Saturday Evening Mail, Volume 6, Number 32, Terre Haute, Vigo County, 5 February 1876 — Page 2

THE MAIL

A PAPER FOR THE PEOPLE.

ZEKRE HAUTE, FEB. 6, 1878.

TWO CHRISTIANS.

^TwoChristian* traveled down a road, Who viewed the world with different eye* The one was pleased with Mirth's abode,

The other longing for the skies. IForone the heavens were so bine. They tilled hi* mind with fancies fond The other's eye* kept piercing through

Only for that which lie* beyond

SFor one, enohaotluit were the trpr*, Tbe distance was divinely dim. The birds that fluttered on the breese

Nodded their pretty head* for him. The other scarcely »»w the flowers, And never knew the tree* were grand,» "31 did bnt count the days and hour*.

Till he might reach the promised land.

And one a little kind carats Would to a tender rapture move tear Se only oped hi* lips to bless &

The (Jod who gave him things to love. The other Journeyed on hi* way, Afraid to handle or to touch lie only oped hi* Itpc* to pray

He might not love a thing too much.

Which wa* the beat! Decide who can. *. Vet why should we decide 'twlxt them 7 We may approve the mournful man,

Nor «-t the Joyful man condemn. Be is a Christian who lias found That earth, as well as heaven. Ik sweet, gfi Nor less is he who, heaven-bound, lias

spurned the earth beneath his feet.

The Mystery at Blackwood Grange.

By MRS. MAY AONES FLEMING

Author of

He lookod round his little dingy den, with a wrathful glare on his handsome face, and hurled the parchment in his hand llerccly to the other end of the room. was nover born for this life, and I'll not endure it much longer! Who is that who says, 'All things are possible to the man who believes in himself?" There should be rich women in plenty in theso days of petroleum and shoddy, ready to exchange their yellow treasure, for a young and handsome husband. Old or young, handsome or hideous, what does it matter, so that there is gold enough to gild tho uglinesf. By the way," ho broko off, suddenly, "I wonder what became of poor Isabel!" llo walksd to the grimy window and gazed out moodily at the perpetual rush of passers-by. "No onenas seen her no one has heard of her—she has disappeared as completely as though the earth had opened and swallowed her up. Poor Isa! I aetod like a cold blooded scoundrel to her, I dare say and yet I don't know. I couldn't marry her, it was simply impossible. Bachelor pauperism, with a dry crust to day, in a dingy saloon, and a petit souper to-morrow night at the Maiaon Doree, is a very different thing from matrimonial pauperism, with a sickly wife and crying children, and tho cut direct from one's friends in Bohemia. No, no! it was better for Isabel, better for myself, to act as I did. N thing bnt a weary waiting could have come of continuing the engagement nothing but misery from a marriage. And vet, heaven knows, I loved that girl !rt

Mr. Wildair put on his hat and coat, locked his offico, and walked out. He walked moodily along the crowded street for some way, then sprung into a pamlng car, and rodo up to Central Park. He was in the habit of going there of evonings to kill time, ana smoke a dreamy sogar among the trees.

Thla bright May afternoon the drives and walks were crowded. Brilliant equipages flashed by, filled with fair faces dashing equestrians pranced gayly after: weli-drcwacd mon and women rambled through tho cool paths, and loiterers reclined on the benches. Over all a sky of cloudless blue shone, and in the west tho sun was sotting in a gorgeous oriilamme of splendor.

George Wildair leaned against a tree, smoking his segar.audlooking with lar.y eyes at that splendid sunset. He was oontrosting his own hard ftUe, bitterly and curiously, with that of thoee fortunate people*in the gay carriages that rolled by, when a voice startled him out of his discontented reverie.

Dont tell mo that this is George Inglia Wildair, grown so big, and so brown, and so bearded, and all in ten yean! Dont tell me so bocause 1 used to know him when a great awakward hobbledehoy and it tent possible, yon know!"

The voice was girlish and silvery, and the laugh which followed «m sweet as peal of musical bells, Mr. Wildair wheeled round and stood staring blank.ML... ph„tons, that was drawn by two spirited, creamy white ponies, she lookod the mettiest of little fldr-balred fairies, in her bewitching carriage costume. Tho blue eyes spirkledlike staw, and enchanting dimples chased one another over the rosy, laughing faoo. By her side sat an elderly lady, as uprlghC and stiff, and Jirim as the vi tue of Prudence

eC"tHedoesn*t

boyish

Wonderful Woman," "A Mad Marriage," &?., Ac.

CHAPTER III. MISS AMY KARL.K.

