Saturday Evening Mail, Volume 4, Number 9, Terre Haute, Vigo County, 30 August 1873 — Page 6

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A THE GAJWEy-QA TIC. Somebody came to tb® garden-([st e,

WhUe a soft h»Dd m»t« Ant! a blackbird piped to hit listening mate in a language an rich oar*.

Somebody blushed at the gai den-gate-A^rsy^fssir-•»»'«

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And the bWkbird paused on the ln)fc

Somebody spoke at tlw gnnlen-gate, Atf.tiM Hhulows b«(tan to fall And the rose look«*i up,though the hour iijg blushed piuk on the wall.

HwMrt head felt at the garden-gate On an arm that was strong and true Xud a clit rrup of Up* wa* heard to state

What words refused to do.

From the Galaxy—September.!

Summer days at Newport.

LUCT II. HOOrBR.

I arn sitting to-day at tbo window of a friend's villa in Newport. It is an August day, and the morning is bright and cloudless, with a sky all gold and azure and a sea all sapphire and silver. But within an hour an easterly wind has sprung up, and on its foft wings has cotiio ibo s6& mist, wblcb} JLXCO ft mighty enchanter, baa blotted out oceau aud sky and shore, and has shut in the dainty house with close gray wall, which hides from my gaze every vestigo of the fair summer city by the Ma. It does net matter I need no bodily eyes wherewith to behold the glories of Newport, for the glories on which my inner vision may dwell belong wholly to the past. Upon the folds of that dense, dim veil, memory paints with vivid and unfading tints another scene, reproduces the faces of other actors, awakens (magician then, not artist only) the sound of long silenced voiccs, and brings back to me that which once was Newport.

The time is 1859 the scene the Ocean Houso, then glowing in renovated freshness and gay with goodly company. Korner tfc Birch, proprietors of the Clarendon Hotel in Now York, had taken the great caravansary under their charge and their skillful management had revived the waning popularity of this once world-famous house. Cottages and villas and seaside palaces were comparatively rare at Newport in those days, and ou that special summer tho four great hotels, the Fillmore, theBellevue, the Atlantic, and the Ocean were all crowded, but especially the last. Like a gigantic boa-constrictor, the Ocean Houso had engulfed its summer meal and was gorged to repletion. Beauty and fashion, wit and wisdom, cold and folly, all found their representatives In the latter days of that charming August under its spacious roof. There were Southern belles and Northern beauties, fair Western girls with the gold of their native sunsets shining In their silken hair, sharp-eyed Eastern maidens with much science hidden under their smoothly-colled tresses there was Mrs. James Stone, the actress, with her lovely white shoulders, saucy black eyes, and dainty net retrousse. thore

WHS

the Eltln Planet—so-called

in tho theatrical world—fair, pure, gentie Alice Boudinot, with her keen-eyed actor-author husband there was Gazzanlga, tragic queen, whose voice was but tbo gilded tramework for tho passionate pictures of ber acting there was Frezzolinl, pasnce and agUig it is true, but still tall and handsomo a«.d regal-looking, a splendid lamp whose llamo of song had been extinguished forever. There, too, came women who had climbed society's golden ladder to the topmost round, and who looked down with sereno Indifference on the struggling throng below thore were others who had placed one foot on the first shining round of that solf-same ladder, and who had vowod in their socret sout* to reach the summit ere many years had lied. Ainld the throng might bo seen Paul Morphy, the young chess king, with the tlrst Hush of hie triumph still on his boyish cheek, and wearing his newly-won laurols with modest .grace. Hither camp politician and gambler, planter antf merchant. Your eyos passed from the fine head and dark bright eyes or tho KuowNothlng Mayor of Baltimore, to rest on the coarsely handsome features and keen orbs of Jim Sylva, tho proprietor of a so-called club-house, not fifty miles away. It was a gay multitude, If a mixed one, yot was it leas mixed In reality than lu appearance. Social lines were drawn uiore sharply in those days than they are now. Shoddy was unknown, nay, uninvonted, and the Valenciennes trimmed skirts of Mrs. Beverly I'pperten might brush the brocade train of Mrs. Bowery Hlggins, yot did each lady reuiain serenely unconscious of the other's existence—the ono from pride and the other from pique. Tho rivalry of Mrs. Fairhell and Mine. Nordetolle had not then shaken Newport to the very foundations of its social edifice, aiid pony pbiwtons were things on earth of which no daring Horatla had yet dreamed In her philosophy,, How long ago the date of our story seems, when even yet that celebrated contest is one of tho tales of a half-forgotten past! Of the two rival queens, one yet reigns and flourishes a prosperous soverelgu, bat the other 1 Alas for the Northern Start under what clouds in foreign skies baa she not disappeared—tho brilliant planet that shed such radiauco around ber!

