Saturday Evening Mail, Volume 4, Number 13, Terre Haute, Vigo County, 27 September 1873 — Page 2

MISS IS»i

Lore might us© bis wings, 'jfe Ke«tr—word or evil omen," And »be sighed, "Helgh-to •Ii$ tho hard oil lot for women

*08

THIS YEAR-NEXT YEAR-SOME-TIME-KEY Ell. •'Tbis rear-next ycftr—iiointtlnio—nfvcf,

Gaily did she tell Rose I®aT *vw Eddied round and fell. nftijji year"—n iid th« blu*hed demurely.

Tnat would be too soon,

He could wait a little wircly^ 'TIs r. I ready Jane."

Next year—that"* almost too hurried,* Laughingly aald For when once a girl I* married,

Js'o more sbe tree. Bometlme-that vague, long waiting Many a trouble brings Twuct delaying and debating,

Lone through life to go. This yearah, the dear months blessed her.

For that year ho came, Won her love and fondly preas'd hex Boon to change her name.

Next year"—early in the May-time Was 10 be the day Look VI ahe sweetly toward that gny time

Gleaming Cor away. Sometime"—he who watch'd b&tde her, Khadows o'er her life Haw creeping on, knew that denied her

Waa the name of wife. Never"—erowe'd with bridal flowers Came that merry spring. Ere those rich and radian I nour*

She had taken wing. This year" heart* are bowM by Borrow. Next year"—some forget, Bomethne" comes that golden morrow

Never" earth saw yet. —[EDWARD ELLIS.

[From Giilaxy—October.]

A Foolish Girl.

Don't stare so, Annie It's very rude of you.' Hut she doesn't take the least notice of me.'

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Well, It'll rndo to stare at any one so all the same. Do come on faster, Au nie, I'm ashamed of you.' on, but she interests me so much Alice. While everybody is out of door* walking and talking, and listening to tho band, rho sits thero alone and neither seems to listen nor to look at anything. Alico,' in a softer voice, 'do you know I thin* it is one of those French girls who has got bud news of hor—li*r lover perhaps, in tho last mail. There aro ever so many French families here from Paris.'

Alico laughs for Alice is matter offact and unimaginativo, and Conse quontly does not invest every protty, melancholy looking faco with tragedy because there is a war going on at this time. Alico laughs. •Or course you'd get up a romance, Annie. I dare say it's only somebody who li'ts fit of indigestion. There, Uncle John Is beckoning to us must'go on now. Come!

A young man sauntering up the street, Just arrived at this Utile lireioi watering-place, which at this season i' h«» lull and so fMshlonablo, overbear!' the con vernation, and turns involunia rlly to soe tho causo of it, If the fancl ful li'tle English girl could have aften his start of surprised recognition as hi? eye* rested upon the heroine of her mmaiicu, her Trench girl' in the hotel balcony, sho would at once have added another chapter to her romance. Bui ii me girl, pale and dark-«yed, who ail there wrapped in a gray shawl, look*, like a Frenchwoman, the young man who Is now rapidly approaching her cerulnl.v does not look like a French man, with his square shoulders, li* stoutish build, and his close-cut rod di»h hair, and tawny, flowing beard Thi nroHiiic Alico would no doubt hav roll "bed the utter demolition of her aimer's romantic fancies if she hud heard (he unmistakable plain Knglis of ih« hearty 'How do you do, Mis* Ada?' a moment later, and the r. spouse in 'he same accents from tin

French uirl.' And when, in »nothei iiioiin iit, iha uontleman repeats tho bi of conversation he has just overheard the lau.h that Ml* readily from thr young ladv's ll|« dissipates cutirel,\ the supposition of a tragical lovo siorj In tier c.se.

The idea ol my looking sosentimen tal as .11 that comes to, George!' sh» Sav* after laugh. •Butyun did look what our French friends would Vail uncommonly trixtc when I first caught sight of you, Mi* Ada.'

Did I? How interesting. If oinpe well. Rh«»ui yourself, George. You're th last person I expected to see her»\ When I leit New Y«rk you wero In Chin i, or some other outlandish place. 'And I haven't been home since. I sailed from there to Kngland, and as I was a little worn out, I was ordered here.'

niexni. ill tempered, it would suit ih case very well. But come, tell m»

Miss Payne regarded her companion for a moment with a little more alien tlon tl»«n she had yet bestowed upon him. 'You've been ill?' she asked. •Not exactly, but not quite well. 1 bad toe much care in Hong Koug. Tht bookkeeper died there, and couldn't b« replaced for some months.'

