The Evansville journal. [volume] (Evansville, Ind.) 1866-1870, 1868-03-19

/ anger
Her reply was given with haughti-
ness worthy an empress. at least" /
wish to 60 home, but do not let me
hurry you l do not require company"
St. Clair turned to me with an
amused smile like her
spirit Can I assist you, Miss
Blanche?" aud throwing me lightly
into the saddle, we followed Ianthe's
fast disappearing steed.
She reached home long before we
did, for the old fascination returned
in full force when | found this man
still cared for me, and we rode slowly
through The beautiful forest road, con
versing in low, happy tones. He
spoke Of his long absence, explaining
it by a business trip 10 Cuba, which
had kept him much longer than he
had supposed possible. With deeper
tenderness in his tone, he told how
his visit to US had fingered in his mind,
and filed him with an impatient loug-
ing to return. There was no direct word
of love, but it was expressed in every
look and tone, and my famished heart
drank deep at the blissful .fount, and
was stepped in pleasure.
When Ianthe appeared at dinner,
her eyes looked heavy and swollen
with weeping, and [ felt half provoked
at St Clair for his cool Indifference
and patronizing manner-for every
time he spoke to her in that conde-
scending, paternal tone, | could see
her dark eyes fash and her lips culver
with rage. Papa was delighted TO
meet his old friend, and made the
meal a merry one, in spite of Ianthe's
evident discontinue.
When we had withdrawn to the
drawing room, Mr.. ST. Clair bent over
me, speaking In low voice" The
music of chat grand old song has been
ringing through my heart during all
my exile; may | hear II again?'
| complied, with pleasure, and sang
with intense feeling When | had
finished, he turned to Ianthe, who
sat moodily in the shade of the lace
curtains, asking carelessly-" Do you
sing, Ianthe?"
A wave OF deep crimson swept over
her cheek, as, looking him full In the
face, she answered." Cousin Blanche
has been my teacher. "
Indeed | could not desire
higher Recommendation Let US hear
II you 10 JuSLlCC " HCI LEdCuluR.
He settled himself comfortably In the
arm chair.
Ianthe's fingers clasped nervously;
she hesitated moment, then quietly
crossed to the piano. A few weird,
minor chords preluded a passionate
little German air. 1t spoke OF
buried love, bitter regret, and hope
less sorrow. Her voice quivered on
the last strains; but, suddenly chang
ing to-a major key, She burst into a
wild, careless gypsy song; then rising
from the instrument, with a graceful,
sweeping courtesy, left the room,
waiting for no comment. St. Clair
turned to me abruptly, and to my sur
prise, asked the seemingly irrevelant
question" How old is that grip"
She is nearly sixteen, was my
slightly wondering reply; " but how
do you like Fer vOice?'
1t has wonderful power and hexi-
bility, but | should never think of its
belonging to such a child! She sang
with all wom3n's passion. She is a
strange little creature This last
musingly, as if to himself; then, sud
denly rising, he offered his arm, ex-
claiming gayly as he pointed through
the long French window, That vine
wreathed arbor has been inviting me
to explore its cool recesses for the |
last half hour! viii you accompany
me?'
The days passed quickly enough
in the society Of MY lover; for such |
secretly named St. Clair, though no
direct word had given me the right to
call him so; but his every look and
tone bespoke passionate tenderness
which thrilled my heart. He soon
made his peace with Ianthe, or rather
offered merry apology for his rude
ness, which was accepted by her: but
no longer was she the same gay little f.
sprite as had made our great old F..
house so bright and happy. Her
voice was seldom heard. and
when she did talk, It was with /.
an unnatural gayety that was
too evidently forced 10 be pleasant.
One beautiful evening, as we sat in
dreamy quiet upon the broad piazza,
watching the reflection Of the moon .
upon a clear lake about half mile +
distant. Philip (as we had learned to /
call St. C.air) suddenly removed his .
cigar and sprang M, gayly exclaim- .
" Come. young ladies. lets have
row on the laEei | know ola Thorn
son, who has a boat. viii it be too
long a walk? ?"
Oh, no" I exclaimed rapturously.
Let 90 by all means Come,
ian+he
She slowly turned her head, saying
in lanquid tone" Excuse me to-
night: I'm TOO tired TO walk"
=" Aoneense. Don't be stunid I