Saturday Evening Mail, Volume 9, Number 22, Terre Haute, Vigo County, 30 November 1878 — Page 6

£S

TH.E MAIL

A PAPER FOR THE PEOPLE.

ANTE MORTEM.

How ranch would I care for It, could fttn'dw That when I am under the graft* or snow, The raveled garment of lifw'H brief day Folded, and quietly laid away The spirit let loose from mortal bars, And somewhere away among the star*, How much do you think would matter then

What praise was lavished upon me. when, Whatever might be Its stint or htore, If neither could help nor harm mfe more

If, while was tolling, they had bat thought To stretch a finger, I would have caught Oladly such aid to buoy me through Home hitter duty I had to do Though when It was done, they said, maybe, To others—they never said to me Xhe word of applause so crave I, whose worth Had been the supremest boon on earth If granted lueiheu: "We are proud to know That one of ourselves has triumphed so.H What use for the rope if It be not flung Till the swimmer's grasp to the rock has clung? What help in a comrade's bugle blast, When the peril of Alpine heights is past? What need the spurring rweau roll When the runaer is safe beyond the goal? What worth in eulogy's blandest breath When whispered in ears that are hushed in death? No! N'o!—if you have but a word of cheer. Speak it while I am alive to hear! —Margaret J. Preston, in Sunday Magazine for November.

MARRYING WELL.

BY MRS. R. Ef)SON.

CHAPTER III..

The home of the Jobnstones was a grand old mansion, situated on a fine eminence, and looking down upon its humbler neighbors with a sort of lofty contempt. It had the prestige which old things have, when they are well preserved and their antiquity is nonorable.

The father of Robert Johnstone, the •present proprietor, had come to New York from Liverpool some thirty-five or forty years before. He was possessed of a good property, and being successful in business, had left this old place and a •tine property to his only child, Robert, who had married a young Pennsyivanian of considerable wealth and no small pride.

Here three children had been born to them—Kent, Julia, and Bora, each inheriting a good share of their mother's

gornne8S

ride, as well as the Johnstone stuband hateur. The father was *little at home, being engaged in the sugar and cotton trade in New

Orleans. We will take a nearer view of the family by glancing in upon them as they sit in the well appointed drawing rooin on the morning after the reception of Cbarlea Gordon's letter.

The lair, proud faced woman, rocking noiselessly in her velvet easy chair, you would know, at a glance, to be Mrs. Victoria Tallmage Johnstone. The lady •was probably near fifty, but looking younger. No labor or earnest thought had disturbed her life of ease. She had a full, fair face, rather pale, a high forehead, an abundance of light brown hair, and pale blue eyes.

You never would have supposed, to see her rocking complacently in her Chair, her fair white hands crossed listlessly in her lap, that she was keeping in control a'storm of anger and chagrin. But if you knew her well, and watched the glitter of her downcast eyes, and the »qulckly dilating nostrils, you would rknow something unusual bad occurred to disturb my lady's equanimity.

Opposite to her, lounging in a crimson fauteull, was a lady of twenty-four. Personally she contrasted with the other. She had dark hair, wound In heavy coils about her bead, and eyes of a deep, lustrous, satiny black. There was a vivid red in cheeks and lips, the latter full and melting. She had also a form to match her voluptuous style of beauty, and knew well how to manage both to make them attractive. This was the orphan daughter of Judge Tallmage, an heiress, and a distant kinswoman of Mrs. Johnstone.

At tbe window sat a rather haughty looking blonde, a flush of unmistakable linger in her cheeks as she nervously rolled over her white fingers a sheet of closely written paper. Her nostrils had the same habit as her mother's, (or this was Mr*. Johnstone's eldest daughter^ Julia.

The fourth and only remaining occupant of the room, Miss Dora Johnstone, was lounging on tbe sofa, her rosy cheek resting on a little white hand, on the forefinger of which gleamed a cluster of rubles set in etrnscan gold. The excitement which seemed to pervade the room did not affect her. She never grew excited—"nothing roused Dora," Jullasaid angrily. The truth wasshewas too Indolent. She was thinking now— while the rest discussed Kent's marriage low marriage they called it) and grew indignant over it—that Kent would ex pect his new wife to be entertained, and [t would require such an effort. Dora was rather amiable, but with a good deal of her father's stubbornness. She was thoroughly English, plump, blueeyed and brown-haired, and baa less of tbe Tallmage pride than any of tb* family. It had always been a marvel to her that Eruest Lovering should leave a home of plenty and eUmance for a life -of drill and routine at West Point. She had spoken ».o him thus, but was overwhelmed with such afire of ardor and patriotism and nervous eloquence, that ft quite took her breath away, and she resolved never to broach toe subject again. "Ernest was so gun powdery, and bad such an unaccountable mania for action," she said lugubrlo&sly. Still she was very much attached to hitn, only, as she said, 'one had to be careful not to raffia bis feathers.' People wondered at his fancy for her, as people will wonder about things that do not concern them, and thought them a peculiarly ill assorted couple—be so energetic ana ambit she so Impassive, dreamy, and I: aotleni and yet she was more generailv liked than any of the Johnatones. 'She wore a smile that was warm and genial, and In striking contrast to the cool, haughty mockery of one tb— plaved over the faces of mother and si- "f, when some "common" person presumed upon neighborhood