Business, always business with us Americans. It kills ns.' Then, with small, uninlrthful laugh, 'It has nearly killed me already,'

You what do yon know of U, Mis* Ails I Oh, I've been at the hardest kltid of business, George, Your tea business in China is nothing to govern caning.'

What sent you into that?' asks Mr. King in a surprised tone. What sends most people work lack of money, Master George,'

But you came—I thought —George flounders in confusion. He has no that ready wit which enables him to steer clear of dangerous facts.

Y's I camo abroad with the Carney* by their invitation, but I came as the children's governess*, I dare say an ot b« girl under the sun would find nothing but enjoyment lo th«*e circumstance*, but"I am not any other girl I'm Adelaide Payne, with tbe quickeat temper and the meanest pride and tbe m»*t cantankerous spirit that you'll find anywhere.'

Ctoonte King laughed. All this to bint was only Miss Ada's exaggerated non

KIM. With him her 'quick temper' was proper spirit, the 'meanest pride' was independence, ami tbe 'cantanker ous spirit' sore sensitiveness. Bat tben

Jleorge

ou must take Into consideration that was in lore with this youns woman. In love with ber, though sbe had i-t^ected him nearly two years ago tie bad now apparently resigned him arif to tbe post Of friendship. This w*sn*t so difficult a thing to do with Adelaide Payne as it might have N*er with another woman, for she was curt Ously frr« from that kind of vanity or aetx tmentaliatn which makes some womt-n, most women, selfish egotists in suck mailers. Six weeks aftor G«or** had received his conye from ber, *&*> mfi hint aftcidentally, and, greeting him without a shadeof emtwrra«saSH*nt, began talk in* to him about som oi her plans for Adelaide bad always sows

new plan on foot. Ever since tben, whenever tbey bad chanoed to be together, Adelaide always treated him in the same easy wsv of intimate friend ship and George liked it. But aitting there with him upon the balcony ol tbe Breton hotel, after a year's absence, sbe doesn't talk to htm any more of ber plans, and George wonders why not, and something flashes into his mind to sccount for mis silence, which turns him giddy. What if King is the most delicate follow in the world with bis friends he never ssks them questions but now, for the first time in his life, he begins to pnmp.

And if yon hat* governess!ng, Miss Ada, and are not happy here with the C'arneys, haven't you some new plan 7 'Sotuo now plan!' And Adelaide Payne laughs a little bitterly. 'I don't wonder you talk of some new plan for I've dono little else in my life but make plans. What absurd thing haven't 1 undertaken As quick as I was out of school, and that was altogether too quick, I can tell you, I began to have these plans to get a little more money to boy tbe endless gloves and gowns and the rest of tbe glmcrscks that women need. My goodness, George! why don't gowns grow ready lor our picking? Fancy, though, how we lovely creatures would scratch each other's eyes out, getting tbe best of each other!' George laughs, and Ada goes on. 'I used to make yards and yards of tatting, and sell it to my mother's acquaintances, in those early school days. I think they knew how hard up we were, and started me somehow on that little commercial track purposely. After that I tried my various small accomplishments in numerous ways, winding up with that inevitable conclusion for all single women of small means, or of no means at all—teaching. And now, I dare ssy, I'm ungrateful and undeserving. I don't deiend myself, but now I'm quarrelling with that. George, you may laugh, but seriously and honestly, I am disgusted with myself. Any other girl would have settled into a respectable workor by this time, but I seem to lly out at everything and it is because I am kantankerous, I suppose. If I go on like this— and I'm likely to for aught I soe—I shall bring up in the poorhouse.'

At this concluding sentence George's heart gses up like ft feather and be draws a long breath. 'What's the matter, George? are your lungs affected asked Miss Payne.

No, it's my heart,' answers George, quite seriously. You don't say so The result or that overwork. Just as I said. Americans aro always killing themselves with work. I'm on the same road to destruction, only mine is frettiug over the wbrk but it's all the same, it's the necessity.'

Miss Ada, I don't see why you don got somebody to do your work for you. 1—1—' and George looks liko a fool and tidgcts with his great crop oi red beard —•1 know one fellow who would be vory glitd to do it.' •GoorgoT

King nearly jumped from his chair. «I don't blame you for taking mo up in that way. I supposo any man might be c-xpocted to ihiuk a woman w«s flinging herself, at his head, who had been going on as I have. But I did think you know me better.' 'Miss Ada! Miss Ada, I hadn't such an idea. I hadn't, on my honor, lknew you never thought ol me but as your iriend. You were speaking to me as man might speak to another.' 'I wasn't!' retorted Miss Ada. was speaking to you like the most loolish of women—fretting, complain lug, whou thero was uo earthly tiso in it.'

