Lancaster Examiner and Herald

              I  .'¦
i
LANCASTER PA., WEDNESDAY. MARCH 13.1867
m 11
EXAfflES K |j  & HERAliW.
.i^ibUsien g" ' WEDHEBDM, iu tie EXiMUreB BD^ b;HO, No. 4 Horth aueea
Strootiti, .ncaeter, P» TEBM!^—93^ * YEAB UT ADVAyCE.
jsb. A;,HIKsiANl>. E. M. KLISE, J. I. HAHTJIAK
¦ ' '  'lEaitbrs a nd Proprietors,
. .i<i#H'i,IT8 MOTHEK'sSKE&ST.
rt lay'ti^on Us mother's brenst-^lliTi::
Bright as a dew-drop -n-hoti 11 first a«s('«^:i'i'^. Or as the plumose of an angel's -wing
¦Where every tint of rainbon-bcanlj- hlenils; Ithadsoavlolet eyes, tli.nl, '"catli each lid
Half-closod upon tlioni, like lirlght w.lter.'i .slionc, ¦\VIillo IUI small, dimpled hands wero .slyly hid
In the warm hosom that it nestled on.
There wa.s a beam in that young niulher's eye, Ut by the feelings that .•she could nol speak, ..^s from her lips a plaintive lullaby .Stirred  the bright trcwcs on her Infant's cheek, Whilenownnd then, wilh iiu-ltiiig liK>rl,she prest. Soft kisses o'er Its red and temiling lii>s— Lips, sweet .as rosebuds in fre.'sh beanty dre.ss'd Ere the young munnnring bees their honey sips. ¦
Itwiisafragr-mtovc. The sky was full
Of burning stars, that, tremulously clear, Slione ou those lovel.v ones, while the low lull
Offalllngwatei-sfcU upon tlieear: And tho new moon, like-a pure shell ofpenrl
Eneircled bj- the blue waves of the deep. Lay 'mid the fleecy clouds that love to curl
Around thpstars when they their vlgll.-^keoi).
ir.v heart grow softer .ns I gazed niion
That youthful mother as she soolhotl  to rest. With a lowsong her loved and cherished one—
The bud of promise on Iior gentle breast; For'tis a sight that angel ones above
3ray.stooi> tugaze on from Iheir bowers of bliss. When Innocence upon the breast of Love
Is cradled. In a sinful world like this.
LATISA'S lOVEHS.
Every one iu .SiiramertDwn tliought ihat it was all over wilh Laura. Tliere wasn't a soul iu the noiahborhood bnt had settled her long ago as the depeud- ent drudge in ssoiue cousin's family whenhor aunt .should die; for though Jtrs. Devou had " worldly goods," as the Rev. Jtr. Lovett charaeteiiacd her fstocks and stones—she owned an inter¬ cut iu a marble quarry—still there wei'e .so many nearer heirs that Laura stood a fair chaueo of coming oft" with a luourning-ring aud crape veil merely; verj' iusulllcient means for beginning lifeon one's ownaceoiint, asan iinjiartial observer—viz., not one of the said heirs —would acknowledge. But this is only suiipositioh. However, at tho time of which I speak, Laura had been hooked for the outside; there xiositively waa no hope for her, in the oi)inion of Summertown. n the meanwhile, whether or no Laura was herself con- lirmed in this belief of her fileuds and neighbors, who shall sa.y? No 'little mancoiivre of hors betrayed anxiety or despair; no word jj/'o or con escaped her—she reeeived aud kept the eoufi- deuces of others, and if she had any little passages of her own she kept those too. STobody knew exactly how things stood with her, but every one fancied hedid, which rap.da it comfort¬ able all round. Still, there was oue iii- eident—trilling enough, ifyou please— whieh perhaps s-'ived to mitigate her inisfortuues. Very likely there had come a day when Laura, looking about iier a little curiously, had seen herself reflected in no other eyes—unless it was when she wipcd^ the cherry stains . ofTGcordie's mouth— aud had wonder¬ ed somewhat sadly why she was so un¬ interesting, why the young men made love to her cousins, laughed aud chat¬ ted with the married ladies, without appearing to observe her auy more than ono would a shadow; why nobody said pretty things to her such as Rose some¬ times repeated, or begged her to let him button her glove, or sent her presents, or flushed when she spoke; why her handkerchief alw.ays fell unnoticed aud her questions unheard; why no one asked her opinion on auy earthly topic. " It would be so pleasaut if somebody would just tako the least bit of interest in one."
So thinking a little about these things, observing everything, and sensitive as the mimosa, she drifted, maj'be, into the natural conclusion, and put the thought aside, as a problem that v.ould work out its own answer in time or eternitj'.
But leading Geordie np and dowu the gravelwalk oue morning fora constitu¬ tional, Major Thome's crutch was heard in staccato movement over the gravel, fulling into the legato as he joined them. There was  a  little  thud of pleasure down   somewhere  in  Laura's  bciug, rather neutralized by the remembrance that Major Thome was one of Geordie's slaves.   Now the Major was no herb: he had lost a leg, to be sure, if that is any qualification—lost it by the aec'i- dental discharge ofa gnu, not in any Balaklava or Blenheim; and,   though bred a soldier, since that had dolTed the sword and donned tho crutch : then, in a finaucial poiut of view, he was not so picturesque as a beggar, for nothing makes so much interest for a lover as a limited income, a hat with the nap a trifle rubbed ofr,a crutch won in the fray, and a pair of eloquent  eyes.   Now the Major had nono of these, poor fellow! but the   very questionable crutch and the eyes,  aud when he   turned theso last full upon Laura she felt as if some¬ thing were being said beyond her com¬ prehension, some language was uttered of whitli s!{p had  never been taugh^ the ABO; ffiereforo i7;e Major,  find¬ ing that he .spoke an unknown tongue, undertook to be his owu interpreter, and put into English what he had pre¬ viously put into his gliince.
It   was   thu   confusion   of   tongues; Laura was confounded : she had met him, on an oO' for six years or so, lived under the same roof with him six weeks, sat beside him at the table,   fallen in witli  him ou tlie  grounds.   He  had talked with her at tiio danoiug-parties —Laura's  partners were like angels' visits—llifj'had played cliess together to oblige each other; she had  picked out with great trouble the air of some little songs he had composed expressly to keep himself before her eyes, but all unsuspected  by her ; he had indited numerous sonnets for lier delectation, which ligurediu^ the Poet's Corner of the local gazette, bul which, unfortu 'lately, she never read; he had doclin- ed a shooting expedition and a yacht¬ ing voyage, of both whicii he duly and significantly   informed lier,  and   she had wondered if Rose were the attrac¬ tion; in short, she had imt herself so entirely out of the question that this confessiou   appeared   incredible,   and consequently the Major experienced a defeat.   So it  passed  by,   and   Major Thome changed  his mind and weut yaothing after all, and no one guessed what had happened.
"Ican't understand what has sent the Major off so suddenly," said Mrs. Devou. " No fault of youi's, I hope. Rose'?" And Rose simpered and toss¬ ed her fiue head, leaving it to be in¬ ferred, while if any one had noticed the color that flew over Lmra's face at the mere name, the story would have been only to .plain.
"However," said Rose, "it's only au exchange of officers: Major Thome goes, and Captain Laurence arrives.
"Who i» Captain Laurence ?" asked Laura, glad to change the subject. "Heaven only knows ; some oneHar-
i
ryhas picked   up—one  o^., his' violent friendships."
"I hope he will prove an addition," said Mrs. Devon ; "for, now that the Jtajisr is away, every one seems a little downcast."
'•IS'onsense, mamma ! Major Thorue is your hobby.   I don't see what there is to admire in him •; do you, Laura,?' He never.could donee a .step—s-jiosi^ivc YluVni inthe flcsli \" »«••... ¦    i
'i'iie liiUowiug day, toward evviiiiig, as Ijaura came up from the garden will) a bowl of gubsebprries which she had been picking—her eyes ou the ground and her thoughts, maybe, a little way out.at sea—what should she do buttrij), aud let the bowl dance out of her hand and splinter itself and scatter tlie con¬ tents.
