The Portland daily press. [volume] (Portland, Me.) 1862-1921, 1868-01-04

us another shower vas about to descend on
Johns account it was suddenly checked by a
sweet but guilty thrill of satisfaction to think
That she had this power over him. and could
make him miserable il she chose Then it oc-
CURED to her that, alter all, John did behave
in a very cross, disaereeabe manner, and that
he ought to be punished for it, even il the
process did make her somewhat uncomforta-
BILE after which righteous and highly moral
conclusion she went to sleep. with sigh for
her own discomfort and smile for her pow
er over John valnly STRIVING for the mastery
of her lips.
The next morning the tempter appeared
again in the likeness OF Miss NOrtham arrav-
ell as TO her person in the coolest and freshest
of morning-oresses, and as to Der spirit in the
calm consciousness of her last victory over
Dewitt, whom she had reduced the night be-
fore to state bordering on idiocy.
She listened to Nettie's triumphant relation
with the quiet dignity OF recognized superior
itv, and advised her to continue in the same
course. And that Nettie might have every
advantage Of position, she invl'ed her to tea,
the lovers to come in during the evening, al
ter they had been sufficiently talked over by
their respective owners. ,
Whether Miss Sophy's interest in this little
affair arose nom the fact that her genius Tor
for Irritation was so great that her own prov
ince Was too small for her ambition and she
SIGHED for new worlds TO conquer, or whether
she had "tbat sort of itch for settling other
neonle's destInies" which Charles Reade says
s one of the commonest forms of sanctioned
lunacy, or whether she had really worked her
self up into the belief that she was sort of
female missionary and doing vast deal OF
good, cannot undertake to say-I leave it to
the readers of Harper's Bazaar to determine.
But Sophy Northam, clever as she was, had
| made one little mistake. She had prescribed
| one of Morton DeWitt's doses for the inner
| system OF John Marshall. To be sure, as this
brilliant strategist argued, all men are alike,
especially when they are in love; but still, in
] every human machine, like every patent lock,
there are sundry out-of- the-way twists and
turns which make it little different from ev-
cry other machine, and make it rather more
complicated and difficult to manage.
Now just such nature as John Marshall
had never happened to cross Miss Sophy's
path before. He was entirely too simple for
her to comprehend, and the lock had a little
twist in one OF Its wards which set at defiance
the pretty little key she had lent Nettie.
In other lords, John quietly took up the
same course oil action that had been prescrib-
| ed for his defeat, and attacked Nettie on her
own ground. That evening he " as more bril-
liant and entertaining than she had ever
known him, studiously polite to her, and very
attentive to every body else. Sophy was lost
in admiration. With the magnanimity OF a
great warrior she could afford to acknowledge
the proves OF a rival. As for Nettie, she felt
like the fisherman in the Arabian Nights who
let the genie out OF the bottle, and could not
get him back again. There it was, this dark.
imponderable volume of smoke, rolling up be-
fore her, every moment growing worse and
no effort OF hers seemed adequate to manage
anything at once so vast and so impalpable.
So poor little Netlie faded and sparkled by
turns; brilliant and animated whenever she
thought John was looking at her, dull and de-
jected when she saw his attention was else
where. Nothing could be prettier than the
little, wisLful sidelong looks she cast at him,
the pensive poise of her head, and the dloop
of her dowLcast eyeashes. Sophy caught her
in one of these Clytie poses, whisked her into
a corner, and rallied at her heartily.
Much to her surprise. the worm turned
"lt's all very well tor you to call me silly and
spiritless," said the transformed Clytie, with
Sfiashing eyes; 81 think with you that a GER
tain allowance of spirit is necessary for the
preservation of every pair" (She did not in
tend "a pun. and trampled over it with lofty
disdain.) 81 am glad that John has shown
enough to make it unnecessary tor me to ex-
| ert myself. In yOur case it is different, OF
course you have to do it for two. | honor
your motives, but | deplore the necessity
And am afraid it is time to go home
Goodnight, dearw
| And darting at her friend with singing
little needle of kiss, Nettie turned away,
skillfully extrcated John from his attentive
group of listeners and departed, leaving So
ply in a state of PROSTATE bewilderment, as
the books say, more easily imagined than des-
cribed. That young lady was for once quite
thrown off her balance. v hat more trying
| position for woman of spirit than not to
| know pxactlV how muph she had haar, in c,,1t
| ed? ..,.-
Meanwhile John and Nettie paced quietly
homeward. Very quietly Tor she was strug-
| grg with an absurd but eminently feminine
DISPOSE Jon to cry, and in the effort to fight
down her tears, necessarily had to hold her
tongue, while John was partly tired by his
unusual efforts at entertaining and partly to
curious to see what Ne.tIe would do if he let
her alone.
At last they reached the familiar steps; the
scene of so many meetings and partings,
greeting and farewels. The sight of the old
stones nerved Nettie to a desperate effort
With one final ar prodigious gulp she swal-
lowed The last tear, caught hold of one OF
| Johns buttons just as he was turning to 60
and opened her lips to begin very pretty
moral lecture-Said moral lecture she had
been celebrating to herself all the way home
and in it she intended fairly to divide the
tween them, and to wind up with an assur
rance Of better things to come.
| But as she looked up and saw the old kind
face looking down at her, with CLEAN OF
amusement lurking behind the gravity OF the
eyes, she forgot all her formal explanations,
and felt SO ashamed that she began to wish
she had let John 60. Then summoning up
all her courage, she looked wistfully at the
very middle of Johns top button, which she
.ix,o xx,It Hi
John, if you were to try very hard do you
| think you could forgive me? ?"
| History has not recorded what John did.
If my readers, that is, the Steiner portion
| thereof, will take the trouble to calculate the
effect upon themselves of pretty, upturned
face, 'all kinder smily round the lips, any
teary round the lashes," said face set ia a
frame of moonlight solitude, and romance
generally, they will probably arrive at some
thing like the actual result. History has re-
1 corded, however, what John said. Like the
speeches of all great men at all great mo-
ments, it was short, simple, and to the point.
He said: "Little woman, don't try it again p
! And don't think she did, At last by the
last accounts they were still living in a state
| of much humdrum content and felicity.
| As for Sophy, the bunging wedding of one
| of her friends suddenly stimulated her to an
heroic exertion. She felt that it was her du-
| ty to show the world how such things ought
to be done, so she graciorsly allowed the long
suffering Morton to marry her. In blaze
of glory, compounded OF white satin. orange
| flowers, tue wells, bridesmaids, presents, car
riages, and weddins-cards, the moral entity
called Morton Dewitt passed out of indie
pendenc existence. In future he vegetated
| as "Mrs. DeWitt's husband" Somewhere
within the brilliant auleole which surrounds
| that gorgeous and fashionable comet he re-
wolves, unseen, his intellectual fires paled" by
the glory that envelops him, little twink
| ling star hid forever behind the sweeping