Saturday Evening Mail, Volume 7, Number 15, Terre Haute, Vigo County, 7 October 1876 — Page 6

R* »i.s MUj/f «HmM"

JjWtX

THE MAIL

A PAPER FOR THE PEOPLE.

HO FOOL, THIS NIGHT."

The fanner smiled to see hi* bursting barn*. His tie ids yet ripening In the sumtuei

And cr*«in'wlth

began to

fed

of

pride npswelllng from his

Lo, what the toll of my two hands hath

A sweet voice whispered from the rustling To Gotl, who glveth Increase, praise is meet." "There 1* not room within those little sheds

To store from loss and theft my yellow

Hn w-ifi bull'd me greater that I may ujolce and cheer my soul with this my

Btlll plead that angel his pet, low and

Give the poor who have no food to exit."

Cease troubling me! Why should I not be

For hard liatli been my toll, aud long the Kow will 1 laugh and fill my heart with joy,

And live right merrily the rest or ni«. "O fool," the angel whispered with a.sigh, Repent, for thou, this very nlglit, shall die."

The Dead Secret.

1!V WILKIK TOLUNH.

CHAPTER V.

TUB IMIDK AND 11IIIDEOKOOM. Under tho roof of widowed mother Miss Mowlem lived humbly at St. Swithiu's-on-Sea. In tho spring of the year eighteen hundred and forty-four tho heiwt of

Miss

Mowlem's widowed

mother was gladdened in the closing years of life bv a small legacy. 1 timing over in her mind the various uses to which tiie money might be put, the diaiTeet old iadv tiually decided on investing it in furniture, on fitting up the first floor and the second llwr of her house in the best taste, ahd on hanging a cird in the parlor window to inlinn the public that she liad furnished apartments to lot. Bv the summer the apartments were ready and the card was pit up. It had hardly been exhibited a week boforo a dignified personage in Mac* applied to lok at the rooms, expressed himself as satisfied with their appearance, and engaged them tor a month certain for a newly married lady and gentleman, who might be expected to. Hike possession in a lew days. I he dignified personage in black was 'apt.un Treverton's hcrvant, uikI the l«uly ftuu gentlemau, who arrived in due take possession, were Mr. and Mrs. Frankland.

The maternal interest which Airs. Mowlem leltin her youthful first lodgers was necessarily vivid in its nature btu it was apathy I tne If compared to the sentimental interest which her daughter took in observing tho manners and customs of the lady and gentlemau i:i their capacity of bride and bridegroom, ^rom tho moment when Mr. and Mrs. 1rank land entered tho houso Miss Mowlem

study them with all the ardor

of an industrious scholar who attacks a now branch of knowledge. At every spare moment of the ty this industrious and Inquisitive young Inuy occupied herself 111 stealing up stairs to coi­

observations, and in running down *tairs to communicate them to her mother. Hv the time the married couple bad been' lu the house a week, Miss Mowlem had made such good u*" of her (vyes, ears, and opportunities that she could have written a seven day's diary

tho lives of Mr. an Mrs. Frankland with tho truth and minuteness of Mr. Samuel P.ipya himself.

But, learn as much as wo may, tho longer we livo the more information there is to acquire. Seven days'patient accumulation of facts in connection with the honeymoon had not placed Miss Mowlem beyond tho reach of farther disoovorles. Oil the morning of the eighth dav, after bringing down the breakfast tray, this observant spinster stolo up stairs again, according to custom, to drink at the spring of knowledge through tho key hole channel of the dpawing room door. After an absence ortive minutes she descended to the kitchen, breathless with excitement, to announeo a tresh discovery in connection with Mr. and Mrs. Frankland to her venerable mother.

Whatever do you think she doing now?" cried Miss Mowlem, with widely opened eyes, and highly elevated hands.

Nothing that's useful," answered Mrs. Mowlem, with sarcastic readiness. She's actually sitting on his knee! Mother, did you ever sit on father's kneo when you were marriod?" •'Certainly not, my dear. When me and your poor father married we were neither of us llightv young people, and we knew better." "She's got her head on his shoulder," proceeded Miss Mowlem, more ami more ag tatedly, "and her arms round his neck—bjtii her arms, mother, as tight as can be.t'

I won't Mleveit!" exclaimed Mrs. Mowlem, indignantly. "A lady like her with riohes, and accomplishments, and all that, demean herself like a housemaid with a sweetheart 1 Don't tell me, I won't believe It!"