On one particular afternoon, late In August of the season of which we have spoken, tho crowd of spectators and ptomeuaders In the wide bat somewhat gloomv hall of the Ocean House was even l«rs«r and more brilliant than usual. The ladle# were looking their beet, and though It was no longer the fashion to drew* in the gorgeous and Inappropriate style which had been tfe rkrtteur at watering place dinners itome few ynr* before, the toilets were elegant and picturesque enough to suit even the tnosi devoted adorer of drees and fashion. Foil ball costume* with lace-shaded dtrotMe corsages were no more lobe seen, but were replaced by dresses with square-cut bodices, flounced skirts, and the graceful socalled angel aleem, which, flowing back full and open from the shoulder, left the white arms uncovered to dieplay their rounded and snowy beauty. Then there were the tasteful robe dree* MM with fiounces bordered with a graceful inwoven pattern, aud the basque and lace-trimmed open sleeve* bordered with trimming to correspond. Chignons had not yet ariaen to deform and weigh down the female bead the bright tieasee of the Newport belle* were that year woven Into cunning suirstructurea of plaits behind, and In nt wen rolled smoothly hack in the style called in other days Pompadour, tut in later times {mperatriee. Dress in tboee day* was graceful, becoming, and decorous: no frenzied pile# o? frill# and bows and bunches, no "violent contrasting colore, no loud effects nor startling shapes, deformed the outlines of a lady's figure. No ma»aes of unkempt fuxx frizzed thenMolve#

out over her forehead nor had the aa yet learned from English courtesans and bob-tailed horses the odious fashIon of hiding hor brow under a stiff, square-cut fringe o? hair. Her skirts swept the ground they did not trail a vara or two behind her. Heruttlrewas elegant, picturesque, beooming, and costly it bad several years before it wherein to suffer a Parisian change into something wild and strauge. Worth, Cork Pearl, and the Princess Metternlcb were possibilities of the future, and as yet the Tulllerlea and the Faubourg St, Gormain, not the Quartler Breda nor the Rue Notre Dame do Lorette, wore the quarters from whence the magnates of fashion issued their commands to the feminine world.

Nous avoiis change tout cela, and that long ago, but not so long ago that the memory of m«H cannot recall other days the anto-belluui period of which we write, and in which tho loading events of our tale took place.

It was with pleasant feelings of interest, not unminglod with admiration, that Harry Danvers surveyed the changing, swaying lints of promenaders as they passed to and fro before him on the special afternoon of which we write. The time was the gay period just before the dining hour, and gaylyattired belles and nonchalant beaux were passing slowly up and down to the music of Gungl's 'En Avant— marche 1' which was being slashed and brayed In stentorian accents by a nolfy band. Under cover of tho loud-voiced melody, soft whispers could be exchanged or sharp criticisms uttered and lively old Mrs. Weatervliet, silting back In the shadows of her private parlor, did not hesitate to avail herself of the privilege as she leaned forward over the shoulder of her nephew, young Danvers, who occupied a moro conspicuous position near the door. He had arrived from Philadelphia only this morning, a fact which probably accounted for the anxiety evinced by his New York aunt to render him au courant of all persons and things at once. She chattered on in a cheerful and unrestrained manner, for there was music to till up tho pauses and nobody very near—a state of things which is quite as convenient for scandal as for flirtation.

This is your first season here, Harry, I believe. I hope you like dancing, for there is a hop somewhere nearly every night. I think there is one tonight at the Fillmore, and I know there is one to-morrow evening at the Bellevue. Now for goodnessrs sake don't get up a flirtation with any of the married laaies.'

Who is that lovely creature?' here Inquired Mr. Danvers, as a tall, graceful girl, elegantly attired in blue silk grenadine, swept past.