^'TtMnk,' Julia said, still rolling tbe letter over her dainty fingers, -it is a jiece of uncalled for impertinence In lr. Gordon to "hope we shall receive Ken*** vr'*^ kindly, forgetting social ^3lft r»nd remembering only that she is his wire'—as if one could forget!' •It Is certainly very mortifying and mattering, especially when one had hoped for so different a result,' Mrs. Johnat^e said.

•S!

The I ivy lashes fell over the eyes of Miss Tali mage, and she smiled sweetly, with the color deepening In her cheeks. •I dare say we shall find her quite --Mrm---':. tnusln Victoria, and though t::.wct^t "d to society, and perhaps a little rustic, It will give us a delightful variety.* •I shait not Introduce her to society,' xeplied Mrs. Johnstone tartly.

•But Kent will, mother,' Julia Interrupted, 'aud we shall have to countenance her. A farmer's daughter] I dare say ahe expects to set up housekeeping, and make her own butter and brown bread and raise poultry for market.' •They will not set up housekeeping,' was tbe decided reply, tbe thin nostrils dilating fearfully. 'Kent Is wholly dependent on bis father and though we bad fully Intended giving him an establishment becoming his station in life, we do not feel now that he has any claim upon our consideration.'

Mrs. Johnstone always told what 'we' thought, and 'we* intended, though her husband was miles away. 'Why no housekeeping, mother?' said Dora, with a little yawn behind her white hand. 'It would be much quieter and easier for us.'

Julia curled her thin lips contemptuously. 'Quiet and ease are the height of your ambition,' she said, with a glanoe at the serene face of her sister. •And make their house tbe rendezvous of all her poor relations, as of course it would be,' Mrs. Johnstone answered, unheeding Julia's remark. 'The probability is that she has half a dozen young sisters—poor people always have large families—whom she will be anxious to provide husbands for, having succeeded so well herself- If they stay here, she will not expect it, and I shall be the mistress, and of course will not allow it. If we must tolerate her, we need not her friends, and I intend that it shall be so understood.' 'I hope she is sweet tempered,' Dora said, going back to the book she had been reading} 'it would be so unpleasant to have any words or excitement in the family.' 'I hope, Dora,' Mrs. Johnstone said, with a severe glance which was altogether thrown away, 'that you know me well enough to be sure that I shall engage in no coarse or vulgar quarrel with any one, particularly a person of her station.' 'It is strange that Kent should be so entrapped,' said Miss Julia. 'I wonder if he believes that we shall be as easily imposed on as himself?' 'I hope, girls,' said Mrs. Johnstone, 'you will treat Kent's wife politely always. I shall do so myself, as you very well know.'

Frances Tallmage smiled quietly, and had it not been his wife, would have felt a little pity for the young stranger whom cousin Victoria decided to treat 'politely,' and she mentally hoped wilh Dora that she would be 'sweet tempered,' for if high spirited and rebellious, of course Kent would not linger at home. Under the circumstances, she thought it bettor, she said, that she should return to her friends in Pennsylvania. 'I shall not conseut to that, dear Frances,' Mrs. Johnstone replied. 'Indeed, I fear I could not treat her politely, if I knew she had driven you away. Do not think of it, I beg.'

And so Miss Tallmage was persnaded to do just what she fully intended to do and the family waited for the advent of •Kent's wife' with varied and not particularly pleasant emotions.

CHAPTER IV.

The yellow haze had gradually merged into a gray, lowering atmosphere, with a raw wind rising with the ragged clouds from the southwest, when Ksnt Johnstone and his youug wife landed, at Riverbeck.

