Lancaster Examiner and Herald

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LANCASTER PA, WEDNESDAY;^:
3. 1867:
NO.
Pai»ililiid ewry WBDHKSDAf. lu tfie EXAKE5S& BtflLDlH^i Fo- * ¦ortl* Q^ooa Btreet, UM*»ter, Pa.
TEBMB— J^OO A yEA» IS APVAMCE.
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C0H70BT5.
To get up in .the morning
And hear the baby squall. To hear my husband snorln g,
And then havo Katie call:
'^Ma, do make Johnny slop.
He's breaking np, my doll;" " I aint! she's got my top;"
Then comes a larger squall.
KoV comes the " tug of war"—
Tlie good man cross as sin— I try to get the breakfast,
And flnd there's nothing in;
Por Biddy lea iast night, And wilh her left the things;
Husbaud scolds with all his might- Good newsl the kettle slugs.
Aud when the meal Is over.
And I begin to feel at rest, Think of ICatleaud her brotlier.
With the baby to be drcsf.
Tills, together with the dinner.
And Mrs. Barton's call. Is enough to drive one fftintic—
Hark 11 heard baby fall.
Wliile I trj'lo*I«*et "Jaby,
Hub. comcsin again for ten. And says, *' Do hurry, Mary "— , O, dou;tyoupityme?
And when the supper's eude<l,
Thechlldrcnsafc'lu bed. Find theirstockings to be mended.
lusplteofuchlng head.
Hub. lies ou llic sofa.
As snug as auy mouse, And when I speak of trials,
..Yawn.s,*'Y'ou'ro mistress of the house."
STrCt UlfMAEErED.
[coNX'r.uiji:i> wto.M last wkkk.] There w:ui :i luatuli mado belwceu licr and a Fraser, neiihew to the theu Lord Lovat. This l<'rasor seems not lo have beeu u bad fellow, but the lady did not care for him; in fuct, she liad a lover of her own,—a cousin, who ought, or fan¬ cied lie ought, to have liad property,—a mostiiarticular blackguard."
"Cau't J'OU tell us whatshe was like?" interrupted Lady Blanche.
"She had the new color of hair, all frizzly, you know; a low forehead, and no crinoline," Arthur Bertie explained. "They>were married," Simon went on, " Fraser of Lovat and Miss Griiiit. The cousin was a constant guest. He and Fraser used tojiLiy, and play high, thefoud wife lookingoverher husband's hand, uo doubt, aud the cousin winning always. They used to sit in the room iu the tower, whicii was my lady's bou¬ doir. Fraser seems to have lost more and more. His wife urged him to throw yet higher stakes, and win it all back. One night he staked Hie castle aud lauds, and lost all. He left the room. His wife came up to Grant, and bade him hold to the last part ofthe bargain, to do for Fraser with a quick draught, and fly with her. He laughed in her face, and asked what for he should tangle himself with a wild wife %vlieu he had got the houso aud lands. Let her bide by her man.
"She was furious, and struck him with a dagger. Fraser came in as he fell. She denounced him as a traitor aud false loon, aud bade her husband despatch him, aud Grant died cursing them, aud cursing the room in which they were, and the threshold that he had crossed to enter it. Men were lords of their owu houses in those days. No one seems to have asked indiscreet questions as to what he did or whero- fore. Tha room waa shut up from that day, and the tradition held thenceforth that, when it should be opened, evil would befall the Lord of Gloom.
" What became of the lady is uot told. One can fanoy the menage not being the pleasautest in the world ; my own belief is that she went mad."
There was a horrified pause. Hiss Gort drew a long breath at last and said, if the door had neyer heen opened since, they would be sure to flud all sortsof funny thiugs just as they were left";
"ByGeorge! so we shall," said Ar¬ thur Bertie: "old what's-his-uamo's skeleton, and the dagger and all."
" These old families have ofteu euri¬ ous stories," Mr. Fitzwigram remarked. " Appropos to dagger, did you ever see that dagger'that they show at Blakely, the Lord B-—'s house in "Wales ?—
Most  eurious.     Lady  B always
makes me tell the story. I remember one day her saying to the duchess,—her sister, you know,—' Now Frances, Mr. I Fitzwigram shall tell you that story.' To be sure, whatacharmiug.persou she was. Did you ever meet her. Lady Blake?"
No," snid Lady Blalce, sternly. She was turning over in her mind how to comment on the story iu siieli manner as to deliver a home thrust to the cul¬ prit, Mi.ss. Filmer, whom she had in¬ vested with all the tiualities described in the Lady of Gloom. Finding uo .speech suflleiently cutting, she rose, and begged Frank to light the candles. " "We are going to stay up," Lady Blanche said, looking up from her low¬ ly seat witli a wicked smile, "till Jlon¬ day moruing.illows us toopen the door." "I couldiiotanswer to mj- conscience. Lady Blake replied, twiteliing hor face into a smile; " I could not answer to my conscience if I sanctioned s«cli a proceeding by my presence."
"Luey,—liiss Gort,—.my dear, shall we go now ? Those whose consciences allowthemwill,ofcourse, notbe guided by my opinion."
Frank brought the candles with a sweet smile, aud hopes that they would sleep well.
""you had much better stay, Miss Gort," Lady Blanche called out; it will be great fun." And all the gentlemen joined in chorus.
"Why do you goto bed?" Colonel Fraser said to Luey as she left the room. "We want you to protect us against the evil spirit. You ought to stay."
Lucy had not a word to say. What woman hut longs to see a locked door unclosed? and Itis human nature to hato being sent to bed.
It was nearly midnight then.
" You are not really going to do it, are you?" Jack Eversley said, quietly, when the Blakes had gone.
He had toade no comment before; aud when Jack spoke it was generaUy _      to the purpose.
Blanche looked guilty and frightened;
•   the men' exchanged glances;-   Frank
looked itt Miss Filmer, on wlioae face a
smile, half scornful, half amiised, was
dslying.
"(To be sure I am," Frank replied, llglltly; " I have made my i will, and paid my tailor's bill, and it's all right." The lugubrious face of Sandy appear¬ ed at the door. " The carpenter is here, sir."
Hurrah!" esclaimed Blanche, Batching her friend's arm; "now for the skeleton. Hoo! hoo! Doesn't it makeyou^cre§g,^georgie? Cdme^aji^, get a sTiawl'.'?. ', , Frank helped tu put ou the sliawls. "I shall hold you to your word," he said to Georgie; aud somethiug iu liis tone gave her a feeUng of half respect, half fear, that was quite new.
What if he makes me love liim after all ?" shesaid to herself.
It was'a low narrow door placed iu a. little recess in the walljhalf way up a 8t<me staircase that led up to the tower, and iFroni which branched, alittle way above theclosed door, the main passage for the biidroom, to wliieh the principal staircase also led at the other end. There was a iiarrow step or ledge be¬ tween the door aud the stair, and on this ledge, Laing, the carpenter, knelt with his screws and saw, to undo the nails and the plaster that held the door; there was no handle at all, and the key¬ hole had been stopped up. The others sat or stood abovo aud below the door¬ way on the stair ; tlio maids crept from tlie passage, and the man-servants from bolow, to look ou. Julia Gort joined thom, h.iving escipcd fioui the indig¬ nation of Lady Blake and the tears of Lucy. Small jokes aud whisper.s went on while the cai'iieuter worked ; no one seeined to like to speak out loud. At last he turned round and signified tliat a push would open the door,—all olj- staeles were removed.
Frank's voice sounded loud aud hol¬ low in the vaulted stone staiiAvay, as he called for tlio lamp, aud in breathless silence the-group'beliind him waited while he and Simon leaut their shoul¬ ders against the wood-work ; there was a low crunching of tha plaster, and then the door fell backward with a dull thud. Every head wus bent forward; the two Frasers aud the carpenter stood in the doorway, when a slight figure like.agho.stin its white drapery and pale face passed between them and stepped first into the "doom chamber.'' It w.'is Lucy Blake.