It was true, though, for all that. There

were

plenty of chairs in Mrs. Mowlem's drawing room there were three beautifully hound books on Mrs. Mowlem's l»erabtoke table (the Antiquities of St. Nwlthiu's, Smallridge's Sermons, and Klomtock'a Messiah, in Knglish prose)— Mrs. Frankland might have sate on nprple morocco leather stuffed with the best here© hair, might h-ve in for mod and soothed her mind with arcbwalogioal diversion*, with orthodox native theology, and with devotional poetry of foreign ortgtn-and yet, so frivolous!* the nature of women, she was perverse enough to prefer doing nothing, and jttrehtna herself uncomfortably on her us an 8t* sat for some time In the undignified po'iuou which Mteft Mowlem had described with such graphic correctness to her mother, then drew back a little, raised her head, and looked earnMUV into the quiet, meditative face of Ute'blind man.

Lenny, vou are very silent this morning, she said. "What are you thinkin* about? If you will tell me all your thought*. I will tell you all l-l IIIA

Would you really care to hear all m« thoughts}" asked Leonard. Ye«: all. I shall be jealous of any thoughts that you keep to yourself. T©U me what you ware thinking qfjoat now! Me?"

Not exactly of you. More shauie for yoo. Aw you tired of me in right day** I haw not thought of any body but ytm ewrahwew* hare been Ah! you I'thfnk nv, I do lore you so bow^oan I think nfbody hut you? No 11 shan^ kiss you. I want to lutow what you wore thinking about first." or dream, Ilm»nsond, that I had last nUbt. Ever since the firs* days or my biir»di«w»— Why, I tboti: von were ntrt goii to kiss me afe.ua Ull I

was thinking

had told you what about!'1 I can't help kissing you, Lenny, when yon talk of thp loss ot your sight. Toll me, my poor love, do I help to

A Uli MJW "«J make up for that loss Are yon bap-

pier than you used to be? and have wme share in making that happiness, though it is ever so little

She turned her head away as she spoke, but Leonard

waa

I

crying,"

too quick tor

her. His inquiring fingers touched her cheek. "Rosamond, you are crying. he said. ...

she answered, with a sud­

den assumption of gayety. "No," she continued, after a moments pause 1 will never deceive you, love, even in the veriest trifle. My eyes serve for both of us now, don't they you depend on me for all that your touch fails to tell you, and I must never be unworthy of mv trust—must I? I did cry, Lenny —but only a very little. I don't know how it was, but *1 never, in all my life, seemed to pity you and feel for you as I did just at that m'wnt. Nevermind, I've done now. u.i—do go on with what you were going to say."

I was going to say, Rosamond, that I have observed one curious thing about myself since I lost mv sluht. 1 dream a great deal, but I never dream of myself as a blind man. I often visit in my dreams places that I saw, and people whom I knew when I had iny sight, and though I feel as much myself, at those visionary times, as I am now when I am wide awake, I never by any chance feel blind. I wander about all sorts of old walks in my sleep, and nover grope my way. I talk to all sorts of friends in my sleep, aud see the expression in their laces which, waking, I shall never see again. I have lost my sight more than a vear now, and yet it was like tho shock of anew discovery to me to wake up last night from my dream, and remember suddenly that I was blind."

What dream was it, Ijonny? "Only a dream of the place where first met vou when we were uoth child ren. I saw the glen, as it was years aio with tho great twisted roots of the trees and the blackberry bushes twiniin about them in a still, shadowed lull! that came through thick leaves iroui the rainy sky. I sav the mud on the walk in the middle of the glen, with the rnarksof the cows'hoofs some places and the sharp circles in uttiers where some oountrvwonian had been lately tradgimr bv on pattens. I saw the muddy water running down on either side ot the path after tho shower and I saw vou, isaniond, a naughty girl, all covered with clay and wet-just a- you wertin the reality—soiling your bright blue pelisso and your pretty little chubby hands by making a dam to stop the running "water, and lauurhine at the indignation of your nursemaid when she tried to pull you away ainl take you home. I saw alfthat, exactly as it reallv was in tho bv-gone time, but strangely enough I did not seo myselt asthe bov I then was. You were a little girl, and tho glen was in its old neirlected state, and yet, though I was all in the past so far, I was in the present as regarded myself. Throughout the whole droam I was uneasdy conscious of being a grown man—of being, in short, exactly what I am now, excepting always that I was not blind."

What a memory you must have love, to be able to recall all those little circumstances, after the years that have passed si've that wet day in the glen How well 3 oti recollect wbat I was as a child Do you remember in the same vivid way what I looked like a year ago, when you saw me—oh, Lenny, it almost breaks my heart to think of it!—when vou saw me for the last time?"

