, ““Mr. Le Roy says he must keep him concealed, now, for Florida would never forgive him.” “For what?” queried Florida, while Dudley arose and moved away. ““T don’t know,” was the response. “ Listen—listen,”’’ cried Florida, in a low tone. “ He says without doubt he is his son.” ‘““Who—who?” gasped Fiorida. “Tt must be Parker,” articulated Virginia, slowly. Fiorida fell back, utterly powerless, for a few When she moved again, the blood had rushed over her face and receded again, leaving her of a more deathly pallor than before. f ia, are you sure it is Le Roy?” “Sure? don’t I see him? And now he looks up. One of the letters is sliding through a crevice in the floor, It has gone down, Mr. Le Roy is trying to y is reading one. Itis He is It is out of sight. recover it. tayghing.«. **Look at Parker, Virginia.” “*Poor Parker!” sighed Virginia, “ce Wh iad “ He is not taken as good care of as he ought to be. I wish I could nurse him.” “Ts he very sick?”’ “Oh, very,” said Virginia, her voice tremulous, “Why not ask her where it is?” said Horace Dud- No, he cannot. ley. “‘T have no need,’ was her reply, with a sickl smile. ‘ Virginia, you may come back.’’ A few ef- forts and the young girl awoke. Ior some mo- ments she was bewildered, but gradually she remem- bered. ‘‘Did I find him?” ‘*Yes; be composed, we shall know all about it in a day or two,” said Florida. Dudley and. Virginia waited patiently. Le Roy came home. Florida did not meet him. He sought through the house, and found her in a retired room. ‘* What is the matter, Florida?” he asked, noticing her changed manner, ““Why did you not bring pour son with you?” she asked, mere him full in the face. “My son?” he crimsoned—moved confusedly. “Yes, your son,’’ ccntinued Florida. ‘‘ You will find that evasion is useless with me. Night before last, you were in a certain farm-house. Do you ask proof, that [know? You read letters that were ad- dressed to you thus—‘ My dear husband ’—but they were not from me. Those letters, the most of them, ou burned. One fell within a crevice in the board- ing of the floor—it remains there yet.” ’ The guilty man started back. “Your friend was with you,’ she continued— FE your confidential clerk—the man with the red nair.”’ Speechless with amazement, Le Roy sat the very picture of guilty cowardice. “How in heaven’s name did you know?” he cried. “No matter how I knew,” continued Florida. “This thing must be explained in a satisfactory manner, or we wust part. You were not married to his mother.” ; 7 ‘Yes, thank God, we were married,” said Le Roy, ina voice that showed his humiliation, ‘‘I have not that sin upon my conscierce.” * And is she living?’ cried Florida. ‘““No—no; poor soul! she died, years ago.” ‘And you were unmanly enough to desert her,” exclaimed Florida, in a voice of scorn. ‘Spare me, Florida, spare me! I left her, but at times managed to keep sight of her, and still supply her wants. Oh, Florida, I was heartless. But I yearned to that boy when I saw him. I had lost ht of him for five years. But I loved you—be- lieve me, Florida—as I never loved woman before— no, never, God is my witness. I deserve to suffer, however. Ifthe knowledge of this wretched fact steels your heart against me, Imust submit. It will be but a just recompense.” His voice was so utterly heartbroken, that F®rida was softened. She had be; to love him before this sad revelation; her pride, not her heart, con- demned him now, for it was better than she had feared. Wickedly as he had done, it had not been what she dreaded above all other things—the knowl- ooge that he had deliberately deceived and ruined a helpless woman. He pleaded for forgiveness; his devotion, his humility could not but impress her with the conviction that he repented, and Florida, though grieved to the heart and utterly mortified consented at last to forgive him. It was arranged that Parker should be taken to the cottage, and laced under the care of his devoted wife, w ile Le oy and Florida went to England. ne more remove, and Parker breathed again the ure air of the little Connecticut village. It was in the early rg» The good news had revived him somewhat. e cottage was a little Eden, for the gardener had given months of unremitting care to its outside culture. His wife had died, and Flori- da still wished him to remain and superintend the qounds. Mrs. Owen was childishly happy, now at she had Virginia all to herself; and the young matron seemed to grow beautiful daily in the midst of her abundant cares. Now it was known that Par- ker had found his father, that disgrace no longer at- tached to his name, that he was heir to a large for- tune, the shallow gossips of the village were silenced. Madge Spicer, in fact, was thrown into a fever through sheer shame, and her father found himself powerless, and, what was worse, heartily despised as his villainy leaked out. ‘‘ The dear book,” the work of love born of suffer- ing, was out at last, and bringing in a golden har- vest. After the cruel unrest of years, peace, plenty and bey lingered lovingly around him. The birds sung for him—the flowers bloomed by the pretty cottage door—the river flashed its silver in the dis- tance, all bright pictures framed for him, Dear friends often came (among them Dudley), for it was a true paradise there. Florida wrote them she was well—let us hope, happy. ; THE END, WAVERLEY LIBRARY. 30 Tar BouqueT Giri. ay sate Penne. 31 A Map Marriace. By Mary A. Dennison. 32 MIRIANNA, THE Prima Donna. By A, Southworth. 33 Tue THREE Sisters. By Alice Fleming. A new issue every week. For sale by all Newsdealers, price five cents each or sent, penises aid, on receipt of six cents. yy B ABLE AND AMS, Publishers 98 William street, N. Y.