Take care!"Colonel Fr.Lserexclaim¬ ed, citchiug.it her'sleeve, "there m.iy be uaili) and holes."
His voice biokc the spell that l.iy on all the others. Lucy, trembling and overwi'onglit, was utiuoticcd; slic sciicely knew tbat Simon Fr.iser drew her gently-back, and made her sit dowu ou the slaii outside.
Poor Lufy! Fiaiik did not eveu see whatbhc had meant to risk for lii> sake. He had turued as soon as he had put his foot within the room, and read Ills answer in Geoigie's eyes.
There was uo skeleton, but there wa.s dust,—dustand stifled, deatU-liko, close¬ ness. A worn-out colorless rug, in the middle of tho worm-eaten hoards, a rickety table with curved legs leaning against the wall, a few chairs gnawed and rotten, a black wooden seat under the window aud rouud oue side of the room, cobwebs everywhere, a faded bit of tartan hauging by one nail at the side of the narrow, dimmed wiudow, a cupboard-door half open,—was all they saw; a dead mouse lay iu the empty cupboard; but on lifting the fallen door they found a pistol of clumsy shape but curiously-wrought inlaid handle, and tied to it a knot of ribbon, stilT and stained,—so stiff that it broke into little bits, like wood, at tbe first touch.
After the first moment every one had crowded into the room. There were exclamations of disappointment,—no skeleton, no glove, no torn letter, no ghost nor trace of ghosts,—only the most abominable smell of dead mouse,— of dust-dom. After due poking about and much laughter, they all went dowu stairs, and drank to Frank's health.
Lucy went to her room aud cried bit¬ terly. Her mother came in to hear all about it.
" He is safe, quite safe! But, O mam¬ ma, I saw him speak to her afterwards; aud it is all settled,—I kuow it. O Frank, Frank,—she is uot worthy of hira,—she docs not care for him! I saw his face while he spoke to her. When they all weut down, again he and sho went away into the hall, and then he came in, aud took Lady Blanche's hands, aud I heard him thanking her so for something, aud saying he was the hai^piest fool in England ; aud she called her husband, and they both shook hands with him ; aud ahe said she had been so hoping and praying for it,andslie was so glad ' for you both,' she said. I came away then,—I could not stay. O mamma, mamma if only she were good and nice, I sliould not miud so much!" And Lucy went to bed, and was very miserable.
Save for dust and dirt on the stairs, no sign made itself evideut that the " doom-chamber"   had  been  opeued, and the fate of the Frasers defied.   At breakfast Frank was in wild sjiirits; so was Lady Blanche.   Georgie did not oome down till late.   Wheu She came I in .she was quite beautiful in the white I gown with peach-colored ribbon at her tliroat and tying her hair.. She blushed when the Berties and Jack Eversley shook liands warmly with her, and she squeezed Blanche's hand, and smiled at the Blakes, with a smile that ought to have disarmed them. Frank followed her after  breakfast, and she let him walk witli her uuder the great lime- trees, wliere ho would have knelt down and kissed lier footprints on the moss, had she uot given her Iiand to be kissed instead.   He might tell every one,—he might do all he pleased, now, she said; aud he became so wildly happy that she told hira, laughing, he was to re¬ member the sun had not goue dowu on the  day yet  since he had defied the curse,  and  that ouo must uot couut one's yjjickeus too soon.
When the gentlemen started to shoot, Simon Fraser went up to his eousin and asked if he might have the dog-eart to take him to the station. He must go by the one o'clock traiu.
Frank, greatly surprised, mude re- ^nonstrance. " What in the world made him go? It was too shabby a visit. Had anything occurred, or was he only iu joke? Of course he could have the dog-cart, but must he go ?''
Simon protested ho had alwaya meant to go that day ; he had business,—let¬ ters ; in short, he must bid him good by.
The manner of both cousins had a shade of embarrassment,—possibly un¬ conscious to themselves, and neither looked the other in the face as he spolce. "I will not go with these feUows," Frank said. "They shall shoot the hill, and meet me and the young ladies at the White Haugh for luncheon. I wiU stay and seel you off."
But.Coionel;Fraser would not hearof this; said, after^afew more words and a warm'gTMptif thehfind, he parted from
hb cciWn,;proiiifltiig a speedy though vaguei:enew^pif-t{iei)^ frienclsliip. Kot a -word of: Frank's !«igagement; not a sign thathe guessed, as he-aid; What had hieen'the fruit .t)if: last'night's deedi From the window Qeorgle Filmer
saw the parting, and saw Simon walk back to the.bQuae with his wonted easy tread and set expression. He passed the window close, and saw her, 'ijut without any sign of recognition, and she left the room so as to meet him when he should enter the front hall. The servants were there rearranging the plaids and great-eoats, and she beard tim give the order to have the dog-cart at the door at twelve; then she went back to the library, and remained for an hour waitiug for the next move in the game.
Before twelve the ladies met iu the hall, equipped for the walk that tli'cy had planned to take to the White Haugh to picuio with the sportsmen. ".Was Miss Filmer not ready?" No¬ body knew. Creaking boots told of Lady Blake's approach in time. Geor¬ gie W(is on the sofa with a smelling- bottle when tlid library door opened.
" O, here she is, dear. Are you uot well ?   Are you not coming?"
Miss FUmer sniffed deUcately at her salts, and said she was so sorry,—so verj-.   Nobody must stop with her.
" We are all waiting," Ladj- Blake's voice said from behind the door. " Per¬ haps you w-ill follow ?"
" You will saj' all sorts of pretty things for me, dear Miss Gort, I know you will. I really have such a.'bad headaclie, I don't think I could walk. Thauks so verj' much,—ten thousaud thanks! It wilhbe better i)re.seutlj' I dare saj'."
She watched with all her powers of hearing, till she knew thej- must be quite goue, and then ran up to her room. How i>ale she w.is,—how old .she looked. Bitterlj' she turued from the glass, twisted a scarf round her, took her hat andlookcd again aud then left the room.
They were iiacklng the.dog-cart. Col¬ onel Fraser was on the steps. Georgie went up to him, and said,—
"Win J-ou walk over the lawn witli me? You can moet the dog-cart at the bottom of the hill.   I have something to say to J-ou," she added aloud, so that iu courtesy lie should be obliged not to refuse her request. Fraser bowed stiflly. " Certainlj-,—if j-ou wish it." He followed her down the steps, and they walked across the lawn  together. She was no bad actiess to tread so •=loA\lj'   and daintily by him, for her heart wius bciting, as it seldom did, with hor fear, distrustoflicrown power, and a firm determination uot to fail, at le:ist to have her s»j-, all fighting in her.
To reach the lower terrace tliej' had to go down a rough step or two, half.stone, half turf. Neither had spoken till then. Georgie .stumbled, aud he g.ive her his hand to help her in icgainingfirm foot¬ ing. Shej: stopped for one moment holding it, land theu, as they w.ilked on, said, geiitlj', "Does it remind j'ou of old times?"—adding, almost under her breath-^" as it rcniinds me; or have you forgotten ?"
"Thepiace is so little .-iltered," he replied, in iiu unmovod voice; "everj'¬ thing is exactly as I loft it, that, save for missing! the dear old knight, I could fancy it was still old times."
"I meant—but j'OU are ainau-^j-ou ean forget what I must remember for my life. All these days you have not spoken to me one word,—not one word. I am a tool/ but I felt I must speak
ouce to j-oui again."	
Tliere wa.s a moment's silence, and then he said, gravelj', " It was j'ourself that bade me forget. Miss Filmer. You wrote to me;' so that I had no alterna¬ tive. I do riot quite understand what it is that J'OU would have of me now. It was none of my doing, God knows!" He spoke with calm courtesj', with no trace of emotion.
Clasping her hands together, she spoke. "Ah, how hard j'ou are; how hard. Do you not know how it was with me, so j-oung, left there in such hands? Were they my owu w-ords, do J'OU thiuk, that I wrote? Do you sup¬ pose itwas my doing? Look at all these years, how I have waited. Should I be here now aa I am if—if— Does one do never a deed that one repents? Do J'OU not think I have wept and wept over what I did,—what they made me do?"
