The spirit of democracy. [volume] (Woodsfield, Ohio) 1844-1994, 1867-08-20
Blanche demurely looked up at him
she wes not TO Be taken By storm thus

w AObuSi ~ HoutU Ettu tU-HttII wv, lOl
our picnic I want to wear my white In
dia mustn't
"oh3-the pio-nies had forgotten thai
when spoke Of leaving tomorrow. o.
course, though, my presence or absence
will make no great difference"
4 Blanche was silent. Somehow tina
scarlet and brown spotted maple leaf re
lquired a great deal of adjustment in th,
ribbon of her hat.
| aBlanche-shall / go or stay?"
j. .Just as you please, Mr.. Eyering, o
/ course
j "No; just as somebody else pleases
Yes or No! And, forewarn you ye
means great DEAL"
| elbow much does j: mean?" questioned
| Blanche, half archly, half timorously. !,
| "EverythingP'
'Then you may stay"
/ "My Blanche--my little white daisy
Ihe whispered, bending his stately head
lover the slender hand that lay on the au.
Itumn leaves. And Blanche felt that in
the golden Stiffness of that October del
Ishe had turned new page in the book Of
her life.
She was very, very happy, and all that
day she seemed to be walking through
1.-THE bright mysteries Of q dream. But
with the morning came other feelings.
talasl that shadow should always follow
Sunshine in this world of ours.
"Im not disposed to. be unreasonable,
Blanche, said Gilbert, in whisper, as
he arranged her white lace shawl for her,
amid the merry tumult of the picnic
tgrOund, "but l do think you've waltzed
quite often enough with that confounded
puppy, Birmingham
"Jealous already, Gilbert?' taunted the
lgirl, flushed and rosy with the triumphs
of her beauty, and the irresistible in
stincts of coquetry. She colored GRIM
son.
"0f course, you'll do as you please,
Blanche; only warn you it's a choice
between Walter Birmingham and me-
You dance with him again at your own
risk"
At the same instant young Birmingham
came up.
May have the pleasure of this polka
with you, Miss Penroy?"
And Blanche, defiant and Willful, and
a little piqued, answered:
aYesl'
And glided away with her plump hand
ON Walter Birminghams shoulder. Gil
bert had no business to be SO unreasona-
Bile.
! His grave stern face rather startled her
as she came once more to the rustic seat
of twisted boughs, when the string band
music was silent, and Mr.. Birmingham
had gone to bring her glass of iced
lemonade.
aGilbertl Why do you look SO CROSSE
! 'sBecause I haye reason. am sorry
tyou pay so little attention to my wishes,
Miss Penroy,"
She drew herself up haughtily
"You are beginning to dictate early,
sirl'
aHaye | not the right?"
aNething of the sort, Mr.. Evering."
.sBe it so, Blanche he said in voice
that betrayed how deep the arrow rank
led in his bosom. II give up the right
now and henceforward.
Blanche was startled. She would have
said more, but Walter Birmingham was
advancing toward her, and when next she
had leisure to lock round, Gilbert was
gone from her side. aa
"What have I done?" she thought, in
dismay. aI'll see him this evening and
coax him into good humor once more
He surely cant be yexed at me for an idle
word Ike that"
All, little Blanche, it is not the we'll
considered sentence that does all the harm
in this world-it is the idle word!
"Suoh charming day as we have had,
Mrs. Traine, said Blanche, as she came
| up the steps of the hotel piazza, as smil-
| ing and radiant as if the worm, remorse,
was not gnawing at her heart.
.That, Of course" said the blooming
matron, who was reading in an easy chair
under the shadow Of the vines. eBut
what sent Mr.. Evering away in such a
hurry2n aa
aSent him aTay?" s.s s
| sYes-by the evening train. lie came
home, packed his things, and drove away
as if there was not moment to lose. /
am very sorry; We shall miss him SO
much
Blanche went slowly up stairs and sat
down by her window, looking out at the
purple glow of the evening landscape as
lif itwere a featureless blank So he was
really gone away; and by her own folly
lshe had lost the priceless treasure Of Gil
bert, Evering $ love.
aAnd cannot even write to him, for |
do not know his address, she thought,
with clasped hands and fearless eyes.
Jewell it is my own fault, and 4 must
labide the consequences as best I may.
So Blanche Penroy went home from
1.-THE gay summer lounging lplace sadder
and wiser woman; and the November
mists dropping o 'er the brick and d.mortar
wildernesses Of her New York home, had
never seemed half so dreary to her as
| they seemed now. ss' sssssss eaa 9si
aI suppose Ishall be an old maid
Thought Blanche, waking up and down
1.-The FIRE lit darkness other twilight draws
ling. rooms, with her dinfpled hands clasp
led behind her waist. II never care for
lany one now, as I cared for4for Gilbert;
land I dare say 7 shall keep ascat, and
IgroW fond of green tea, and scandal, and
sewing circlesI All, well a.day. life can
mot last foreverl'' Rhsss-}.a is7s kai