Kenosha tribune & telegraph. [volume] (Kenosha, Wis.) 1856-1859, 1857-11-26

uS sbcps dutduceu anu receUeQ thrice,
and died into indistinctness far beyond
the room. Adde'S angry thoughts had
been put to fight by this; she longed ex-
cessively for Nicholas to return. A few
minutes after her heart gave throb OF
relief, for she had heard some person
mounting by the outside stairway. She
rushed to the door, and opened it inhaste
to admit, not the engraver, but Laurence
Royston.
There is nobody at home but myself"
said she, in confusion at his sudden and
unexpected appearance. "GfizEie has
gone down into the Barbican,"
She stood holding the latch in hel
hand, expecting him to depart; but he
advanced into the room, and lifted his
hat from his head, saying:
cit is a wet night, Adie, give me an
hours shelter. Will he soon be back
again ?"
"Yes; he promised to hasten as l was
alone" she replied; and she shut the
door, for the wind blew in coldly and
strongly.
Royston stood by the fire, resting his
arm upon the mantle shelf; Adie sat down
in her old place, secretly wishing thai
the visit had been better timed, and feel.
ing an inward conviction that Nicholas
would be displeased to find his pupil
there at his return.
"What is the matter, Adie ?" asked
Royston gently. "You look as if you
had seen ghost; with such wild eyes
and pale cheeks !"
81 have heard the footsteps tonight y
replied she, looking up in his face 81 was
wishing so much that Grizzie wo'd come
back when you arrived / dare not be
left alone again in the house.
"Silly Adie! tho't you had more couI-
age than to tremble at a sound. What
harm can those footsteps do you?"
"Theytmake me nearly sick with fear:
I should 90 mad if | heard them often
they make my blood cold in my veins; ]
cannot describe it. If you had not come
l should have gone down to Mrs. Parkes
and Job until Grizzie came home"
"Now that l am here, Adie, let me
speak to you; have word for your
ear alone. Will you listen to me, Adler
Her color came and went rapidly, for
there was passionate tenderness in his
voice that she could not misunderstood;
but an instinct ofmaidenly reserve whis-
pered that he ought not to have sought
her clandestinely, and stilled the rush OF
Joy to her heart. She drew away her
hand which he had taken, quietly and
with a certain GOODNESS; but she could
not shroud the lustre III her eyes that
belied the repulse. "Adie," he repeated
arnestly,-"Adie, have you never seen
my love for you? Is my dear hope to
fail?" That strange voice of his had a
truthful ring in it now he had left acting.
A quick change passed over the girls
face; she put up her hand to shed back
the long hair from her brow, and looked
at him-openly, honestly, questioningly.
Some doubt of him must have crossed
her mind then, for he drew back before
her glance which expressed 1t. "Adie,
if tried you, it was but to spare my
self pain; i could not make my heart a
football for a girls caprice" he said de-
precatingly. 81 did not know you until
lately, and since then you have been all
my thought. Forgive me, Adie, forgive
me; at least if you deny my love-"
A thrill ran through Adde'S frame as
if cold wind had breathed upon her,
that quick convulsive shiver which is
saidt creep along thenerves when some
step passes over the spot where our
grave is to be made. She remembered
N;obn1ocS fo,,- or r,n xrorde +bo+ ,,,orn;n,r
and an indefinable sensation oftear, pain
and longing, stole into her heart. He
saw the wavering, and was swift to turn
it to account. Warm loving words,
passionate vows, fell softly, dreamily,
into the porches of her ears and passed
ON the responsive heart-chords making
them all musical with delight; the rosy
blush deepened; the lustrous cleaning
eyes grew humid, and her lips quiyered
into a confession.
'Then adie, you are mine-mine!"
cried Royston exultant; ''you will not
let any one separate us. Hove you bet
ter than my life, and you must give me
the same love; if you love me best of all,
you will leave all for me-" Adie re-
membered poor Nicholas kindness; and
her conscience, yet uncalloused, re-
preached her for deceiving him. "Do
you regret already" said Royston; edo
you fear cannot hold my own? Keep
our secret until bid you speak, and all
will be well; promise Inc this" Adie
promised. 81 shall come tomorrow
NowIw leaveyou, lest Nicholas should
return. You are not afraid of the foot
steps now, are your"
90, no." she replied smiling. But he
fingered still, there were so many warm
assurances and farewells to make, so
many warnings to give; but at last he
was gone, and Adie sat down again by
the fire alone. Her mind was in whirl,
she saw nothing clearly; one sensation
only was distinct, and that was painful
she had given herword to deceivepo
old s-confding, honest old Mich
olas; that was bad; it was wicked. She
felt less happy than before Laurence
Rovston had said he loved her; what
shehad coveted so earnestly had brought
the first dark stain upon her conscience.
She tried to thrust the obtrusive self.re-
proach aside, but it refused to be Danish
ed. While she was thus at work with
her better genius, the angraver came in.
He had assembled the steps unheard, and
appeared beforeherso unexpectedly, that
she started and uttered cry of alarm;
which she explained by saying that she
had heard the footsteps in the corridor
soon after he had left her, and that since
every slight noise made her tremble.
''1'he footsteps?" repeated Nicholas
in a troubled tone.
ayes; they came and went three times
between the closet and the stairs, and
then ceased" said Adie.