" Are J'OU not now engaged to Fi'ank, tomy cousin? What cau you expect me to say to you ?''
" Who has been telling evil things of me ? Who has said that to you ? Ah! I kuow whose doing it is," she exclaim¬ ed, bitterly.
"Is it not true?" Colonel Fraser asked, in his ordlnarj' quiet tone. "He at auy rate seems to believe his dream." Georgie put her hand to her throat, and drew a long sobbiug breath. '' I will tell J'OU the truth," she cried. " I waa so tempted,—to show j'ou that I was at least not unsought,^—I was in despair almost, seeing you,—seeing the oue love I craved withheld. Can j'ou not understand ? Do you think I cared for him; do you think I could listen to his voice while I heard j'ours? Did you think itwas mere caprice that made me bid him open that door?" She stopped again for breath.
He shook his head. " I do uot know how to answer j'ou. Perhaps I am grown hard aud cold. I thiuk not; but I cannot dig up again wliati buried so deep underground. You were wrong to do it," he said. " I would have beeu true and tender to j-ou, Georgie. But it is all over now; no need for reproaches and bitter words."
" Yon are liard,—hard," she repeated. "Itis just and right; I must submit. But tell me you forgive me,—tell me. O, I cannot bear yoii to say you forgive me; that is why thej' say when it is all over; it is heaping turf on the grave. What am I to do with my life now ? It is thrown back on me. You could al¬ ways lead me witli a thread." Slie pass¬ ed her hand timidly within his arm, and he let it lie there.
" How fiist J'OU walk," she said: " are you auxious to get away, while I feel as if it were my last moment,—as ifl eould not let it slip ?"
He replied hastily, " No, no; you must not think I wunt to get away. I wisli I knew what tosay to you. I do not wish to say I forgive J'OU; it is all so entirely past and gone. I would have you forget it aud be at peace. I have uo wish but foryour happiness,— for your entire happiuessand good. You have so much in j'our hand—" He hesitated a little. " You have a life to make or mar. Ifit were so indeed that Icould lead j'ou, I would bid you think well what is before you. I would ask you—" He stopped ; aud thej- stood opposite to each other, she with clasped hands and her eyes ou the ground.
" Why not let this be the turning in your life?" he said. "There is great good before J'OU, if j-ou have the will for it."
As he looked at her he eould not but be moved withher exceeding beauty,— the wistful tenderness in her large eyes, so dark and soft with unshed tears.
"I know you will," he said, and took her hands in his, and held them. Qeorgle looked up in his face. "I know yoii can never love me,": she said,' very low; " but give me one kiss, —it is the last time."
Something in her look, in her tone, moved him strangely. Had he been hard indeed,—too hard? She stood resting a moment, and theu, as the flush that her own words had called to her face faded into paleness, he stooped and kissed lier.
Towards afternoon the day clouded over. A gray mist huug over tlie hills, and gradually desceniled on the valley. The birds were silent; the flowers clos¬ ed their petals, as if it were nightfall; yellow leaves fluttered to the ground in the Limewalk; a sudden chillandsileuce filled the uir; and llie distant ruali of the river sounded .strangelj' near and dull.
About four o'clock the whole party came home. The gentlemen could not shoot in the mist. AU were quiet, some¬ what cross, and cold. Nobody wasiu the boudoir when thej' entered.
" I thought," the General said, " we sliould liave found the interesting couple togertier here."
The flre had gone out; Blanche shud¬ dered, nnd exclaimed peevishly^ at the chilliness of the room, " Where could Frank be?" A small joke was made, —some stujiidity about uot needing any name but that of love to keep' Mm warm, but nobody laughed. Miss Gort; —who had rather'deserted her friend Lucj' since the last night's events pointr ed to Georgie Filmer as future Lady Gloom, now came in, saying she had been to Miss Filmer's room, aud had fouud her there; she wa.s coming down directly. She liad not suid a word about Frank.
Tlie footman came' in with sticks, aud lit the flre; tea w!is brought; everj'¬ thing became bright and eosej-. Geor¬ gie earae down, with brilliant, feverish ej'es, and a red flush on each cheek'. She talked, laughed, made tea;, and when atlast Jack Eversley suid, "And where have you hid Frank?" she look¬ ed ama'zed, and said, "Frank ! was he uot with you ? I have not seen him !" Frank had left them at the White Huugh. Frank had gone hack as soon as ho had found she was not with the other ladies.    '
Thej' all looked at each other, aud Sir. Evereley broke the silence bj' say¬ ing he must have come in, he must have fallen asleep ,in", his room, and went up to look' for him:
The diiylight,^'dlm'alreadj', died at liust altogether; no rain fell, but the air W.IS damp, and thick.' Frank did uot come home; hiid not been seen. He had been shooting capltallj' all tlie moiniiig; a little nervoui, perliapa, but in excellent form altogether,—iu such spirits both before lunch, and ut lunch, that they told him he wus " Fay." He had e.iten nothing, bul hud drunk .some champagne, to return thanks for his health that had been iiroposed. He hud thrown awaj' his ghiss, und had laughed at the shivering of the gluss, us it fell on the rocks, and then thej' had suid, " Frank, you are ' I'ay!' " He had not gone awaj' at ouce, but after drinking the chumpague," had declared he must go home and console Jliss Filmer for her hcuduclic ;'"lind he had set oil' by himself. . Perhaps the mist had made him lose his way. " Had he his gun ?'' one asked. Y'es, he had his gun. Aud Miss Gort aaid, "Dou't youremember we heard him alioot just ufterwurds; and yuu said, Mr. Bertie, that Frank was having a private c/iasse ofhis own ?" Miss Blake was frightfullj' pale. Her lll^s were so. dry and pareli.ed, poor child, that she could hurdiy form hor words; but she managed to saj- to Jfr. Bertie, " Something must have happen¬ ed ; do go and look for him!"
Of course she had but given w-ords to what each due was thinking, but there wasa chorus of declaration that nothing could havehappened. ' Itw-as the mist'; ' he was at the keeper's,'-anything j-ou please. But Jack Everslej' got up, and left the room quietlj-; and then the Berties went, and the General found himself assailed by all tho ladies, and obliged to invent reasons for his non¬ appearance, and soothe their fears. Georgie said nothing, and sat close to the fire, holding Blanche's hand, while the little lady declared alternatelj' that she was dj-ing of fright, and felt quite faiut, aud that he would walk in, dress¬ ed for dinner, when the gong rung.
But the gong did not ring, and only a shutting and opening of tlie hall-door was heard after some half-hour or so's nervous listening.
Georgie got np quietly, walked to the door of the boudoir, and opening it, looked out and listened. A step was coming along the passage, and old Sandy, deadly pale, came up to her.
"What is it, Sandy?" a.sked Miss Filmer, steadily.
He only moved his head, and seemed unable to speak ; she pushed him aside, and went dowu the passage into the hall. Hearing her apeak, aud aeeing her leave the room, all the other ladiea had a sense of fear and coming evil. Blanche shrieked and rushed after her. Lucy Blalce caught hold of her mother, and shook all over, and even JMiss Gort ran on tiptoe to the door. The General followed her.
All was dark and quiet iu the hall. The front door was ajar, and Georgie opened it and stood thero listening. The dull tramp of men's feet eame nearer aud nearer; the General and both the ladies whispered together in the hall.
"Can J-ou not bo quiet?" Georgie said, turning round suddenly on them. Then she made out on to the gravely and met those whose steps were now close to her. A hand took hers in the darkness, and Arthur Bertie said, "Xou had better go iu," aud led her into the liou.se.' " Yoiihad better go in," he re¬ peated to the group that had rushed up tohim with eager exclamations; and struck with liorror at they knew not what dread, thoy all retreated except Georgie, who stood back in the shadow of the doorway.
