The daily phoenix. [volume] (Columbia, S.C.) 1865-1878, 1870-02-02

such an earnest sway OF epeeking. But
again, he remembered Richsrd and the
drawing-room; she was only an accom-
plished actress, he must not forget that;
he must extricate himself new and for
ever from her snaring, deceitful wiles.
''Is this specimen of your vcracity,
Miss Clayburn?" he asked, sarcastically,
"of your high-toned honor? of your love
for the true and noble? and your boast
deceptive? Good Lord, deliver usr
There Is sn appropriate quotation from
yon church service-the church of which
you are such an exemplary member!
Fortunately, the veil is torn from my
blinded eyes-you can no longer impose
upon me with your heartlessness. Once
for all, I may as we'll tell you, know
all that occurred between yourself and
Richard Thurlow. after you left me on
the piazza, tonight. Oh! how your
sweet, false words still ring, still linger
around my ears. Juliet Clayburn, are
you Beelzebub, himself, haunting the
earth in the form of q seraph?"
''There is more excuse for your doubt
and your vehement words, than L first
thought, Karl" replied Juliet, calmly;
"but did you not see I was playing n
part, in the interview with Richard? It
was forced upon me-could 7 help it?
Was it not better to let him labor under
temporary misconception of my charac-
ter, than to ruin our future happiness by
premature discovery? If I denied his
charges concerning Frank and Harry,
would not the truth have been investi-
gated? Do you not acquit me?"
''Who is Frank?" asked Karl, hoarsely.
"He is my cousin Frank Clayburn. I
intended to explain all about him to you,
but you gave me no opportunity during
tho whole evening. There are other
things wished to tell you about-for
instance, my waltzing on two occasions
with Harry Babbitt. I was afraid you
would hear and not understand; but you
know yourself, Karl, there has been no
The walk to church is the only occasion
of the sort which has occurred for
months. If you will listen to me, pa
tiently, will soon convince you of the
injustice you have done me-of the deep
wrongs you have heaped upon me, in
thought and word. In the first place,
you wish to know about Frank. He is,
as have told you, my cousin. My father
has reared and educated him-for he is
an orphan. People say, my father in
tends us to marry each other If lie does,
I do not know it. It. is more mere sur
mise, I think, than anything else. At
any rate, he has never spoken to me on
the subject; never even intimated such
thing, except on one occasion, which had
entirely escaped my recollection, until
Richards words tonight. The occasion
was as follows: One day, when q little
girl, carried my copy-book to father,
as was my custom. The copy was my
own name. Father commended me for
improvement and said, jocosely, that's
right, Juliet, learn to write your name
we'll, for you will never change it, my
lassie! Whether he intended to convey
the idea that 7 should never marry at all,
or that I should only marry Frank, I
cannot say. OF Frank, himself, have
seen very little, during recent years. He
has been in Charleston at school, only
passing portion of each vacation with
us-for nearly four years, now, he has
been in college, and on graduating, in
tends Immediately to study law. He
writes to me, occasionally, and is, no
doubt, fond of me. but only in bro
therly way. Nothing more, I assure
you. Now for Harry. declare to you,
truly, Karl. I've not tried to deceive
Harry. In every delicate way in which
a woman could tell man that she was