That is Miss Selfridge,of Cincinnati, and she is called the belle of the bouse. She Is engaged, Harry, so do not waste your glances in that direction. Here comes one of the married beauties— Mrs. Beresford, of Baltimore. Has she not a sweet voice and smile? The correspondent of the 'New York Stunner' called her the Baltimore oriole In his last letter. That pair just behind her, the Traffords of Savannah, look very loving just now, but he is aacused of a weakness for Mrs. Jim Stone (indeed he gave her a supper in one of the private parlors last week, but don't say I told you,) and she is furiously jealous. How pretty Alice Boudinot looks In that gray dress! I saw hor wear it in tbo 'Lifo of an Actress' at Niblo's last wintet. She is to appear as Jennie Doans at the Winter Garden noxt season. There comes Tom Greene of Philadelphia. W'io is he with to-day ?, Ob, I see—that dowdy little Mrs. May. What can men see .to admire in that woman? Apropos of Tom Greene, I can tell you such a funny story about him One evening Inst week •How charming! Dear aunt, who is she? Do you know her? Can you introduce me?' exclaimed and queried Harry Danvors in a breath, entirely ignoring 'the funny story' thus suspended in mid-career upou Mrs. Westorvliet'slips.

The old lady had half a mind to get angry at tho unceremonious interruption, but glance at tho object of her nephow's enthusiasm calmed her rising ire at once. She was very fond of Harry, who was hor favorite nephew both of her own two sons had married well, and she had a strong desire that her favorite, Harry, should do as well as his cousins so, as the object of his admiring outburst was an heiress as well as a beauty, she graciously parlit doned hiin for his impoliteness, in con sidcration of his fortunate choice.

It was a decidedly striking-looking pair on one of whom Harry Danvers was gazing with delighted eyes. Tho tall, massive form of the gentleman towered above the lower forms of his neighbors, while tho broad, full brow, crowned with masses of iton-gray hair, which were pushed back so as to show the fine forehead In full relief, the dark, piercing eyes, the stern, thin-lipped, close-shut mouth, and the Jaw, heavy, square, and rigid as though wrought in iron, made up a countenance which once seen could not easily be forgotten, leaning upon bis arm, and looking like a wild rose clinging to a rock, was a young girl, fair and sweet and fraillooking as the flower to which I have compared ber. She was slender as a reed, and as graceful in every movement of her slight form and ber large, dark eyea had tho soft, shy beauty of a gazelle. The faint rose flush on her transparent cheek varied with each breath and movement, from the palypink of a rose's outside petals to the richer hue of its Inmost heart. Above her broad, low brow the dark masses of ber ailky hair showed against the transparent skin like a setting of dusky enamel around a pearl. She was very young, evidently just 'out,' and sweet and shy and unartificlal aa girls at that period should ever be, but which, alas, In «ur day*, they veVy seldom are. Hor dress, an terial silken tissue of a delicate rose-pink hue, floated about her slender form like a sun-fluahrd cloud. It wa* cut square in the neck, and around the long, orraceful throat was clasped a slender Venetian chain, supporting an antique-looking cross of gold filigree work. It was her only ornament, and she needed no other. Age and plainness must have recourse to jewels youth, beauty and grace an afford to scorn their glitter. The gentleman caught Mrs. Weatervliera eye, half paused, and hesitated. She rose and came forward with empre*»cment.

Mr. Hurst, I waa sure you had not forgotten Mr*. Weatervliet, How sorry I am that the Judge is not here at present. Harry dear, do set out of the way. Mr. Hurst, you will Hod a *mt In my parlor much more eotnforflble than one of thowe hart chairs in the hall, and you must be nearly tired of protutnad'iug by tbis lint*. And to ww little FlorenceT Sorely

Allow me to present my daughter to you,' said Mr. Hurst, with smiling courteey. 'Florence, this is Mrs. Wentervliei.'

Who need to give you sugar plums few years ago, when we were at Saratoga together. My dear, you used to be a lovely £hild. but you area lovelier Now, don't bittsb, though I must con.fo^that you do it very prettily. But

TERRE-HAUfE SATURDAY EVENING MAIL. AUGUST 30. i873.

I want 6 JiUrodiwfcmy nephew to yaw. Come here, Harry.' And tbe necessary form being gone through, Mra. Weatervliet continued to Interest her distinguished guest in some of her Saratoga reminiscences, spiced with a little fresh Newport scandal, so that-the young people were left comparatively to tbemaelver.