" I am aloue now," she said, half aloud; " I am ulone, and may stand bj' mj'self," and yet ahe scarcely knew what she meant by her words. She saw them carry in their burden, and lay it gently doivu on the great stone slab lu the hall, and she aaw iu the gray pallor of the faces round her what had hajipened. Scarcely a word was spok¬ en, hut wheu four ofthom made amove- ment totake up the body and carry it elsewhere, she came up aud said, ' Let me see him,' and they fell back without a word and let her look.
He was quite dead, with the sti ll'sweet smile of death fixed on his fuce.
' How wus it?' she asked of tbe near¬ est to her. The mun shook his head, and did not sjieak.
' His gun must have gone oU'and shot him,' Jack Everaley said, in a low voice;' his foot must have slipped, we think.'
There was silence for a momeut or two, and then Georgie turued away. Arthur Bertie came baok fi-om the bou¬ doir, and found her holding on to the balustrade of the staircase, and he gave her his arm to help her up stairs, bul neither of them spoke a word till they reached her room; then he said,' Shall I send any one to you ?' She shook her head, and he added, ' Wo have tele¬ graphed for Simon.' Georgie had been quite calm, but as
he said the last words a convulsive shudder passed through her, and upt- tlng out her hands, she would have fallen if he had not caught her, and; ringing for her maid left her in her' room;'
Thd doom had fallen: it must have been just twelve hours after the room had .been'opened that poor-Siaek'had met his death. He was Ij'ing there on his baek in the heather, not far from where he hud left the luncheon party, just in v;ew of the caetle toweri His gun lay near him, discharged, and the shot had gone straight to the heart, and tlie broken, bruisedlieatherabove show¬ ed where he had missed his footing, and stumbled.
HOW I SET
ABOUT PAYnrff MY DEBTS.
Simon Fraser camo back. Tlie party was broken np.
The party that had met iu such high spirits dispersed in grief and hojTor.
Simou came back, and. with Jack Eversley looked over all poor Frank's papers. '   .
' Will you give her this ?' he said, af- ,ter glancing at a half-folded sheet of note-pa^er that was on the top bf the desli. .¦   . ; ' Wlij' riot give it j'ourself ?' FraserShook his head. ' It lias struck me more than  once, Simou,—perhaps I am doing her injus¬ tice,—but it did strike me, ami doea so still, that poor Fi'ank was ill-ad vised in  his  attachment  to  Miss  Filmer. That is not whu,t I meant to aaj' when I began my sentence,' he added, us his companion  did-uot  reply.   'Do you know much of her? I think j'ou do.'
' Yes,', said Simou, quietly; 'I knew lier some j'ears ago verj' intimatelj'.' ' So I fancied.'
Both were silent, and Eversley stood with the folded paper irresolutely, bj' thedoor.
' I have' uo right to ask,' he said pres¬ ently, and then paused again.
Colonel Fraser had finislied his in¬ spection of the desk, and as he locked it he looked in his conlpanion's faee, and said,' I suppose I kno w what you mean. Georgia'na Filmer is the last woman I should think of asking to be mj' wife. Do not let me give yon any prejudice against her; poor girl! she needs a friend, and she has lost a true one in this iioor boj'.'
Tho paper had been written on the Sunday night when Frank had prom¬ ised that the doom-chamber should be unclosed. He had written it evidently juat after leaving (JBOTgIS in, the bou¬ doir, aud ou tlie outside was scrawled, 'Ifl die.'
'You sec that I can give my life for your smallest wish,' he had written ' I have only pain iu thinkingthat you may regret what you said ; do not re¬ gret; do not dream but thatl lovcj'ou too much not gladlj'to die, only grant me oue thiug,—kiss mo before they shut mycoflin. Ishallknowit. Sometimes. I havo thought J'OU did not care for me; I love J'OU so intenselj' that I am'jeal¬ ous ; wheii I am gone, think of me with affection.'
The paper Avas hastUj- written, and had but those few words, aud Georgie read them with a blanched cheek, but with a slight bitter smile on her faee.
' Will J'OU .take me to the room ?' she said when she had finished reading it, andshe and Eversley went together, and he stood musing sadly and strangely by the window while she touched the dead lips with hers. There was a look of hard miaci-y on her face whon she turn¬ ed to leave the room, and Jack Eversley pitied her, knowing, as he did, all that might be in her mind. He took her hand when thej' were in the passage, and held it kindlj' as he said,' One has manj' a bitter lesson to learii in this life, Georgie, but it is no use looking back on evil daj's.'
She made no replj', buta sudden color came over her face; she bent und kiss¬ ed the hand that held hers, then turned iuto her own room aud shut her door. Lady Blanche wept herself into quite a little illness; she and Jack went tho week after to Kelso, and she told everj' one at the Caledonian ball that her charming black and white dress was worn for that dear, dear Mr. Eraser; and when the noxt season she met the General, and he asked her where was her charming aud most interesting Miss Filmer, tho fair lady said,' O, Miss Filmer! really it wus thegreatestshaine, but she was such a bad eorrespoudent, she had not answered her last letter and she really did uot know where she was. Yes, sho had beeu very nice, had n't she? and so handsome!'
The General found himsell unusu.ally popular as a side dish that wiuter, and told the 'sad story' with remarkable pathos and many annotations-; and Miss Lucy, who went to Pan with her inother for cliange of scene, married a consumptive young clergyman the fol¬ lowing spring, and plays her ' Leider ohno Worte' as a voluntary on the har¬ monium ofhis prettj' little Lincolnshire church to this daj'.
Simon Fraser left the armj'. He is still unmarried.—£iicrj/ Saturday.
HISTOBY OF^A QtOCK.
In 1700 the widow ofa poor Protes¬ tant clergj'mau, named H6rold, lived iu the small town of Lidau, in Courland. She was exceedingly charitable. One winter's night an offlcer passed through the town of Lindau on his way to the army. He asked at the inn for some warm beverage, but he could obtain none; he applied in valu at several pri¬ vate houses. It was not until he knocked at the clergyman's widow's door that he at last obtained a dish of hot tea. - Itgreatly comforte.d the weary soldier. Just before he set out on his journey he offered her money for her pains, which she declined. He remem¬ bered that he had a lottery ticket in hi s pocket; the prize was a clock, reckoned to be worthS64,000. He made tht! wid¬ ow accept this ia asowi'o/ji'rof him. The ticket remuined forgotten in a drawer. Her children had so often played with it asa "picture" that itwas well nigli in pieces. The number which dre\y the capital prize was repeatedly announced inthe newspapers, but no one came to claim the valuable clock. Oue day a geutleman happened to enter her house, and seeing tiie mutilated lottery ticket stuck between the glass and frame of a ooking-glu.ss, glanced curiously at it, and was amazed to discover the often- advertised number of the ticket which had drawn tlic capital prize in the clock lottery. The valuable clock wus glveu to the poor clergyman's wife. The Em¬ peror of Russia offered her 1516,000 and a life annuity of SSOO for it. She accept¬ ed tho imperial offer, and the clock is to this day oue of tlie chief ornaments of the Winter Palace at St. Petersburg. Theexteriorrepresentsan antique Greek temple, and the interior contains two orchestras, which play together oue of the most celebrated piec»s of Mozart's '' Don Juan." The widow strove to ob¬ tain -the name of her unknown bene¬ factor, and, although the Czar ordered the police to aid her, aUlierefforts were in vain.        . 	
Beautleagenerallydleoldmaids. They set suchiivalueon themselves, that they don't'flnd a purchaser uhtU the market is closed.
..','Now, my dear Frank," said jny father, replenishing bis glass the while Wfth'kome very particular port the old butler.bad brought out that evening in mj'" honor, " as you start for Oxford early to-morrow, I.mnyas well say now what little I wish to say to you respect¬ ing the important step ydu ar'e' about taking in entering university life."
I took some filberts and listened atten¬ tively.
' The social advantages of the univer. sity,' continiiedmy father, 'are, 1 hold, of very great importance ; but I do not wish you lo sacrifice its educa'tional ad¬ vantages to—to—its—ahem ! "
' Oh, no ! certainly not,' I interposed (somewhat vaguely, perhaps).
