Democratic Sentinel, Volume 9, Number 42, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 20 November 1885 — HAROLD'S MISTAKE. [ARTICLE]

HAROLD'S MISTAKE.

BY LIZZIE VAN DERVORT.

A bright moonlight night and a gay party. Peals of laughter in all keys float through the keen frosty air as sleigh-load after sleigh-load drive away from a brightly lit mansion, until the street seems filled with the dashing sleighing party. One, a small shell-like creation drawn by a single black horse, leads the party. Its occupants are Mr. Harold Greystone and his sister, Miss Nellie. Mr. Greystone, after wrapping his sister in the fur robes, devotes himself to putting his horse at a speed that promises to leave the remainder" of the party in the distance. For some reason, Mr. Greystone does not seem to share the exuberant spirits of the rest of the party. On she contrary, he seems a good deal put out, to say the least, and his usually good-humored countenance is overcast. His heavy black brows are drawn together, and in spite of the sweeping mustache one can note the firm expression that lurks around the month. Altogether he looks very grim, Miss Nellie thinks as she turns herself and surveys him. She is very small herself, and being buried to the chin in wraps, it is a work of time to turn herself sufficiently to see his face. Noting its expression, she began cautiously: “Harold, ain’t you driving the horses too fast? See, the others are away behind.” “We will arrive all the sooner for supper, sis,” was the reply. “0, well, but the oysters are not put on to cook yet, so we needn’t hurry on that score.” Harold reluctantly pulled up his horse a little, and, looking back, he growled: “That fool, Douglass, will dawdle enough for the whole party. It’s a grand wouder he would consent to drive a load. However, if my Lady Blanche wanted to go in a load he would not object. It’s a mystery to me how as sensible a gal as Blanche Leslie can tolerate such an idiot in her presence. But, pshaw, there is no mystery about it. If a fellow has a full purse it makes no difference whether he possesses any brains or not. G’lang, Jim,” slapping the horse savagely with the reins. “Harold, did you ask Blanche to go with you?” “No, by Jove, I didn’t. lam not quite such a fool as that. My Lady Blanche will find that she cannot twist every one around her finger like Douglass.” “I don’t think you need be so hard on Blanche. She isn’t crazy after rich people at all. We are not rich, and I am sure she is always goodness itself, though you do put on awful airs and treat her like she was the veriest stranger. As for Mr. Douglass, almost everyone likes him, if he is a little soft. But Blanche isn’t the least bit in love with him.” * “No, not in love with him, but his pock-et-book. I never supposed she was in love with him.” “Harold Greystone, I am ashamed of you. You know there isn’t a word of truth in what you say. There, I am glad we have got there at last. I feel chilly in spite of wraps.” Harold lifted his charge from his sleigh and placed her on the steps of she hotel, where the party have planned a dance, to be followed by an oyster supper. The other sleighs drive up, and directly the hotel is aMve with the merry party. The evening is heartily enjoyed by all, with the exception, perhaps, of Harold Greystone. The sight of Miss Leslie smilingly accepting the attentions offered her by young Douglas rendered the evening anything but pleasant to him. It is true he had no right to complain. Nellie was right when she said his own pride had erected the barrier between them. The fact that while Miss Leslie’s parents are grown wealthier within late years, his own had grown poorer, was obstacle enough to Harold. He did not fancy the name of fortune-hunter. He told himself she had totally forgotten the old days when they were on an equal footing, and, no doubt, *he was ashamed to remember her preference for himself. But he would not pre•6ume on that now. Douglass might win her, and he would not lay a straw in his way. All this and a great deal more ran through his head as he. gaily talked and danced with a particular rival of Blanche’s, who seemed •determined to bring him to her feet. When at last the party concluded to turn their steps homeward, Harold seized his own particular charge from a crowd of hooded and muffled figures and speedily had her in the sleigh, completely enveloped in the robes. “Now, sis, remember you are not to move or hardly speak on the way home, else you will be laid up with an awful cold and have a red nose, and then you can not see your dear Fred when he arrives to-morrow. After dancing so much and eating a warm eupjier you must be doubly careful, and if I hear a sneeze, home you go for the rest of the winter, my child;” which cheerful remarks he emphasized by a gentle ■shaking. “You need not be absolutely dumb. Just nod your head to signify your approval of my remarks. Did you have a good time?” A perceptible moving back and forth was Jus answer.