"Even Hebe hashorupsaud downs!" said a voice at her elbow—a voice sweet and suave, as if some iiectarous blossom Jiad spSkeu instead of the bending . fig¬ ure beside her. There was yet .enough light lo show Laura the bold, black eyes that seemed to interrogate her; ¦ the smiling outline of expressive features ; the soljt, rieh tint of complexiori. In the mean while she had just enough wit left to put two and tw'o together, and conclude that the intruder was Captain Laurence, who liad strayed iuto the garden to wijoy a quiet smoke. "Iam afraid that you have.me to thank foi; thatfalse step," ho continued ; ''I srartled you, did I not'?"
"Indeed, Captain Laurence,. 1 shall not thank you, then ; see all luy ber¬ ries rolling in the gravel!!'
"The ruins of Carthage," said he ; "but how do ypu know I am that Ciip- tain Laurence ?"
"By induction, .Sir ; eerlainiy not by in?/'oduclion," LiUira replied, laiighing lightly.
"Yon are more fortunate lliaii I," he returned, echoing her laugh. "I have no data from whicii to deduce .whether you are i'air Rosamond or a Nun of Bt. Hilda."
"You might take me for a Gooseberry l'"ool,"she answered, in .allusion to her labor lost. "But don't let me iuterrupt your Huvaiia ; besides, someone is call lug me." . ,
"Let us listen then; it will save the ceremony of introduction. When I was a boy I used to hide in the garden and enjoy the uproar that ensued when no oue answered to my name. Laura, or Laurence'? Isityou or I, or both of us, that is wanted ; Miss Laura, it is quite dark in this alley; .you are ajit to trij); my arm is ;tt your service. IVe will make it dramatic li.v appearing together on tbe scene."
"What a piece of impertinence!" thought Laura, but took his arm never¬ theless.
" My dear Lau'.a," quoth her aunt, " it is long iiast Geordie's bedtime."
" Oh, indeed! I didn't know it was so late. Bridget was anxious to get off early to a wake, so I ofl'ered to pick the berries fov her. But where is Geordie?" " -Tput him to bed!" said Rose, as if it were some unheard-of sacrifice on her liart; and directly there came froin over the balusters a stentorian cry:
"Laura! I want mj'Laura! Can't somebody Una my dear Laura? Oh, my head aches, and I do want my Laura!" saturated with a supply of sobs and tears, whieli subsided into evident chuckling as soon as she replied to his tender ajipeal. For King George was in the habit of making the household bow before his mandates, and of never seeking his pillow but in company witli Laura and a fairy tale or song; the last usually one of Major Thome's efforts, and though hardly adaiited to infantine ajipreciatiou, he seemed to like it heartily, and, readily catching the air, would adil a voice of most' In¬ appropriate volume, till, falling into a hushed diminuendo, it became pei'ha])s only the sweetest of echoes in dream- laud. So that uiglit, as Rose and Caj;- tain Laurence ii.nced up and down the IJiazza in desultory flirtation, Laura's lilt came rustling down to them, like tho murmer of a distant beck, and Cap¬ tain Laurence found ears to listen to it while he led Rose onward through a labyrinth of nonsense.
In fact, Geordie was very tiresome on that p.irticular night. He lamented the departure of the Major, who used to ride him ou the pony, repair his toys, make his whistles, and lo,se marbles to him.
"I tell you what, Laura,".said he, confidenti.ally,   "there's   nobody  like tlie Major! ^'hy, Xwon  twenty mar¬ bles of him, right off, one day.  And do you  know,   Laura,   the   morning  he weutaway he came into riiy room, be¬ fore I was \xp, to say good-by : and he asked who kissed me last. Wasn't that odd?" "WasIt?" asked Laura. " Why, yes—don't you think so ?  It wasn'tany matter who kissed me last, you know," he continued, bent upon telling his own tale; " butl said Itwas you wlio always kissed me on liij' eye¬ lids, that I mightn't forget you. 'Then,' said he, 'I'll kiss you there too.'   Aud, Laura, I could help it—I just put my arms round his neek and hugged him tight, he is sueii a dear old Jlajor! And he had such a queer looli".in his eyes, just as if he'd got hurt aud was trying not to let ally one know   it;   but  he never cried a drop—nic» 7iever do; I sha'n't when I'm grown up.   Laura, don't you wish he hadn't goue? Laura, Laura! are you there?    You may sing now, please."   Geordie's good manners were always after-thoughts.
It WiUi not quite sunrise one morning, about a month later, when the sum¬ mer's dissip'itipn had been already pre¬ faced with drives and dances, that Har¬ ry tapped at Laura's chamber door.
" Are J'OU a^vake, Laura ? Could yon come down and iiour the Captiiin aiid mo a cup of cofl'ee? r don't dare dis¬ turb the other magnates; and we. wiirit to be ofl to the beach before the sun gets too high."
" I'll be dowu ill a mpnieut," siiid she; and directlj' she presented lierself, dressed in a white iiipmirig-wr.ippei', ruffled within au Iiipii of its life-the great waves of her brown hair entrap¬ ping the light with every silken thread, and just a breath of rose-color jialpita- ting on her cheeks. "So you rise with the lark, Miss Lau¬
ra," said Captain Laurence; ''and I happen to know alreadj' that yoivslng' like him."
"And to complete the simile, we' are bound on a lark," said Harrj-.
' 'Are J'OU going to the singing beach ?' asked Laura.
"I believe so; but unless, you go with us I shan't be able to say whether it sings in the minor or major kej'. I shall be utterlj- adrift on the sand-bars of music."
"What a predicament!" cried Laura " Shall I fiU your cup 5"
" Ifyou will fulfill my request."
"That's right," put in Harry ;"make her go with us, Bell; she can ride like a bubble on the wind."
"Oh, Ishould like it so much; but you know, Harry, that I haven't rid¬ den these two years; and then^-oh; it's quite outof the question, j'our mother would be anxious." .  .
"Nonsense,"you're not a- minor, are you ?   There's Simoon you can have as
well as not.   I'll go out and have him saddled."'
"No, no, Harry! I positively can not go."
They rose from the table as she spoke; Captain Laurence drew near so that,his Vandj'ke beard almost swept her cheek, as he bent low and murmured :
" Not fo» mj' sake?" . The heavy lids fell over the troubled ej-es. It was quite too early to be mas¬ tered lij- that strong gaze; sooner or Inler, .-ilie lell it won Id work her mis- ehiei', but mil yet, not jct, she must struggle while she might, befoie the .spell was hiipt'k'f.'ily fiiii'~lied foo she turned to him .-iaucily.
" You are quiie.right, t ipl ml Liu- rence. Ishallstaj' at liomL loi in in¬ die's sake—it is his birlhd n   '
"Iwi.sh I were Geoidie, lutKj clit- riib!" " And si.K years old to-day ?" .'' And sixyeara old to-day, if I might enjoy his perquisites, if you would look after mj' birthdays." <*"
Poor Laura, she was so unused to gal¬ lant speeches that tliese little things went a great way with her. ¦' All tho morning that flush of ploa- ¦sure never faded from her fiiee, that 'sinile forgot to leave her lips; upstairs, liofine her mirror, dressing for dinner, sli'u paused to regard herself,- paused half ^rogrctfuilj', half surprised, as if, just tp-diij-, some unsuspected blo.s'^om. had-spi'ung up iu her .place.
"Whj-, I am 'almost nrettj- to-duy," she whispered ; "if—" aifd checked her¬ self, leaving unsaid the willflil thought that tr-Hced with a llircad of gold the gracious possibilities of life, then as for penance she turned resolutel.v awaj' from the glass and iniiulgod iu no s'ec- oiid glimpse.
Tea was served that evening out under the willows, who:)e great plumci entang- gliug the reflexes of a hundred tints, swung iiidolentlj' inthe bieeze; then there was dancing on the lawn till Geordie could uo longer keeji his ej'e- lids in order. What tin evening itwas for more than Geordie! How fieelj- Laura forgot herself beneath the lustre of those ensnaring eyes—how waj'waid pulses quickened with each caprice of flute or violin—ho'iv licr foolish little heartbeat measure for. measure! She thought afterward ^tliat a swallow's summer flight across the blue heavons could describe no more delightful jira- besque thau those dancing feet uiibn the green turf.