The May dav had been intensely warm. Ail day long the Now York pavement* had baked and blistered under the sweltering sun. Noise and war* rush and rattle over stony streets, under that blazing sky, since early morning, until one's head throbbed, and eyes and ears ached from uproar and glare.

As the City Hall clock struck five, George Wildair pushed away bis stool from the dosk, where he had sat busily writing for the past three hours, and rose up with an impatient oath. It was a dingy little office in Fulton street, where the young lawyer sat alone, and the ceaseless turmoil without was like the roar of the angry sen.

Curse the luck!" growled George Wildair, wit4 a savage frown. Is this infernal treadmill life to go on forever? Drudge, drudge, slave, slave! Better to bo bora a blackamoor, bought and sold at once! From morning till night, week in and week out, the same horrible slavery for daily bread and salt, and all hopo of the unendurable drudgery ending soon, lost now. If that old, spiteful bag had only made Isabel Yanco her heiress, how different all might bo. Life in that dazzling fairy land, whose highways are paved with gold, a handsome and stately wife, all the glory of the world might be mine. And now—and now—"

know mef* criedthellt-

tle sparkler, with a second musiml laugh. "See bow bo stares! I declare, if the horrid creature has not gftno and

used to be so iQl1

what's

hi name, and all that, bn*bera

fit a girl, with chins blue eyes, and tom-

ways—six

Miss Earle laughed onoe more. She bad glittering whito teeth, and an exqoitritely musical laugh, and evidently made the most of both.

I have been in New York a month and I have be.-n looking for you ever since, and asking for you, but no one seemed to know anything about the matter. I thought you had got married, or turned Diogenes, and lived in a tHb. let me present you to Mrs. Sterling, my friend and chaperon, who has been tormented with me for the past three years, and is likely to be for three times three to come. My old friend and playmate, Mr. George Wildair, dear Mrs. Sterling."

Mrs. Sterling bowed stiffly, not relaxing into the faintest smile. But Mr. Wildair was not to be reUnffed.

The name is a very familiar one. I kRew a John Sterling once—be was my most intimate friend at college. He became a doctor, and settled down in Maryland semewhere. Perhaps you knew him

Thq frigid face of the elder lady bright ened at once. "John Sterling is my son," she said, "my only son. Now that you recall it, I do remember his speaking of you very often. I am glad to make

I did," said Mr. Wildair, still struggling with his surprise "but I never dreamed that Miss Amy Earle, of Maryland, was the little Amy I used to know in Boston. And you were Miss Hardenbrook's cousin

So it appears, although I knew nothing of tho matter, hardly ever heard her mime, in fact, until she was good enough to make me her heiress. Isn't it romantic? But it wasn't altogether fair, either for there was another young lady, a nearer relative, who lived with her, and who certainly had a botter right to it than I."

Indeed!" Yes a Miss Vance. She was disinherited at tho last moment, through some caprice of tho old lady's. She has disappeared, it seems, and no one knows anything of her whereabouts. I have tried every means, advertised, ami all, but I ennnot find her."

Mr. Wildair was looking straight before him at the yellow light dying out of tho wostern sky.

And whv do you wi*h to find her?" he asked. Miss Earie gimictfd at him in reproachful surprise

Can you ask? She had a much better right to this money than I. She was a nearer relative she had lived with Miss Hardenbrook for years, and been brought up to expect it all at her death. If Miss Hardenbrook chose to be unjust and whimsical at tho last moment, that does not alter my obligation. John Sterling told me my duty plainly he said I would be wrong, and cruel, and unjnst, not to share with her—to give her half. I would, too, if 1 could find her." "John Sterling was always a trifle Quixotic," said George, with one of his cynical laughs. "Very few people, inheriting this fortune, would take his view of the case. However, it does you honor, Miss Earle."

My son is not Quixotic, Mr. Wildair," said Mrs. Stealing, with cold asperity. "He is the most noble and highmined of men."

Mr. Wildair bowed with bis most cynical smile. Not a doubt of it," he thought. "It is so easy to be magnanimous and noble where other people's money is concerned." But, aloud, he blandly said, "Your pardon, madam, I should knew that. But in these days of selfishness, that kind of thing is very apt to be mistaken, by an unappreclative world, for the wildest sort of Quixotism. And so you have failed in your search, Miss Earle, for this disinherited damselMiss, bow do you call her?"

Miss Isabel Vanoe and so very hand* some a damsel, Mr. George wildair, that I dont think you would forget tbe name so easily if you saw her once. She was an actress before Miss Hardenbrook adopted her. Most probably she has returned to her old profession It Is odd she Is not to bo found: perhaps she has changed her name: but, I daresay, she will turn up promiscuously some day. as you did this afternoon. I searched for you, yon know, and couldn't find

y°Mr.