“Yes, even- one had a splendid time, myself in particuSir. I eDtirtained myself watching Douglas play the clown for Miss Leslie’s amusement. He did it to perfection. By George, I should have thought so many sweet smiles would have made her sick. Shows how much a woman can stand when she, makes up her mind to it, and I suppose her mind in made up, don’t you?” A decided negative is indicated by his companion’s movements. “Humph! I firmly believe she intends to marry Softhead (his own name for young Douglass) sooner or later, probably sooner. Why don’t you think she does, sis? You can unloosen that shawl or scarf, or whatever it is, enough to let me hear the sound of your voice. I’m getting lonesome. What did you say?” *T don't think Blanche likes Mr. Douglass very well,” was the barely audible reply. “The deuce you don’t! O, well! but you are mistaken, I know. Don’t she show him all sorts of favors, dancing with him repeatedly, even giving him the dance she used to always give to me and that I should have enjoyed so much to-night?” “Did you ask her for it?” murmured the figure at his side. “Ask her for it? Not I. Though, to tell the truth, Nellie, I was awfully tempted to. If she had vouchsafed me one friendly glance I would undoubtedly have made a fool of myself.” Some violent emotion seemed to he agitating his companion, and her struggles attracted the attention of Mr. Greystone; he shook her vehemently. “Now, Nellie, I positively forbid you taking off a single 6hawl,” andhe attempted to readjust her wraps, but the lady resisted his well-intended efforts and in a trice had torn the veil from her face and displayed to his astonished gaze the laughing countenance of Blanche Leslie. “Pray, go on with your remarks, Mr. Greystone. Your style, though a little peculiar, ih nevertheless highly entertaining. I don’t know when I have enjoyed a ride so much.” “Ain’t you afraid we shall upset if we don’t keep to the road?” for the horse was following its own sweet will and meandering along the roadside in an aimless fashion, while his driver stared at his companion in utter amazement. “What—an—utter—idiot I have been,” his power of speech coming back to him by jerks. “Where is Nellie, and how on earth did you get here, Blauche?” “0, Nellie wanted to ride home with the load—l think she was tired of your company, sir—and I hadn’t the heart to refuse her when she wanted me to take her place.” “And you have been listening to all my idiotic talk! What must you think of me? Can you ever forgive me for the way I have talked, and,” laying his hand on her arm, “tell me, Blanche, that you loathe and despise that fellow Douglass.” “But I do not loathe and despise Mr. Douglass. On the contrary, I consider him one of the pleasantest young men I know. But what do you wantrito talk of Mr. Douglass for? Are you so infatuated with him that you cannot talk of anything else?” “I infatuated with him! I heartily detest the man. I wanted to knock him down every time he looked at you to-night. Blanche, darling,” slipping his arm adroitly around her waist, “tell me, do you care even a little for me? Are you perfectly indifferent to me, when I have worshiped you all my life?” “It would serve you right if I hated you, and I don’t see why I don't, after the way you have treated me—never to come near me or speak to me at all,” with a most reproachful glance. “But you don’t hate me, do you Blanche?” “No—l don’t,” she confessed. Mr. Greystone’s horse lagged in a most unaccountable fashion the last half of the way home, but eveiything must have been very harmonious, for the first time Mr. Greystone met Mr. Douglass, he hailed him with iflieh hearty good humor as to fill that gentleman with wonder, and he marveled greatly what had come over that gruff fellow, Greystone. “By Jove, ho never used to hardly speak to a fellow.”