1 1

The reason I spoke as I did,' poor George went on explaining, 'was be cause I couldn't help wishing that might servo you in the only way could for I've never forgotten what said two years ago. Miss Ada.'

A moment's silence, In which Miss Payne regards the downcast faco of her companion with curious scrutiny. Then quite in another key she breaks out: 'George, you may thank your stars you aro not*rlch.'

Tho young ui»n looks up in amazement. 'What iio you mean?' he asks. 1 mean that If you were rich I should be base enough to marry you.' •Ada!' The tight that was never on sea or land flashes over George King's face. Miss Payne looks a little fright ened at the effect of her words.

Iion't mistake me, George,' sho bur rled on. I do not moan—Goor«o, If I loved you I would marry you to-mor a a

Klug's lacc flushed and paled but all the light went out ot it. I've said a horrid thing, I know selfish thing bnt I HI not so bad as I might be, for, George, if you were made of gold, I couldn't ruarry you if Ididn't like you.'

Georso lifted up his head again with a quick motion. 'Thank you for saylog that, Mis- Adelaide,' he responded.

I don't deserve any thanks 1 owe so much to vou, George.' Ywu don't owe me anything, Miss Ada,' answers George In bis kindest tone. There la a pause presently he conttuucd

Miss Ads, if you feel that way about —about money, you know, I don't see why you haven't found some one who —who—

Wh ..as a gentleman as well ass rich man—1* that what you mean?' a»ks Miss Payne, extricating George irom bis sentence with that straight forward celerity of hers.

Yes, that's what I mean exactly,' assents George. A little ejsculatlon of Impatience from Miss Payne, aod th«n:

George, it is only in novels that the rich man appears lo tbe nick ol lime— the rich man who is a decent sort of t*raon, in the same class or rank with tbe young woman who wishes to dis|M»«of herself. Miss Brsddon manuineturea that desirable parti with the greatest ease. Her heroines get Into difficulties, that is, tbey find themselves poorer thsin church mioe, with not an idea where their next pair of gloves is coming from, when op pops the Inevitable rich man, who is just as inevitably a gentleman wit a whom almost any girt in ber menses would bo In love anyway. I don't know such rich men 1 know instead a liule wisen-feoed her-

ror—a

widower of aixty, who la aol a

tiwntleman. He slta in front of ns at ,•41. Michael's, and atarea at tne, the wretch! every Sunday. Tbey say he's nd Is egot it at some no gentle would stoop. And I know another

rolling in wealth au_ dirty business at which no gentleman •Id oop. And I know another ticb old bachelor who eats bis dinner in his ahirt-aloevea soramer and winter, and who slta on his front door•nep, which is oppoaite Aunt Ann's. In istly fashion of demi-uiilet. specimens are millionairea, and I rather risk ths poor-

tbe same beastly I believe both to

kill

I'd

myself ou!

rather

it than maay either

of them 1 should think so aculatod George King, with emphasis. For a tow mo»oettts there la silence between them. Oeorxe breaks It by saying:

Yon put a morbid value upon money I think, Misn Ada

George, yon don't know what you're talking about,' begins Adelside vehemently. 'If you hsd all your life felt the want of money as I have—»if you had seen those you love pinched and straitened day after day, with always a dread before yon of perhaps greater pinching and straits, which yon were powerlesa to alleviate—I wonder if you or any other man wouldn't put wnat you call a morbid value on mon«y.'

Yes, I dare say I should,' King answers with a sympathetic tone in bis voice.

And here, tho young Carney girls coming in, the talk ends. They all know George King, and ail like him, and standing about him ask a whirlwind of questions. A little Carney suddenly ssys

Oh, why didn't you eome before, Mr. King, so as to go back with us next week to America?'

Next week?' asks George.

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Yes, next week, in the Calsbria, papa said so to-day when we were out driving.'

And tbe next week when the Calabria sails George King Is one of tbe passengers.

Thought you were ordered here for your health. King. Aren't you leaving rather soon?' asks Mr. Carney.

Ob, one place is as good as another for that matter, sir. It's the sea voyage that I need.' 'I'm-j'es, sea voyages aro excellent for some diseases, what was tbe trouble, King—something about tbe lungs?'

No something about the heart,' George answers with great gravity. 'Ob,' and Mr. Carney looks into George's face for a minute and then walks on. Meeting his wile piesently, he says, 'Kitty, King is spooney on Adelaide, I've found out.' 'Tobesure be Is! Thuts an old story." «Oh, it is, oh Why doesn't he speak up then

Speak up! my dear, aro you blind not to see that George is hankering after the girl, and that she doesn't care a button for hiin •That's It,eh? Well.sho'll go furiher and fare worse in my opinion.' 'In my opinion, too but it's of no use to say anything to Adelaide, she's so headstrong.' But nevertheless Mrs. Carney did say something to Adelaide on this subject and Adelaide met it with this declaration: 'But I'm not in lovo with George King, Mrs. Carney. I like him for a friend very much, but I don't love him.'