Wildair bowed. "It is too much honor to be remembered all these

y" Ah 1 no doubt hut you see I have a good memory for nil my old friends, particularly one I used to quarrel with every day. Look at that sunset skydid ^ou ever see anything more love^Tho steppers pranoed gayly through tho broad drives the phaeton rolled as on velvet the luminous dusk of tho delicious swing twilight bong over the esrth likes vnl of silver base. A yoang May moon trembled on tho verge Off an opal-tinted sky and the noises of the distent city oanrte tor and feint.

George Wildair sat beside the fairy heiress, with the starry blue eyes, sad pale aureole of golden hair, like a man in a detightfoi dream. Bedredden Hassan, falling asleep at t* gates of D* msscus, and awakening In the l^nceee' palace, with tba* royal beauty bending

TERRE HAUTE

yeais younger than

himself, and his pet, ana protege, and next door neighbor. Miss Amy Karle, surely!" he Said, doffing his hat and coming up to the pony carriage, "CanJ believe niy eyfs! How stupid of me, dint to reoognize yon at once for, exoept that you have grown taller, you are exactly the same aa of old. this is a dellgbtfW surprise I should as soon have thought of seeing the Empress Rngenle in the Park.

your

acquaint

ance, sir. My son's friends are always mine." How nice!" cried Miss Karle, with sparkling effusion. "It's exactly like a play, where everybody turns out to be the brother, or wife, or father of everybody olse! Won't you take a seat, George Oh! I beg pardon I suppose I must say Mr. Wildair now."

If you do, I will never forgive you! Think it is the old days over again, and permit me to call you Auij'."

He took a seat by her side, and the high stepping ponies rattled off. And you nave left Boston for good, I suppose," ho remarked, "and nave pitched your tent in New York permanently?"

Oh, dear, no!" exclaimed the young lady. "I am only here a month, and don't intend to remain. We came on business—I've had a fortune left me. I have been living at Blackwood Grange, Maryland, for the last three years."

George Wildair started violently, and turned very pale. What!" he said, "are y«u the Amy Karlo to whom Dorothy Hardenbrook left her fortune?"

Miss Earle bowed and smiled radiantly. "I have that happiness! But. good

fracious

me! how aghast you look If

had told you 1 had murdered somebody, you "could not wear a paler or more horrified foce! What's the matter? Did you know Miss Hardenbrook "Slightly." Ho drew a long, hard breath of intense surprise. "That is more than I ever did then. But, if you knew her, you must Lave heard the name of the person to whom she left her wealth."

over him, could scsroely have oeen more delightfully dazed. AP hour ago, alone and disconsolate,^ tod _been cursing his hard fate, and, 101 with one touch of some magic wand, he ist in the princess' carriage, with the piStty princess herself chattering deliclorts non sense temillafly by his side. II "And, of oouiie, we willexpeHtosee

Sterling!"very

ou of^en, ofV»n—shUlw enot^M rs. w£re th#Words IhatarouBed him from his dream. "And to-night, if you drop into Wallack's, I daresay vou will see us there. It is my old pet play, 'The Lady of Lyons old as the hills, you know, but ever now. That dear, sweet Claude Mflnottc! Oh! how I w|sh some dellghtftilly handsome, and learned, and eloquent gardener's son would tall in love with me, and marry me, as dear Claude did Pauline! It must bo

nioe to be loved like that,

and have pa!e-faeed heroes going mad for one's sake!" Amy, my dear!" rebuked Mre, Sterling, inher m®st stately manner.

It's not proper, is it, Mrs. Sterling. But, then, it's true, and I don't mind Oeorge we're such old, o'.d friends, you know. And one likes to say what one thinks, sometime*."

I can

quite comprehend the possibili

ty of going mad for Miss Amy Earle's sake," Mr. Wildair said, in a low tone —and the pretty little heiress shrugged her dainty shoulders. "Oh, of course! You couldn't help saying that, could you? And then I'm rich and men have gone mad before now for less gold than my money-bags hold. I quite understand all that T've hard scores of offers but to be loved as Claude Melnotte loved Miss Dechappelles—that's quite another thing, yon understand. I shall look for you at Wallack's to-night, Mr. Wildair."

George alighted at the corner of his own street, and the pony oarriage rolled away. He went to bis boarding house and made a most elaborate toilet, and issued forth undor tbe May starlight, an irrosistible Adonis, in a dress-coat, and pale, tightly fitting kids.