Do I rememder, Rosamond! My look at your lace has painted

your

por­

trait on iny memory in colors that can never change. I have many pictures in my mind, but your picture is the clearest and brightest of all."

And it the picture of moat my best —painted in my youth, dear, when my face always confessing how I loved you, though my lips said nothing. There is some consolation in that thought. When years have passed over us both, Lenny, and when time begins to set his mark on mo, you will not say to yourself, 'My Rosamond is beginning to fade she grows less and less like what she was when I married lier.' I shall noverjjrow old, lovo, for you! The bright young picture in vour mind will still be iny picture when my cheeks are wrinkled and my hair is gray." "Still my picture—always the same, grow as ofd as I may."

But are you sure it is clear In every part?

Are

there no doubtful lines, no

unfinished corners any where? I have not altered yet, since von saw me—I am just what I was a year ago. Suppose I askedjou what I am like now, couid you tell mo without making a mistake?

Try me." May 1 You shall be put throifgh a complete eathechiHin! I don't tire vou sitting on vour kne". do I? Well in tho first place, how tall am I when we both stana up side by side?"

You are just up to my ear." "Quite right to begin with. Now for the next question. What does my hair look like in your portrait?

It is dark brown—there is a groat deal of it—and it grows rather too low on your fore-hoad for the taste of some

"?«ever mind about *aome people,' does it grow to low for your taste "C ertalnlv not. I like it to grow low I like all those little natural waves that It makon against your forehead I like It taken back, as you wear it, In plain bands which leave your ears and your cheeks visible and, above all things, I like that big glossy knot that it makes where It is all gathered up together at the back of yonr head." "Ob, Lsnny, how well von retnem ber me so far No go a little lower."

A little lower is down to your eyebrows. They are very nicely-shaped eyebrows in my picture—"

Yes, but they have a fault. Comet tell me what the fault is?" '•They are not quite so strongly marked as they might be."

Right again And my eyes?" Brown eyes, larire eyes, wakeiul eyes, that sfo always looking about them. Kyea that can be very soft at one time, and verv bright at* another. Kyw tender and clear, lust as the present moment, but capable, on very alight

Krrovocation,

of opening rather too wide-

and looking rather too briliantly re-

"Mind von don't make them look so now! Wlbat there below the eyes?" "A noae that Is not quite big enough to be In proper proportion with them. A noae that baa a slight teodetuy to be—"

Don't my the horrid Knglish word! Spare my feelings by pntting it in French. Say rttrowtm, and skip over my nose as last as powdbk*." most stop at the mouth, then and own tbat It Is as near perfection as possible. The lips are lovely in shape, fresh in color, and IrriesUUble in expansion, They smile in my portrait, and I am •ore they are smiting at me now."

How* couid they do otherwise when thev are getting so much pr*lse My vanStv whispers to me that I had bet**r! stop the catechism here. If I talk about

I A V5 A Hf fM A

sent

TEREE HAUTE SATURDAY EVENING MA

my complexion, I shall only hear that it is of the dusky sort and tbat there is never red enough in it, except when I am walking, or riding, or confused, or angry. If I risk a question about my figure, I shall receive the dreadful answer, 'You are dangerously inclined to be fat.' iri say, How do I dress? I shall be told, not soberly enough you are an fond us ft child of gfty colore—No! I will venture no more questions. But, vanity apart, Lenuy, I am so glad, so proud, so happy to find that you can keep the image of me so clearly in your mind. I shall do my best to look and dress like your last remembrance of me.

My love of loves! I will do you credit —I will try if I can't make you envied for your wifa. You deserve hundred thousand kisses for saying your catechism so well—and there they are

While Mrs. Fraukland was conferring tho reward of merit on her husband, the sound or a faint, small courteously-sig-nificant cough, made itself timidly audible in a corner of the room. Turning around instantly with the quickness that characterized all her actions, Mrs, Frankland, to her horror and indignation confronted Miss Molemstandiugjust inside the door with a letter in her hand, and a blush of

mental agita'.ion on

her simpering face. You wretch how dure you ome in without knocking at the door?" cried Rosamond, starting to her feet with a stamp, and passing in an instant from the height of fondness to the height of passion.

Miss Mowlem shook guiltily before the bright angry eyes that looked through and through her, turned very pale, held out the letter apologetically, and suid, iniher meokest^tones, tliatshe very sorry.

Sorry exclaimcd Rosamond, get ting even more irritated ty the apology than she had been by tLe intrusion, and showing it by another stamp "who cares wother you are sorry or no? I don't want your sorrow—I wont liuvo it.. I never was so insulted in my lite— never, you mean, prying, inquisitive creature

Hosiinond Rosamond! pray don forget yours**!!! in''posed tho quiet vote" of Mr. FrankLi d.