I supposo you've got some romantic ideal in your bead, Ada.' •I don't know about it's being very romantic but I suppose every girl has what you call an ideal that is, sbe knows what kind of a man would attract her most.' 'Did you ever see this man, Ada?' 'No, not exactly unrl Adelaide laughs a iittlo and colors.

And you never will!' cries Mrs. Carney triumphantly. A pause eusues while Adelaide counts the stitches in a piece of worsted work she is setting up for Mrs. Carney. Presently Mrs. Carney breaks the pause:

What kiud of a man is ho, Adelaide?' What man asks Adelaide looking up in astonishment.

Why, this ideal of yours

Adelaide's face suddenly flushed a deep, painful rod and Mrs. Carney, who is looking at her, turn6d awayenlightened. If Adelaide could have heard her thought! 'So it's that disagreeable Roberts that keeps ber from knowing a better man when sbe sees him!'

The two were in Mrs. Carney's stateroom all this time. Wh«n tbey went on deck a few minutes later, anew acquaintance awaited them —a trifling circumstance enough ou many, on most occasions perhaps, but on this oc casiou it is destined to be an event which will mark with change the course of two lives at least. The day is lovely—a blue sky, a fresh soft breeze, and the waves dancing in the unclouded sunshino. tJnder such influences, ibe sea invalids And their way to the de"k, some for the first time. The Carneys are all in a Iittlo group together, and George King is with them because Adelaide Ts with them. He is Just saying to Adelaide:

How fortunate It Is for you that you are not sea-sick if you had been and here he stops abruptly, and Adelaide turns to see the cause. He Is looking at some one or something away irom her, with an expression of absorbed astonishment, and another expression mix*d up with the astonishment, which Adelaide cannot fathom. She follows the direction of his eyes, and aees—a pretty, pale girl, leaning on tbe arm of an elaerly gentleman. The next thing, George says absently, 'Excuse me a moment,' and starts off toward these new comers. And presently Adelaide sees something else that seta her thinking—a sudden vivid blush upon tb« pretty pale face which makes It charming—a blush which appeared at the moment that George King appeared before the two. And after what seems to be the most cordial of greeting, GArge comes running back and addresses himself to Mrs. Carney Will ahe permit bim to introduce ber to some friends of bis? They were very kind to him at Hong Kong last year-Amerl cat) resident* ib*ro like bioiwlf— Mr* Maynard and hla daughter. Mrs. Carney Is 'delighted' in her cordial way, and goes oO with George, leaning on bis arm. In a little while they all cornback together to what Mrs. Carney Us *tbe Carney corner,' and Adelaide is introduced to 'Mr. Maynard and hia daughter.' The pretty pale face brightens now and then into poaitive beauty. And Adelaide very soon peroelvea that Miss Maynard in health la probably a brilliant girl, both personally and, mentally, •1 know you will like each other,' George suddenly says in an undertone to Adelaide. •She isn't at ber beat now, on account of a long iUmraa. Tbey left Hong Kong last year for this reason. A few months after, I beard that ahe bad died at Florence. You can understand my more than amaaeinaat on milnf her Just i*ow. I believe lor

who ta usually the moat unobservant person, probably because ahe to so cocopied with those little plans of her*, takes note of this embarrassment, and of varfeoa other ways that are new to ber, before the day is ended. Mrs. Carney baa also been observant, which is not so unusnal, and that night ahe oomew toto tho stateroom which Adelaide occupies with Belle Carney, ber sUetf aai

own ana 1J eldest daughter, who is fast lees, as a little pitcher with very big ears should be RMOM In to free her Bind, to ssy in an Injured ton of tone:

TKRKE-HAUTE SATURDAY EVENING MAIL, SKPTKMBKR 27, 1873.

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Oh with some impatienco, and then in the 'headstrong' way: There's one thing—he's a real masculine man, a man's man. I bate women's nifn

Well, George King is a man's man, as you phrase it I should think, though he doesn't bluster round like that Major lloberts you girls used to think so much of.'

