The daily phoenix. [volume] (Columbia, S.C.) 1865-1878, 1866-11-23


"GUY RUTLAND"
I.folded this missive and placed
it in its envelope. "I shall find
out, once for all, what they are
made of, 1 said, conplacently, as
I wrote the address, George Rut-
land, Esq, Rutland Hall, Kent"
It was about seven, on frosty
evening, when [ arrived at theim-
posing entrance of Rutland Hall.
No Cousin George came running
out to meet me. "Of course not, :"
I thought; Il am unused to their
formal manners in this country.
He is lying in wait for me on the
mat inside I was admitted by a
solemn person as quietly and me
chanicallyas though myrestoration
to home and kindred were a thing
that had happened regularly in his
presence every day since his birth.
He ushered me into a grand hall,
but no mat Unsupported the impatient
feet of the dignifed master of the
house. "Ah!" said I, ''evcn this,
perhaps, We're scarcely etiquette.
No doubt he stands chatting on the
drawing-room hearth-rug, and I
have little enough time to make
myself presentable before dinner. )"
So, restraining myself to circum-
stances, 1 meel1ly followed q guide,
who volunteered to conduct me to
the chamber assigned to my espe-
cial use. [ had to travel consi-
siderable distance before I reached
It. Dear mel" L remarked to
myself when I did reach it. Il
had expected to find the rooms in
such g house more elegantly ap-
pointed than this"
l made my toilette, and again
submitting myself to my guide,
was conveyed to the drawing-room
door. All the way down stairs, I
had been coming pleasant tspeeches
with which to greet my kinsfolk.
l am not brilliant person, but I
sometimes succeed III pleasing,
when [ try, and on this occasion /
had the desire to do my best.
The drawing-room door was at
the distant end Of the hall, and
my arrival had been so very quiet
that l conceived my expectant en-
tertalners could hardly be aware
of my presence in the house. I
thought [ should give them sur
prise. The door opened and closed
upon me, leaving me within the
room. [ looked around me, and
saw-darkness there, and nothing
more.
All, yes. but there was something
more. There was. q blazing fire
which sent eddying swirls of light
through the shadows, and right in
the blush of its warmth a little
figure was lounging in an easy
chair. The little figure was a girl
of apparently about fifteen or Six
teen years of age, dressed in a
short, shabby black frock, who was
evidently spelling her eyes by
reading by the freight. She lay
with her head thrown back, a mass
of fair curly hair being thus tossed
over the velvet cushion on which
it rested, while she held her book
aloft to catch the light. She was
luxuriating in her solitude, and
little dreaming Of interruption.
She was SO absorbed in her book.
the door had opened and closed SO
noiselessly, and the room was so
large, that was obliged to make
a sound to engage her attention.
She started violently then, and
looked up with nervous fearful
ness in her face. She dropped her
book, sat upright, and put out her
hand, eagerly grasping a thing 1
had not noticed before, and which
leaned against the chair-a crutch.
She then got up, leaning on it, and
stood before me. The poor little
thing was lame, and had two
crutches by her. I introduced
myself, and her fear seemed to
subside. She asked me to sit
down, with prim little assumption
OF at-home-ness, which did not sit
on her with ease. Size picked up
her hook on6 loid r ~, bo,