Spirit of the age. [volume] (Raleigh, N.C.) 1849-1865, 1863-09-21


and, throwing himself clreiessly upon q
sofa, in front of glowing, soft coal fire,
took up handful of letters, which had
arrived during his absense.
Hum-ha-bootmaker, cards to Mrs
-, letter from my sister, Helle, what's
this? The little governess, as | livel
The other correspondent fell unheedcd
upon the floor, while Thrope eagerly
broke the seal of the small envelope
which had SO instantly attracted his at
tention.
Oh, bless the little black-eyed furv =
commented he with s7rt of lazy enjoy
ment of the angry phrases over which his
eyes rolled. She'll be revenged, will
sheP She has heard that am about to
marry for mepey-she will make me feel
her resentment, although she has long
ceased to love me! What does the dear
little fire brand mean? Can it be that
she intends to write an account of nv
manifold firtations to Lilly Well, she
may do so-but | shall take particular
pains that no such edifying epistle reach
eS my fair bride elect. No, Mademoiselle
Sara, may safely defy your wrath
Andhe tossed the note carelessly upon
the fire, watching it shrink into a blaze,
with half open eyes, like those of SER
pent!
Cyril Thorpe had laid his plans skill
fully, and of that fact he was fully
aware. ..-..
If oug readers could have had peep
into Lilly brakes bsudoir on the wed.
ding morning, just six weeks after that
stormy December night! One door open
ed into an elegant morning room, all dec.
grated with white flowers, where, upon
long table draped with white satin, blazed
a gorgeous array of wedding presents, in
pearl and geld, and rare, costly laces.
Another gavea a half peep of the futtering
crowd of blooming bridemaids, eagerly
watching for the last ornaments to be
clasped around Lilly's fair throat and
arms. And Mrs. Drake, mother-like, was
crying and smiling in the sane breath !;
while lolonel Rrale., fs4 rs-.--4' - ssss's
ual, whose white gloves were. too tight
by several sizes, kept shouting out init
nations that the carriages were waiting
and that he could not see the use of such
delayl
This way, love, through the room
where the. bridal gifts are,' said Mrs.
I. Drake, when, at length, all was in readi-
ness. BY the way, how very strange
that youl Uncle Colvin's present has not
arrived. l shouldn't wonder if he means
to be here himself, and was delayed.
Mrs. Rachel Wharton said she wouldn't
be surprised if he sent deed settling
the whole of the property on your Lilly
she's heard of such things before now.
And Cyril Thorpe, as he stepped forward
handsomer than ever, to offer his arm to
his bride, caught the last sentence, il
gave his worldly heart a joyous throb
for money was Cyril Thorpe's idol
The wedding, with all US parapherna-
liza of orange blossoms, floating ribbon;
and misty clouds Of white tulle, was over
the reception followed. The spaciou!
rooms were fairly overfowed with th'
tide of fashion, sparkling in jewels an(
rustling in maOire antique and We vets
and the whispered thoughts had but one
burden--Mr. Thorpe's elegance of man
: ner and his young wifes girlish grace
: Suddenly there was a stir and bustl
throughout the apartments, following
close on a vehement ring at the door bel
"a clear, merry voice reverberated above
all softer accents, and the young brid
!, sprang forward, exclaiming:
My Uncle Colvinp
! No one else, my DEAR CALCULATED
! stout little man, with cheeks like winter
! roses, although his hair was sprinkle
; with grey, who came forward with
young lady, in brown travelling dres'
hanging on his arm. WAS afraid
should be too late to wish you joy, Lilly
O Mr.. Thorpe let me congratulate you sill
= I assure you no ordinary business shoul
> have detained me, but the fact is, hay
:, been having a wedding of my own, tn
morning Let me introduce my wifi
= Mrs. Grant Colvin 7
Lilly had grown very pale-she WI
A not mercenary, but when one has be-
brought up from childhood in the expe
u tation of wealth, it requires q considers
: BILE degree of philosophy to sec it sudder
ly transferred into another channell 81
her palor was rosy bloom compared
20 the ashen hue on her bridegroom's chet
as he recognized, under the bridal flo
ers in Mrs. Colvin's bonnet, the vindi
; tive black eyes of the slighted 'governes:
As his cold hand touched hers, she S;
70 in a voice audible to him alone
nd I'm revengedl Did not tell you
should be sol
y. Sara Colvin had never looked lovel