The St. Cloud journal., 1872-04-11

~ oAAo ~ "Os 'ooAAASs az AOAoCAA III VIC
glass. Her eyes are on the ground,
and her brows gathered. She is fully
dressed with the exception of the
wreath and veil-aIl dead Whitehead
white, like the doll on the top of
twe'fth-night cake. only that the. doll
invariably compensates for the colorless.
ness Of her attire by cheeks that out.
shine the peony, and IGNORES cheeks
are dead white, too. To my mortl6ca-
ton, { perceive, that in spite of Worth's
gown, and old Mrs. Scrope's Flemish
point, my sister is looking as little
handsome as thoroughly good looking
woman ever can look. Hardly touch
of pretty red even on her lips, and a:
pinched blue look of cold and utter
apathy ab,ut her face and whole atti-
tude.
''lt am to arrange your wreath"
say l, speaking sharply, 'we had c.
ter begin; there is no use lurryin,
and it takes some time to dispose it
properly.
She does not move Or change her po.
sition.
"Will you be good enough" contin-
ue |, ironically, F'to look round and
convince yourself that this is not fun.
eral ?"
Still no answer.
"Lenore" (raising my voice), care
you dead? are you dumb ? are you
cataleptic? ? For Heavens sake, why do
you not say something?"
"What should I say?" she answers
at length, raising her heavy eyes, and
speaking with harsh lrritabil,ty, "why
should I speak !? 1 have only one hour
more OF my own" (glancing with sort
of tremulous shudder toward the clock
*ssurely may spend it as I like
"'That is BETTER" rejo!n I, not heed
ing the matter ofspeech, but regarding
her, with my head on one eide. with
an artists eye. "When you speak you
look ten per cent. better. I must tell
you ia confidence that as you sat now ,
with your shoulders up to your ears
and your nose resting on your knees,
you had near escape Of being that an
omaly in Nature, plain BRIDE"
No reply.
"For mercy's sake say something" I
cry, Grossly; "do not lapse again into
that utter silence j! Dear me - (taking
the wreath giugerly out Of its box)
Chow beautifully they do make these
things nowadays! But for the scent,
I really think they out-do Nature"
The wheels Of the first carriage be-
come audible; very family, by reason
Of the snow, but still audible, and Syl.
via, after one final glance, shuttle, and
whisk, swims out Of tho room. I be-
come absorbed in al artistic agony, at
l throw the lace, in shower Of cost!y )
fimsiness, over my sisters impassivt
head, and delicately insinuate the chill
ly nuptial flowers into their resting
place on the top Of it.
! Carnage after carriage rolls up, door
are opened, steps let down. My curl
osity gets the better of me. l leave m,
nearly.fnished task, and, running t
the window, press my face against the
frosted pane.
"Tbe Websters," say I narratively
"Ra ha ha Old Mrs. Webster in
twin gown to Sylvia even to tn
swansdown on the body and tunic
Poor, dear Sylvia she will never ge
over it it will be the death Of her,"
AS stand there, laughing malicio1s
ly, I feel a hand on my shoulder
"What, are you cine to look at them
too? Take care, they will see you
1t shows a little want of imagination il
Mrs. James making two dresses pin 70
pin alike, does not it :"
I turn toward her; but, as soon as
catch glimpse Of her face, my mirtl
dies, and l utter horri6ed ejaculation
1t is lividly white, and she is gasp
} ing.
"Open it wide !" she says, almost in
audibly. DILL am sitting? p
"Good Heavens ~ cry I, apprehen
sively and dissuasively, with my usua
! practical grasp Of sutjecr. "You ar
going to faint Do not NOT till l &c
you chair. You are SO heavy-I nev
er could hold you up"
As I speak I am struggling with tn
hasp of the window, which is old, rust
and evidently constructed with = vie,
, to never opening, except after ten mid
. utes' angry wrestling.
"Quiek ! Quick! :" she says, faint]
painting, "wider, WIDER"
Bat it is too late. As the froze
easement CRATES slowly on its hinges
T. her head, with all its smart paraphern
I liza OF lace aud flowers, falls back lifele
aud the whole Weight Of her body,