' So I shall expect ydu to take j'our degree-in the usual course : If asamere pass-'nian, well and good ; if with hon- ors> all the better. .Although j'ou will not have to earn your bread (in the ac¬ cepted lise of the term), j-ou will find s Jell advantages of use;'
I assented to all this, inwardly deriv¬ ing no small eousolatiori from the fact that I should not be obliged to encoun¬ ter any examinatidn at oiice, as myma- trieulation had alreadj'been triumph¬ antly accomplished.
' I shall alld\v J'OU five hundred pounds a J'car ana the expenses of a Iiorae,' ad¬ ded my father ; ' and I shall give orders for J'OU to be kept supplied with sound and wholesome port. On this I shall expect you to live without incurring any debts. If jou run into debt, j'ou must discharge all such liabilities out of your own earnings.'
One of my father's great characterist¬ ics was firmness. His was'genuine firm¬ ness, audit had nothing to do with its weak counterfeit, obstinacj'. , I knew that he meant what he had aaid about my paying all debts by my own earn¬ ings, and'that it hufi not been added m,erely for the purpose of giving weight to his warning, or seasoning his advice with the condiment called 'solemn chaff.' Of course I had no intention then of incurring debts ; but I felt that I should have to accept the alternative ifl did.
A few words shall dismiss my uni. verslty experience. Five hundred a year with the expenses of a horse (to this a servant was added), with a gra¬ tuitous supplj'of port wine, seemed in contemplation a mine of wealth that would be fully equal to all my neces¬ sities. So, relying on the plentitude of my resources, I started a second horse, and even a third during tlie hunting season. I liked (iu common with all other Oxonians I ever made acquaint¬ ance with) easy-chairs and luxurious furniture. I was fond of looking at handsomely-bound books, if I did not read them verj- carefully ; aud good liictures I hadqulte a iiassion for. In music I took great delight; so a grund piano forte, hired at a rate that would have paid its price once a j-ear, formed a conspicuous feature in mj- rooms. All these likings (and many others of an expensive nature might be added), to¬ gether witli a great taste for pleasant and genial society, siillleed to render my career an expensive one. One thing I can conscientiously aver: if money was wasted thoughtlessly on capricious w-hims and pleasures, it w.as not wasted on auy pursuits that could be condemn¬ ed us vicious- The result of this expend¬ iture maj- uo easily guessed.
I was never plowed ; but in those pe¬ riodical encounters with tlie examiners the university rules obliged me to en¬ gage in I maj' saj- that the foriner died game. Never shall I forget those last final rounds, conducted across that aw¬ ful greeu tablo, when all one's mental pugilistic science w-as brought into pl.ay to make a very partial knowledge reach the whole length of a subject; while enthusiastic friends, with mistaken kindness, looked on lu breathless si¬ lence, and encouraged me with smiling glances of imaginary pats on the back, .asl turned toward them with a slcklj- smile of recognition, and hollow pre¬ tense of being quite at my ea.se.
But the time came wlien all these or¬ deals had been safely passed, and I was going to ' put on my gown' next degree d.aj'. So I sent round to collect my va¬ rious bills, determining to be business¬ like, and to arrive at an exact knowl¬ edge of my position. After somo per¬ suasion, the coy tradesmen sent; in their bills, not toiLsk for payment, but pledg¬ es us it were of their confidcuce in my lienor and solveucj'. After two or three eflbrts iu addition (compound) that brought each time varj'iug results, I arrived at the conclusion that I owed nearly eight hundred pounds. My fath¬ er's words recurred to me, not by any means for the first time, aiid set myself to wondering how I could earn it. Lit¬ erature — the writing of a successful novel thatshould accomplish the whole mutter as by the magic ofa fairy's wand —wus the first idea that presented it¬ self, as I believe it does to very manj- others under similar circumstances. I dismissed the thought as impracticable. A brighter one succeeded. I would get a iutoralilp. Many men of my acquaint¬ ance had done so. Certainly they were usually honors men, and not heirs to baronetcies and ten or twenty thousaud a year. But I might seek one in the guise of an ordinary B. A., aud none need know that my prospects in life pointed to the possession of a very old title, and far-spreading estates in two western countries, not to mention a street in Maj'fair and a home iu Bel gravia.
' Butyou will want testimonials, and that sort of thing, you ku ow,' said Hat¬ field, of Balioi, with whom I was dis¬ cussing my plans over a cigar.
' Grantham, my coach, will manage that for me, I have no doubt,' I an¬ swered.
' Well, ifyou get any decent thing, or keep it for two months, I'm iu for a plow,' he observed.
Bearing these words in mind, it was with a feeiiug of justifiable pride that, afew mornings after, I carried some half a.dozen letters in my hand to his rooms, where I was going to breakfast. I had called at the Union on my way, to look at the letter-rack; aud I must confess to a feeling of considerable sur¬ prise when I beheld there sundry mis¬ sives bearing the mystic initials I had adopted in my advertisement in the Guardian.
' By returu of post, too!' I inwardly exclaimed. 'Parents must take the bait very easily, or tutors must be scarce.' I hurried away, as I was late, without opening them, reserving this pleasiug task for Hatfield's rooms and presence.
' Is it a dun that I see before me ?' cried that gentleman, as I entered, let¬ ters iu hand.
' Behold the triumphs of advertising andeducation!' I rejoined, showing the letters in triumph.'
Alas! they were all. circulars-from agents who would be ha;ppy to place X. Q's name on their registers, &c.
I looked rather blank,, as I had no fancy for prosecuting my search after employment in this manner. ' -'There is no harm In It, you know,' said Hatfield; ' bnt, of course, unless a
mau is all tj.onor3 he cannot pick out and choose, and j'ou must take what thej' send you, or get nothing at all.'
But I was not reduced, to this; for Grantham, to whom I had confided my plan, called at. my rooms during the day, and offt^ed a solution of the difti- cuitj'. '.
'IfJ'OU ar^ really in earnest about -this, I think I know of a. thing that will exactly suit you. It is to prepare a young fell0W| for Oxford. They want a man ^yho Is a gentleman, up to the work, and foiul of country sports, hunt¬ ing, &c. But what wouid your father say tp J-our taking a private tntorsiiip? Does iie kiiov/ of your plan ?'.
' It is the rqsult of an agreement ber tween us respecting my running in debt,' I explained. ' I shall write and tell him what I have done when I have undertaken ail engagement.'
'But, if.SirrGialiaine obJecLs, would J-ou throw a palace up ?'
'He would Jiol allow me to aet dis- honor.ably,' Ilauswered; ' and wero I engaged I must accept the consequen¬ ces.' .       'I
'' Very well \ if you are determined to risk it, I "can qflfer j'ou ft tutorship in tlie family of a Geueral Gawston, of Gaw stbn Flats, Norfolk, where you will have one pujili fo look after, be a resi- dentin the hduse, and receive a salary at the rate of; dne hundred and fifty pounds a J'ear!^ They are in want of a man immediately.'