Is there such a thing as love at first sight? I think Harry Danvers would have answered the question In the affirmative hatl any one asked It of him a fow weeks Uter. For when, or bow, or at what moment the image of sweet Florence Hurst bad stolen Into his heart, he could never have told, since it reigned there supreme and unquestioned from tho moment that he first looked into h.-r Urge, soft eyes, and listened to the mnsic of her gentle voice. That first interview, and the drive in Mrs. Westervliet's barouche that followed, sufficed to drive away the shyness and timidity of (he young girl and by the time they bad gone through two set9 of the Lancers (then at the heightof its popularity) at the Fillmore bop, and baa whirled through a galop to the delicious strains of the 'Poliuto Galop,' Florence was chatting as merrilv to her new acquaintance ns though they were old friends. Mr. Hurst waa a wealthy Southern planter, and his pretty voung daughter was his only child. This trip to Newport was her first experience of society, and she was charmed and delighted by tho new world thus unfolded to her gaze, while Harry Danvers was only too happy to act as her guide among the varying scenes of that unknown region. Airs. Westorvliet offered to act as Florence's chaperone, aud Mr. Hurst, ever more Inclined for a rubber at whist or a discussion with some leading politician, than to such novel nd uncongenial scenes as hops and fetes, willingly ro

OVA? UVO na u»|/o ww, ,.....wQV

signed her to the guardianship of his old friend, the scheming New York matron.

What need is there to tell the story of those summer days at Newport as they fled past, wearing for Florence Hurst and Harry Danvers their gayest guise, and gliding away on their brightest and most noisoless pinioup? They were young, they loved each other, and tbey were happy. Is not the whole history told in those brief words? Ab, life is lovely to the young! Wo are like poor moths snared in some subtle spider's web, and knowing naught of the monster that waits to make us his prey. How gently the summer breezes sigh around us how bright is the sun, bow sweet the flowers how soft is the silken cord that holds us suspended in its shining coils! But some day the grim spider, whose name is Pain, or Care, or Sorrow, rushes forth and seizes upon us and it is only then, while the poisoned fangs are in our hearts and our lifeblood is ebbing drop by drop away, that we learn the true secret ot our existence and the meaning of the silvery threads that wrap us round—threads that we may not break, and that only chain us that we may suffer and endure without the possibility oi escape.

But glad aud unthinking as youthful lovers ever are, Florence Hurst and Harry Danvers trod gayly along the flowery paths of these sunny days, nor asked themselves wbltber they were wandering, nor how soon this bright existence would end. As yet the sweet secret of their mutual attachment was unwhispered and uurevealed, but they were constantly together, and the consciousness of mutual affection lent a charm to their intercourse and an added brightness to every pleasure and fete. And Newport was then, as now, the very paradise of summer j^ys. The drives were delightful, though the beautiful Sea Iload as yot was not, anu Coddington Point was a terra incognita for dainty vehicles and prancing steeds. There wore hops and fetes and balls, and one night there were tablcauxvivants at the Believue—tableaux wherolu Florence figured as a guardian angel, and afterward came shyly down In her white robesdivestedof their glittering wings, to sit between Mrs. Westervliet and Harry, aud to admire the remaining scenes.

Mr. Danvers,' she whispered sottly, as a group of Dante an Beatri-e, a reproduction, or rather a caricature of Ary Scbeffer's well-known painting, was disclosed.

What is it, Miss Florence 'Was not Beatrice a disembodied spirit when Dante met her?'

Yes, I believe she was.' Do you think that the angels wore hoops in heaven in those days?' Aud her mirthful glance directed Harry to observe the distended garments of the poet's seraphic love, the wide-spread folds of which betrayed too clearly the sustaining influence of a duplex elliptic.

A few evenings later, a splendid ball was given by tho owner of one of the elegant villas which, though then few and far between, had already began to dispute the supremacy in gayety and fashion with the largo hotels. It was a cool, clear evening September bad come to lend freshness and sparkle to the days and chilling breezes to the nights but unheeding tbo latter, Harry Danvers and Florence Hurst wandered beneath the trees in the spacious grounds, and exchanged In whispers their tender confidences and all the sweet secrets of their mutual love. That night Harry had avowed bis love, and Florence had listened with drooping bead and blushing cheek, and such faint, murmured words as are dearer to the hearts of loTers than all the eloquence of a Webster or an Everett.

Tbey bad been strolling slowly to and fro, bent on their mutual avowals and revelations, for some time. The lighted windows of the boose glowed invitingly thestrainsof Heiinsmuller'sorchestra playing the 'Marianlta' and the

Poliuto' galops (who plays them ore. I wonder?) floated on the breese and gay groups flitted about the shrubbery or posed in graceful attitudes on the piszxt but they heeded none of these. Sometimes, too, a merry pair would pass them with a whispered oomment on 'that desperate flirtation,' but the laughing eyes were unseen by. them, aud the whispers were unheard. At last a sharper breese than usual swept over them, and Florence shivered slightly.