Le t.i\, ir, I an help it! That creator w..uld drive a saint mad. She has been prying after us ever since we have been here—you have, you ill-bred, indelicate women !—-I suspected it be­

fore—i

ani certain of it now! Must we

lock our doors to keep you out?—-we wont lock our doors! Fetch the bill! We give you warning. Mr. Frankland gives you warning—don't

J'OTI.

Lenny?

I'll pack up your things, dear she shan touch one of them. Go down stairs and make out your bill, and give your mother warning. Mr. Frankland says ho wont have his rooms burst into and his doors listened at by inquisitive women—and I say so too. Put that letter down on the table—unless you want to open it and read it—put it down, you audacious women, and fetch the bill, and tell your mother wo are going directly

At this dreadful threat, Miss Mowlem, who was soft and timid, as well as curious. by nature, wrung lier hands in despair, and overflowed meekly in asliowor of tears.

Oh good gracious Heavens above!" cried Miss Mowlem, addressing herself distractedly to the ceiling, "what will mother say! whatever will become of me now Oh, mam. I thought I knocked—I did, indeed! Oh, main! I humbly beg pardon, and I'll never intrude again. Oh, mam! mother's a widow, and this is the first timo we have let the lodgings, and the furniture's swallowed up all our mouev, and, oh, mam! mam! how I shall catch it if you go!" Here words failed Miss Mowlem, and hysterical sobs pathetically supplied their place. '/V'

Rosamond!" said Mr. Frankland. There was an accent of sorrow in his voice this time, as well as an accent ol remonstrance. Rosamond's quick ear caught the alteration in his tone. As she looked round at him, her color changed, her head drooped a little, and her whole expression altered on the instant. She stolo gently to her husband's side with softened, saddened eyes, and put her lips caressingly close to his ear.

Lenny," she whispered, "havo I made you angry with me?" I can't be angry with you, Rosamond," was the quiet answer. "1 only wish, love, that you could have controlled yourself a little sooner."

I am so sorry—so very, very sorry The fresh, soft lips camo closer still to his ear as they whispered these penitent words and the cunning little hand crept up tremblingly round his neck and began to play with his hair. "So sorry, and so ashamed of myself! Bu it was enough to make almost anybody angry, just J»t first—wasn't it, dear? And you will forgive me—won't you, Lennv? If I promise never to behave so badly again? Never mind tbat wretched whimpering fool at the door," said Rosamond, undergoing a slight re lapse «s she looked round at Miss Mowl"in. standing Immovably repentaat against the wall, with lier face buried in a dlngv whito pocket handkerchief.

I'll make it up with her I'll stop her crying I'll take her out of tho room I'll do any thing in the world that's kind to her, if you will only forgive me."

A polite word or two is all that is wanted—nothing more than a polite word or two," said Mr. Fratiklank, rather eoldly and constrainedly.

Don't crv any more, for goodness' sake!" said Rosamond, wa king straight up to Miss Mowlem, and puillng the dingy white pocket handkerchief away from her face without the least ceremony. "There! leave off, will you? Iam very sorry I was In a passion—though you had no business to come in without knocking—I never meant to distress you, and I'll never say a bard word to vou a«raln, if you will only knock at the door fort he future, and leave off crying now. 1M leave off crying, you tiresome creature! We are not going away. We don't want your mother, or the bill, or any thing. Here! here's a present for you, if you'll leave off crying. Here's my nrelc ribbon—I saw you trying it on yesterday afternoon, when I was lying

rr»ivi »«»v* uv\r«jf mvm & 'J *—O

down oil the bed room sods, and you thought I was asleep. Never mind I'm not angry kbout that. Ttke the

uu. And now, Sbake bands and be friends, and go up stairs and see bow it looks in the glass." With these words, Mrs. Frankland opened tbe door, administered, under tbe pretense of a pat on tbe aboulder, a cooa humored shove to the amaaod ana embarrassed Miss Mowlem, closed tbe door again, and resumed ber place In a moment on ber husband** knee.

I've made it up with ber, dear. I've •ent ber away with my bright green ribbon, and it makes her look as yellow as a guinea, and as ugly as—" ftoaamond stopped, and looked anxkiualy into Mr. Fraukland's fece. "Lenny!" "he said, iMdly, putting ber cheek against his, are von angry with m« still

My love, I new* was angry with you. I never ean be." always keep my temper down for t: tre, Ijenny!"

I" A

I am sure you will, Rosamond. But never miud that. I am not thlnkiqg of your temper now." "Of what, then?"