The family carriage had been sent down, and Tom Evans, tbe coachman, stood at the horses' heads. Kent bowed carelessly to him, and Almy asked in a whisper, noticing the tall, well rested fellow, 'if he was one of his frieuds.' 'He is my father's coachman!' he said shortly.

Almy looked at him in astonishment be was so well dressed and had so fine an air that she could not believe him a servant, and she thanked him as courte ously for some trifling service as if he bad been the Governor of tbe State. The husband frowned at her kindly manner, bat Tom Evans was from that moment her friend.

Almy bad wondered a good deal in ber own mind how Kent's 'folks' lived. She expected they ljved very stylishly perhaps as much so as Squire Feruald's people, who would not allow their help to sit at table with them, and used silver forks and napkins every day, and had wiue at dinner. But of course ahe could not take wine, for she belonged to the Good Templars. She was sure they would be delighted to see Kent she was always delighted to see Allen wben be had been away, even if he were sometimes a sorrow to them. When thoy drove up the avenue and came In sight of the elegant mansion, she was quite astonlsbod to see no faces at tbe windows and no sign of life. The silence and grandeur brought a little chill to ber heart. She remembered in contrast how she bad been greeted after absence by father and Allan aud mamma.

All this flitted through ber mind as she followed her husbaud up tbe broad steps, aud waited while Tom Evans rang the bell, the faint echo of which seemed like tbe knell of vanished happiness.

A young girl presenely opened the door, whom she thought might be one or Kent's sisters, so tastefully was she dressed but Kent called ber 'Jane,' and told her to show ibem to the drawingroom which she did with a grace Almy quite envied.

As tbe wide door swung open, she saw a fair faced lady rise ana take a single step forward, then wait their approach. She knew who it must be at a glance, oven before tbe stately lady extended ber white band ahd said: 'My dear non, I am happy to see ybn.' But what a measured, calm tone it wasl

Almy had never pictured such a meeting. She had thought sbe might kiss her as sbe would ber own mother, but with those cool, soft fingers lightly touching hers, she was too chilled for auebt save blushing, and stammering out a few unintelligible words.

Glancing up, sbe saw Kent bending gallantly over a lady's hand, just touching It with bis lips, a slight color In his usually pale face. She knew Instinctively that it was no sister, even before he introduced her as 'Miss Tallmage, a oouain,' and did not wonder that his cheek had flushed. Who could help being moved by such magnificent beauty? had never seen any one so absolutely splendid in ber life.

Next Julia was met, and lastly Dora, who still kept ber favorite place on tbe lounge. From the first Almy's heart had gone over to Dora. 8h* most be lovable, If the rest were not, to be worthy of Ernest Lovering, who bad met her so cordially so when Kent bent over end kissed Dora's cheek, Almy in voluntarily did the same.

Something In the pretty, girlish face, the tremulous lips and downcast eyes, touched tbe tenderness in Dora Johnstone's heart, and she took tbe flushed face between ber soft hands and kissed her fondly, saying with a pleasest •mile: •And so you are my new sistar, Almy? Sit down ber®, yon must be so tired.' •Dors,' interrupted her mother, 'I presume Mrs. Johnstone would prefer going to ber room,' Mid she rang tbe bell and bade Jane show Mia. Johnstone to

WMi

BO

TERRE HAUTE SATURDAY BVUNING MAIL

at

her chamber and order her trunks up once. Alrnv followed the servant up t— broad «t«irjM»e, with Its elaborately carved balusters and autique mouldings, intoahaudKOtiioly furnished apartment, whose windows looked toward the river.

tbe

A moment after a servant brought In her trunks. Alone In thlB now, great home! A terrible homesickness crept over her, making her long for the pleasant south chamber at Hadley, with Its painted floor, and its narrow paned windows, looking out upon the mountains, and the beautlfiil winding Connecticut.

-how Sbe

She looked In the elegant mirrorsmall and dowdy she appeared! touched the marble table—its chill struck to her heart! And then, involuntarily, there rose before her ulnd's eye the little chest of drawers, dingy and faded, between the west windows of the old (outh chamber. 'God pity me if I have made a mis take!'she gasped, ber lips growing white.

very

of

Kent came in shortly with a look weariness on his face. He did not notice Almy's startled manner, who bad color ed guiltily, as if be had power to r* her thoughts. Instead, be buried face in his hands, and did not speak several minutes then he caught sight Almy's pretty eyes, which were filled with tears. •Almy! What is it?' he asked hurriedly, drawing ber into bis arms and kissing her fervontly. 'I can't have tears

read bis for of

soon, darling, or I shall think

you regret marrying me you do not, little one?' Had he indeed read her thoughts But with his kisses on her lips, and arms enfolding her, she answered truth fully: •No, Kent, I trust I never shall regret that. But everything is so new and strange to me here that I believe I was' —looking up and smiling through ber tears—'just a little homesick I am not now, dear Kent,' nestling her head against his bosom.

bis.