You are cold, dearest,' said Harry tenderly, as he paused to draw the cashmere opera-cloak closer around the slender form beside him. 'I must not risk the lose of my treasure now that I have Just won it.'

Ah, Harry, all this time we have never thought of my father.' Your father—what of him,dear one?'

He may refuse his consent—be mav object. I know be baa formed a plan for ray marriage.'

He cannot object be cannot fail to consent,' And Hairy, secure in the consciousness of good birth, a good charscter.a nd a moderate eeiate, smiled securely.

If he abould—* What then, dearest?' think I should die,' The answer came, low and thrilling and Harry, could only his own close against his heart,

io its intense earnestness, and Hs too much moved to apeak, co prees the delicate arm within

We will not think of such a eontin-

geocy,' he aaid at i#*t» 'Let tii happy, dear ene, nor take trouble—— A cry from Florence Interrupted him.

Look—look!' ahe crled/'look at the heavens What can that' strange Hght be?'

Harry looked up arid around him. Tbey bad emerged from the shadow of the trees and stood on sn open lawn ftcing the north. Low down on the northern horizon glowed an .arch of vivid radiance such |aa the sun leaves behind it in the twilight hours of cloudloss summer evenings. From this bright arch there swept upward to the zenith long flickering flames and spires of diamond white light, relieved against the background of a veil of rose-hued light that covered the entire heavens, and through which sparkled the stars with undimmed—nay, seemingly with redoublod lustre. The great aurora of 1850 was above and around them. •How beautiful, yet how strange!' murmured Florence after a moment of unstricken contemplation. 'What is it, Harry what is the cause of this singular appearance?'

It is the northern light—the aurora boreal is, dearest, nothing more,' said Harry. 'It is one of extraordinary ex tent and splendor for those son and climate, I should think.'

They stood in silence, g-«zi»R upon the strange glories that illumined the midnight sky. The rosy radiance overhead glowed with deeper fires, and the snow-pale spires of wavering flame floated ana quivered and darted away, only to reappear in new and more wondrous splendor.

Thero is something terrible to me In its very beautj',' whispered Florence clinging closer as she spoke to Harry's arm. 'Did not tho wise men in ancient days imagine that such appearances portendqo wars and conflagrations and fearful disasters of all kinds?'

Harry smiled superior in all the consciousness of masculine wisdom. 'Fortunately our favored land need fear no such portents, darling. We sre secure from foreign foes, and for all domestic troubles the ballot-box is our only weapon.'

Do you remember the vision in 'Marmlon,' Harry But indistinct the pageant proud

A fancy forms of midnight cloud, When flings the moon upon her shroud A wavering tinge of flame It flits, expands, and shifts, till loud The awful summons cqme."

•Shall I continue the lines for you, Florence, and try toexorclse those merry dancers, as the Laplanders call them, up yonder? --'•j

Thy fatal summons I deny, And thy infernal lord defy Harry, dear Harry! Pray stop—you make me unhappy. You should not mock at anything so wonderful.'

Then I will not, dearest. But, Florence, let me try to interpret this lovely vision aright for you. I see in it only an emblem, a prediction of our future happiness. Soe, over your future home in the North thero bends that bright arch

But Philadelphia lies ever so far south from here.' Da not interrupt the soothsayer, irreverent young girl. Those white wavering forms overhead are the northern spirits that have come to welcome you, southern-born flower as you are, to their native clime. And overhead, dear, look bow the stars shine through that soft flush that overspreads tho whole heavens. So shall all the brightness Heaven vouchsafes to our future life shine transfigured to fairer, intenser lustre, through the rosy radiance of our mutual leve.'

His voice had lost its jesting tone, and he spoke with grave and tender earnestness. And they stood together beneath that beautiful and wondrous glory of the skies, silent because of the very fulness of their hearts, the very perfection of their happiness: For it is with feelings as with waters:

The shallows murmur, but the depths are dumb. Florence's forebodings of ber father's displeasure and opposition proved more correct than did the confident hopefulness of her lovor. When Harry sought Mr. Hurst the morning after the ball to lay before him his proposals for Florence's hand, be was received at first with a coldness that speedily culminated in a most decided negative to his demand. 4

Thero mast bo an end to tbisr said Mr. Hurst curtly and decidedly. 'Florence and you must meet no more. I have other views for my daughter, Mr. Danvers, and I trust to your honor as a gentleman for a total discontinuance of what will prove to be a fruitless pursuit.'