Of the apology you made to Mim Mowlem." Did I not say enough? I ll call her back if you like—I'll make another penitent speewh—I'll do anything but Kiss her. I really can't do that—I can't kiss anybody now, but you."

My dear, dear love, how very much like a child vou are still, In some of your ways! You said more than enough to Miss Mowlem—far more. And if you will pardon me for making the remark, I think in your generosity and good nature, you a little forgot yourself with the voung woman. I don't so much allude to your giving her tho ribbon— though, perhaps, that might have been done a little lets familiarly—but, from what I heard you say, I infer that you actually went the length of shaking hands with her." "Was that wrontr? Ttli-night it was tho kindest way of making it up."

My dear, it is an excellent way of making it up between equals. But consider the difference between your station in society and Miss Mawlem's."

I will try and consider it, if you wish me, love. But I think I take after my father, who never troubles his head (dear old man about differences of station. I can't help liking people who are kind to me, without thinking whether they are above my rank or below it and when I got cool, I mlist confess 1 felt just as vexed with myself for frightening and distressing that unlucky Miss Mowlem, as if her station had been equal to mine. I will try to think as you do, Ijenny but I am very much afraid that I have ^o:, without knowing exactly how, to be what the newspapers call a Radical." "My dear Rosamond! don't talk of yourself in that way, even in joke. You ought to bo the last person in the world to confuse those distinctions in rank on which the whole well-being of society depends." "Does it really? And yet, dear, we don't set-m to havo been created with such very wide distinctions between us. We havo all got the same number oi arms and legs we are all hungry and thirsty, and hot in the summer and cold in the winter we all laugh when w» are pleased, and cr\ when wo are distressed and. surely, wo have ail got very much the same feelings, whether we are high or whether we are low. I could not kave loveci you better, Lenny, than I do now, if I had b^ei a duchess, or less than I do now, if I had been a servant-girl."

My love, you are not a servant girl. And, as to what you say about a duchess, let me remind you that you are not so much below a duchess as you seem to think Many a lady of high title can not. look on such a lino of ancestors

be aT n, dear, if you will give me a kiss, and'let me sit on your knee a little longer."

Mr. Fraukland's gravity wn% not proof against his wife's change of political principles, and the conditions which she annexed to it. His face cleared up, and he laughed almost as gayly as Ilosa mond herself.

By-the-by," said he, after an interval oi'silence had given him time to collect his thoughts, "did I not hear you tell Miss Mowlem to put a letter down on the table? Is it a letter for you, or for me?"

Ah 1 forgot all about the letter," said Rosamond, running to the table. "It is for you, Lenny—and, goodness me! here's the Forthgenna postmark •on it."

It must be from tho builder whom I sent down to the old house about the repairs. Lend me your eyes, love, and let us hear what lie says."

Rosamond opened the letter, drew a stool to her husband's feet, and, sitting down with her arms on his knees, read as follows-

TO I.KONAKI1 KK AN KI.AN 1, KSQ. SIR—Agreeable to the Instructions with which you favored me, 1 have pioceedeil to survey I'ortngenna Tower, with a view to ascertaining what repairs the house in general, mill the north sule of it In particular, may stand In need of.

AH

regards the outside, a little cleauln^ and new-pointing is all that the building wants, 'l'lio walls and foundations seem made to last forever. Such stiong, solid work I novel- set eyes on before.

Inside the house, I can not report so favorably. The rooms In the west front, having been Inhabited during the period ol Captain Treverton'soccupation, and having been welt looked after since, by the persons left in charge of the house, are In totembly sound condition. I should say two hundml pounds would cover the expanse of all rev pairs in my line, which these rootn need, this sum would not include the restoration of the west stalrease, which has given a little In some places, and the banisters ol which ar» decidedly insecure, from the nrst. to thesecond lauding. Krorn twenty-nye to tlilny pounds wonlu suffice to set this all

?n the rooms on the north front, the state of dilapidation, from top to bottom, la as bad as can be. Krotn all tliAt I could ascertain, nobody ever went near these rooius In Captain Treverton's time, or has ever entered them since. 1 lie people who now keep the house have a superstitious dread or opening any of the north doors. In con sequence of the time lliat has elapsed since nnv living being has pitased through them. Nobodv would volunteer to accompany me in my survey, and nobody could tell me which keys fitted which room doors in any part, of the north side. I could And no plan containing the names or numbers of the rooms nor, t® my sorprlse. wcr^ there any labels attached separately to the keys. They were given to me. all banging t«»gether on a

large

ring, with an ivory label to was only marked, Keys of the North Itoomm. I take the liberty of mentioning these particuidni in order to account for my having, as you might think, delayed my si ay at Porthgenna Tower longer than is needed. I lost nearly a whole day In taking the keys off the ring and fitting them at hazard to the right doors. And 1 occupied some hours of another day in marking each door with numtMn on the outnldcs and putting ft cor* rv*ponding label to each key, before I replaced it on the ring. In order to pivvent the powlbllltv of future errors ana delays.