'Adelaide, that girl la in love with Geo rue.' 'And what about George, lira. Carney Adelaide asks with ft touch of scorn. 'Well—George acta queerly.' 'I should think be did,' U)p touch of scorn deepening. 'My opinion ia that George hnu been, if be isn,% now, ai much in lov« with 'that gin' as yott call ber, as she with bim-wit evident" ly the course of true love didn't run smoothly—Papa Maynard standing in tbo'way, as a relentless parent, perhaps,' and Adelaide repeats George's little confidence about Miss Maynard's illness, ber leaving Hong Kong, and the news of ber death, not forgetting George's embarrassment at the end. •Y'ou see, Mrs. Carney,' she concludes, Hhat George only heard of her incidentally, which to my mind is tbe indication of the little bitch in tbe programme of bis romance.'

You may be right, Adelaide but it's very surprising, ibe whoie of it.' •Surprising? Well, I don't know George is like tbe rest of his sex, I suppose. He must be making love to somebody. But this pretty well upsets your theory of Master George's devotion to your humble servant. You discover now how much that is worth—how easily he consoles himself.' 'But if you've always discouraged him, Ada—and .n these two years, you know, with no hopo«of you, and this girl near at hand—why, it'a perfectly natural—' •Twoyears!' Adelaide repeats and then she confides to Mrs. Carney George's- words to her at tho little Breton watering place: 'For I've never forgotten what 1 said two years ago, Miss Ada.'' •Well, I never!' Is Mrs. Carney's emphatic exclamation. •Not that it makes sny difference to me,' Adelaide goes on. 'It's notbiug to me, of course, whom he makes love to I'm sure I don't want to have bhn running after me I've none of that sort of vanity. But it makes one feel disappointed in human uature to soe such uncertainty ol purpose in a man.' 'So it does, dear,' declares Mrs. Carney in sympathetic indignation.

It was so weak of George to say what he did to me under the circumstances.' •Well, I dare say he believed it wae the trath, Ada, then. Men are so queer about us women!' MTB. Carney replies, with au air of wisdom. 'Yes, he believed it, until he suddenly saw the ghost of Mit*s Maynard, probably. Well, I don't care anything about it, I'm sure. Yes, I do—I do care!' Adelaide bursts out with that quick candor of hers, that honesty ol heart which has made her friends pardon every fault. 'I do care! George was my ideal of a friend he seemed like a rock to me, and I can't have that feeling any more, can I? I've lost my friend or I never had him, I only had a fancy, that's the truth of it.' •My dear Jack says'—Jack is Mr. Carney—'that we women are fools about men that we expect them to bo heroes ol romance all the time.' 'I hate men, anyhow!—disagreeable, disappointing creatures, you never know where to find 'em! Adelaide suddenly snaps out.

Mrs. Carney laughs. 'Not so bad as that, Ada, 1 hope but I tbink myself that women are more to bo trusted.'

The next minute she says good-night and goes straight to ber own state room and repeats tho entire conversa tion to Mr. Carney, who exasperates her by goiug off into shouts ot merriment, and making certain criticisms and prophecies, which bo is informe by his wile aro very wldeoftho mark, and shows that he knows very little of women and their peculiar natures whereat he laughs again, and provokingly remarks, 'Woll, we'll see, Kitty—we'll see.'

The Calabria makes a speedy voyage and a pleasant one. Cloudless skies and solt breezes most of the time bring gay groups upon the deck. None seem io enjoy themselves more than the Carney party. Miss Maynard discovers both wit and humor ber father is full of genial bonhomie and George comes out so strong as a brilliant talker that Adelaide, who has generally known him only us a listener, looks In amazement. But Adelaide doesn't enjoy the party. Miss Maj'nard is too much for her. She confesses to herself that tbe young lady is cultivated and accomplished. 'But all that talk about Hong Kong—I don't see what you can find interesting in it,' sbe remarks to Mrs. Carney, when that lady comments on the dellgntfulness of this very talk. 'I detest personal reminiscences I always feel left out and lonesome when they are not my personal reminiscences: and I think they are in bad taste, too, in general society.'

Mrs. Carney, who cannot help finding Miss Maynard charming, says something laughingly to Adelaide about beiug a dog in the manger. And Adelaide replies in great scorn:

I'm not adog in tho manger. George may marry her to-morrow lor what I care. He isn't my friend any more, as I told you. But Miss Maynard and I are antipathetic I felt it from the first.'

