The Manitowoc pilot. [volume] (Manitowoc, Wis.) 1859-1932, 1875-03-18
MISS DESMOND.
BY HARRIET PRESCOTT sPoFFoRD

hIoc Di1SGOADs ldlIfS anu EtHiitUltH.
Pink silk, tuile, little white Scotch roses,
great white Roman pearls-wishing with
all her heart it was point lace and Ceylon
pearls. a young and lovely face, all
white and pink, with a cloud of bright
hair about the forehead with little, spark
ling teeth; with gray, shining eyes, now
showing the waXen lids and their long
Irlnges, now wide open and eloquent
with the dilating darkness of their pupils
Miss Fanny Desmond. Poor but honest,
she would have told you, with long
Ehudder, MALT real, half affected, over the
first word of the sentence. "Oh, why,
why couldn't deaEold Grandpa Desmond
have broken into bank sixty years ago,
or have cheated the revenue. or have
bribed a Legislature, or have done some
other dreadful thing that brings in mon
cyl" she would cry. People would have
forgotten all about it, or they would only
call it some iTregularity in his accounts,
aud should be rolling in wealth instead
Of struggling To make both ends meet
Roman pearls, indeed, cracking all over
with The frost! And this old pink silk
the fourth seasOn-ohi how ! loathe It'll
oh, what made you be so honest, Grand
pa Desmond Then they all laughed at
her comicaI despair: everything sounded
pleasantly from those rosy lips; nobody
thought IL mean. more than that Fanny
Desmond disliked dependence, and loved
wealth and ease and fine surroundings.
Everybody wished she had all she want
ed, for she was so sWeettempered to the
women, SO bewitching To the men, that
there was no heart to wish her anything
else. She was helping Helen Denver
loop her lovely satin train, just as if she
didn't envy IL TO distraction, and giving
il the final twirl and touch of style with
out which much OF its splend0r would
have gone for naught; she was fastening
the diamond knobs in Rosa Humphreys
ears, or showing Anna Humphreys the
last new notion in hair-dressing of which
she had caught the knack by instinct,
but which their Celeste could never man
age; buttoning Mary Vance's gloves,
whispering a word Of praise to this one,
giving that one her sweetest smile, max
ing them all feel that, if Fanny Desmond
had not been there, there would have
been an aching void.
Well, ii was not only Helen and Anna
and the rest to whom it would have been
an aching void. What a legion of lovers
there were, moreover Not exactly con-
fessed lovers, but moths lowering round
the flame, two or three of them with
singed wings indeed, and one who sell
dom suffered her to be seen unless he was
beside her. That last was Arthur Ormes.
by, a fascinating fellow whose gallant
ways and handsome face, perhaps whose
gOld-lined purse-who knows?-made
Fanny turn more kindly to him than to
another. Other lovers of Fanny's had
been handsome, others had had gallant
airs, but then Arthur had a heart-taking
way with him that might have prevailed
almost anywhere without thought of his
purse. And yeti can't say-it must be
confessed that it had occurred to Fanny
when she first met him that the Ormesby
residence, the 0rmesby equipage and
the Ormesby bank account must be very
charming things to have-were, in short,
in very fortunate conjunction with
Arthur Ormesby's personality.
What it was about young Mr.. Ormesby
that pleased her SO she could hardly tell
A certain high breeding and refinement
not inconsistent with that dashing man
ner were very agreeable. Where the one
Captivated the other detained. Then his
gayety was delightful, his easy way of
conquering difficulty, of pushing aside
a trouble. He had been half over the
world, and could entertain you till you
quite forgot what O'clock it was, and
that il would be thought the strangest
thing for you to be lingering on the
piazza SO when every one had gone up
stairs; and for the rest she would have
been absurdly without sensiEility if she
could always have met that smile, the
glance of those eyes, without the least
answering stir about her heart Per
haps, nay, certainly, she did not love
Arthur ormesby as yet, but her feelings
were in that state in which it needs only
the least touch to set the perfect crystal.
And thus gradually and gently the other
lovers had gone to the wall
How different he was, she thought,
from Mr. Harden, for instance, the poor
OLE schoolmast5r Mt home, Old? Well.
in comparison. 4 dozen years older
than herself TO be sure, and perhaps
half a dozen years older than Arthur.
And poor, certainly; for what did he
have in the world except that little house
half-covered with Virginia creeper and
his pitiful salary rs head of the schools
What, indeed, except a great loving
heart that wanted 10 take her in and
wanted to Unfold her forever? That
wanted to-that had done so, whether
she would or not, and that would ALWAYS
hold her, she knew, let her go what way
she would and marry whom she might,
rs tendefiy as il she were still the child
that he had taught and watched and
cherished. Yes, he was very nice: she
was very fond of him. She didn't know
what she would do if she didn't have
Mr.. Harden TO 30 to with her troubles;
but then-but then; iron-gray hair
bushy brows, burly frame; no mystery
no romance; acquainted from babyhood
oh, it was all a mere dark shadow be-
side theslight of Arthur's exquisite grace
and beauty aud slender symmetry, his
gayety, his tact, his ready wit his ready
money! And suppose she had married
Mr.. Harden at that time when he began
To speak and she knew what was coming
and laughed at him, and never let him
finish though il hurt her to DO it, what
would have been her fate? \ serge for
her best dress; ride once in a while in
an Old one-horse chaiso; a class in Sun
day-school; looking over the children's
compositions: taking turn at the dust.
ing; helping Saturdays at the baking
and she hated it all sol II might he
pleasant enough sitting sewing sunny
mornings in the little oricl room over the
door anj looking down the long fields,
between stitches, where the cloud. shad
ows were sailing over the clover-the
little room where Mr.. Harden had built
the oriel, she more than guessed, for
sitting by the winter fire in the study.
with Mr. Harden reading her some ab-
struse thing and making ii clear by his
running commentary. Yet what an es-
cape she couldn't help saying now For
if she had ever thought that could he
pleasant, il was before she had known
Arthur 0rmesby; before she had been
driven behind that superb team of Witch
and Warloek, had been told of the de-
lights of the old Ormesby House and its
labyrinthine gardens that were waiting
for Arthur to bring a bride to stroll
through their fragrant alleys; before she
had heard that deep voice, had felt her
hand locked in that sudden clasp, had
been fiattered by the multitude of those
attentions for one of which the other
girls were signing. And yet-yes, it is
true-theTe was something about Arthur
Ormesby that did not thoroughly and alb.
solutely please the girl. She knew that
he was half in love with her, but she was
conscious that il was with her pretty
face, her winning manner, her arch CO.
quetry; with the voice that sang her
sweet old ballads-sweet old ballads that
Mr.. Harden had taught her, and that ne
hSd learned of his mother, dead now
long ago, bat who had brought them over
from their echoiBg places among the
great Scotch Highlands. She was con-
scious that it was these surface things
about her that pleased Arthur Ormesby:
that he knew and Derhaps cared to