Well, by-antl-bj- the .stars slijiped^ one bj- one, iuto tlieir places, and the Ciirlj' mooii just showed the till of her silver horn .above Holidaj' Hill, and tlien Laura must leave it all to pilot Geoiilie happilj' across the w'ateis of oblivion into tho Land bf Nod. 'riirpiigii the pauses of her faii'j'-tale slie could catch the rhj'thm of the dance; some¬ times a littlo jet of nvlodj' flew up, like a bird, to seek lici'; sometimes a ripple of laughter loiiiid her out; some¬ times the wind came I'ollowiug with a breath from the willo.vs, as it were .some sweet thought sent after her, and all the while Echo went wandering into the distance with stolen .snatches ofthe festivitv. It nothing availed to cut the storj' short, to bring the beautiful Piin- ccss into hasty possession of the magic crystals which held her ciown and kingdom. (f eurdie only grew garrulous used all his imsvers of ;fascination, in order io detain"Laura bj'his side, till, pxhautcd bj' liis arts. Nature took the matter in hand and reduced him to sub¬ jection.
Bj' that time the 'dancing was over, the lawn deserted, the musicians had departed; above all there brooded the sweet solemnity of night.brokeli only bj' some footfall on the piazza below. Lau¬ ra went to the window and looked out. One star, shining large and luminous overhead, seemed lo jioint at Capt. Lau¬ rence, pacing upa nd down there like some caged creatuie, as If some impal¬ pable limits shut him out from the Promised Laud. " I wonder what he istlilnking about," pondered Laura; she had almost said " ivho," If she had oui J- known I
One moEiiing Captain Laurence v,.is a little late at breakfast; but before the meal was half through he sauntered into the room with that easy grace of his, bent an instant over Laura with some sj'llablcs half tender, half jest, and dropped Into the.seat beside Rose.
" The sweete•^t dreams, I undei'ataiid, come with daj'break," said that subjeet, "and surely sinee tlien you have had time for a ivhole nosegaj'."
" But faulty if the rose wore omitted. Since dawn I have seen the sunrise break  througli  Tangle   Wood.     You must go there witli me sometime,  Miss Laura," he added, turning to her. " Is it not a great way oti'?" "Tlie tuither the better," he replied. " What  is  the  programme  to-day, Rose?" ashed Harry. "ThatstinjidpiouicofMrs. Brj'ant's." "Whystupid?" inquired Laurence. " Oh,  bcciuso everj- bodj' gets crosa and hungry, and you lose the people you waut to tiud and find the peojjle J'OU want to lose; and some one is sure to tread on j-our dress—it actuallj' seems as if there weie a detachment for that especial dutj-—"
"The long and the shoit of il," put in Hari'j'.
" SballjioH go,  Captain   fjaureiice?" asked Rose. " Go! after such a warning?"       i "But J'OU have no unloituu.'de gown to be trodden on ; cou.-equentiv no dan¬ ger of losing j'Our temper."
"Y'ou forget, Jliss Rose, the d.iiiger of losiSg whafliisyribt .so easilj' recover¬ ed." .;    .        -
"Nothiiig so easy if J-ou offer a suf¬ ficient reward." * '¦
"Ah, fiiir Pagan ! Tam,afraid there is lid-need for me to run anj- further risks."
" Indeed! I have heard of the beauti¬ ful Duleinea, havo I no£?"
Laurence gave the least iierceptlble start, and the least sus])ieinn of a fi own diii'kbhed on his brow.
" No; have you ? What is she like — Gipsj' Jane?"
Now Rose had leallj'lieaid nothing, pnlj' she fhought it wise, before reeling ofl'Intoa flirtation, to heal aliout the hush a while and knock down all the lastj'ear's ne«t.
" She has dark-browii hair, loug and wavy,"she began ; "eyes the color of my sapphiie ring ; see—Harry gave it me, the extravagtint; she has an ear like a little pink shell. Y'ou would take her for alabaster if a ripple of color upon her white cheek didu't remind you of an opal. When ^he laughs you hear the 'silver falling' of the fountain of perpetual j-outh ; when the sings you remember the sirens; when she walks you follow." .;
" Thank j-ou," said ihe Captain, re¬ assured.
"Miss Laura, your cousin has been taking your picture."
" Why didn't J-ou tell me I was sit¬ ting that i might have called in 'prunes and prisms' to my aid ?" she answered, just oh the.point of leavlug the room.
" ' Wlien ^she.. walks ypu foUow,' "
quoted the Captain, looking-back at
Rosewlthalaugh as he turned awaj'
to jolii liktiiB in the' drawligTrpom.
" Do you meaii to humor "this stupid¬
ity of Mrs. Brj-ant's?" he asked, taking his seat beside her. "I think not."
" The ijoor Bryant, what will become o.'her-and all her cjikesand ale?" " Oh, the others axe goUig." " And why not .yourself?: The moon might as well excuse herself from ri¬ sing,, because there were sure to be plenty (If stars out.". •-• '. ¦  i'.e-
"Captain Laurence! what if anj-one sliould hear me listening to such non¬ sense? Some one miiststiij- to see after Geordie "
"MtssRihc 111- =1 del ounced pic¬ nics , perliips sh( \ o lid 1 uicy that u- cieition "
"Oh no, ' sud Lima, \lij- hone.sllj-, " tint-nas onlj one 01 liei little capii- ccs, she doesn't w mt to inticipatu too nuich Rose is %tij' bewitching at times, don't you think so ?"
" I know some one who is alwaj-s be- w-itching." "'Ah! who is that?" very- simplj'. " It's a gi'eat secret of mine." " Oh, excuse me."
"NotataU. I'll tell j-ou-in confl; deuce. No, I'll wrifjj it on this oak- leaf; the wind blew it in on purpose. Tliere;" and he passed her-the leaf bearing the word " Laura" merelj', fol¬ lowed by something like a superfluous flourish, as if he had designed to make tiie name alliterative but waveied.
A little spark of delight flashed from Laura's wide-open ej es.
" Petrarch's Laura,'' sheoaid smiling. "I didn't mention  ]'et.,iich ; I w.is speaking ol mj'self."
"Oh! are j-ou goiiig to this jiicnic yourself?"
" It i=> a ve.xed ijuestioii; « h.it would J'OU advi-sc ?' -       ,
Alittle signal lan.uji her cheek, plaiulj' showing'what would be loo charming to think ol. .- f '
"You will flnd it verj-'ygueable," .said she. '
"Impossible; I .shall not find you there."
"But you will meet the Jlores fiom
the Clills, the Thoipcs from the Upper
Parish, the Gilbel'ts from Crane-neck
Hill, .and I can't saj'how maiij-others."
" Positivelj- I'm afraid to encounter
so manj' sliaiigois without a guardian
angel.   Can't the cherub go m ith us?"
" Childien aie nol invitcil."
"But  surelj-   tho  maids  can   take
charge of him."
" He might give them the slip; whj-, one daj- we went to Ciiigstowe and left him In their care, and he went dowu io sail his brig in the luook—lliej' call it a brook, but it's liolh ilecp and wide; some ri;apei'.s, haiijieiiiiy to ]ia-s bj, fdiiiidliim niaking Dill iiitii llic luiddle iif the stream, when- hi-, biig laj- liu- calmed, the water alreadj' up to his shoulders; ami Laura i:ame near losing isiglit of her dear biij'," shcadilod as that ¦J'oung desperado adniini-itercd au em¬ phatic hug, crying:
"Tlie Slajor, li.uii'a; J'OU I'oiicol the Major."
"Oh, did I forget the Jfajoi ?' she said, Ihe color deepening a shade.
"The reaper.s, j-ou kiiow^ onlj' udlcil me bai k, hut the Major walked right in af'tei me, Mith the crutch and all, and caught me up on ono arm just as if I were nothing bul a llv,; but I kicked bome." "Naughly boy!"