I caught at ijho bait, aud iii return it caught me. ijly father, to whom I wrote at once, !to communicate my hav¬ ing entered jiito this engagement, re¬ plied that, had he been consulted prior to my, binding myself, he wouid not have consenteij to such apian ; butthat now, as the engagement was already formed, I mus| fulfil it; at all events, until another {utor eould bo found. I had beeu imprjideiit in accepting a sit¬ uation not.befitting my station; but I miist uow abide bj'my imprudence, &c. There was oiie tiling in fiivor of mj' concealing my Ireal position in life wbile at Gawston Vlfits. My father, once Sir Graliame Lnxt;on, had several years be¬ fore assiiined tho additional name of Penreston, on ioniing into a large jirop- erty, left by a distant relative, on the condition of taking the nauie. This conditiou did (not bind the children, however; and i o my sisters and inyself
IS we preferred retainiuj r ancestors, a more an- •able oue, too, by the by, ways took care to im-
were Luxtous, the name of ou cient and bono as my father al press on us,
I determinoc .not to visit Luxtou Court before leaving for Gawston Flats, as I-must coufeks that, now- mj' plan of ¦getting a tutorship was accomplished, I felt ail unackjiowlcdged regret that I had so eitsllj' succeeded; aud I some¬ times wished I had set about paying my debts Iu a.diffet|ent w.ay. Feeling that the home uir anld style at Luxton would hardly suit me under tlie circumstunees, and possiblj' fearing some banter from mj-.fatber, I left Oxford as soon as I could ; and iu a(few daj's I was driving across the countrj- (fiat and uuluterest- ing td mj' westcrii eyes) tliat led from Mudbole Stutioii to Gawston Flats. Ou iuy arrival about half-past flve in the evening, I wus pshered at once to my bed-room, and I sat down by the ac¬ ceptable fire to have a good warm. All at once the thouglit came into mj' mind, .'How abputgoing dowu to din¬ ner? Ts tbe tut;^r ubuuUj- tliere? Does ne wear/uU arc^sr Tne'KorvaiiL saici nothing about dinner time.' Solving tliese questions Bj- the lellectlon that a tutor was still a gcntleiiian, and feeling hungry, I detormiiied to dre.ss and go down. So I ran'g for inj' portmanteau, aud found that (Colonel Ciawston dined at seven.      ,     f
It was dark wheu I had arrived, but ft hurried glance Jiad shown rae that the place was ci'iden'jtly a gentleman's; and this impression -ivus confirmed wheu I wandered down] about a quarter to seven, and beat about among some doors in tho hall for thut.one whicii belonged to the dining-room. Taking a lucky shot .at oiio with a white handle, I en¬ tered a large, well-lighted room. -A lad J', not unpleasant looking, but dress¬ ed very severely in black velvet, rose from a chair neui; the fire.
'Mr. Luxton, I presume,' she said, rising. .      |       '
I bowod, deriving some comfort from the fact tliat she betr.ayed no surpriseat seelugine. j
' Colonel Gawston has onlj'just come in, or he would have seen you before,' she continued, after shaking hands with me. '."M^ou must have had a cold journej'; pray tal;e that chair by the fire.'
I did so, and wi; chatted on very eas¬ ily uutil the niastjer ofthe house joined us just as dinner'was announced. He greeted me very] pleasantly—perhaps just a little stiffly-i-and thon I gave Mrs. Gawston my arni, and we went in to dinner.- I canuot say I felt quite at my ease iu my uew position ; but tbis did not interfere witli Imy appetite, and din¬ ner passed off witii sufficient conversa¬ tion going on between the courses.
' Mr. Luxtou, you will take some more port,' said Colonel Gawston, as he filled Ills glass, and drew his chair near the fire, on the depart ire of his wife forthe drawing-room. I followed his example in each respect.
• ' We have never, had a resident tutor before,' he continued; ' and we are anx¬ ious to make j'ou i^ comfortable as we can. We shall always be glad of j'Our company at dinnef at seven, ifj'ou iire- fer dining late, biit we hope yon will quite consult yoilir own iucliuatlon about that. Yourhjupll you will see when we go to tlie|drawing-roojn, I ex-; pect. He remaiueil out longer than I. did. To-morrow vie can arrauge furth¬ er details, as may ^eni uecessarj-.'
I shall never forget my flrst morning over the boolcs wish mj' new pupil.— He was a very nicei boy, but with a far too couversational |endency, I thought, as I tried hard to ^eep his mind (aud roj-own) fixed on t)ie work In hand.— He would break offsuddenly from some heartrending GreeVf passage to ask me ifl had kept horses atO.xford, or if the proctors had ever been down on me.— Ouce dr twice I fouud myself tripping, and onlj' too readyito run on into the unclassieal convcrstition such questions suggested, while Horace and Euripides laj' open, but forgotten before us.
'Florence is comiiig this evening,' he said one moruingabouta week after mj' arrival, aslie wasfipdingthe place (al¬ ways a long busines.'!), before commenc¬ ing to translate, i 'Who?'I asked. ;
' Florence, my slater, you know. It is alwaj'sjollier when sheis here. You ought to see her ride. Most girls are greatmuffs, I think; but she isn't a bit.' I heardu little mofe of Florence, but I did not see her uiitil dinner time.— We had taken our feats when she en¬ tered, and hurriedly took a seat oppo¬ site me. Mrs. Gawston murmured tlie customary words, as we bowed across the table. The conversation was gene¬ rol, as bur party wsa so small. Miss Gawston, who! found 'was grown up, and not the somewhat hoy Jenish young lady her brother's description had led me to expect,.joined in it freely, and we found several thing* to say to one anj other across the tabl^.   I thought her
extremely pleasant, I remember, and remarkably pretty. She seemed about nlneteen,andhadjust returned, I found, tp iny horror, from a visit to some friends in the west.
'.My daughter tells me she met some Miss Luxtons while she was away.— Are they any relations of yours ?' asked Mrs. Gawston. I may say that that lady and I were on very pleasant terms; but I had every evening to encounter the severity of black velvet (I nsed to w-onder whether she had but one dre.ss), and to feel my teeth on edge if bj- any chance my hand, touched hor robe as we inarched in to dinner.
'The daughters of Sir Griiliaine Pen¬ reston,' explaiued Jiliss Gawston.
I felt very red as I explained that they (being really my sisters) w-ere connec¬ tions, and tlien I made a vigorous effort to change the conversation.
As the Colonel aud lentered thedraw- ing room. Miss Gawston, aeated at the piano forte, was ))laj'ing the Largo Aj>- asaioMilo from Beethoven's Second I'i- ano Forte Sonata. ' Oh, pray do not stop,' I cried as she paused on our en¬ trance; ' that movement is more: than beautiful.' Thus pressed, she coutin- ued, then on to the Scherzo, and lastly the brilliant Rondo iu splendid style.— I was delighted. ' You are fond of music,'slie said. 'Very.'
' Y'ou plaj', perhaiia, or iiing ? ' ' I play the violin, andlsing to u cer¬ tain extent.'   I was longing for her to ask me to bring my violin down. I saw a music volume close by labelled ' Vio¬ lin and Pianoforte.'   Mrs. Gaw.ston sat funereal, statuesque, and immovable.— Colonel Gawston was asleej),  and his son reading MayneEeid's soniethingor other.   Miss Gawston was trifling with the keys; possibly she feared asking the tutor such a thing.   I was desperate.— ' Sball I fetch my violin and music,' I said.   Without waiting for an answer I went.   The next moment   we  bad commenced and during tlie eveniug we played together, and then, emboldened by this beginning we sung together.— What happens once usuallj'  happens twice, a'nd the next evening we occu¬ pied ourselves iu the same w.aj-.   Not always in tlie even ing though, butmniiy a straj' half-hour during the  daj'  we found time for a little music.    Then, also, she rode verj- ivell; and  as her brother and I rode almost dally,   we often found oui-selves t:ikliig tho same direction; so altogether I saw a  good deal of Miss Gawston;   Need I tell the result?    Before a fortnight wus   over I was deeply in love, aiidmy Intention of recommending Colonel Gawston  to look out for another tutor was unfulfill¬ ed.   We often met bufoie dinner In li¬ brarj', where there wus a large Jupuneae screen that shut out the door.   Moving very slowly towards tlic room one even¬ ing nour dinner time, I overheard some words that made me paiise before en¬ tering, and cough violently, if not af- fectcdlj',  iu  order  that  my  presence might be known.
' Ahem! my dear '—the voice w.as Col¬ onel Gawston's-' dou't j-ou think, luj- dear,thatMr. Luxton is—ahem—rather, just alittle, perhaps not priideutlj', in¬ timate with Florence? ' , , 'I have thought so, certainlj',' res¬ ponded his wife; ' aud I was vory glad this morning to receive an invitation from Lady Fitz-Pedigry for her, as it will take her away at once.   I accepted
it: rov l.ni., o..,l Ttl.„„u,|,f „( L'OinC Witll
her to town to-morrow or the daj- after
toaee Jr!idaine\'aleneiennes,!i.sslie '
At thia moment I Inlei|rupted the good ladj- bj- entering tbe room, dlscoii- certlug her rather bj- nij- sudden ap¬ pearance.