A« 1 hope to furnish you, in a few days, with a detailed estimate ol the repairs needed in the north part of the house, from basement to roof, 1 need «nly say here '-hat ihey will occupy some time, and will to "f most extensive nature. The beams of the st&ltcojie and tbe flooring of the Ant Morj have got the dry rot. Thedwnp lD »me looms, and the nils In others, have almost destroyed the walnscoatlngs. mantle pieces have given °u' walls, and all the celling areetther rtaln®dt cracked, or peeled away in large The flooring laTln general, In tlon than I nad anticipated but the shutters and

window*aab«J

1

are so

be useless. It ts only fair

to„ackmwletfge

that the expense of setting a» 'hy thlny* rights—that Is to say, of making the moms sale and habitable, and or putting them In proper condition fljr the upnoUterer—will he considerable. I would respecttally augest, in the event of your feeling an surprlseor dtsiwtlsfartlon ai the amount of my present estimate, that you should name friend in whom you place confidence fo go over be north rooms with me. keeping my estimate In his hand. I will undertake lo prove, if needful, the necessity of each

M-parate

repair, and the justice of

c*ch separate charge for the same, to the mtisfiK*i' i- "any eompetentand Impartial person i.' r. you may please toseUct.

Trusting 10 send you the estimate In a few days, 1 remain, Sir, your humble servant,

as

yours. Your father's family, II isatnoiid, is ono of the oldest in Eng'and—even my father's family hardly dates back so far and we were landed gentry when many a n»ine in the Peerage was not heard of. It is reaTIv almost laughably absurbto hear you talking of yourseli as a Radical." /ji'.-i "I won't talk of tinself so again, Lenti' only don

IOOK

so serious. I'll

THOMAS UOLLOCK.

A very honest, straightforward letter," said Mr. Frankland. I wish he had sent the estimate with it," said Rosamond. "Why could not the provoking man toll us as once in round numbers what tho repairs will I really coxt

I suspect, my dear, ho was afraid of shockingus, if he mentioned the amount in round numbers."

That horrid money! It is always} getting in one's way and upsetting one's plans. If we haven't got enough, 1ft us go and unrrow of somebody who has. Do you mean to disputch a friend to Porthgenna to go over the house with Mr. llorlock If you do,I know who I wish you would send." "\Vho?" I

Me, ifyou please—under your escort, of course. Iou't laugh, Iieriny. I would be very sharp with Mr. llorlock I would object to everyone of his charges, and beat him down without mercy. I once saw a surveyor g» over a house, and I know oxictly what to do. You stamp on the floor, and knock at the walls, and scrape at tho brickwork, and look up all the chimneys and out all the windows—sometimes you juake note* in a little uook, sometimes you measure with a foot-rule, sometimes you sit down all of a sudden and think profoundly—and the end of it is that you suv the house will do very wall indeed, ii tho tenant will pull out his purse and put it in proper repair." "Well done, Rosamond! You have ono more accomplishment than I knew of and I suppose I have no choice now but to give you an opportunity of displaying it. II you don't object, my dear, to being associated with a professional assistant in tho important business el cheeking Mr. Ilorlock's estimate, I don't object to paying a short visit to Porthjionna whenever' you please—especially now I know that the west rooms are f-till habitable." "Oh, how kind of you! how pleased I shall be! how I J-hal'l enjoy seeing the old place again before it is altered! 1 was only rive year.- old, Lenny, when we left Porthgenna, and I am so anxious to seo what I'can remember of it, after such a long, long absence as mine. Do on know, I never saw any thing of that ruinous north side of the house—and I do so dote on old rooms? Wo will go ali through them, Lenny. You shall have hold of my hand, and look with my eyes, aud make as many discoveries as I "do. 1 prophesy that we shall see ghosts and firnf treasures, and hear mysterious, noises—and oh Heavens what clouds of dust we shall have to go through—Pouf! the very anticipation of them chokes me already

Now we are oil the sm-ject of Poithgenna. Rosamond, let us be serious lor one momeut. It is clear to me th*t these repairs of the north rooms will cos: a large sum of money. Now, my love, I consider no sum of money misspent' however large it may be, if it procures vou pleasure. I am with you livart and soul—"