Tbe first act was nearly over when Mr. Wildair strolled into the theatre, and swept the house with his lorgnette. Yes, there she was, so brightly pretty that it was a pleasure only to look at her the sparkling face, and the palo, rose-hued silk, and the pearls, and tbe waxen-white fiowers sho wore, all less fresh and exquisite than herself Many glasses were levelled at their box, some at the groat Maryland heiress, but more at the sweel, pure face, and dainty little statuesque head.

The curtain fell. Mr. Wildair made his way to the box, and was greeted with an enchanting smile. He took his stand behind Miss Earle's chair, and whispered sentimental small-talk, under favor of the music, to his heart's content. And Miss Earle deigned to listen graciously to it all, and fluttered her fan, and plaj'ed with her bonquet, and laughed, and sparkled, and was rather sillv, if the truth must out and Mrs. Sterling, dignified and frigid, lookod on in chilling disapproval.

The play ended—Pauline was happy in tho arms of her Claude, and Miss Earle was satisfied. Mr. Wildair gave her his arm to her carriage, and left her with a promise to call upon the morrow, and with one of the waxey japonicas from her hair in his buttonhole.

Miss Earle's dreams were usually bright, but thev were unusually bright to-night and Mi's. Sterling sat lip into the small lionrs, writing an indignant protest to her son.

He is a shallow, heartless, fortune hunter and he will win her, and marry her, and neglect her, and break her heart, poor, sill}7, frivolous child Romance reading has turned her brain. She is prettjT, and she is sweet, and innocent, and trustful as a 'child of three. It is a shame, it is a pity, and all your faith, you ungrateful, headstrong boy! Why didn't you marry her? You might when we were at Blackwood, if you chose. But no, you would be Quixotic —Mr. Georgo Wild air's cynical name for it is the right one.. 'She must see the world she must know her own value you would not entrap her confiding youth and innocence you would not be called a fortuno buntor!' Ridiculous, romantic twaddle! She will marry this George Wildair, and be miserable all the rest of her life."

George Wildair walked homo through the misty May moonlight with tlie air of a conqueror, and a smile of triumph on his face.

How oddly things corno about in this world, after all," he soliloquized. "Who says tho romance is all in three volume novels, five act melodramas? To think that I should becomo master of, Dorothy Hardenbrook's thousands, in spite,of Dorothy Hardenbrook's will!"

CHAPTER IV.

ON THK WKDDING-KVE.

Through a long vista of gorgeous rooms, athwart the glitter of gas, and 'the gleam of jewels, and tho wild, sweet music of a German waltz, Mr. Wildair went to meet bis fairy princess. He had seen her several timcs'since tho night at the play, but he was now to meet her at an up-town party a magnlficont affair, where the crcmc tie hi crcmc of the

Fifth Avenue assembled in dazzling toilets, and where the young lawyer from Fulton street was almost unknown. "But any lriend of dear Miss Earle," quoth Mrs. Goldham, tho givor of tho feast, when asked for an invitation, "must needs be welcome and

Mr.

Wildair received a card, went, in all the

Son,

urple and fine linen tho nobler sex dare and looked the handsomest man in tho rooms.

Miss Amy Earle thought so. as she glanced his way under cover of her fan, whilst flirting animatedly with tho son of the bouse. She was looking wonderfully pretty herself—a very sea-nymph, In pale-green silk, under misty white, ana with emeralds glimmering on the exquisite neck and arms. So enchantingly pretty, and so delightfully rich, what wonder if tho bright llttlo Maryland heiress was the triumphant queen of the night, ever surrounded by the handsomest and most eligible men in the room, and reoeiving flattsry enough to turn forever a dozen such silly little heads.

George Wlldalr's heart «unk all at once, as be watched her receiving her perpetual incense, as a little princess might and his high hopes fell suddenly. •"Whatif I should miss again?" be thought, with a sickening feeling of apprehension. "What chance has a poor devil, such as I am, amongst those millionaires, and sons of millionaires? And yet little Amy isn't the sort of a girl to marry for money. Sho Is of the sedtlmental kind, that elope with tbe coachman, and think love in a cottage the height of earthly bliss. What is It the grand old cardinal says in tho play? «In the vocabulary of great men, there Is no such word as flalif' Courage, mon ami! You'll win the heiress yet

Mr. Wildair paid his respects to his hostess, and then sought out tbs b«Ue of the balL She received him with her brightest glance and most bewitching smile.

Too late, monsieur," she said, gayly. In answer to bis request for the honor of lir Sind. "Enwged for tlUs waits and for tho redowa bnt after tbst—there!"