And holding her thus, he told her that she must not expect his mother or sisters to be very social or familiar. They were not demonstrative, and she must expect to find manners very different in the society in which sbe would move new from those she had been accustomed to. She must try and forget the old life now. 'Not my father and mother! Kent, vou do not mean that I should forget them!

And Emily and Allen—you do

not mean that?' she cried, starting away from him. •Hush, Almy! I don't expect you will really forget them, little one, but as your life is henceforth to be so unlike, the sooner you give up thought of old ways the pleasanter it will be for you. I want to see my little girl happy, and I want to believe she loves me well enough to accommodate herself to tbe habits of those about her now.' •I will try, for your sake, Kent,' she said, cheerfully, 'but if I had known, I don't believe I should have dared the trial. O Kent!' she added, half between laughter and tears,'yoi* have no idea how small and insignificant and ignorant I feel, I really do not know which one of my dresses ought to put on to dine in. Have you any sort of an idea?'

He thought he had, and so he unstrtfp ped the trunks, and Almy knelt before them, the tears still glittering on her brown lashes, an 1 took out one after another the pretty dresses Emily' had folded so carefully, mentally wonder ing how Almy ever was to wear out so many 'meeting dresses,' and shook out their soft folds, and spread them upon tbe lounge, and Kent made his selection, Almy only asking if be 'was sure it didn't look too dressy.'

Then tbe bright, brown curls were brushed, and looped back from the face in an odd, dainty way, which Kent thought particularly becoming, and the brown traveling dress was exchanged for the delicate pale blue silk, which, with its rich trimming of lace, was charmingly becoming to the fair, fresh face, and though three pairs of very critical eyes took in every detail of her toilet—of course without seeming to do so—they were forced to admit that it was in perfect taste, and Almy, pleasantly conscious that she was looking welt, felt more at ease, and appeared to much better advantage than she bad done upon ber first arrival. 'I saw a friend of yours at West Point,' she said to Dora, as the two sat together on the sofa. 'Lieutenant Lovering? Kent told me,' she answered quietly. •I like blm so much! Do you know, I felt attracted toward you on his account.'

Mrs. Johnstone elevated her eyebrows the least in the world but Dora said with more feeling than she usually manifostodi 'I am glad you like him. I am afraid I do not quite understand Ernest, he is so enthusiastic. I don't know where it will lead him.' •He will conquer if it leads him into dauger, I know that,' Almy

Bald

warm­

ly, her gray eyes darkening. •She is a pretty little thing I believe I am going to like her after all,' Dora said, after Almy had gone to her room that night. •Quite pretty,' said Mrs. Johnstone, stiflly. 'So Is Annie Deanc, and Miss Hervey, the seamstress, and even Jane.' •I am sure, mother, she has not half the style Jane has.' Julia Interrupted. *1 always thought Kent would look for something besides a pretty face, and 1 do not think her particularly pretty. She blushes if one looks st her—a sure sign of rusticity. I so dislike a blushing woman!' •Bat she is very young, you know.' 'It Is quite unusual for yo« to Interest yourself so much in a stranger, Dora. What sort of a heroic prophecy was sbe making concerning Lieutenant Lovering? I was so unfortunate as to lose the gist of It. It is fortunate she is married, or you might have a dangerous rival, she likes him so much.' 'Almost every one likes Ernest, I believe.'

f»v,

•OhJ of course!* •Julia!' her mother remonstrated. Strangely enough, a swift fiery red sprang to that young lady's face, which Dora good nsturedly refused to notice. She could afford to make some allowance for hersister's sensitiveness on that point.

Julia had first made Mr. Lovering's acquaintance at Hudson, and he had pud her some marked attentions, which it was plain to see were very favorably re' celved. But tbey were quietly withdrawn after a time, and wben a few months later be visited Riverbeck, he met Dora, mud they were engaged before the season was half out. Julia bad quite forgotten her old Uking for him, and lost no opportunity for unfavorable criticism wherever be was concerned.