He paused. His wife's caressing arms wore twining round his neck again, and her cheek was id gei tly atminst his. "Go on, Lenny," she saui, with such an accentofte.mh mess in the utterance of those ireesimp words, that hissp^och failed him for the moment, and nil his sensations seemed absorbed in the one luxury of listening. "Rosamond,'' he whispered, "there is, no mu«ic in the world that touclus me as your voice touches mi now! I feel it alt t'uroujh me, ais I used sometime to feal ihe skv at night, in the time when I could see.'" As he spoke, the caressing arms lighted ed round his neck, and the fervent lips softly took the place which tho cheek bad occupied. ''Go on, Lenny," they repeated happily as well as tenderly now. "you said you were with me, heart and soul. With me in what.? "In yonr project, love, for inducing your father to retire from his protession after this last cruise, and in your hope of prevailing on him to pass the evening of bis days happily with us at Porthgenna. If tho money spent in restoring the north rooms, so that we may all live in thom for the future, does Indeed so alter tho look of the place to his eyes as to dissipate his old sorrowful associations with it, and to make his living there again a pleasure instead of a pain to him, I shall regard it as money well laid out. But, Rosamond, are you sure of the success of your plan before we undertake it? Have you dropped any hint of the Porthgenna project to your father?"

VI told him, Lenny, that I should never be quite comfortable unless he left the sea, and cauie to live with us— and be said he would. I did not mention a word about Porthgenna—nor did be—but he knows that wo shall live there when we are settled, and be made no conditions when wo promised that our home should be bis home."

Is the loss of your mother the only sad association he has with the place Not quite. There is another association, which has never been mentioned, but which I may tell you, because there are no secrets between us. My mother had a favorite maid who lived with her from the timo of her marriage, and who was, accidentally, the only person present In her room when she died. I just remember this woman, in A dim childish way, as baing odd in her look and manner, and no great favorrite with anv body in the house but her mistress. Well, on tho morning «f »ny mother's death, she disappeared from the house in the strangest way, leaving behind ner a most singular and mysterious letter to my father, asserting that In my mother's dying moments a secret had been conlided to ber which she was charged to divulge to ner master when her her mistress was no more and adding that she was afraid to mention this secret, and that, to avoid being questioned about it, she had resolved on leaving tbe house forever. She had been gone some hours when tbe letter waa opened—and she has never been seen or heard of since that time. This circumstance spemtd to make as strong an impression on my father's mind aa the shock of my mother's death. Our neighbors and' servants all thought (as I think) that {be woman was mad but he neyer agreed with them, and I know that he has neilherdestroyed nor forgotten the letter from that time to this."

A strange event, Rosamond, a very strange event. I don't wonder it has made a lasting impression on him.

Depend upon It, Lenny, the servants and tbe neighbors were right—tbe woman waa toad. Any way, however, it was certainly singular event in our family. All old bouses have their romance—and tbat is the romance of our house. Bat years and years have passed since then and what with time, and what with tbe changes we are going to make, I have no tear that nay dear, good tether will spoil our plana. Give him a new north garden at Porthgenna. whero be can walk tbe decks, as I call it, qnd give him new north rooms to live in, and I will answer for the result. But all this is In the fature let us go back to the present time. When shall we pay oar living visit to Porthgenna, Iymny, and plnnge Into the Important business of checking Mr. Horlock's estimate for the repairs ?',

We have three weeks more to stay here, Rosamond." Yes and then we must go back to: Long Beck ley. I promised best and biggest of men, the vicar, that we should^ pay our first visit to him. He is sure not to lot us oft under three weeks or a month."

In tbat case, then, we had hotter say two months henoo for tho visit to Porthgenna. Is your writing-caaa iny' the room, Rosamond?''

Yen close by us, on the table." Write to Mr. Horlock then, love— and appoint a meeting in two rnontha' time at the old house. Tell him also, as we must not trust ourselves on unsafe stairs—especially considering how dependent I ain on banisters—to have the west ataircase repaired immediately. And, while you have the pen in your hand, perhaps it may save trouble if you write a second note to the housekeeper at Porthgenna, to tell her when she may expect us."

Rosamond sat down gaily at the table and dipped her pen in the ink with little flourish of triumph.

In two months," she exclaimed, joyfully, "I shall see tho dear old place again! In two months, Lenuy, our profane feet will be raising tho dust in the solitudes of the North Rooms."

CHAPTER VI. TIM0N OP LONDON.