She scribbled bis name with a mite of

-LURDAY EVKNtNG MAIL.

of gold pencil,and flashed her Ivory tab-

man, and you're to take *gp to sppper, Our wi^i, Capt, Fraser Ajj|^ W

George She heart tl "She me as here. 1 that ev things ready m...~.

|ed away, and tL —_ lii*h withfiqje.^ abbed hl^w -^3ir~z Ills me Gtorgetatft sh^Jfavom she faVeftjB nop& pMw" can see ww- jj*he is not the veriest coquette flirted a fan, and made play(Wn's £earta, the gsme is al-

Mr. Wildair strolled throngb the rooms carelessly whilst waiting his turn to be. blessed, He didn't tare to dance since be could not dance witbber so he watched the others, leaning idly against a pillar, and weaving roeo-hned dreams of the golden future to come.

Miss Earle let her favored cavalier take her in to supper, and spsrkled more brightly than ine Champagne and Moselle. And after supper they had waltz, the music whereof was as the music of the spheres, and they seemed to float, not on vulgar waxed floor, but on impalpable air. And George Wildair, with his arm encircling tbe taper waist, his eyes alight, his face radiantly handsome as the "darling of the gods." whirled her out of the glaring ballroom, into the green dusk and sylvan quiet of a cool conservatory. Far and faint, and unutterably sweet, came the mnsic from the ball-room soft and silvery floated in the May moonlight through the open window tinkling fountains plashed in their marble basins, watched over by pale goddesses and tropical plants, and tropical perfume. transformed the place from dull earth to the realms of fairyland. "Oh -how nice!" the little heiress cried. "Moonlight and music, flowers and fragrance, and fountains, and everything charming! I suppose it's vulgar, and soon—Mrs. Sterling says it is—to go off into raptures about these things as I do—but I can't help it. She calls it gushing and low-brea but I do love pretty things—music and bowers, and lovely dresses, and brilliant balls and I can't help saying so, let people think what thev please. Life is one long, delightful dream, and I would not be any one else than Amy Earle, the heiress, for all the world. What do you think of me after that confession, Mr. George Wildair?"

If I only dared say what I think," the young man murmured. "But no— you would call me mad, presumptuous, Impertinent. I must not forget that it is no longer the little Amy of by-gonp days—but Miss Earle, the heiress, I stand beside, and that I am a penniless lawyer, obliged to drudge for my daily bread."

Miss Earle's blue eyes drooped, and the csy light tinted the rounded cheeks. But it was not the flush of displeasure: and her voicc, timid and fluttering, had nothing of anger in it when she spoke.

You are unjust, Mr. Wildair. Amy Earle, tho heiress, is in no way different from the Amy Earle of other days. I don't think I ever gave you grounds for tbat reproach."

No." he said, bitterly. "You have baen all generosity, all gracions condescension. But fhough you may stoop, I cannot presume." "Gracious condescension! What nonsense are you talking? Do you want to make me angry, Mr. Wildair?"

Oh, forgive me! But if you can for' got, in your great kindness, the difference between us, I cannot, I cannot forget that you are Dorothy Hardenbrook's heiress, and that I am a penniless lawyer. I cannot forget that I love you, and that I atn mad and besotted for my pains!" "George!"'

Dearest Amy, my love, my darling, let me tell you all my madness now, then banish' me forever from your bright presence, if yon will. I loved you in those days long ago when you were no heiress, but my dear little playmate. Your image, pure and bright as those

shining

siars up yonder, has been with

ma ever since. And now, when I meet you in your dazzling beauty, in your unutterable kindness, is it any wonder that the old love grows even at first sight, too much for one heart to hold Amy, Amy, see me at your feet, not daring to ask for your love, but to implore your forgiveness for telling you mine. Pardon my mad presumption, my love, my queen, and then banish me forever."

The eloquent voice died out he knelt on one knee before her, his head bowed to receive his doom, his face divinely handsome in the pale moonlight. Amy's whole face flushed with rapture as she looked. This was love, this was devotion, this was the dteam of her life! Claude Melnotte, raving mad for love of beautiful Pauline, could uot have wooed more romantically than this! And he was so handsome, too, with the face of a Greek A poll®, .and the tongue of a masculine siren! Miss Earle stretched out ono tiny hand, a glitter with rich rings, and lifted hor l*vcr up.

Rise, George just think if anybody oame in and caught you, you know. And, oh! please, don't say such dreadful things! I—I don't want you to go away forever."

Amy! Oh! for heavens sake, don't deceive me with false hopes now! Be merciful, and bid me go." ,i, ,f

The pretty Hps poutod. It aeems to me you are very anxious to go, Mr. Wildair. Of course, you must, if you insist upon it but mind, I don't bid you."