For the fin* week or two after ber arrival, Almy tried to do as Kent bad re-

3tie

nested, and forgetting as far as possible circumstances of her previous life, assimilated her testes to those of the family. She dressed and rode, and received calls, and tried very hard to Imitate tbe ease and assurance of ber mother and sisters-in-law. But ber heart would flutter so unaccountably,

and the eolor would come and go in ber face to such a degree, that sbe was nncomfortably conscious

All tbe tim©

that

she was falling wretchedly, particularly when Julia's haughty eyes were bent upon berin a sort of mocking criticism.

Sbe had studied so bard to please, had used all the little innocent arts sbe knew to win their love, that, as the days went by, and the coldness still continued, a terribly disheartening feeling pressed upon her, cbliling ber through and through.

Dora sometimes exerted herself little to entertain her, but ordinarily was quietly Indifferent to her presence, and read and lounged away the short autumnal days, giving very little attention to anything save her own comfort. Yet her smile was always kind, and Almy regarded her aa a sort of negative friend. She tried for along time to believe that tbe studied coldness with which sbe was treated was only tbe natural result of the 'culture'and 'good breeding' of whlob they were continually binting in away that quite puzzled her. But after awhile a faint suspicion that sbe was considered an interloper in the family ©ept into ber heart. Sheetruggled to stifle it, and resolved that sbe would not allow such fancies to trouble her but they came, and laid in wait for her continually, and day by day tbe mortifying consciousness grew upon ber that there was a difference between tbem, and sbe felt eo insignificant and out of place in the grand establishment, that she could only slip away by herself and cry, and wish herself in the pleasant old kitchen at Hadley, with its uncarpeted floor and whitewashed walls.

She had refrained from mention of her family, Kent having Intimated that It would be best, and

no

Inquiries concern­

ing them had ever been made, until one day Miss Tallmage asked If sbe had sisters. 'None but Emily,' she answered eagerly, her heart glowing at the mere mention of the name.

The two were quite alone, and Almy quite forgot Kent's caution—forgot everything, indeed, but ber great love for the dear ones away and with .flushing cheeks she told her companion of them all—of her father, who was the deacon of the church, and who always asked a blessing at meals, and prayed night and morning in his family of Emily, who belonged to the church, and never went to any parties, or sang anything but hymns, though tbe singing master had said she had a splendid voice for ballad singing. She used to think she shouldn't care for religion until sbe was old, or near dying, but she didn't know she felt differently, somehow, now. This sbe said with a bit of a sigh and a faint fluttering of the long brown lashes over the glistening eyes. Then she. spoke of her mother, who was coming to sec her in the summer, and of Allen, who was a little wild, but a brave, generous hearted fellow, who always petted her. And then, lowering her voice, she spoke of the lonely grave among the birches, where 'dear Harry' lay, her voice faltering at the thought that it was, oh! so far, far Rway! 'Almy!' .v*

She gave a quick^start.'arid a flood of crimson mounted to her temples as she met the angry look of her husband. He had come in quietly, and was standing in the door when she looked up. How long he had been there, or hew much he had heard, she knew not—she only knew that he was annoyed. 'Mrs.

Johnstone has been telling me

of her friends,' Miss Tallmage said, very sweetly. 'I have a suspicion she is a little homesick, by the way in which she speaks of them.' 'Ob! no,' Almy interrupted hastily, seeing the frown deepen on her hus band's face—a feeling of terror and helplessness in her heart. 'I—I only spoke of them.' "Ah! I was mistaken then—pardon me.' 'I think she should ask your pardon rather for boring you with talk about people of whom you know nothing,' Kent interrupted. 'There you are quite mistaken, cousin Kent,' she answered gayly. 'On the contrary, I was vastly interested, and am going to insist that yoa shall take me with you when you visit your friends.' 'Oh! would you go?' Almy asked eagerly. 'They would be so pleased to have you!' 'It is very uncertain about our going,' Kent answered coldly the thought of Frances Talmage. with her elegant tastes and luxurious habits, sitting in the whitewashed kitchen, while Deacon Barnard said grace over tbe little square pine table, in his 'checked cotton' shirt sleeves, making him absolutely nervous, as Miss Tallmage knew it would for sbe bad guessed at their manner of living from Almy's artless conversation.

And so the matter dropped, and other subjects were taken up—art. literature, for Miss Tallmage was a well educated woman, and a fine conversationalist.

Almy sat listening tbe allusions weie all strange to her, and so unmeaning that she quietly slipped out unnoticed by her husband though Miss Tallmage's quick eyes observed her, and knew Instinctively why she was gone.

