The New era. [volume] (Martinsburg, W. Va.) 1865-1871, 1865-11-16
One Summer.
BY CLARA AUGUSTA.

Inree years OF foreign travel, and three
years of close application to his profess
sion in a crowded city, had left him, at
the age of thirty, base, and somewhat
cynical.
The world was old to him-life was
no longer new and fresh. He did not
look forward to the morrow to recon-
pense him for the trials of to-day. as {;
younger man would have done. He ex-
pected no agreeable surprises-only hard
labor, and perhaps a failure.
But this summer he was to rest. He
had left care behind him when he locked
the door Of his spacious law office, and
consigned briefs and court papers to the
dust and darkness of oblivion.
And at the urgent invitation of his
uncle Archer, the proprietor of Elmcroft,
he had come thither to pass the summer.
His cousin Helen met him at the hall
her fair face radiant-her blue eyes
sparkling. Max put back the golden
hair from her forehead and put his lips
there a moment-smiling half bitterly
as he remembered how long it had been
since he had kissed any woman-years
and years ago, when he never dreamed
a beautiful face could belong to a false
heart, when he trusted one he believed
loyal and true as the angels, and return
eel, after two years absence, to find her
bought by another mans gold.
At the time it had made him suffer
since that he had been thankful that it
happened just as it did. 1t was a lucky
escape; but it had made him cautious
perhaps cold.
That was ten years ago, when he was
but a student, ruddy checked and light
hearted; now heWas bearded and bronz-
l., %1,o%
their owners secrets we'll; and a fame
him the peer of the noblest.
A gay party had assembled at Elm
croft. Friends CT Helen, or children Of
Mr.. Archer's old friends. Max met with
a cordial welcome, and was ushered at
once into the supper-room.
Mr.. Archer looked around at the
blooming young faces. There was one
"Where is Josephine:' he asked of
his daughter.
elm her room. She asked to be ex-
cused. She had letters to write, and she
took a lunch with the housekeeper an
hour ago."
Letters to write, Ell: Does Oak Lev
ison allow her to have such important
letters to write that they should take
away her appetite: / must rally Oak
on that"
Max turned to Helen.
g Pray, who is Josephine, and who is
Oak LevisOn?''
Josephine is Miss Leach, my best
friend; and Oak Levison is our next
neighbor, the owner Of Oaklands. You
your style. Dark, impressive and mag
roifionnt whom Chn fn hn I ho
said to papa q great many times what Il
pity it was Mr.. Levison was in love with
her, while you were coming, because
you would suit one another so WE'LL"
Thank you, Miss Helen. ! did not
know your forte was matchmaking. |
am happy, however, to be forewarned.
And you may save your pity for some
one who will appreciate it, forat present
do not stand particularly in need of y
dark ingenious woman, who might not
always choose to be magnificent when
I wanted her to be-"
" Now. Max, you arc quizzing me-"
pouted Helen. Miss Leach is no orge
She is only reticent and self-controlled
I'd give something to see tears in her
eyes"
:" Gruel!'
"She looks down upon me with such
a lofty scorn when cry over any of my
little difficulties, and She never mani
tests any emotion at any Of these things,
which stir women SO much But love
her. and you must be friends with her."
Max slept late the next morning, and
when he went out on the piazza to enjoy
the fresh air, the first thing that greeted
him was an equestrian party of two,
dashing down the hill to the house.
Helen touched his arm.
"They are Josephine and Oak Levi
son. They have ridden over to the Hall
this morning. Six miles, and back
Only think of it, sluggardw
Max was looking at Josephine with
some curiosity.
She was slightly understood, and he
had expected to see an Amazon. Her
complexion was rather dark, but there
was crimson in the cheeks and lips, and
the dark eyes matched SO we'll the wavy
dark hair, that he did not wonder she
could be magnificent if she chose.
Mr.. Levison dismounted and advanc-
ed to take her from her horse, but the
wind tossed Helen's crimson scarf di-
rectly in front Of the spirited animals