I* Amy! The ringed, white hand fluttered out again and nestled Into his. "You great silly, George! To think that my foolish fortune could make any difference in me. Ah! don't go, George! I don't want you to leave me ever!"

And then tho pretty head, "sunning

over

with curls," drooped on hta shoulder, and George Wildair, half delirious with delight, clasped her in his arms, and held her there—a triumphant oon-

qlK

Earle and Mr. Wildair were long

in returning to the ball-room so long, that people were smiling significantly, and whispering prophetically when they did return.

See what radiant faces they wear!" BO me one said to Mrs. Sterling. They •tread on thrones' Just now, instead of dull earth. No one ever looks like that, except young ladies and gentlemen in the first ecstasy of engagement My dear madam, your occupation like Othello's will soon "be gone.""

Mrs. Sterling ftowned angrily. Yes, there was no mistaking tbe meaning of those rapturous faces. "He baa reason to congratulate himself, no doubt, she thought, bitterly. "He tos seoured the hslreas and her money hot she. poor, silly, sentimental child, aho will pav a lif long penance for this mad foUy. He la not a good man—he Is selfish and false, and mean to tho oore ofhlaheart. Heaven knml love the ehild dearly, and mould save her If I could but one might as well talk to the wind that blows, and hope to change it, as to a romantic girl in love."

Mm. sterling was wlie in her generation. That night, rather next mornteg, In the gray and dismal day-dawn, when they reached borne, Amy came peeping timidly Into her room, the eider lady sat quietly, disrobing herself for bed, very grave, very grim.

"Please, may I come in?" the little girl said, falteringly. Mrs. SterUng looked St be# How fresh, bow fjgeet, how lipqesnl bow young she waKi--In her dalnl^r ball-dress, with tfait timid flush on JBer ^eek, that wistfulihun^d light ip the starry eyes. All tb«notliit's wrtViuln her went out, in ilnfinite compassion, "to the or|ban«|IWiifc. W *0 W

Yes, my little one, come In, and tell me all about it. Ah, my Amy! do you think I am quite blind?"

Amy hid her hot face in the matronly lap. Dear Mrs. Sterling, how good you aie! I didn't know now to tell you. Yes," very falteringly, "I am engaged."

To George Wildair "Yes, to George. Oh! you don't know how dearly be loves me—you don't know bow bitterly he feels the difference between ray wealth and bis p«verty. As if it mattered, you know, which of us had tbe money, so tbat we have it. If he had the tnrone of the universe, he would lay It at my feet. And John—dear old John—he will be so

?hey

leased, will he not, Mrs. Sterling? wero such old, old friends, George and he."

Mrs. Sterling smiled, then she sighed. I hope so, dear—poor John! But tell me, my child, do you love tbismau? Really love him, as a woman should love tbe man she is to marry

Miss Earle gave a hysterical little laugh, keeping her flushed face persistently hidden.

Of course, I do. Would I accept himelse? He is so delightfully handsome, you know and he waltzes divinely ana he talks like the hero of a novel. What more could any reasonable girl desire

Mrs. Sterling sighed heavily. She lifted the hidden face and kissed it tenderly.

It is almost five o'clock, my pet, and high time you wero in bed. Go, and may God bless you afld make you hap py!"

You don't like poor George Amy said, clinging around her. "An how cruel that is, Mrs. Sterling, when you don't know any evil about him."

Nor any good, my poor Amy! But I will try ana like him for your sake. Now go to bed, and let me go. I'm not in love, you know, Amy, and I really should prefer a comfortable sleep to half a dozen handsome young lawyers."

Mr. Wildair dutifully called, in the course of tbe day, and had a long delicious, lover like talk with bis Amy. And from tbat time forward all went on velvet. There was no hard hearted father, or flinty guardian, to lash the smooth flow of love's tide to frenzyMiss Earle was her own mistress. Mrs. Sterling might disapprove, but she had no authority to forbla the wooing.

The engagement was announced, and the Fulton street lawyer was enviea and hated by half the young men in New York. Eclipsed belles lilted their drooping heads now: the Maryland heiress had retired from the ranks, and there was balm in Gilead for their bruised hearts once more.

June came—July. New York became insupportable, of course, and Miss Earle fluttered away with tbe other butterflies to Newport. Mr. Wildair followed faith fully.

The marriage was fixed for October the fifth. There was to be a magnificent wedding, a gorgeous breakfast, and a trip to Europe. The wedded pair would spend the winter and spring abroad, and return with the Juno roses to their Maryland mansion.