Lying with her hot face pressed on ber pillow, Almy tried bravely to stifle the sobs' that would come she hoard the stead murmur of tbelr voices in the parlor below, and felt more keenly than ever bow utterly unfitted she, in her childish ignorance and simplicity, was for the wife of a man of wealth and refinement like Kent.

Then, out of the past came a quiet ploture of an April morning, with the sunshine yellowing the mists upon the river and the mountain's crest, and the song of the blackbird, mellow and clear, cleaving tbe sweet moisture laden air, while, clearer than all, came back a face, a clear olive face, with Jetty coils of loose curling hair, and dark, earnest eyes, that were a little grave just then, and then all else that had come between soem«Kl to fade and vanish away, and a low voice said earnestly and hopefully: "It will be five years, darling, and I must nor bind you. I want you to feel perfectly free but shall not changealways remember that, wherever you may be, and however your choice may fall.'

She looked up, half expecting to see the yellowing mists and tbe fluttering sails gliding down tbe winding river but Instead, lofty ceilings, elegantly tinted and richly draped windows and tbe white gleam of marble reflecting Itself in polished mirrors, shut in her vision and with a little moan sbe pressed her palms to ber throbbing temples, and sought forgetfulness in slumber..

CHAPTER V.

There was a bustle and stir, and a sound of mingled voices from below, rousing Almy from the semi-unoon-adousnsss Into which sbe bad fallen. There was a new voice, firm and eager.a pleasant, genial laugh, thai seemed familiar. While sbe yet listened In a puzzled way, Jane came up to announce Lieutenant Lovering. She went gladly below to greet him.

It needed but one glance into ber changed face to tell tbe whole story to Ernest Lovering, and as he held ber little fluttering hand, and looked into the soft, gray eyes, aud saw tbe faint In­

definable sbsdow of pain in them, a bitter feeling arose in "his heart against tbe accursed pride of caste that builds sush cruel barriers between the children of one common father—tbe heirs of one common grave. •I am so glad to see you!' she said naively. 'I knew you'd be. Almy. After Dora, my visit is for you,' be said, with a bright encouraging smile. 'I have it in my head that you may be homesick, so young and so long away from old friends.' 'A very ususl course for a woman who marries, I believe,' .Kent said haughtily. 'Certainly, my dear fellow. Women sacrifice more than men, and more readily. Abandoning home and friends for tbe love of one man, who In nine cases out of ten has no appreciation of the sacrifiice.' 'Is chivalry among tbe miltary tactics taugbt at West Point, Lteutenant Lovering?' Julia asked sneerlngly.

His dark cheek reddened a little, but be made no direct reply. He always avoided a tilt at words with Julia if it was possible. He was afraid he should forget himself, and say something he might regret, she was so very Irritating and so persistently provoking. 'I have got a fortnight's leave, by the way,' he said presently. 'I expect Dora Is quite sghast at tbe announcement. I tire her terribly by my restlessness,' he said, turning to Almy with a laugh. •Oh! no!' she replied deprecatlngly. •Don't I, Dora?' 'Why no, Ernest, you don't tire me, really but you know you have a strange mania for action,'

Bbe

replied, laughing

'and I am naturally so indolent. I wonder if anything will ever wame my drowsy powers?' 'Perhaps, if there should ever come some fearful trial or peril for one you loved,' he said gravely. 'O Ernest!' reaching out and touching bin band with a little gesture of alarm.

He took the little dimpled hand firmly between both of bis, and smiled fondly in her face, evidently pleased that he bad been first in ber thoughts, and little thinking that in

one

short year the cloud

of peril would begin to darken the hod zon. 'There is a young cadet at the academy, from your town, Almy,' Lovering said presently, watching ber closely without appearing to do so.' •Yes,' she said quietly, without lifting her eyes. •Lancelot Russell a splendid fellow, too do you know him?' •Yes, a—a little,' she stammered, the blood mounting to her temples.

Lovering was sorry the. moment he bad asked tbe question, for be caught Julia's cold eyes scanning the blushing face. He resolved to shield her, and continued carelessly: 'Of course in a small town every one is known more or less. He is a promising fellow, and great things are prophesied for him if there ever comes an opportunity. Indeed, opportunity is just what we all need to find out tbe sort of stuff we are made of. There is theorizing enough—who of us will succeed in tbe.day of grim practice •Lovering, I half believe you would like to have the country plunged in war just to find out,' Kent said, laughing. •No, not quite that, though I will confess I chafe under tbe dullness and routine. It isn't just my idea of glory, practising Hardee's tactics, with blank cartridges. If It weren't for mother and Dora here. I believe I should try to get ordered out to the Indian couhtry."