The words I had overheard determ¬ ined nie to learn iiij- fiite from Miss Gawston before she left, as I felt that under any ehcunislaiices, it was impos¬ sible forme tostaj-mueh longorutGaws- ton Flats in mj- iiresent position. If I could not gain a ]>orsoiiai iutervlew I determined to write to her; aud that night I wrote a candid letter, which I proposed sending her ifiio opportuiiitj- for private couvorsatioii presented it¬ self. But fate was. kind, and the next moment I met Miss G.awston accident¬ ally in thegarden about an hour before breakfast-time. The result wus thut slie did not apjiear at breakfast, and that when we rose from that meal I re¬ quested a few minutes private conver¬ sation witll the Colonel. Never shall I forget his lo«k of ludiguant amazement when he learned that his son's tiitor had proposed to liis daughter, and tliat with success.
'Mr. Luxtou, when I engaged j-ou,' he said, ' there was one thing I w-as :is- sured of most emphatically, and that was that j-ou were a gentleman. This is not tiie conduct of a gentleman to en¬ ter my house, to undermine the afl'ec- tious of my daughter, to entrap her In¬ to an eugugemcut! Sir, you should have thrown up your situation hero rather than have done this.'
I felt.he had Justice ou his side. .A.s far as he knew, I was nothing but a penniless suitor who had abused his pe¬ culiar position by using the many op¬ portunities it aflbrded him of making love to a young lady, a reputed heiress of apparently superior social rank. I could not help being amused, iievertbe- leas, as I reflected how different his tone would have been had he known all. Something prompted me not to tell him J-et, but to go on pressing iiij- sult without advancing atonce the real claims I had to buck it. We were still ill the midst of tlie discussion, tiie mat¬ ter was seemingly going hopelosslj- agaiust mo, when a sharp knock at the door interrupted our debute. " ' Come in,' said the Colonel, impatiently. A servant entered with a note. It w.as u tclegraui calling the colonel at once to town on important business, militarj-, I think hesaid.
J Mr. Luxton, I must postpone this matter until mj- return,' hesaid, liastl- Ij', looking at his wateli. ' I have not more than teu minutes to spare. I ap¬ peal to your honor not tp make anj' un¬ fair nse of this unfortunate intcrnip- tlon.' He Iiassed out of the room. A new idea struck ine, and I followed quickly. ,
' I had thought of going to town this afternoon for the night, ami Kupert ex¬ pressed a wish to accompany me,' I said ; ' -will you allow me to do so ?'
' Certainly,' said the Colonel, looking relieved. ' If you wish It, j'du might remain away longer, not necessarily in town, of course merely letting Mrs. Gawston know where Eupert is.'
'Rupert, do j'ou mind just coining with me to Belgrave Square first,' I said to my pupil as we alighted from the train.
; Oh, no,' was tho reply, aud so we were soon rattling awaj- in a Huusom to my father's town house.
'Surely that's you,' said Rupert, look¬ ing at a photograph lying ou the fable in tho drawing-room, where we were waiting for my father to appear.
'Ye8,.I am friendly here,' I replied, getting red. ' If you will take a book for five minutes I shall have transacted my business with Sir Grahame,' Imov- ed towards the door just as it opened, and the master of the house walked in. 'My dear Frank, I hardly expected 'o see you,' he said, as he entered. 'You
are looking very well, indeed, in spitj of your teaching labors, I hope jou have thrown that foolish engagement up.' He stopped as he caught .sight of Rupert.
' Let me introduce my pupil to you,' I said.
' You will both dine here to-night, of course, and sleep,' said my father, shak¬ ing hands, with Rupert. ; I. am going to Luxton to-morrowbytliell:-4Gtrain ; couldn't you come too; a change will do you gopd, and j'our sisters will be delighted toseej'ou. They ore under the impression that jou are abroad, anii I have.nol undeceived them. You will join US too, I hope, Mr. Gawston.' .
It was so arranged, and tho next daj' wc started for Luxton. In the mean¬ while Rupert had with some wonder (but he was too wellbred a boy to make many remarks), asked me if Sir Gra¬ liame Penreston won iny father, and I saw hiin writlii.g a letter that evening, probablj' to his mother or sister. I felt verj"niucli disposed to-write to the hit¬ ter, but I determined to wait until we reached Lu.vtou. It is hardlj- necesisarj' to .saj'that, without abusing the Colo- nel'sappeal to my honor, I had managed to let Florence know before-1 left that the obstacles in ourway werenot as In¬ superable as they appeared. '-¦ - -
Arrived at Luxtou Court, I -n'rote to Mrs. Gawston, having previously en¬ lightened my father as to the true state of affairs. The Ouwstons, ifnot as an¬ cient a family as our^, were eminently respectable, and my fiither, who could make uo objeeliou-s, was pleased to be unmerciful, in the way of banter. 'A fine waj- to pay yoiir debts indeed !' he cpncluded by saying, ' I CfiUed on my father in town.' I wrote in'niy letter to Mrs. Gawston, 'and he gave us un invitation doivn here, which I took the liberty to accept. Rupert and 1 pro¬ pose to stay here two nights hefore re¬ turning to the Flats. Enclosed is a let¬ ter to Miss Gawston, whicii I hope'j'ou will not object to hand over fo her, and I trust Unit you wiU all pardon the slight deception I liave practised on you ; &e. The letter was given to Jliss Gawston, and, its the reader may con¬ clude, no further objections were made to our engagement. Befdre threeinonlhs were over we were married.
' And how about the debts ?' docs :iiiy one ask.
AVell, my father puid them.—Lwuluu Society.
LE&AL  NOTICES^
AuniT6if.siroxiCE.,
Assigned Estato of Silas Wdiler and
Wife, of C-.ernarvon twp., Lune. Co. rplIE tinilcrsi::ucd AiiilUor, uj>poIntC'ii to dl.s- X trilnitc the balaiict: runiuiniu;; in tlu; hand.s III Uuvid Stycr, thu As.si;;noe, lo and ritnoni; thiMC iDgnlly cntllk-d lo the a-amu. will ;itiL-iid liir Una lim-po.'ii; on ¦I'llL'H.SDAY, the .slIi d:iv olAUGUri'r, liiOT, III III o'docl:, A. JI.,'In tk"c (-•ourl,irou.SL-, inllie cily ol' Limeii.-,tL.r, wht-i-e all peraons intc-i-c---sl«l in khIU dl.strihuMon nmy HUouil. IIOLANI) UlLLIAt,
June3Wt-:j2 Auilltor.
ACIMTOJf.S AOTIfi:.
Estate of John Shea/I'er, late of the
City ofLancaster, deceased. rpIIBundersigned Auditor niipointcd to ill.s- Xtribule tile uulunee ruinainln<; iu tlio hand.s or.Toslall ir. laiiciiller and David Koch.stctter. AdmIulstrator.s of ijaid dcceiLsed, to and amonKlho.se legally entitled lo the same, will alteiid lor that purpcso' ou SA'l'lTKDAY. Ihe 3rd day of. AL'UT.ISliT.at W.o'eloek, .a. ni.. in the Liln-ary Itoom ur the Court Hou.se, iu the City, of Lancaster, iviiereall pcrsonslntere.^leii iu.said e.state and dislrihiition may actentl.
, , „ H. Ji. swAua,
June2:!-)t-3l Aiidit.;i-.
AO.IdXI.STIM'l'OK'.S NOTICE.
Estate of Joseph Jlurklej', lateof IJpper Leacock twp., dec'd.
LETTERS or admiuiNti-ation on s.iid estate iiaviit;jheen erantedto the undi>r.)l&ncti,:itl nerson.s indebteti thereto are roiino-st ctl to nialie Iniuiediute icvymcnl.ana those having elalei-s
tliem without (leiayrorseltleiiient to the un¬ dersigned, residing in .sai.! township. ,     ., .    ... J.VCOIJ S. EBV,
JiiniMll«;a) .-Vdmlnistralor.
of
An.1II>-I.srK.l'J-<llf.S JfOTICE.