September passed. October camol On the fourth, of the month, tho "night before tho bridal," everything was ready. In the heiress' dressing-room lav spread out, in splendid array, the magnificent wedding-rQbe, the veil, the wreatb, the orange blossoms. In the heiress' draw-ing-room Mr. Wildair sat, bending devotedly over her, and talking as men do talk on their wedding-eve. Both were radiantly happy and hopeful. No shadow of tho awful doom bovcring over them darkened that blissful hour.

It was late when Mr. Wildair departed. He lingered lovingly, clasping the little hands, and kissing the sweet, girlish face.

Good-night," he said, "for the last time, my love, my darling, my bride!" It was a cloudy, overcast night, the moon pale and watery, tho scudding clouds and raw wind threatening rain. George Wildair walked briskly away in the direction of his boarding-house. The stages tbat rattled past kim wero filled with people from tho theatres be preferred the brisk walk to the crush and discomfort of standing in an omnibus. He seemed to walk on air.

At last!" he said, drawing a long breath, "at last, wealth, and ease, and luxury, and every delight this world has to give, will be mine. At last, afterbitter disappointment, after dismal drudgery, after dull despair at last, in spito of Dorothy Hardenorook!" lie stopped suddenly like a flash came the memory of Isabel Vance. Ho had forgotten her as completely of late as though she had never existed. Now she arose before him as she had stood that night, long ago, when she risked a fortune to meet him, pale, menacing.

When I prove false to you, I pray to God that I wt«y difc/" Ho had uttered the terrible invocation himself, and solemn and awful came the memory of that stern "Amen which had responded. The cold drops started out on George Wlldair's brow. "Good Godl" he thought, "whata false foresworn wretch I am! I deserve the doom I invoked and if Isabel Vanoe Is still living, Isabel Vance Is just the woman to stab me to the heart for my periury."

He was near his boarding-house. He had turned tho corner of the street, and was searching in bis pockets for his latch-key, when the figure of a man started out of the shadow of the houses and confronted him. The light of the lamp shone full upon George wildair

To-mOrrow is yoflr wedding-day, George Wildair," said a deep, stern voice, "but to-morrow's sun will rise on a widowed bride. Traitor! Peijurer! take your doom!"

The sharp report of a pistol rang out on tbe stlU midnight air. Polioeman 777, strolling leisurely along the next block, sprang his rattle and rushed lor the spot.

Under the gas lamp a man lay extend' ed, stiff and still, the life-blood pumping out at every breath.

No living creature beside Was to be seen along the whole length of the si* lent street.

No. 777 lifted up tbe wounded man. Tbe dulled eyes turned upon the policeman's face, the dying tongue uttered one word,

Isabel I"

No more. Tbe head fell back, one last convulsive throe, and George Wildair was a corpse. [TO BK OOWTIKtmO.]

Ladies at Home

Can earn from HO to MO a week, canvassing far the Saturday Evening Mall and lis charming Chroma*, flee pronpectas in an column, and send for dreular of in atraettons. Or better •till, send Two Dol lam far ootllt and commence work tmmedl ateljr.

Saturda

FOR THE YEAR 1875-6.

A MODEL WEEKLY PAPER FOR THE HOME. I I JL

.: %::TERMS:^

One year, (with chroma)....,. 92 Ott Six months, (without chronao) tl 00 Three months, (without chrome)........M cts.

Mall and office Subscriptions will, lnvarl* ably, be discontinued at expiration ef time, paid for. 1"

Encouraged bj- the extraordinary success7 which has attended the publication of THK, SATURDAY EVENING MAIL., tke publisher has perfected arrangements by which it will hencefortli be one of the most popular papers in tbe West.

THE CHOICE OF

Two Beautiful Chromos

Presented to each yearly subscriber, from and after this date. These beautiful pictures Just from the hands of the French chrom arttets, are faithful copies of oil paintings byc the artist W. li. Baker, of Brooklyn. Oae.& entitled

"Cherry Time"

Represents a bright faced boy, coining from? the orchard, bount ifully laden with the red-/ ripe fruit. The other, entitled

"Lily of the Field"

Is a beautiful little girl, with «ne of thee sweetest of faces, gathering lilies In the field. One Is a wood scene, the other has au open meadow in the back ground. They, are of striking beauty.

For one dollar e^tra (13.00 in all,) we Will' send The Mail one year and botii chromo# mounted ready for framing. These picturess are catalogued and sold 1M the ait stores alu FOUR DOLLARS EACH.

f,r

... .-n- 0 FRAMES.