The two weeks of Lieutenant Lovering's stay were the happiest ones Almy had known Bince she came to Riverbeck. Some of the old brightness came back to ber face and the old lightness to her heart. Miss Tallmage did not monopolize Kent as much, for some reason, and even Mrs. Johnstone was a shade more cordial, for Lovering made it such a special point to show honor and deference, as well aa friendliness and partiality for Almy, that she hardly dared show all her previous coldness and hauteur. The Loverings were pe iple of the first standing, and wealthy, to say nothing of Dora's entanglement. And so Mrs. Johnstone was smiling and suave, and called Almy 'My dear,' and noticed her more in those two weeks than ever before.

But Julia scorned to'play the sycophant to Ernest Lovering,' she told her mother, with her tbln nostrils dilated. And after the Lieutenant took Almy up to Hudson with Dora, to visit bis mother and Almy was so enthusiastic in her praises of'dear Mrs. Lovering, who had taken hor in her arms .and kissed her as if

she

bad been her own mother,' Miss Julia let no opportunity pass to annoy and humiliate her.

After Lovering's departure, matters resumed their old aspect, save that Dora made frequent little spasmodic attempts at friendliness, wbich failed to atone for the growing coldness and neglect of the rest of the family.

Day by day poor Almy realized that sbe was no fit companion for ber busband, and saw, with a feeling of bitter paiu, how naturally be turned to Frances Tallmage for conversation and sympathy. They read together, and held spirited little discussions in the most perfect of French, which of course was not particularly entertaining to one wholly ignorant of the language.

In early spring, Mr. Johnstone, Senior, returned from tbe South. He was a bluff, abrupt man, rather quiet, but very fixed in his wsy. He bad made large profits out of cotton, and fully expected to continue to do so to the end of tbe chapter. Indeed, it was the only business in bis estimation that any shrewd man would think of engaging In. As for Kent, he did not wish to have him engage in any business. He bad studied law with Judge Tallmage a couple of years, and been admitted to the bar, and tbat had been tbe end of it. He bad never had a single case, nor would be have undertaken it if be bad.

Mr, Johnstone, Senior, stared sharply at Almy, and asked abruptly how old she was. •I shall be eighteen in June,'she replied timidly, feeling as if it was in some way very much to her discredit. •And when were you married to my •on?' •Last October, sir.* •Humpb! What sort of a man is your father?' •My father, slrt I—I don't know as I understand you. Do you mean Is he a religious man?'

Mr. Johnstone smiled, arid he had a rather genial smite, like that of Dora. Almy took heart a little. 'Father is the deacon at oar church,' she said more confidently. 'Did he give his consent to your marriage?' he asked, with the amused look deepening on his face. •Ob! yea, sir,' she answered oulckly and then, remembering tbat he had not done It very readily, added slowly, 'after making some objections.' •What business is your father in?' continued her catecbist. 'He is a farmer, dr.* •Ah! Do yon know whether he has ever given any thought to cotton culture? He might get Independent in a few years oh one of those Louisiana plantations if he was lucky enough to get a likely lot of hands.'

'My father thinks slavery wrong, sir.' 'Then your father is a fool! he exclaimed, getting very red in the face, and taking two or three strides across the floor. 'Haven't I had a chance to know, I wonder? I tell you there's more money in cotton than any other thing under Heaven.'

As Almy did not dispute him, he soon calmed down and questioned her a little farther, evidently rather pleased with her freshness and childishness, notwithstanding he told her ber father 'ought to be excommunicated for letting such a mere child marry.' 'I think so too,' was tbe thoughtful answer. 'You do! Why, pray, did yon marry then?' the amused smile softening his lace again. •I did not know—I mean, I was young and thoughtless then,' she replied, very gravely. 'And how much older are you now, pray?' looking at ber sharply. 'Six months, 1 suppose, though it does seem a great deal more—as long as my whole previous life, almost.' 'Ah!' taking two or three more hasty strides across tbe floor—s habit be had when excited. 'Ah! we mustn't have any more such work as that,' tbe smile so like Dora's lighting his face. 'Come here, little one.'

Almy went and stood beside him he bad sat down by tbe table. 'Now tell me truly, my little daughter what do you want most? Is it to keep house somewhere by yourselves—you and Kent

Her face suddenly brightened, and involuntarily she put one little hand on bis shoulder. •How could you have known?' sbe exclaimed, wonderingly. 'Ah! I thought so—I thought so,' he muttered under his breath. Then he added aloud. 'I have to go to Louisville to look after tbe disposal of several cargoes of ootton, which will be there next week. Wben I return I will attend to this business, and you shall try your little hands at housekeeping. How does tbat please you?'