But, Adelaide, you were so distant from the first.' I never liked that kind of girl,' pursues Adelaide without taking any heed of Mrs. Carney's suggestion. And Mrs. Carney, as she turns away, says to herself, 'Um, I don't know after all but Jack may be right.' But not to Jack doea she conAde this sudden going over to bis opinion. Sbe keeps it bravely to herself, though that ia the dullest work always for Mrs. Carney, who baa tbe keenest relish ror talking things over.' Sbe cannot, however, bring beraeli to face Jack's laugb, and the *1 told you so' expression which she knows would dawn in his eyes at ber confession. She consoles herself, however, for ber silence by tbe observation which abe takes from her new standpoint. And what does sbe see Sbe sees

Adelaido a little apart, self-with-drawn and silent. She seea George more than usual In all external ways. He talks a good deal with Misa Maynard and very little with Adelaide, which is quite nnlike the old way of things but this may be tbe result of ctrcumaianoea. Adelaide certainly ia not very approachable. Several time* George baa made little overturea which have been met with anything bnt encouragement. And there was Mies Maynard amlling and friendly, and with all that background of tbe Hong Kong life, so fresh In both their minds, tbe discussion of which wss a matter of entertainment to everybody but Adelaide. There waa the same Invalidism of Miss Maynard. too. which would call out a hundred ana one attantione. But underneath Ml tbis there was something else, some ondemirrent which watchful Mrs. Carney began to fseL Gvorge had recovered Irom his embarrassment he no longer acted *queerly.' Bat what was U, what link tn the post, in thoae Hong Kong daya, m. do a present aunoe-

Shere

of unacknowledged intimacy delaide, sluing wrapped in her waterproof and her silence, feela this atmosphere very eenaibly, feels It and rebels againat it, all the white ahe ts saying to

herself perhaps, 'George isn't my friend it's notning LO me what he does.' But George wakes one more venture ot friendship, It is just aathe journey comes to an md, and they arQjili about |o separate.* Be leave* Misa Maynard lo tpr father then, and resolutely attac|ps tstniself to Adelaide, attending ber withpis Usual unobtruslvo courtesy, until be amis her in the carriage. •You'll come and see us soon,' says good-natured Mrs. Carney, leaning out of the window as tho carriage drives away. And just as George is lifting his hat to them, another carriage whirls by, and Misa Mayuarda voice cries out shrill and gay: 'At the Fifth Avenue! remember, Mr. King.'

Hong Kong must be a good school for familiarity of manners, I should say,* Adelaide remarks snappishly, drawing down ber vail.

Mrs. Carney bethinks herself of Adelaide's old free-and-easlnesa tn ordering George about, and says nothing. And Adelside, fatuous young woman, congratulates herself as sbe goes up to her room that night that sbe has turned ber back upon her bete notr—that forward Miss Maynard. But, alas for tbse selfcongratulations I Before a month has transpired, Miss Mayuard is a frequent visitor at Mrs. Carney's, Mrs. Carney having taken ono of her great fancies lor that young lady. And so tbe old shipboard societylneets again without a break, but with a variety which makes a great difference to Adelaide, for of this variety there is one man ol whom we have heard beforo—the M^Jor Roberts of Mrs. Carney's detestation. This gentleman lias the kind of good looks that men's men, like Jack Carney, call 'showy,' and women, especially quite young women, speak ot as 'so fascinating and 'a Guy Livlngstou sort ot man, you know.' It is needless to dilate upon this geutleuian's popularity in feminine circles. We all of us know how tasuinatlng to the ordinary feminine fancy is tbe Guy Livingston type or man, or a taint resemblance to that type. Adelaide, it would .appoar from Mrs. Carney's hluts, has long ago succumbed to this fascination, and it' would appear also, fr«ui the nature of these bints, that she may have been in some sort a victim—one of tlioso upon whom the king smiled but to ride away. And this is not far from the fact. Two or three years ago Adelaide had met Major Ro'berts, and been the recipient of bis attentions until he had been ordered away on a loreign cruise. Perhaps before he sailed tho giri had ^discovered that she was only one of Major Robert's 'iriends.' But this discovery seeinedto cast no discredit upon M««jor Roberts in her estimation to take nothing from the glamour with which he was invested. Hu had never committed himself. He had only looked now and then unfathomable things Irom his handsome dark eyes had, in fact, just evaded decided responsible love making, and thus cleverly contrived to leave himself entirely tree Irom responsible intentions, without losing the admiration of tho girl he so successtuily 'left behind him.' If you hud told Adelaide that she was in love with Major Roberts, she would have scouted the accusation indignantly, but she would color and her neart would beat in answering you. The truth of the matter was, no doubt, that sho was in love with love, and Major Roberts, with his handsome figure, his line eyes, and great splendid dark board, seemed io represent her ideal, to embody her lancy. And now here he was back again irom his two years' cruise, with a bronze tinge to bis brilliant complexion, which enhanced hi* Guy Livingston style wondertully hero ho was back, and at bis old tricks again, said itidignaut Mrs. Carnoy as she noted hts tlevoue attentions to Adelaide—'attentions which mean nothlug, just nothing at all!' the little woman indignantly explained to her husband. And what washer astonishment when ber husband responded: 'Butlai not so sure ol that, Kitty. When Roberts was hanging 'round two years ago, he hadn't a dollar besides his pay, and now, my dear Mrs. Car ney, Mr. Lothario has rather a nice fortune whi.-h bis iathfer lelt bim last year.' •Y'ou don't Bay so? exclaims Mrs. Carney and then she goes ou, 'but how will that alter matters with such a selfish fellow?' •Well, the selfish follow can afford to pleaso himself, Mrs. Carney.'

