The daily phoenix. [volume] (Columbia, S.C.) 1865-1878, 1870-07-20
TyvENTY-FOUIl HOURS.

1t was bright clear morning. The
sun sparkled on q thousand emerald
buds, and the morning breeze waited in
strong scent of violets. AS stood on
tho doorstep of my own homo in Devon
shire. looked on as fair n scene of
flowers and sunshine rs ever was given
in these British Isles to Valentines day.
hepnticas, and crocuses-blue, purple,
white. and cloth of gold. It was tho
roughly spring-like morning, and rs I
stood lettering on the step, youth of
fifteen bounded through the hall, seized
me by the arm, and cried, 'I ought to
be your Valentine, but can't. A man
may not marry his grandmother, nor
his maiden auntl O., dear me, what q
pity But never mind Grace; come
along; we will go forth for adventures,
and you shall meet your Valentine, if
such being exists" told Master
Bertrand TINT lie was q saucy school-boy,
but started with him on walk to the
lodge, nevertheless.
And now I must explain little.
I was at Combe Minor, which had
been my home from my birth. My father
had died seven years before last Valen-
tines day, and left my mother, with q
daughter by her first husband just ten
years my senior, and myself. Seven
years ago from last Valentines day was
sixteen years of age, and Julia Moore,
my step-sister, was six-and-twenty. But
my father had son by an enrlier mar
rage, and when this son came to take
possession of Combe Minor, he came as
q widower, bringing Bertrand, Oliver,
fathers death, my half-brother married
TpI;o Hfoora. opl uoor hofora tho Jo7
when I stood, as have said, on the
doorstep of Combe Minor, my mother
had married her third husband, Sir
Godfrey Selby, and they we're keeping
st. Valentines day in Northumberland,
amid wind and snow. No wonder that,
on every account, l preferred the soft
Devonshire air and the sweet flowers of
our sunny home. So, I was twenty
three, and Bertrand was fifteen, and not
my Valentine, because he was my me-
phew; and so We started on our early
walk. There was winding drive by the
edge of the wood, where rock cropped
out, aud holly glittered. and the willow
had begun to show golden buds. This
drive led by the moss well, and the old
quarry, SO picturesquely planted with
larch, to the North lodge; and BERTHE
and trod the way gayly, our steps
making crisp cchoing sounds in the
clear, frosty air, and the birds singing in
the sun that set MI nature sparkling.
The old fancy that the first man we
met was to be my Valentine for the en-
suing year, made fun for Bortie, who,
being very merry hearted, and also a
very clever boy, kept me laughing, in
spite of the mock indignation with which
had to meet somo of his most daring
imaginations.
'Youll never be married this year.
Oh, Gracey! Nobody coming to marry
me, nobody coming to WOO. Eh! who's
that!"
We had just caught sight of the lodge,
and we saw n stranger standing, as if ir-
resolutc. The stranger then knocked
and walked in.
"Now, fair play, dear good, unfortu.
nate Aunt Gracey. 1t won't do unless he
comes out, and walks on, and meets us
honestly. The first you meet, not sec
You are out Of luck-you are-no!'
And here the stranger re-appeared, and
walked towards us, quito as unwavering-
ly. and with as much intention as could
be expected Of any Valentine under any
circumstances throughout tho whole
"west countric."
"All right" said Bertic, i'll low voice;
don't finch. Bear up bravely, Gracey,
I'll stand by you. 1t will DO all over in