Estate  of Salouio  Huebener, late Warwick twp., deceased.
LErrEI!Sor.ldministi-at'lon onsald Estate uaving been granted to the underslgnetl, all persons indebted thereto aro recjuestcd to make immediate payment, and tiio.se having claims or demands against the.same will pre. sent tiiem for.settieiiienL witliout, <(elay to-ahe nnderslgned, residing in said township.
JI.T. JIUEBEN'jiB, lnnI2-Cl«.T!)j Administrator.
XOI'ICK.
To the Ituirs ifc Legal Keprescntativos ol
A. JI. Nuuinuii, late ofthe Bor. ofMar-
ictlu, L'.incaster Co., in the Slate of
reiiiisj-lvaiiia, dceeused.
VrOU are iiereh.v- notitied to he and ajipear in
JL llieUrliiian.s'Court ot-r.rtineaster eounty, to
behciil on the llttli day or .-Viignst, l.-^!.?, at 111
o'eioeic, A. JI., to ai.-eept or rcl'usu to accept the
Ileal Estate i>r A. M. >anman dect-iLSed, at the
valuation thereol, ina.le hy an iminest Iield
tiiei-eon, and eonllniu-d by said Coun, or show
cause why the .same sliould hot besoldaecord-
ilig to iaw.
.T. P. KREY, .Slieriir. Slienlls Ollice, Lancaster, Jnne 10 -67. June 12 .|„-:!ll
M.vav E. Co.\-v.V(iil.vji)  AliasSuh. for-Divorce
vs. .     April Term'181,7.
JOirx R. CONYNOlI.l.M.J       _        No. 10-i
¦JOHN U. CONYXGILV.M.you an; Dininandeil to lie and .'iiiticnt ^oiir   1,1-oper  person- hefore   our  Judges
Lancaster, at tho County Court of CoYitmon Pleas, lo he held on the 'rHritD .MO.VDAY IN AUU ust, a. D. I.SoT, at 111 o'clocic, a. ni.. to sliou- r.uise, if any you liave, wili- the saiil .M.vitv K. Coxv.\oji.t3r .shall not lie divorced from the bonds 01 nlatriinouy contracted with j-ou.
J. K. FUBY Slieriir. Sherlirs Ollice, Lanutsier, June 11,1S07.- Jun 12  -It '.M
.SU.s.lxx.v O.U-\irsNvi.i;i:
vs.
JI.VUTIN U.MrsN-vi>K:i
"1   Alias sub. for Div. ^     .VugnstT., ISiiT. No. 2).
NOri€K.-.M.\UTIN U.VII-SNYDBH.youar.- hercby commundcd lo he and aiipear in your-proper person liefcn-e our Juilgesat Utn- clster, at.tlie County Court of Conimon PIca.s, tobe held on the 'rHIltU MONDAY^ IN Al-- GUST, A. D. lSi.7, at lu o'clock, n. ni., to sho-.i ciiuse, if iiny you have, why the said SL-.-i.\>'X.\ 0.UAI1--SN-YDEU siiall not be divorced from lln- bonds of matrimony cont-racted with you.
J. F.VBKY, Slierili'. Sherill 5 Ollice, I.aucastcr, Juuo 11, lStf7. Jhn 12  ¦ jt.-m
N.U.-CV KUElsi-; 1
V.S.
IlEXitv KUE
KUEisi-; 1 ¦ icuElrii:.X_
Alias Sub. for Divorce.
August Term, ISUT.
No. .'S-S.
N*
N«TICK.-iiUN-UY KItE^SE;youn^ellor^•l.^¦ cotiitniinded to boitud uppcur In your iMi.- litiriJerson beforeour .Imlf;t;.i lit J^iiR-aslor, ul iheOounty Courtof Common Viens, to UuUi-Ul on the TillUD MONDAV IX AUGUST, JS«7, n: IU o'cluflc, ll. III., Ut slum- cause, If any ynu liave, why thesjiiil Xani.-v KirKiSKshiilliK^tl..- divorced from tlio bondsof matrimony t'lm- Irncted wltli yon. J. !•'. I-'RKY.SlKTifr.
.SIiuriir.sOmt:c, Liui.>;uU'r, JuneJLlSOT.
j WjJ2 ^,
DAVID CoL-HUAN)    AJhw Sub. for Divorce vs. Y       An-iust Tenn, ISO".
11.0.SI-: CociiiiAX. J Xo. 47,
«TU'K.-HOsK<;0<'nUAN,yon:treli.-i-rI.v _ commanded to btijind iippear In yonr pr.-- pur person l)«foroonr .hidycsut f,:inc:istur, :ii Un;Counly Courtof CVimniun rjpjis.lo b*» btl.i on the TlIlUD MOXDAV IX AUUUST, A. D. IS4j7, ut lUoVlOfk, Jl, m,. tosboM' ciiu.st', if any yuu have, u-by the.snid Davjo Cociik'an .slnil'l not bu ([Ivorced from tbi! hond-s of nnitrimonx- contracted with you. J. I-'. KUKV, Slierili;
Sheriirti OlUce, Lun easier, June 11, IdOT.
Jim 12 4t::ii
AUnsXISTKATOir.S   XOTICTE.      ~
JEstate-<)f Jamt'S K. Ale;camler Ksq'r., lute of liancaster city, dec'd.
LETTKItSof ndmlni.stratlon on said estate having lieen gmnted lo iliuunderslKucd.ali persous hidebleU iheretoare re(iueste4l lomakif inimedhite paynicnt. and thosehavinfcplhlms ordennindsaii^alnst thesame will present tliciii without delay for aettlement to the under¬ sigued, resilding in suid eity.
\Y. W   lIOIMvIN.S, Adm'r. innc7-tit-2T
irritate or Daniel Itoyer, iate of IMaii- Iieiiii to\vi)sIii|), decejtscd.
LKrri'IIts tcstamenlnry on sahl estate liav¬ ing been ;;ranted to tlie nndcrsii^ncd, all persons Indebted thereto are retiuested to nialvc immediato paynn-nt, and those having claims or denninds against the wsimt; will pre¬ sent them for .settlement to the undersigned, residing in .said township.
HAML'KL ROVEU. KM.VNCKL. GUAVER, _may:g).(;*t-::s  Kxeeutors.
KXKcx"r<>ir.s a'otice.
Estate of  Levi   Viercu,   late  of Eden township, deeeaaed.
LE'rri':riS testamentary on said estate hav- iuK been granted to liie undersigned, all
persons indebted tberetoare retiiiesteu tomake Immediate payment, and those having elainis ordemands agalnnttliesanie will present Uieni for settlement to the undersigned, residing in said township.
WSr. DUNGAN, niay:{l-2a-0*t  Executor.
CO-PARTN'ER.SIIIP NOTICE.
TIIK undersigned have entered into copart¬ nership under the ttrni of A. Bituer, jr., A Co., for the purpose of dolnija wlioleiMilcand re- tall Coal BusinesH. Yurd at^thc reunsylvanla Railroad adjoining Bitner & Bro's Depot Lau- A. JIITXEB, Jr.,
caster, I'a. •npl .-VSni-a)
. H. HCSTKri'BR, J. K. niCHAKDSON.
John GnosK,
vs. ,-
IIENRV DKEKCCP.. J
xoTirr.
1   Writ of Domestic attncli-
mcnt lo April term, 18(.7, No. 227.'
A. dcrendant. or holding property belonging to blm are requested to pay unddellverjxllsnch sum orsnujs of mouey and property dneand be¬ longing to sulci defendant; and all having claims wlU .present their amounta and. de¬ mands tt> the undersigned Trhstees appointed under abovo ivrlt. SAMUEL EBY. ¦ WM. FLETCHER,
JAMES wrtsoN; Jc 5-0*1-29 EUzabellitowii.