The hot blood rushed to Harry Danvers's brow. 'Mr. Ilurst,' he said, trying to restrain his eagerness and his indignation, 'your daughter loves me. You must pardon me If I refuse to consider this dismissal as final.' •My daughter will obey my commands, and they aro, that you meet no more. Allow me to consider this Interview as at an end, and to wish you a very good morning.' •And yet, Mr. Hurst, permit mo if you please •Sir!' interrupted Mr. Hurst, turning upon him angrily, 'my estates in Georgia and Virginia are both of vast extent, and I number my negroes by the thousand. Florence is my sole child and heiress, und do you think therefore that she is to be banded, like a copper or a picayune, to the first young beggar that cnooses to ask fur her

The Indomitable will of the old man looked out from his steely eyes and was written on every line of his countenance. There was nothing more to be said. Harry bowed, and merely remarked as he withdrew:

I have made no promise that I would not try to see Florence sgaln, Mr. Hurst, and I refuse to make such a promise.' •I am perfectly capable of taking care of my daog'bter, Mr. Danvers. Good morning, air.'

That afternoon a pale, washed-out looking, but lady-like person approached Harry as be was strolling moodily beneath Florence's windows and striving to get a glim pee of her, for she bad not been allowed to leave ber room all day.

I am Miss Hurst's governess,' wble nred the stranger. 'My name la Suaan ~.lnt—she may have spoken to you of me, Mr. Danvers. I have a note for yon, sir.' And she slipped a folded paper Into bis band and hurried away as though afraid of being observed.

Harry retreated to his room, and there tore the precious missive eagerly open. It contained only these few lines:

near Washington, and not far from Ar lington, the Lees' place. Do try to come there, Harry. 1 want to eee yon ooce mora.* •Once more! Oh, my darling, my darling. Is there then no hope?' And Harry Danvers burst into very peasion of tears aa he preaeed the poor blotted little note to bis lips. Tbey were too weak, these two unhappy

atruggle successfully What oould Florence,

children, to sgalnst fiste. .. poor fragile, timid child, do to oppose the iron will of her father? while her lover equally lacked power to break her chain. Yet still young Danvers hoped, with the unreasoning, blind trustfulness of youth, that something would happen to aid them and to unite them at last.

Ten days later he stood waiting for the comingof his love, under the shade of some of the mighty trees which formed the chief glory of the estate of Gardenhurst. The house stood on a lofty height overlooking the windings of the Potomac and the distant roofs and spires of Washington. It was a massive and majestic-looking mansion, a relic of the antiquated splendors of old coloulal times, and bearing, it wassaid, in its interior, many traces of the grandeur and greatness of the bygone generations of Hursts, in the shape of curious furniture, carved marbles, antique weapons, and family portraits. At tbe back of the house tho ground sloped suddenly downward to tho shores of a deep and sullen stream, whose waters, though shallow and brawling a few rods higher up, weie juat in that spot of great depth and treacherous quietude. Report said that a murder had once beon committed there, and that tho body of the victim bad been committed to the gloomy waters but be that as it may, the spot bore an evil repute, and the negroes had christened this part of the stream Deadinan's Pool. It was at this ominous place that Florence's second brief note, received by Harry when ho reached Washington, bad bidden him wait for her.

She caine at last, gliding hurriedly tbrongh the dim shadows of the gathering twilight, and followed by Miss Clint, who, however, remained at a distance. It was not till Harry Danvers held his poor little lady-leve In his arms that he realized bow terribly sbe was changed. There were dark shadows under the soft brown eyes that bad been used to sparkle so merrily, the delicate wild-rose tinge had faded from her cheek, and the slender form was even shadowy in its attenuation.

What broken words, what murmured vows, what kisses, long, tender, sorrowful as tbe last caress that loving lips bestow upon tbe beloved dead, fillea up tbe brief moments of that sad hour! Harry had vainly Implored Florence by letter to elope with him he urged her again, but equally in vain.

I cannot—I dare not 1' panted tho poor child. 'I will promise one thing, Ilarry: I will never marry anbody else. Tbat'l will swear to you if you wish but oh I cannot be so wicked as to run away.'

And if your father wishes to force you to marry, darling, what will you do then •Then I will call on you to come to my aid, aud if that lasl help fail me

What then, Floronco I can die!' And the white face was lifted to the light with a strange look of intense determination in the large, dilated eyes.