•'But, Laura, theie was the brig in dangei ; 1 didn't know he was going back after it, and ho looked so cross too. And he w-ouldn't let me get out of bed the rest of theday, that was tho woist ofit; and when j'ou came you toldhim J'OU didn't know what j'ou could do for him, and he said he did, but he didn't say u'hat. I sujipose he wanted j'ou to sew on q, button or mend iiit, glove— Harrj'alwaj's docs."
"Sapient J-outh," laughed  tho Cap¬ tain, " won't J'OU wade in the stream again tlmt I inuj-emulate this 3Majoi ?'» "Oh, hut J-OU haven't auj-  crutch," said lie.
All hour later the cairiagcs v>-ei'o on the way to the picnic.
" Whj'didn't Captain Laurence ride witli ns, Harry?" asked Rose, with some vexation.
"Laurence? Oh, he had letters to write; he didn't come."
"I hope thej-'ll miscairv," quoth the sweet Rose. , . ¦
Late in the afternoon, when Laura weut into the drawing-room with her work, Captain Ijaureiice met her half- waj'. " When did you return?" she queried. " I haven't been away-; I had letters to write, which only the pleasure of es¬ corting you could induce me to post¬ pone."
" Thank you. And j-ou have had no luncheon."
" I beg pardon, 'twas brought to my room. Won't you come out on the ve¬ randa and sit? I've improvised a luxu¬ rious divan of piled cushions for j*on, and the most fragrant of south winds is ready to fan you ifyou won't let me." "Do you know," he continued, .iftcr thej'were agrecablj' scatcil, " I've hidl I mind to quarrel with tins Major of Geordie's. What business had he to know i/o« befoie I was so fortunate?" " Oil, he is only a friend of my aunt's; ho is alwaj's coming heremoieoi less," she answeied, demurelj'.
" So much fhe worse; and in the mean time you are alwaj's-walking with him, more or less, ¦j.ml plaj'ing clic-a with him—" -^
" How do J'OU l.noiL' that ?" " I'rom Geordie. Ho challenged ine to a contest ai.il I declined, whence he iiileiied Ihat I wasn't li.ilf .so .good as hisLaurai, which, of eiuir-.e, is a weak exprc-sion of a strong fact; 'i'm she used to play lots -ivith the .Majo: whether she wanted to or not.' "
" Poor Geordie, hp lells all lie knows, and it good deal which he imagines."
"Thenj-oudidii'tdislikeplayingwith the Major'?"
"Oh, no indeed, we both played =0 badly that it wai. verj' nice."    '
"Y'ou are making me verj-  uncom¬ fortable ?" " No indeed ; am I ? liow ?" " It'.s too plain thai ^1 can never be such an old friend as this Jlajni ; he has stolen a march on me."
"Y'et—" Shehad itiii her heait.to say that ohl friends were notalwaj's the most valued, but"bethought liei=eff in season. ' ,   ,
" Yes, I see; you want an excu»e. Play don't mind bieaking my heart, 'tisn't worth much:"
"Nonsense; Idare .stiy if jou come here two or tliri?C'siimmei's aunlj- will like you as well as the Jlajor."
" Consoling—and how about aiintj-'-i niece?"
"Oh,  the M.ajor is notiiing lii me, truly; ifyou mean that." ; That was not precisely what lie did meaii, but it was a pleasant assurance. "Then," said he, touching.her liand with his lips, " I wouldn't be the Ma¬ jor for anything.   But as for coming here t-wo orthree summers, T might as well suffer a chronic voj-age round Cape Horn." " Whj', are we so tiresome?" " By no means; only the experiment is so dangerpu.s.   Do you hear w-hat a pretty, canzone  the  wind  is  singing through those honey-suckle vines ?   I 1 dare say yoit'aan^ to the Major ?"
'    "Sometimes.   1 know iiothing biit his songs." 1
"So he made songs for you, eh? J think I sliouhl like to hear .one, if you please; iti.s well to iinderstanil the pol- iej-of the: enemj-."   .
" It was simply atnuseinent." •   "Well, I am listenijig."
Laura's:^-oic^^:5'»^.iiipt. in the least strpDgiiaii.fat^,'4a^te>e was a some¬ thing touching in the clear treble pecu¬ liar to herself; a something plaintive without complaining, fresh as if the dewy morning pervaded it, sad as if the twilight were advancing. Once heard il would return to j'ou again and again, loiigunei the biiigei w.ls foigotteii.
' Are you quite in earnest? My voice is the meicst bird-call," she said, and s ing:
""Qli, were luy lo\ e tho m mil Unit blowb
O'oi hill, and Held, nud loacly sen, Aud I tlie sweetness of the rose To follow where he beckoned me,
"Xo storm ao cold, no night so daik.
Would dauut mo on his restless wtng, And wheu the sun awoke the lark
We'd higher soar and louiler^lng.'
'And directly the family carriages rolled up the drive and convei'.sation be¬ came a B.abel.
"Everj' bodj' -ivassosoi 1 j' j'ou weien't there, Caijtaiii Laurence," said Rose. -The Ciqitaih,though the knew of two exceptions, and Laura was-cquallj- cer¬ tain of one. " \
" I am sincerelj' obliged io e\ eij' oue,"he.sald.:. -      ,    • . _  -.
And thus, steii-by step, (/'aplain Lau- lence advauceil in informal wooing; a smt of expei'iiiientaiaffair with liirii,,!!! order to asbuic himselt it love werejiioie initent than the other pov/er struggling lor niastcrj'—iu short, "if the game were worth the caiidle."
But Lauia, we know, had a diU'erent jiolnt of view. Slie had lived in peace till MajorThoine opened her cj'es, just in time for them to be dazzled bj- this now luminarj-. Bj'-and-bj-, when slio becomes accustomed to this beautiful radiance, the tw^ligllt \i ill have quite set In. Well, perhaps even thcie the stars maj- shine.
The following daj- opened with a grand overture of the elements; the rain hung like a current before the eye, but Laura never missed the sun. Cap¬ tain Lawience, now alwaj-s beside her, read the last new novel to au attentive group; It was the simple nariative of the suffeiings of ono who choso disin¬ heritance rather than renounce the m 0- nian he loved.
- "Whatan cverlastingspoonej '" cu¬ ed If aii'j-, as the book was ended,
" Ilo ymi thinlc so?" asked the C.ip- t.iiii, turningto Laura.
"rt.seenis to me," she answeied, "Ihat tlii'ie wa^ lull one waj- open to him and hu took it. 1 c.iii't ciiniLneof his do¬ ing otiicrwi.se.''
." Very true," said Aunt D(\on, ".ill the nioiiey in tlie world wouUlii't ha\e puichabcdhiinalovelikeTjcqui hue's "
" I agree with j'ou ;" .siul Ltuience the trouble -«.is, that he uiuldii't agiec with himself.
When tlie^os.sips of Summeitowii perceived the turn things weic tikiiig, thoj- began to lose faith in their own piedictioiib. Henceforth w'lieicverLdU- la WUl seen Laurence was sure to be uot far behind; thej' might be met morning and evening on the beach with Geordie stiaggling ill fioiit. Mimy a good wo¬ man of tlie place toiled ui) her scuttle stairs, gla«s in hand, to satisfj' herself
have said thej' .w'pre merely strategic freaks of a lover w ho decoutuated his devotion by contrasts. And preseutl.v the hour arrived when heresigiied him¬ self to Pate, and the dear, lilind boj-, wiien delight overflowed the brief mo¬ ments, wheu together thoy surprised the wild azalia in its swamps, when they mads the woods echo Mfith catch and, chorus, and drew enchantmefit from the eool depth of the Witch's Well, from early purple dawns, and starry jpaces of evening skj', from . "The light that never was on sea or land."
Life was growing idylie with Laura.
One daj-, as they returned fioin a drive, a traveling can iage whii led bj' them, then wheeled suddenlj' about and overtook them, while agentleman from within cried, "Lauience, Laurence, is that J'OU or your wiaitli?" and directlj' was out, and testing the matter with a vigorous hand-shake; then :
"Are J'OU staying in tills neighbor¬ hood?" askod tlie .strangei. "Is the Empress with you? Inniloistood that you were b.itli slopping at Engel-;' liaidt'.s."