TIMON of Athens retreated from an ungrateful world to a cavern by the seashore—Timon of London took refuge from his species in a detached house at Bayswater. Timon of Athens vented his misanthropy in magnificent poetry —Timon oi London expressed his sentiments in shabby prose. Timon of Athens had tho honor of being called

My Lord"—Timon of London was only addressed as "Mr. Treverton." The one point of rcsemb.ance hicli it In possible to set against these points of contrast between the two Timons consisted in this tlv.it their misanthropy was at least, genuine. Both were incorrigible haters of mankind.

From his childhood, Andrew Treverton's character had presented those strong distinguishing marks of good and bad, jostling and contradicting each other, which the language of the world carelessly expresses and contemptuously sums up in the one word—eccentric. There is probably no better proof of the accuracy of that definition of man which describes him as an imitative animal, than is to be found in tho tact that the vordict of humanityJs always against any individual member of the species who presumes to differ from tho rest. A man is one of a flock, and liis wool must be of the general color. He must drink when the rest drink, and graze where the r°.st graze When the others are frightened by a dog, and scamper, starting with the right leg, he must be frightened by a dog, and scamper, starting with the right leg also. If ho is not frightened, or even if, being frightened, he scaiupersiuid start.-| »ut of step with the rest, it is a proof at once that there is something not right about him. Let a man walk at noonday with perfect composure of ccuntenace and decency of gait, with not the slightest appearance of vacancy in his eyes or wilduess in his manner, from one end of Oxford Street to the other, without his hat, and let every one of the thousands of hat-wear-iug peoplo whom lie passes bo asked sep irately what they think

of

him, how

many will abstain* from deciding instantly that he is mad, on no other evidence than the evidence of his bare head Nay, more: let him politoly stop each one of those passengers, and let him explain in the plainest form of words, and in the most intelligible inannor, that his head feels more easy and comfortable without a bat than with ono, how many of his fellow-mortals who decided that he was mad on first meeting him will change their opinion when they part from hl n, after hearing his explanation? In the vast mnjor ty of cases, the very explanation itself would be accepted as an excellent addliional.proof that the intellect of the hatl-ss man was indisputably deranged.

Starting at the beginning of the march of life out of step with tho rest of tho mortal regiment, Andrew Treverton paid the penalty of his Irregularity from his earliest days. He was a phenomenon in the nursery, a butt at school, and a victim at college. The ignorant nursemaid reported him as a queer child the learned schoolmaster genteelly varied the phrase, and described him as an eccentric boy the college tutor, harping on the same string, facetiously likened his head to a roof, and said there was a slate loose In it. When a slate is loose, if nobodv fixes it in time, it ends by falling off. In the roof of a house wo view that consequence as a necessary result ot neglect in the roof of a man's head we are generally very much shocked and surprised by It.

Overlooked in somo directions and misdirected in others, Andrew's uncouth capacities for good tried helplessly to shape themselves. Tbe better side of his eccentricity took tbe form of friendship. He became violeutly and unintelligibly fond of one among his school fel'ows—a boy, who treated him with no especial consideration in the play ground, and who gave him no particular help In the class. Nobody could discover tbe smallest reason for it, but it was nevertheless a notorious fact that Andrew's pocket money was always at this boy's service, that Andrew over and over again took the blame and punishment on hla own shoulders which ought to have fallen on the shoulders of nis friend. When, a few years afterward, that friend

went

to college, the lad peti­

tioned to bo sent to college too, and attached himself there more closely than ever to the strangely chosen comrade of his school boy days. Such devotion as this must have touched any man possessed of ordinary generosity of disposition.

It

made no impression whatever

on the inherently base nature of Andrew's friend. After three years of intercouraoat college—lnt^roounio which was all aeifiabueas on ono side and all nHf aaoriflo© on tho other—tho end came, and the light waa let in cruelly on Andrew's eyes. When his purse grew liuht in his friend's hand, and when his acceptances were most numerous on his friend's bills, the brother of his honest affection, the hero of his simple admiration, abandoned him to embarrassment, to ridicule, and to solitude, without tbe fainteet affectation of penitenoe—without so much, even, aa a word of farewell.

He returned to hia father'a houso, a soured man at tho outset of life—returned to be upbraided for the debts that he had contracted to serve the man who had heartlessly outraged and shamelessIT cheated him. Ho left home in dingraoe, to travel, on a small allowance. Tbe travels were protracted, and they ended, as such travels often do, in settled expatriation. The life he led, the company be kept, during his long residence abroad, did him permanent and fatal harm. When he at last returned to England, he presented himself in tho moat hopeieam of all characters—the character of a man who believes in nothing. At this period of his life, his one chance for the fntare lay in the good re«nlt* which his brother's influence over him mhrht have produced. Tbe ((.tntinued on Third page.)