The little hand on his shoulder fluttered up to bis neck with a shy, nestling motion. •Oh! I am so happy!' the quick tears springing to her eyes 'may I kiss you as if you were my own real father?'

With a sudden impulse he put his arm about her, and drew.ber to his side. 'God bless you, desr child,' be said, with a tenderness altogether unusual to blm, as ber soft lips^touobed his forehead.

Almy went to her chamber in a tumult of delight, little dreaming'how far away, and under what changed circumstances, would be their next meeting.

Tbat night Mr. Johnstone received a telegram from Cairo, requiring his immediate presence there. A week later a letter announced his leave for New Orleans, his return being very uncertain.

The same night, Almy, saddened by tbe deferred nope in respect to the housekeeping arrangement, received a letter from Emily.

Emily was not a famous letter writer, but now she was almost eloquent—her sense of right being aroused. 'Dear Almy,' she wrote, lam truly sorry to write as I must write you now. I have reason to believe that your marriage was a great disappointment, if not wrong, to Lancelot Ruseell, I

know

it

is a hard cross for him to bear. Do not think he has made complaint he has not, save as his pale face and sad eyes make a constant lamentation. O Almy! my sister, it is a fearful thing to darken a human life to blight tbe sweetest hopes of a young heart. I have found the little green box in the chest of drawers you know what it contains! Do not feel offended at bat I have felt it my solemn duty to write to you. I hope you will not let pride and fashion make you forget your soul's salvation, dear sister. We think of you at home continually, and father never omits your name, morning or evening, in bis petitions to the Throne of Grace. John Cranston id going to Peekskill next month, and he thinks I bad better oome up and see you a few days at the same time. Father is anxious for me to oome, too. He fancies you are not quite happy there. I hope you are but I sometimes think—well, never mind, everything is for tbe best, some way, I know. 'Lancelot's mother is ill, and he is at home with her. I watched there last night. He takes it very bard she is all he has to love him, be says. But tbst is a mistake—everybody loves Lance. Forgive me if I have In anything judged you wrongfully, and believe me always your devoted sister. Emily L. Babnard."

Almy read tbe letter with a troubled face, and with mingled feelings of remorse and apprehension. Tbat April morning came back again, and its chill settled down upon ber spirits. Over and over sbe said to herself: 'He left me free ss air—free to choose as my heart dictated.' Yet sbe knew what he had hoped and believed.

Perhaps it would have been better if she had staid in Hadley, and worn the little jet ring, lying now in tbe green box in tbe upper bureau-drawer in the south chamber.

And then all the dear home memories came thronging upon ber heart—tbe lilacs swelling under the kitchen windows, tbe swallows slitting the soft spring air with their graceful curvet*, the greening meadows sloping riverward, the fresh smell of newly turned furrows, and, oh! more—a hundred times more—tbe dear tones and smiles and loving words! She wept a little, quietly, remembering her father's anxiety abeiit her happiness. To be sure she was happy—at least, she should be, if only Kent were with her more. Yet her eyes filled as sbe thought of tbe morning and evening petition in which she was so lovingly remembered, and, somehow, through all the doubt and sadness tbat haunted and oppressed ber, this one star shone—a ray of beaven above tbe tumult and discord of earth, aud unconsciously she drew comfort ana rest from it.

But Emily must not oome to Riverbeck—at least, not now, not until sbe was housekeeping. Almy realized more than wben she left Hadley tbe great difference betweeu tbe Jobnstones and tbe Bernards. She would not have Emily annoyed by their condescension! She knew very well bow Mrs. Johnstone and Julia would look at ber with those cold, haughty blue eyes of theirs, for poor Emily had neither grace, beauty, nor fine clothing to bridge the gulfnothing save simple and, perhaps, rather unattractive goodness.

Just then she heard Kent's step on the stair, and, thrusting tbe letter into her pocket—he must never see thai—she tried bravely to hide also the trouble and sadness which sbe knew were in ber face. But sbe did not succeed her first question almost was a half impatient uonder 'what the matter was now.' But when the quick tears came he relented, and sitting beside her, he drew her head upon bisbosom and kissed the grieved lips tenderly. •O Kent I I am so disappointed that your fetber is not coming home—be said we should go housekeeping, you know,' she said slowly. 'Ah! well, we can wait—there Is no Immediate necessity. Tis not likely be

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