Laurence kept a f'lowii at liaj- with aghostof a'jmilc, as he icidied, some¬ what evasivolj':
" I li'ns ut.Engelhardt'slora time, but alone; the Empress went to the Springs w-ith an invalid fiiond."
" Yon had lietter look out lor your lauiels," laughed the other, as lie drove away.-' --* ^  ,-,i..-i.-.i-
" Thank .-y-oti," lelurneil the Captain; "mine aie jusl witliin reach." .-J-iid he bene hiuiaclf anew to Laura.   -
" Who IS the Empress?" .isl.ed Lau- r.i, caielesslj-. ' '
"TheEinprc-b!" indifleieutlj. "Oh! Matilda—mj- cuubiu."
And L.iura never dreamed w hat liu- liiie'bhc talleil her ow 11.
So the summer was wealing awaj- untarnished, brimming,,with a-iiew meaiiing to Laura. Tlie high heavens seeined to bend aud blessiher; the stais to come out only to look at a happj- mortal'; the river to ring its silver chimes in union with her thought; the verj- hedgerows to bloasotn aud sing be¬ cause she smiled ; while eveu thc.soher, everydaj' sunlight wore a touch of 10- mance. But when siie diow her ctn- tains at night, across which the tiecs and the moonlight w-ove beautiful dc-" sigiia, she used towonder if alllicr suin- mcib w ould piove so sweet. Can it be possible that ever she anticipaicd the equinoctial?
And one daj- there was tho Itajor back again. He had a weed pn his hat, and looked as if yachting hadn't agieeil with him. And Gooi'ilie foreswore the C.iptain on the instant, andietuined to his old love, which he prefaced with the pleasing report that " the Captain was hind in glove with his Laura: he heaid Harry say so." The Major mado no lexilj, but jiut Master Geordie down, and devoted hiinscll to telling ^fi's. De¬ vou th it tho deatli of a friend in the iieighboihuod, of wlui^e f'.,late he was cxecutoi, had biought him back thus une\pectedlj'.
Lauia and the Captain had gone across the lields .with abu-ket of fruit for a sick woman, aiid Geordie lau to meet them half-w.ij' with Ihe latent news.
"And now J'OU won't be going ofl' all the time,with the Captain, will j-on, Laura? -Viid j'ou'll staj- at home and plaj'chess with tlie'M.ijoi',  and X can
heavj- tread.-iitraightto'his own- room without apy preliminaries. Somewhat later Harrj- kiiocketi at his door but ob¬ tained no answer; and when Captain Laurenceappearediiithedrawingropm, 1111 hour or two after, he said he had been taking a siesta, bnt looked as ifhe had been taking, poiaoii.,
" Was It a dun ?'.' asked the indefati¬ gable Geordie.
" One of the worst sort," replied Lau¬ rence. ,.
Mrs. Devon had a sick-headache next morning, and Laura, going down ear¬ lj- for remedies, nwSt tho Captain in the hall.
" I'p so c.ii Ij' ?" .-aid she.
"•Thoeai'Ij bird,'j'Ou know, 'catch¬ es the worm,' .ind in order to catch the tiaiii I follow his example."
" Ale J'OU going awaj-?" she ttsked, almost in a wliispur, as if the woids hint her, timl .sitting down uiion a stair.
"1 must "g'o," he answered, letting his gaze .settle anywiieie hut upon her. "1 Wils waiting for jou; I made mj' a'llieiis to ,1110 t.tmilj' lastnight. Laura, ills a lialcfiil obligation that drags me away^from [you ; believe that ot me whatever belalls."
" But j'liu will^coinc back ? " she gasp-
il j'onder sail-boat weien't Harrj-De-   ,    , ,        ,.,     ¦. 1 ¦ 1   .^
•',  „,.-.,.  , , ,, .,    look on .ind see. the^bishop^. catch it—-
voii's7j(ue6/«f skimming down toRoclc ,^ , „,, '
Cieek, with "VCiaurie and that Cap'n of hern."
On the familj- excuisions to Cr.ags- towii thej- Invariablj' adopted extremes, either dioppiug far behind the main party, perhaps lo-ing tlieir way and re- turiling home to spend the daj' in splen¬ did seclusion, or galloping miles ahead, till no suspicion of the detestable third person intervened. Once tlio Bluebird was caught outside tlic bar in a fog, with the unseen breakeis muttering in their earn, and Laura thought it was as if thej- were shut into a great pearl alone, without giving moro than a thought lo the possibility of being run down hj' some other craft, or dashed to atoms in the tumult of the watera, till presently the fog blew off, and thej' flow liomewai'd as if fear and danger were fables of the story books; onlj- as he lifted her ashore he helil her one swift "instant in a grasp of steel mur¬ muring.
'-' If wo liad dieil it-Vould have been, together."
"But it is .so much pleas.intertolive," said iiiiuia, artlessly.
Once, too, they encounteied a party of-strolling gipsies encamped at the Witch's Well, one of whom gave Laura an amulet of aromatic seeds.
"Tokecp j'our heart light," thecione said.
"And I mu"t never give it away?" nskcil Lauia, just to humor her.
"When J'OU give it youlgive j'our- solf," was the reply. -But,''sauntering home, Lauience took possession ofit.
" I ditl not give it to j'ou, reniembcr," said she.
"I did not ask for it," ho returned. " I take my own wherever I flnd it."
Sometimes they galloped to Tangle Wood, returning before breakfast witli. wreaths of wild fiowers, deserted birds' nests for Geordie, and pretty eggs for his collection.
"Do you know-," said Laura, ou one
of these' occasions, " there is ti^lesenil,'
that ifyou lose ybui'self lii Tangle Wood
J-ou are never able to find tlie,w-iij' out
again?"
" Let us try the experiment," said he.
"And starve to death'?" queried the
pl aetical Laiira.
"Ah, T didn^t take that view of it!"
"But J'OU see that is the view to take.
The .storj' g6e3,',that a young man who
wtis tb be married , the next diij' came
into this wood  to gather flowers and
never   returned    home.     Every  one
thought that he liad deserted hissweet-
lieart; hut long years after they_found
his bones here and the ring she had
given him."
" I certainlj' bhall not come here the daj' befoie my iniiiriage unless you come with me," ho said, laughing.
And now even the Rfev. Mr. Lovntt congratulated hiniself upon a new peos- elyte as he observed the dark, hand¬ some face evei'j' Sundaj' in the Devon pew; and no wonder that the simple country folks'regarded it as a matter already foreclosed, and that old Mis. Gre\v, wliohad baked'wedding loaves for the Devons time out of mind, began to looic up her recipes.
To be sure there were days when Cap¬ tain Laurence seemed possessed with a strange melancholy; when his glance never brighteoed except it met Laura's; when he xierxnitted another to fill his place beside her, to bring her shawl wheii the dew fell, to cut her flowers, or take off her hands the never-to-be-con- cludcil tail of Geordie's kite—for uow that she had found favor in the Cap¬ tain's ej'es all the others were ready to be commanded—dour and threatening periods, wlien it seemed as though he hesitated to jivet the chains he loved well to wear, when even Qeordid's query, " You aren't cross with my Lau¬ ra, are you?" met with no rejoinder.
But these were only spijta on tHe sun —so rare and peculiar tliat j-oii would
won't JOU, Laura'?'
"And what is to become of me?" asked the Cajitain.
" Y'ou!" said Geordie, iionchalantlj'. "You ean look on too, I suppose—can't ho, Laura?"
As for the Major, he took Itall in, and confimied Geordie's fact at a glance.
"She Is more like au angel than ev¬ er," he thought. "Confound the fel¬ low! lie'b as luiudbome as a picture, too. Well, it's gootl to think that she isn't thrown awaj-, at least. There are al¬ ways crumbs of comfort falling from the rich man's table, and it'she is satis¬ fied I cau go liungi'j'." , And perhaps he wasn't so talkative the remainder of tho evening, but you woiild never have suspected from his air that he was a disappointed lover.
He didn't make his slaj' at the"De- vons, however, but wa-s there fiom time to time, as business allowed. I doubt If It was alw-ays quite apleasuro to him to see Laura and tho Captain together coKstaiitlj-; but It wa.s liis onlj' chance of seeing her at all, and he stiove to persuade himself that he enjoj'cd her liappiiie&s as it wore hibown. Perhaps Itwas the onoliouejed drop in a deadly draught.