Mrs. Carnoy was silent in meditation. If this was true, here was ibe very opportuuity that Adelaide had always desired—the rich man whom she could love. But if it was true, what of Jack's little theory and with a small spice of triumph she puis tbis question to Jack bi nisei fw But Jack only laughs and quotes,

There'* many a slip ..

and so the conversation ends. But uot so do Mrs. Carney's speculations and observations end. Keeping sharp lookout after ber sociable fashion, sbe soes that 'there is something in' Jack's idea, for she sees that Major Robert's attentions LO Adelaide at this time have a certain quality of earnestness that tbey have never bsd before. And all this lime there is George King coming and going, and Miss Maynard also a constant visitor. To Mrs. Carney, who had planned her own little programme this was a gauio or cross purposes yet even now sho oould not wake Adelaide out. The girl did not seem to be conscious of a change In Mnjor Roberta. Her manner to bim wasaait bad been almost from the first of this second meetlug—a queer union of gay excitement and irritability. Mrs. Carney, always a match-maker, wonders st this criaia if abe hadn't batter bave a little talk with Adelaide and enlighten ber,

perhaps

'for the girl, I believe, thinks be is fooling with h»r In tbe old fashion,' she saya to Jack. But Jack Carney replies like the man of sense he is •You just let things work their own way, little woman.' ..

It would seem that others besides Jack Carney bave noted and commented upon Major Robert'a earneatuesa in hia present pursuit for one day an old admirer of Adelaide's, meeting Mr. Carney, says: -So Roberta la going to range himself,eh, aaour French frienda would express it? going to marry tbe little Payne girl Wlco girl and a venr nice thing for ber don't yon think so?' •Wall, 1 don't know—I dare aay it's a nice thing for Roberta.' •Ob, you don't like Roberta, eh?' •Yes, I like Roberta well enough, but I don't think tfala ranging ot hia, a* you call it, ta a particularly nice thine

Hiu uwm

for

tbe little Payne glrL' The young man laughs and goes away to tell hia iriends that Jack Carney doesn't think much of Roberta. About tbe time that tbla conversation ia taking place, M^jor Roberta ia leaving the Carney mansion alter rather a prolonged Interview with Misa Payne. Mrs. Carney la on the *pti vfee upstairs for didn't Major Roberta, on entering the library and finding her in possession, aay toner with a significant smile that be should like to see Misa Payne for a few moer-

re­

tail?' But Adelaide doea not Immediately leave tbe library after Major Robert's exit. Minute after minute goes by, until the little clock on the shelf has

struck tbe half hour twice. Mrs. Carney can stand it no longer. Perhaps Ada is shy perhaps ahe is afraid that Mr. Carney is up stairs: and so fraudulently fortifying herself, Mrs. Carney goes down to the library. •Well, Ada,! sho says gayly, 'why didn't you baine up and tell me the good news? live been waiting a whole hour for yoat Ada turns her face from the wtndow. What a curious look there Is upon it, and what a curl-

Carney.' Carney in

tew unguarded sentences, in ber usual reckless fashion, lets out her own Iittlo interview with Major Roberts and its significance to her.

Tben Adelaide finds ber tongue, and a red fluah comes into her pale cheek at the same time. •If Msjor Roberta advortises his confidence like this, tben I tun oertainly justified in saying that Major Roberts made a mistake, and that I was not to bo had, as lie thought, for his asking. 'What! you don't wean to say, Adelaide, that you have rejected Major Roberta?' •And why not, pray? Better men than Major Roberts have been rejected!' 'But I thought, I supposed—' •Yes, I know you thought, and ev-* erybody,. Major Roberts included, thought that 1 should only be too happy to pick up the Sultan's handkercnief whenever he pleased to throw it but you're all mistaken.' 'But, Adelaide, alter our conversation •I never said I liked Major Roberts, never!' interrupted Adelaide, passion yibrating iu ber tones. •I'm uot alluding to Major Roberts particularly now I was thinking of our conversations about money. Major Roberts, you knew, has come into a tortone lately.'