Hush, Florence, my dearest! Do not say such things!' Ab, no! We may never meet again, so talk to me, Harry, gently and kindly as you used to do. Nobody has over really loved mo except you since my poor mother died,'

A feeling of almost maternal tenderness, reverent as worship, unselfish as mother-love, filled the young raanV soul. He ceased to urge his suit or to beg for a

ivate marriage, and as be

smoothed the soft tressos that shaded the brow that was burled in his breast, he whispered of love and hopefulness for the future, which last he was, poor fellow! far enough from feeling. He soothed her agitation and calmed hor nervous exciteinont, and strove for a few brief moments to forgot everything on earth save that tbey loved each other and that they were once more to gother.

A sharp, agitated whisper from Miss Clint recalled them from their absorp tlon.

Miss Florence! Miss Floronce 1 see Dinah's signal. Your father has re turned. We must go.' •My father! Yes—I must—I must go! Oh, Harry, Harry 1'

Sbe was weeping with a violence that seemed to threaten injury to her delicate frame, but in tbe midst of her agitation she unclasped tbe chain from her neck and took off the filigree cross which sbe usually wore. •Take It—keep It,' she soobod. 'It wss my mother's.'

He presssd it to his lips, and then, from tho breast-pocket of his coat, ho produced a velvet case, from which be took a small diamond cross with a wreath of forget-me-nots in turquoise twined around it.

Cross for cross,' he said in a voice that trembled sadly through its assumed plavfuluess. 'See, it has our initials at the back and tbe date. Keep it, darling, till I can bring you another gift— a wedding ring.'

He slipped 1l on the chain as he spoke and clasped the chain again around her drooping neck. Once more the warn iug call came from the bank above them:

Miss Florence—come, do come! Ono

last

gering kiss, and they parted. Relieved against the stUl glowing west, he beheld the slight drooping figure, supported by Miss Clint's stronger arm, and they passed away Into tbo gathering daraness and he saw his geutle love no more.

No more, Harry Dan vers—no more till the graves give up tholr dead

PART II.

'•What changes, Harry, one sees everywhere. must notice them particlarly. for you have not been here for several years, I think.

Thirteen.' Tbe answer came curtly and coldly enough, though Colonel Danvers was usualiycour^yiUelf to his old aunt, for whom be seemed to entertain a peculiar tenderness. Mri. Weatervliet waa as lively and a* fond of society aa of old, though her still abundant lock* were snowy white and ber bright black eyea were surrounded with a very network of wrinkles.

Well yon have a lovely place here, and such a charm log view of tbe sea! I thought you were going to Saratoga this summer.'

Emily preferred Newport, and tbe Dbyviciaua prescribed sea-air for the children. We did think of going to Long Branch, but failed to secure such rooms as we required so bearing of thia cottage to let, I took it for tbe seag0|fttf

And, Harry—' The old lady pushed back her rocking-ebair, and half arose. Her nephew,who was pacing lbs piazza paused, came to her, and sat down beside ber. •What is it, aunt? Have yon anything toaay to me?'

Only to ask yon, Harry, have you forgot tan the last season that you were here?*

No 1'

Ik_

And are you happy? Dear boy, remember that I have loved you always aa though yon were my own son, so for

give my questioning you. It is so long since we fast met Five years, 1 thibk.'

Aud you have been married lour. |r dear boy A rather 'old boy,' I think, aunt.' And the Colonel passed his hand with a smile through the iron-gray masses of his abundant hair.

Not so very old—thirty-five or six, 1 think. But you have not answered me Harry.'

Dear aunt,' he said kindly, and taking her band,'if you mean that I haye forgotten the past, aud my first love, my poor, sweet, gentle Florence, I answer no! You know how I have striven to trace her, and what conflicting stories I heard respecting hor—now that she was married, next that ahe was dead, but never anything definite or certain.'

Her father was killed at Antietam, was he not Yes, and with blm died my last hope of learning Florence's fato. I have never heard from her, nor looked upon her face since our first and last interview at Gardenhurst Then I met Emily, years after all hope of finding Florence was over. You know what she is and what she has been to me—my dear, uoble, loving wile! Yes, I am happy, aunt, and yet

What, Harry 'If I only knew tho truth respecting Florence. Does she yet live—what was her fate Poor, hapless, helpless child. Oh, if I only knew.

And you have no trace?' Colonel Danvers shook bis head. 'Over all auoh traces has swept the mighty ocean of the war. Death, and changes terrible as doath, have passed over all persons and all things connected with that first fair love-dream of my life. When my regiment was stationed in Virginia, toward the close of the war, I exhausted all means in my power to learn something concerning Florence, but iu vain. Gardenhurst waa a ruin, the slaves were dispersed, and no ono knew anything respecting^ the owners of the estate.' •And the governess, Miss Clint?'