At breakfiist, one morning, while they arranged for thealay's iileasuro, a ser¬ vant brought in tlie letters from the mail.       ....
"Ah,-Laurence,' j'ou are alwaj's In luck'.',' ci'Ied Harrj'. "Here's a budget foryou.",'",.   '•  r.   i.-'i   '   '
" No congratulations, pray, lill we see ifit Is not'a\luu'."'' He looked at the address as he spoke, 'aud.'put' it (lown with a little start.
"Wliy don't J'OU ; read It?", asked
Geordie, ','Ialw.aj-3 read mine right off."
"Mine" consistetl of one whicii the
Major had written" and Laura read to
him.'   ' -  ,  .    ¦
'' It doesn't look promising," answer¬ ed Laurence; but directly alter break- fasli.he had a liorse saddledj and was off at ai furious jiaee, as if ten thousand <Ie- iiibns were in jmrsuit. ¦'
"Doesn't he go liko time!" "aid Geordie, adiniringlj-. When the Cap Uin was cjuite clear of hamlet or homestead, witli nothing hut pasture land and wood land, hounded bj' a blue line of water, within view, he reined in his horse, and proceeded to digest his letter. It was written in a firm, clear hand, as if the writer had been too sure of her cause to suffer any tremors of doubt to ruDie her nerves.   It ran thus:
"Di-\K Bull—I don't believe j-ou de- servo any thing half so all'eetioii.tie from me as that; but tlicn, you Icnow, my hoai I alwavs runs away witli mj- head, or I shouldn't bo a\ riling this to j'oii after all J-our ncisloet. It is vci'j' gaj- here, at the yprings, but people are constantly asking about you, and I have to invent aU'nninner of stones, rather than let them suppose I don't know allj-oui hittieis and jons. I can't endure this much longer; i'l Idon't see J'OU soon, what shall I think? I shall think, naturally ouousli, that j-ou wish overj' thingat an end between us, and I shall .U't accordingly.— Youi devoted M vTri..n \. " P. S.—Bj'-tho-w ay, Lytton told mo tlnrt he mot yon driving n lovelj'jollj'-fish'—his very words-about tlio counUv. ^ow T llinik my stars that I haven't a jealous teiupoiauient, or I sliould fool inclined lo run over and look iuto the busiucss ; but J'OU know Ljttoii always makes the most of eveiy thing, .iud I couldn t help being at the sympathetic elances I re
...,1   11 -„_,..:    ._ _ I-        .     _
.iiiiiisod
ceived, and the interesting roiiiarks nij- appo.iiaiu'c mleirupted alter bis anivai. However, I Hatter myself that my sam;- froul has lather turnedi tho tide ol opinion.
"Have yuu heaid that Chilbiiglon is horo?—oneofmj-old flames. Hu made a large fortune ia India a fow years ago, and has returned a widower. Lytton, w-lio know them out there says thnt his wife was a fnc-simile of uiyselt, though I believe he exaggerates; however, I received a bas¬ ket of delicious fruit from him yesterday, smothered in flowers.
" When shall I look for j-ou ? I want to talk over the investment of Uncle Burton's legacy. What dp you think of Govern¬ ment Securities?"   *   ^
Captain Laurence didn't dally long over this tender love-letter, but tor& it Into inch pieces, which the breeze float¬ ed along, Uke a swarm of wliite butter- ¦flles. Then he turned about and rode home very slowly, and went, with a
ed.
" With thp swallows," he quoted. In his cvasiveinanner; "butl don't de- sei ve t'ou should miss me, Laura. For¬ get me if j-'6u can.", . j'i I nevei'.cnii." -She smiled back-at him, all her conlidence in fortune le- turiiiug. " Thei0 is Harry waiting to di'ii e j'oii down; good-bj-, if I must saj' It—what a disagreeable word! I shall lo.ik for J'OU eveij'^hiy."
He didn't tell her that she might a» well look lor "red rcics blooming in tliq snow," because he wabu't quite sure that Ills latcbt decision would last him to the Spi'ing.s, but that, half-way there, he should turn fiom a roguo to a hero; exchange a heavj- figure for a light heait; inarrj'Laura, and commit Ma¬ tilda and her Govcinment Securities to Ihe flames:
It seems to me that the calm trust viiible in those sapiihire ej-es must have haunted him long j'eais after—must have liScii befoie him like a beautiful ghost, and looked out at htm from ov¬ ery .star of heaven, and fiecked the sun¬ shine, and poisoned success, aud sharp¬ ened inibfurtune ; an avenging glance, hoaidingall tiiat was most tender and most bitter in his unhappy life.
So this was a new; phase of existeueo into which Lauia passed—a phase as unex'pected :t-- the other, onlj', oh sO baiien 111 cmitiast' It seeined like le- veisingthe older of development—let- rogiading from her winged est.ate into the dismal hci'mita'.;o of :i <-ocooii.
Dining the weeks when she heaid nuthing fiom him, when even the fam¬ ilj-had left off saj-iiig, "It happened when Caplain L:iui'ence was here," or " How loiie-,ouie it is now that the Cap- t.iin's gone!'' she w-ent about like one iu a trance, doing everything just as it would have been done If her mind had been upon it, conscious of no pang of tlio bodj-. If the Devons thought scri- ouilj' about her affairs at all, it was that .->'/(« had plaj'cd with him—that the demure Laura had turned fiirt at the fii.-l oiiportunitj'; but the Jlajor, look- In'4 thiough the .shows of things, jfer- ceived the gicat void in her life, and set himself to repairing it as best he might with gentle words and uuobtru- sij'c attention. Jie came a little oftener now, e-pecialij- In stormj' weather; never without tho last new book, the joliiest caricature, or the latest Paris confection; never without bringing a clieei'.y face into a sail iilacc; never without some stirring reminiscence of his frontier liie, someplcasinginciden^ by the waj', some impossible day-dream ol hi.- boj-hooil—anything, in short, to warm Lauia iuto a passing interest, to let the sunshine In upon her till she smiled in (.pito of herself.
But w hen he did uot oome, and she had leisure for iutro-spectioii, she used to creep up .stairs bj' herself, aud look over the precious trifles wliiclx recalled her brief summer: afkded flower, still sweet; the iiicturc of an angel bending out of heaven, which Laurence had said was her verj- self; a ribbon broca¬ ded H lib gold bees he had brought from a f.m ; liic treasiired oakle.if, bearing lici name; the iving of some tropical biul, " to brush the cobwebs outof your, sky," he had said, a South American liccile sepulchretl ill gold; a fantastic -I.ell thej- had fouud pn the beach, whcicin he hati .scrawled.
'•Life IS swuet, love is sweet, use to-day while youin.iv; ¦'
Love is sweet, .iiid to-'nioiTow may fall; Lol e is sweet, use to-day."
Each one a solace and a wound. It was getting late into October, and the maples under which Jiajor Thorne had met his disaster were each a burii- Ing-bubh, and the willows beneath which Laura Bad danced with Captain Laurence were losing, day by day, their fresh youth; all the fields were turning brown aud barren, and the naked nests begau to show through the scant dra- perj' of the woods, and the early morn- iniialrhad a tang of frost, an otlorot ripe apples and lusty grapes.
Harry had been out during the day at a neighbor's, where he stumbled upon Ned Bioeze—a college chum of liis— whom ho biought home to dine with him ; and a merrj' time thoy were liav¬ ing ol it, touching uji their pranks at the Uuiveisity, discussing the^jros and conn of iialf-forgotten races, the muscle of LeBieton, ami the mathematics of J3 looks.
"And what are they doing in the citj'?" inquired Rose, growing weai'y of Brooks aud company.