"Wo have mode arrangements with au extensive manufactory of frames by which we can furnish for One Dollar a frame nsdally"^ sold for $1.50 and $1.75. These frames are of?" the bestpolishedwalnutand gilt. Here is the'

BILL OF PRICES.

The Mail one year and choice of Chro- & •. 00 The Mail oae year and Beth Chromos mounted— 8 (X1 The Mail one year and Both Chromos

FRAMED 6 0(1,

THE SATURDAY EVEN I NO MAIL Is an?*1 Independent Weekly Newspaper, elegant) printed on eight pages of book paper, and,. aims to be, in every sense, a Family Paper. 35 With this aim in view, nothing will appear '~j in its columns that cannot be rend aloud in ,, tbe most refined fireside circle.

f'*"

CLUBBING WITH OTI1EK PEltr* ODICALS.

We are enabled to offer extraordinary in-, ducemcnts in the way of dubbins with otli-1 er periodicals. We will furnish TJ1K SAT-J

Mall and Chromo 8 Vi N. Y. I'ribune, pricc 82.00, The Ma 11 and Chromo 8 50 Toledo Blade, price *2.00, The Mall and

URDAY EVENING MAIL, PRICE 83.00 5 PER YEAR, aud eltho^'of the above Chromos with any of the periodicals euumerated below at greatly reduced rates. Theseperiodicals will be sent direct from the" offices of publication, llerc Is the list:

SEMI-WEEKLY.

Semi- M'fckJy Krw York Tribune, price 13.00, The Mail and Chromo $4 50

WEEKLY PAPERS.-

Indianapolis Journal, price $2.00, The Mall and Clirmmo 83 60 lndiar)*tpoU* Sentinel, price 82.00, The

Chromo 5 50 i\T. Y. Sun. The Mall and Chromo 3 00 Prairie Farmer, price 82.00, The Mall fe and Chromo 8 65 1 Western Rural, price 82.50, The Mail and

Chromo J® ^himgo Atlvance, price 83.00, The Mall e: indChromo 4 5e Chicago Interior, price $2^0, The Mall and Chromo 4 00 Chicago Inter-Ocean, price $1.50, Tho

Mail and Chromo............................... 8 26 Applfton'i Journal, price 81.00, The Mail and Chromo 5 25 Rural Neto Yorker, price 53.00, Tho Mail and Chromo 4 25 Hearth and Home, price $34)0, The Mall and Chromo 4 50 Mdhodixt, price $2.50, The Mall and

Chromo 8 60 Harper's Weekly, price 14.00, The Mall and Chromo 5 50 Harper't Bazar, price The Mall and Chromo 60 Frank I*slie» IUtutrated Nevwtpaper, urlcc $4.00, The Mail and Chromo 5 00 LhUes Chimney Comer, price $4.00, The

Mall and Chromo 00 Boys' and Girls' Weekly, price $2.60, the Mall and Chromo $75 ft

MONTHLIES. 1

Arthur's Home Magazine, price $2.50, The Mail and Chromo $4 00 Peterson's Magazine, price $2,00, The

Mall and Chromo 8 58 American Agriculturist, price 11.50, The Mail and Chromo 8 00 BetnoresCs Monthly, pricc $8,00, 1 year,

The Mall and Chr«*mo_ 4 35 Godey's Jjtdy's Book, price $8.00, The $ Mall and Chromo 4 50 Utile Corporal, price $1.50,

Tbe Mall aad

Chromo 8 50 Beribner's Monthly, prioe $4.00, The Mall and Chromo. Atlantic Monthly, price $4.00, The Mall and Chromo.

Old and New, price $4.00, The Mail and Chmmo......„. Overland Monthly, price $4i», The Mall $ and Chromo. -•6 Harper's Magazine, price $4.00, The Mail and Chromo. Gardener's Monthly,price$&00,TheMall and Chromo. Young Folks Rural, The Mali and ChroTto°&ur*ery, price $1.50, Tlie Mail and S^^A^, pri« Mall aid

Chromo.. All the premiums offered by the above pnb ...a 11

cations are Included In this clubbing ar-t ,s,, mngemenL ,-,f% .,v

CLUBBING WITH COUNTY PAPERS. We have made arrangement* to ftxrnlab THE MAIL, with Chrome, and any one o£ the Newspapers In the neighborhood of Torre Haute all for $3J».

JUST LOOK AT IT! .U

The Mall, price. Yoor Coonty paper, price— Jg Tbe Chromo, worths

Total... .....— -18 00

All theee-t(U)0—for $340.

Addrem r. *. WKHTFAlt., Publisher Saturday Evening Mail, TERREHAUTE, IND