The Louisianian. [volume] (New Orleans, La.) 1870-1871, 1871-01-12

u susceptible, honest young fellow. ~ he
was.
Cecil was rather pale a. she listened to
poor Fred, upd even when. she answered
him. her color did not rise again.
It was Q very quiet answer which she
gave him, and worded with tenderer re-
gard for his warmth and honesty than
many women would have had the grace
full power to show; but it was bitter pill |
for all that.
II do not love you," she said, in the
end, with touch of ilnpetuousness Il
wish 1 did" But let us be friends for
Larlra's sake"
He did not ask her to try to love him, |
he was quick enough to know better than |
that, and generous enough not to force
upon her the sharpness of his disappoint- |
ment but for all that. he did not wear
the brightest of faces when he assisted
her from the carriage.
| But he bore it like man.
"It's all over, Laura" he said to his
favorite confdante, the first time they
were alone for a moment Il have asked
her to be my wife, and she said no; and
though l don't pretend to be particu-
larry penetrating fellow, 1 think I may
thank John Manners for it,.
"Ah, Fred" exclaimed Laura. 1.-THE
idea! She hates him: at least, she doesn't
like him."
j did she tell you she hated himy' asked
Fred quietly.
"Well-no," hesitated Laura "But
she never speaks of him when she can
avoid it; and, besides, Fred, you know
she-she wouldn't suit him."
/ Wouldn't she?" said Fred, dryly. "Per-
hays not; but at the same time, perhaps,
: that is a matter of opinion"
Poor affectiOnate Laura! The news
e that her air-castles had fallen to the dust
: was a terrible disappointment to her, and
D she reproached Cecil most pathetically.
ooh, Cecil !" she broke out, as they
sat alone together, later in evening. "Oh,
f Cecil |! Why didn't you say yes to Fred !
Do you love any one else p
mo" said Cecil, sharply. "Of course
not You dear, silly child, what nonsense"
/ But the next moment the rose-red ia
r ded white, swept away by the swift throb
1 of the stung pride, which showed her SO
/. plainly that she had not spoken the truth,
r and that, in spite Of herself, she had turn
ed coward.
IS When the fact of Fred Dacre's reiec-
' ton reached Miss Anne, she was more
r oratorical than ever.
r "Of counsel" she proclaimed, with Q
d sort of grim satisfaction. nothing more
E, than expected. 1t is just like her"
W As for John Manners, he only looked
d Mt the fair, proud face thought more
IS keenly than usual, and learning nothin:
y from it, turned to his books again with ,
le rcgretful sigh. Not his ideal, certainly
II this naughty girl, and yet he had lovet
re her very dearly.
is So it went on from day to day with
it terrible sense of humiliation in Ceci
al Dare, and growing impotence of hei
SELF which it needed all the naughty in
Us tolerance, that was her greatest fault, t
D. subdue. She had been bitter enoug
III through this very intolerance agains
II. people who had criticised her before; bu
I'd she had been terribly bitter against job
Manners, and through this very intole
1t rance she grew as utterly wretched as
he is possible for girl of twenty to be.
nd she could have borne her enemy dow
r. with her calm eyes. and her calme
a smiles, she might have felt even 80 s,na
IL q victory some aggrandizement-but
to was drawn battle. John Manners neve
er. forgot himself for an instant. He kel
hn to the library little more closely, ant
lg. perhaps, grave shadows settled upon h
en- face: still I think it possible that
on might have lived hundred years. IN
made no other sign in her presence. 4
he was not sentimental lover, he was
, u man with q strong viii, and Cecil Da
ne had trampled upon his pride; SO it VI
lat that when they had spent their last qui