" Prettj'much as usual. Somebody, or other has composed a new Opera, whieh Is to be brought put directly by some other body., I'm Vnot 'sti'piig, bii the Opera, you know.-but I can give J'OU a list of the latest marriages, if that will make amends."'".-'   ,-..' ,,.,':
" Have any of oiir frlehijs sacrlfleed themselves'?''-.^.  .-,    ^1  ¦, S     :
" Let me see—there's Laurence, his came off just before I left—" " Not the Captain ?" cried Harrj'. "Not the-Captain? Why not the Captain? Idon't mind giving my af¬ fidavit that it was no other than Cap¬ tain Belisarius Laurence, and high time too; why, he's been engaged to his cou-in Matilda these five years—rather a lukewaim afl'ection on his part, I Ileal—an affair of p^MS or minus; but a wh 1 le ago he followed her to the Springs and hurried matters up, just as If he were afraid of doing something rash, as Lj tton says. She's a very fine figure, they tell me, financially speaking. Will J'OU have something more. Miss -Laura? Sha'ii'c I help j-pu to the forbidden fruit? Do make me useful, if only for tho sake ofa balance of power."
"Thank you," said Laura, with a little smile—aud her voice was uever so full nor freer from tell-tale tremolo— " I don't see that I cau oblige you In that w^y; but If you are ambitious of usefulness, I pray you. go on with the matrimonial quotations for the sake of Rose and Harry."   '
."It isjjpur Captain Lijiu'eiiije ? ''ask¬ ed mischief-making Qeprdie, dUabing on &e back of her chair, and .^ttiiag her cheek with his chubby fingers.
" Np, dear."
And the gentleman stroked his mus¬ tache, and stared at Laura, before pro¬ ceeding with the chronicle.
I think It was verj' little that Laura heard of the succeeding gossip, her mind returned swiftly to that day when the Empress Matilda first crossed her path merely as a name. Besides, .she was going over those dear scenes for the last time, tlio.'^e scenes tliat had moved across her lovelj- skj- like some lovely mirage, like the image of Sir Launcelot across the luagii; mirror of the Lady of Shalott. By the timelfar- rj''s friend hadexhuusteil his budget and they lose from the table."fhe was readj- to clo-e that chapter of her life forever and aj'e; then slie stole up stall's again and liglitcd a flame in her little gratei and made a holocaust of those sacred treasures which had aflbrled her such sad pleasure, witli a feeling as if she was turning to stone and Iiiid no longer any tears'to shed—onlj-,. as the last flame flickered and fled, dioppin.!? a handful of white .islies on the health, a sense of the irrevocable subdued her aud c.'i'uiig from her one a.uonized siyli —no more.
So she became the same liaura as at old—with a difference.
She ho longer went to Crag-stowo with the familj-, nor rode toTaiigle Woiid iit its coronatioii, nor .slaked her thirst at the Witch's AVell; you neviir saw her lingering in tlie flcltls at suiis-et, nor dancing beneath the willows ou CJeiii- die's/cie-daj's, nor watehihgtlieli.sliiiig boats from the Causej'; she w.is never heard of at Christmas festivals nor at. Valentine's ball, at picnic or piirtj'.
People knew that she had lived one summer, and thej- knew- -littie more about her, perhaps cared still !<*s.'
Rose raarried~and went her waj', and Harrj' followed her illustrious example, and settled on the old plaeo, aud Geor¬ die grew into a handsome hid,' and wa.s sent off to rough it at scliool, while Lauia sat at home, and read to her aunt, or took up ruiui'ivaj- .stitelies in her knitting work, did the fine sewing ofthe househiild, looked after the house-, keeping In lieu of Harry's fasiiionablc wife, kept the cliiWi'cii'.s ftipc.-: dean, and tlieir clothes and manners in .some¬ thing like order; "a iiiodei old maid," as their grateful motlier called her, though not quitelliiily.
All this time -Major 'i'lioi'iie canicaud went as before; he had purchased the estate of his dead t'rieiul, ami there had been some talk of hi.s imirrj-iug the w idoM', of which, !iuv.'-'vcr, he li-.id nev¬ er hc.ird. Jti-s. Devon was ioM.i i.-fliim, and Jlrs. ITarrj' wa.s foiid of ."ocielj-, wliile Laura listened to him well pleas¬ ed, luatle him happy'with hereommis- bions ill the citj-, allinveil him some- timcs to read iii.her .¦'leail, .somctiiiics .sang to him a little. He was ahvaj's about her, as Laurence had been, but he never pi'e.-Jsed him.stdf upon licr, nev¬ er recurreil lo that gr.^':it epoch of his ; but she knew that he loved her well, saw it shining in his ej'cs and trem¬ bling on his lips, heard it in each lone of his voice, a sU-adl'asHovc that kiiew 110 eclipse,
" Fair to earn, witli long essay, ¦ Vriiat Ihe winner's hand threw li.v." Ned Breeze, who had brought' the news of Captain Laurence's marriage so maiij' autumns ago, came down to talk over old times again w'itli Harrj-; and Hai'ry and his wife had agreed to ride over to the Clifi's with liim to see the jrbres, wlio were relatives of hi.s. But when the appointed duj' arriVicd Mrs. Harrj- luul a headache and a'dre^-sinak- er, iaiid Laura was unwilliugly pressed Intp tlie service, and niounted upon Ar¬ row, a horse that had but latelj- found its way into Harry's stables; but she weut over the grouiul .safelj' enough; imleod, a half hour in the.s.iddle revived her pltl pleasure in the exercise, fanned a color into her cheeks, and made her almost gay. Then the Mores were so cordial, 'had so much to .saj', so manj' Improvements on the place to show, so inaiiy new songs to trill and last words to chirrui), that it was far iuto twilight when they tumed their horses' heads homeward; and even then Harrj' must go round bj- Crane-ueck Hill to leave a note at the Gilberts anil bring away a recipe for gooseberrj- wine, with which his wife had commi.s.-ioneil hini, with earnest emphasis, not lo forget it, and a blue ribbon knotted about his little fin¬ ger as a reminder.
It was au uglj' road, rough and rocky betweeu the Slores and Gilberts, but to Ned; Breeze, who had riddeii through tortuous canons of Soutii America and aloug the rude flanks of C'aliforiilan mouutuiiis, it WIUS,like a lawn, and his flow of words faltered no mure than his horse's feet.
"Doyou think," said he, at last, " I met Laurence last week !"
"Laurence? Ah, how-wis he look¬ ing? : I haven't seen him thcjo si.K or seven j-ears—which is it, Laura'?"
"Why, J'OU see," Ned resumed, "he's been very unfortunate, and lie looked SO seedy and wretched thiit I nlmost passed him before I could settle if it was himself."
'.'Laurence secdj-!" cried Harrj-; " that's a new'character for the Cap¬ tain."
" 'Tis indeed; he used to be the best- dressed man in the city. But he ran througli with his wile's money before yoii could say 'Jack Robiusoii;' and, to he even with him, only hist fall she ran aw.aj' with a sort iif sporting fellow, whom he hati invited to his house a number of times. It told upon him sadlj', though tlioj' led a cat-and-dog's life together—she al,ways reproaching him with marrj-ing her for her fortune and squaudering it, and he retorting that npthing but lier fortune could have reduced him to such an e.xtrcmitj'; but—','   ". ,;.
Therewas a noise just behind tliciii like tho stumble-of a horse, a little moan, aiid then Arrow shot past tliem with an empty saddle and galloped into the darkhess. He hail started at some¬ thing in the road, when Laura, who had dropped behind a step ab.sorhed in listening, drew the bridle a little sharp¬ ly, and he reared aud threw her.
A J-oung moon hung over the crest of the distant wood and made a sort of glorified twilight in the place, while they improvised an anibulance of fallen boushs and rails from the nearest fence, cushioned and pillowed w-ith theircoats, upon w-hich they laid Laura aud bore her home, leading tlieir liorses with ouo arm passed through the bridle, liardlj- conscious whetlier she w-ere alive or no —a ghastlj' retiiiue.
There was agreat stir at Devon. Place that uight—domestics running liither and yon, Sirs. Harrj' in lij'steric.-<, the children waking up in terror al the 'confusion, nelghboi's whispering to¬ gether in hall and chamber, Mrs. Devon wringing her hands, and Ned Breeze and Harry galloping after the doctors ; but wheu the morning sun filtered In through the Venetian blinds Laura opened her ej'cs wearily, and seemed to look for some one, asking, with diflicul¬ ty, if the Major had come in; then she dropped into a dull, heavy stupor again, and the doctors shook their heads over her. So the day wore through, bringing the Major, .with a face like a mask of ice, and ha made his way straiglit to Laura, and besought her to speak to
him once more, not to leave lilm so ut terly desolate; but her lips only niovi d as if slie tried to smile, and her bre:dh labored, while pVesently she sobbed tu herselfas though already she had for¬ gotten he'was near.