She left the South and went to llvo with a family called Morris, who afterward went abroad. There she left them, and I could learn nothing more respecting her. I think she must be dead.'

At that moment a lady eamo through the hall and stepped out upon the piazza. Sbe was still young, and ber face was beautiful in both feature and ex-

[ectual

tression. It was a calm, grave, intelcountenance, which was lighted into rare sweetness by the smile that just curved her purtod lips. A sturdy boy, a little over two years old, tottered at her side, while her arms were encumbered witli a tiny, blue-eyod baby girl, wbo Uokcd nolemly at tho scene unfolded before her three months old vision. Tbe lady came up to Harry and laid the baby on his kneo.

Thore, take a good look at your daughter, sir. Is she not going to bo a beauty? Aunt, I hope you are not very hungry? Lunch has been delayed today by the nou-arrlval of tho butter. There is a great package of books on the table, Harry, which has just come by express. Shall I open It for you? I know yon want tho last number of the •Cornhlll,' and I hope it is in the parcel. What tired of your daughter already

I think sho is tired of me, Emily,' said the Colonel smiling as ho returnHie baby to Its mother. 'The very pointed way in which she had boguu to pucker up her face indicated as much.' •Jack not tired! Take Jack, papa!' shouted tho boy, trying to climb his father's knee.

A an re a is ed the Colonel, as he folded hia boy to his breast. Tbe old lady nodded and smiled. Iler favorite nephew was as happy as even hor fond heart could do? sire.

Several weeka later, Colonel Danvers was seated, ono fine nftornoon, upon bis piazza, In moditatlve enjoyment of a cigar and a newspaper. He was alone bis wife and aunt, accompanied by little Jack, had gono out for a drive, and tbe baby was taking a slestu in the nursery. It was a lino afternoon, late In August. A soft breeze stolo from the sea and fanned his brow, the sotting sun shone brightly, and the flowers on the lawn sent forth their sweetest odors. Yet the Colonel seemed unquiet and restless. The cigar went out tnoro than once between nls lips, the paper was turned over and over Impatiently, and was finally flung aside, and the Colonel, rising, began to pace the floor with rapid stop.

I wish the season was at the end,' be muttered. 'I hate this place. Kvery sceno, every spot, speaks to uie of her* I was mad to come here, for. tho mere sight of the Ocean House has reopsned tbo old wound.' 'A letter for you, sir,'said the servant, coming out from the house ana laying tho missive on tho little rustic

tflHarry

embrace—one last long, lin

Danvers paused in bis walk,

and took the letter up listlessly. It was a rather bulky

packet,

closely-writtensheet

addressee*

in diminutive female hand to Mr. H, Dinvers, Oceanbrlnk Cottage,NewportIt bore no postmark, nor was thereany device on the envelope, so after a moment's scrutiny he tore tbe paeket open Within was another envolope, sealed, and without an address, and a

of paper, the con

tents of which wero as follows: DBAR S I as on a id that I learned yesterday*hat you were at Newport, for I am here as compsn-••. Hfc "I

,v'

Ion to a very *god and infirm lady, ana consequently go out of the bouse but little, and see no company. Bat I seise* upon this opportunity to disburden mv conscience of a load that has welgbeui upon 11 for nearly thirteen years.

You have not, I know, forgotten. Miss Florence Hurst, but you may nofr remember that sbe bad a govsrnes* named Susan Clint, who used to jpost her letters for her, and who loved her very dearly. Sbe bad need of some one to love her in those days.

I think Mr. Hurst was almost a madman. I have read of men possess ed with a devil, and be reminded mo of those old world stories, only no exorcism could ever cast out his Indwelling fiend, which wss a perfectly demoniacal temper. When tbe fit was on him he would stop at nothing, and his spells of fury sometimes lasted for weeks. It was not Just a cloud and a storm, and then clear weather, as is usually tbe case with quick-tempered people, but he was aa sullen as he was violent. •I believe that be broke bis wife a heart, and then sent her to an untimely grave. I know that be bated Miss Florence because sbe was not a boy, and all be cared for her was to see her married to a favorite nephew of his own. Barnwell Leroy, was bis sisters son, and aa like hi* uncle

a young

man can be like an old one. Temper and all, thore was not a pin to choose between them, I tell you all thia, not co exonerate myaelf from blame for what afterward

happened,

but merely

to explain my conduct. I lived in mor~ [Oondvded on Seventh Page,]