The Republican journal. [volume] (Belfast, Me.) 1829-current, 1869-04-01
The Beauty's Choice.
BY ESTHER S. KENNETH.

had romantic history. Her parents were
dead she was the heiress of their proper
ty, and had guardian. He had been in
love with her mother, and was very jeal-
Gus of the daughters guardianship, treat
ing her with arbitrary power, and teasing
her quite as much as pleasing her by his
affections. Yet it was quite exasperating
to the young men to see her lounging on
his arm, and he handsome bachelor of
hardly forty. He boarded at hotel; she
had Mrs. Hawley's prettiest set of rooms.
They were furnished by herself, and most
charmingly, in rosewood and blue damask.
She had canaries, and a paroquet, and a
King Charles spaniel, and maid nnder her
authority; and it was but short time af-
ter her arrival before every young man in
the house was marked subscrvient to her.
She was very pretty. Her hair was of
a bright gold color, her cheeks rose pink,
and her eyes always made me think Of blue
larkspur, they were so deeply and glowing
ly blue. have seen the sea show such a
color, but seldom anything else; and they
did not change like the sea from blue to
gray and Tyrean purple; they were always
that deep, steady, unaltered blue. have
seen her wear dresses and sacques of the
same shade.
She was a living romance heroine, and I
used to observe the little episodes she oc-
casloned In the house, with the expectation
that she would finally occasion some seri-
GUS rivalry or elopement, or break some
body's heart, and SO give the material for a
story. But for several months she pursued
the even tenor of her pretty way and
brought no one to grief, and began to
think no one was going to break his heart
for her, after all, and that the beauty of the
boarding house would not furnish me with
a story.
There were four young men in the house.
Charley Childs, Fred Grove, Leonard Mar
tin and Dick Manchester-all bright, agree
able, marriageable young men-and all ad-
mirers of Florence Castleton. Finally there
was another, but he was too plain and bash
full to be admitted to the elegant ranks of
Miss Castleton's galaxy of beaux, and not
one thought of his being any ones lover.
His name was David Atwood. He was
book-keeper, was plain in dress, and evil
IDENTIFY Strengthened means. He had one
of the smallest of Mrs. Hawley's side rooms,
spent all his days and most of his evenings
in the office where he was employed, never
went to theatres or to the opera, and pos
sessed not the slightest style of manner.
Yet | noticed him from the first, as hav-
ing a face Of great sense and kindness "a
face pleasant to see, having so much seri-
BUSINESS and strength with its youth. Yet
it was very plain-the thin light hair fall
ing laukly about large, pale forehead, the
eyebrows being almost imperceptible, the
eyes ola light-yellowish grey, the nose and
mouth large, and characteristic blush ris-
ing and paling continually. His smile was
sweet and pleasant; he looked good; and
many time have l turned from the shall
low brilliancy Of Fred Grove and the rat
Ting gayety OF Dick Manchester to observe
David Atwood, quietly reading, with SEN
sation of relief that there was yet some
sound sense and real worth left ia the world.
The others laughed at him-he was SO
shy, and awkward, and bashful. And Flor
ence Castleton often joined the laugh silver.
ly; yet no one offered him any dlsrespect.
Indeed they all acknowledged him to be "a
good young man but so homely and awk-
ard =
Florence Castleton had a pretty voice for
singing, and used to play upon guitar, a
beautiful one inlaid with pearl, which her
guardian had given her. One evening after
David Atwood had been at the house
about six weeks, she brought it down to
play. The young men gathered to sing
with her. Leonard Martin sang very well,
and Charley Childs sang better. While
they were engaged in singing, David At
wood came in.
He slipped into corner and sat down in
his shy way, and was unnoticed until Dick
Manchester, who was restless for mischief,
called out
'Mr. Atwood, won't you come and sing
with us?
Every one looked at Atwood, I expect
ed to see him blush and stammer, and MUIR
muir an inaudible reply, but new express
sion had come upon his face since he had
entered the room.
4 do not sing, he said quietly.
Not play?' asked Dick.
'Only upon the violin
Florence was thumming her guitar care
lessly.
wont MIR. Atwood let US hear him play
upon his violin?' asked Dick, glancing sly
ly at Martin as if he was starting game.
awaited Atwood's answer with certain de-
gree of interest.
Il have not used my violin since came
here. l will unpack it, if none of the strings
are broken will play,' said Atwood aud he
rose quietly and went out Of the room.
How could you say that, Dick? He
probably plays execrably,' said Miss Jea,
nette Manchester, Dicks sister.
4 never knew a country pumpkin who
hadn't fantasy for fiddle,' said Martin
There, he's coming back Now if any one
has fastidious musical sensibilities, I'd ad
wise him to decamp.'
4 shall stay answered Dick.
wen all stay and see the fun,' sale
Grover, sitting down by Miss Castleton.
David came in. began to understand
what was coming as he bent his head owe,
the violin and drew the bow lightly across
the strings. In a moment he glided softly
into an air of Verdi's so light and graceful
that it was like the fall of sea spray. Eve
ry eye and ear was given in wrapt atten
tion cOno in 1o1irht oovno ~ +.o,,l,l, l,c