„ Oh, if I had never loved Cdjjiahi Laurence!"
Then she sighed deeplj', and opened wide her ej-es, and a great light filled them with a sudden, glad recognition of some .sweet Iriitli, as she fixed them upon him ami said:
" f lorn you."
And so the lids di'o])ped.
Laura hull "gone over to the major¬ ity;"
Laura's grave was j^reeii before Geor¬ die .naw it—she would have li^eil Jlnil best; and frpui time to fline, iis he came home on his vacatiiin.s, lie used to sit he.-iido it witli'liie Jfajor, and recall her w'in-ils and dccd.^, the tones of her voice, the gleam of her himinoti.s-eyes, till, by-and-by, as he grew older, aiul other intcresls am! pleasures engaged him, .s!ie Ivecame a dim, pictorial beiii.g, wlipsc actuiil I'ealiu'L's he'found it luird ('o.icmeiuljcr tli(iu;;li leaning over her rc.sliii.%'-placc; so at last it was onlj- the Major Who foiiiii! his w.aj- dailj- through the,long, scciilcd grass to one green, mound, fragrant with lilies ofthe vallej'' iu theirseason—only theMojor, to whom she was .sometliing more than a itunie— a living, radiziiit pi-c.^ence. .it was more tiuiii twenty. J'ears later, wiiuii ilajorTluiriic liatl long repcstd bi-siilc Laura, and liieir graves were al¬ most lost buueatii a taugled growth, known best 10 hii'd.-iiid bee, thata man, bowed and wjthci'oJ, his face seamed with many fiiriow.s, his hair white be¬ fore its time, wasl'uiindkncelingagain.st the slouu in death, an aniuletof aromat¬ ic seeds sliiit into his cold hand. No one in the ncighborhooil recognized bim, but it eould have iiccn no other tlian Cap'iaiiiBcIisiii'ius Laurence.
So they wait—" til! the day break, and the shadows lleeawaj'."
BISAGEEEilSLS V/OHEK.
ft is a mi.^taken kindness to pi'iiclaiiu ail womeii 'beiiiitifu! and virtnoiis, and a J-oung gentleman starting in life willi such a faith would soon tind of w-hat claj- his idols were made.    Wc are lU'i uow going over tlie old cj-nica! gniui:.!, well nigh worn out bj-thi.s. time, lun we propose to glance at what appe:irs (n us to be an almu.st uuknow'ii district.— What part in the world has the di.s:i. agreeable woman to play?   Is it tosei off her fairer and worthier sisters?   1.-. it to bea talkin.gaiid astaudin.L; prolfsl against the angclie theorj'of wiunaii- hood? The disagreeable woman jaunts every sphere of isneietj-.   jslic is not ne¬ ccssarilj- iiglj-.     l.'p to a cerlaiii period she ma.v not oxidbit the traits of ber disposiliun.    iSiie mav resemble the ti- gei'kin'whose cl.-tws iire uot grown and 'whose liabitsaieutiractiveand pla.yful. ¦But lier nature sniui breaks out.    If .she inai'iie.s, the victim snon gets a foretaste of his miserj'.     If the husband is well off, the disagreeable woman can utterlj' destroj- his (lomeslic   coniforls.      ,Slie studies hinv to ii;> it,  and brings a born caiiacitj- to the task.   She dislikes what he likes,   she won't visitthe friend.s he wishes her to visit,  nr if she does she manages to insult tbem.    She is never to go out when lit; wants her, but she is ofi'with a clieorful readine.-« when he would prefer to remain at home. - She disini.s.'^e.s iifs favoritesei'vatit.s, and will almost bull.v aiij- well-favtired parlor¬ maid to whom ho saj's "goodmorniiig." She throws her p:i or ma in his face if she claims to be of better familj-.   If he ventures on solccti ug a dress or a shawl for her siu- never wears it.   For all this the sort of woman of which we are wri¬ ting maj' not haven .single reason which she could put into words.   The more comfortable she is iimdo thewopscHlie beci'incs.    It is simplj* her mission to be disagreeable, and disagreeable she will be until perhajis her spouse has the melancholj' satisfaction of following lier mortal remains lo the grave.    But in nine eases out of leu  the disagreeiible woman manages I.1 disappoint him in this respect,  and eiijoj's the mournful plciisure of erecli:if;'a tablet sacred to  , his memorj-. Inlhat.wtilkof life where a carriage is not kept, the di¦sagl'eeabIe w-omalI is indeed a .seunrgc.  Iflier liii.s- baiid is a gcntlciiian, and sullers her to follow her wicked Ijoiit,  his d:ij's and nights are a burden to him.    She talks aside at him in the i>resciiec of compa¬ uj'.     At breakfast .slio seldom tqipears , for j'our trulj' disa.ui'oeable woman l; atldicted to ij'iiig in bed.    If he is poor she is extravagant and j'ct alwtij's de¬ ploring the want of monej'.    She is generallj' impcccabie, after the rigid fashion of a proper wife ami a mother, and—if we maj- lie iiardoned for saj-ing so—this makes  her w-or.^e.     On  the strength of lier liilelitj'she piles moun¬ tains of aggravation.   .She is so satisfied with .the iiossessiou of one virtue thai she can never .see the ncco.ssitj' for prac- ] tising another.   As a rule, i-he grows thin as slie grows obi.   The aristocratie species often de,guiieiatcs into angulari¬ ty,and speclaclos.     Tiiosc who liave been taken down to dinner bj' adis-.i- greeable woman (for lo talk of takiii.e. her down   would   be   a   ver.v  iiisuMi- ciciit tiescription of the procedure,) and who have been ciiuipclled to sit iie:--i her, and to hear her talk, will not e:.- silj- forget tlic siili'eriiigs Ihey have en¬ dured.   But tbo.ie who lui'-'C had liei- for supper—and  we all have luid on- tinieor another—will remember tlie oe casioii with .soiucLliiug akin to hon'»»v. The disagreeable wmiiaii alwaj's goes in for supper, and  eafs, as a rule, nior.* than is good for her, being reckless in the  wa.y of mixtures.   Stout ladies i:r this coaiploxion bceouie plenty of jiliea- .saiit,  tongue, jelly, .inlister, salad, ai- muiids, and pates, but the spare pei'- sonagcs do not.    TJie disagreeable wn- maii if she dances puts j'ou wrong, Imt plainly indicates that the fault was al¬ together on J-our side.    She misses the step in a waltz, and rocks against yuu, and then steps abruptly and sails over to an ottoman willi an indignant and niorlified air;   or if .she is .able to keep up, she will insist on wheeling with J-ou round- and round long after j'lui have left j'our senses-on an iinknowii part of tlie wail, and seem to j'oursclf l>> be  looking for theiii_iii a reeling and uiiccitain  maiiiier.     She  can oppress J'ou witli silence, a "tingling silence" —or set J'OU wild, with chat.     If she is well acquainted wiih j'ou she innocent¬ ly asks the most embarrassing tjues- tions.   Ifyou have been jilted bj' a girl siie entertains j-ou with an account oj- tlie approaching   nuptials   w'ith  j-our successful rival.    The disagreeable wii- maii is never happier than when reu^ dering others unhappj',especially tlio.se who are among her friends... If a leal virtuous wife is a crown of glory to her husband, what sort of a crown is the wife who bas, if nota depraved, a peev¬ ish sense,  which she cultivates until she can use it with tlie skill of a vivi¬ secting operator? . .'..   The disagreea¬ ble woman never lUrts.    To flirt slio should denj' herself fora while, at le.ost, the delight of being uniileasant, and such it sacrifice she is never prepared tn make.    In the bosom of her familj', as it is called, she is a sore thorn; when she leaves the parent nestsheis not im¬ proved.