Yes, I know, but I never tneaut that I could mairy a man without ioving bim, and I don't lovo Major Roberts, I don't like him even now. I did think once, two or. three years ago—welt, I did think that I was—that he was a sort of hero. But since I've seen him this time I've found out my mistake. Oh. Mrs. Carney, I've been such a foolt Girls are such fools! To think I should hiwe admired blai. He is so vain, so artificial! not a man's man at all, as I thought him.' •Well, I'm glad you've found him out Ada. I never could understand how you girls oould be so deceived by that grand manner. But I must say lthiuk you've been playing rather fast and loose, Ada, for you've corliiluly encouraged Major Roberts until everybody thought ihere'd be but ouo end to thp matter.' •I haven't encouraged talni, Mrs. Carney, I never thought ho meant anything serious until to-day.' •What in tho world could you be thinking of then? Evorybody else had seen how in earnest he was.' 'Have tbey? well, much good may lt do thom," Adelaido replies irritably.

Mrs. Carney Is certainly au unliable woman. She looks a moment at Adelaide, as if turning over something in her mind, and tben, instead ol keeping up the Irritating subject, says kindly •Come out for a drive with me, Ada it will do you good.'

It is a lovely day, the air full ot warmth and brightness, iiucl not a cloud to be seen in tbe April sky. So sweet is tbe influence of all this warmth and brightness, this tender atmosphere, that Adelaide's vexed spirit yields to it involuntarily, and something of girt 8 hope and lightness comes into her heart and shines out upon her 'ace at last. •It really has dono you good, Ada. 1 haven't seen you looking like this lor a longtime,' says Mrs. Carney, pleasantly exultant over the e^Tect of her prescription. They aro just returning to the city as Mrs. Carney says this, and Adelaide is on the point of responding, ot con teasing bow much good sho has gained, when a shrill, cloar voice cries

°"ob, Mrs. Cafney, Miss Payne, how do you do? won't you cquie In Adelaide turns her head in tho direction from wheuce the voice proceeds, and sees Miss Mayuard leaning over tho mite, which shuts In a pretty green lawn, and at her side stands George King. The coachman isordsred to puil up lor a moment, just long enough for Airs. C*rney to sak about tho now bouse, and if Mr. Maynard likes to be so far out—if they have got soulcd yet, etc.. and then Miss Mayuard, as they move off, says In a quick, happy way: •I atn coming to see you very soon, Mrs. Carney, to see you and to bring you a piece of news.' And as she speaks she moves her band to her face. Perhaps it is to bide the rising blush in her cheeks, but at the moment there shines and sparkles out to them a ray of light and lire from a solitaire diamond. •A great impudent diamond. Jack, ia Mrs. Carney's curious description as she tells her story ol the day to tier husband that evening 'And she looked so detestable happy. Jack, I couldn't ear her!' And Jack laugos, as he always does, at Mra. Carney^iqueer little turns, and puts her in a corner by saying: 'Thought you were a groat frleud of Mary Maynard's. Kitty?' 1 like Mary Maynard very well, but I always hsd a feeling that she bad laid herself out to catch George, and I hate tbat kind ot girl,' is Mrs. Carney's contradictory reply. 1 see—you had made a new plan to marry George and Adelaide, the moment you found out she'd given Roberts tbe go-by and Mary Maynard bas npaet this plan and you know, Kato, nothing ever vexea you like tbe upsetting ol any of your little beneficent plans for other people's felicity.' •Well, Jack, tbere'a one thing: if your little theory What more Mis. Carney would bave said will never be known, for at tbla point a servant lnterrupia with the message tbat Miss Maynard and Mr. King are down stairs. •Did tbey ask for Miss

Payne,

Aun 7

•Yea'm, and I spoke to ber as I wine along, but sbe says she's a headache and will be excuaod if you please. •Wheraiaabe, Ann?r ... •In the school-room, ma am.

The school-room, as it is called, where Adelaide teaches tie little Carneys, Is it tbe extreme end of th® booee. It ts a largo room, cbeerful enough when tbe aunahiue is puring in at the aoutbweat windows, but looking very dismal •a Adelaide slta there by a single low light, and a little chilly fire in a wide K»te. But it has the virtue of being out of tbe way of everybody and everybody's noise, and thus a very fitting place for a person suffering with headache. Bat even at tbla Isolated distant** Adelaide can catch now and tben a faint sound of laughter from the drawing room. In vain abe tries to fix her mind upon Miss Thackeray's pretty story of 'Elizabeth,' which sho has brought np from tbo library for it seems she does not find her headache so severe aa to exclude ber from reading, or at least an attempt at it. But it ia merely an attempt, not on account of tbe headache, but on wandering thoughts. The Gilmore of Miss Thackeray a story tarns Into Miss Maynsxd aa ^she reads [Qmcludcd on Third Page.]