Vermont phÅ“nix. [volume] (Brattleboro, Vt.) 1834-1955, 1875-07-02


theirs, and full Of loving interest.
"Where are you bound now2" was the
next query of the old soldier.
"IIomo to Leabold. My place in the
country. You will come with us, Godfrey.
1t is very quiet and duh; but Caroline is
there, and We will try and make ii pleas
ant TO you. Poor Caroline has been Wild
ow as -" As long as 1 have, ho was
about TO say, but cut short the words.
81 should like ii of all things But Le-
on is with me-"
"Leonr'
"My brothers only son. You remem-
Der what Charley was, Radnor2 Well,
this boys the same. A genius like his fa-
ther, dreamy, impIlsive, full Of talent and
fire, and with as much common sense as
would rattle in mustard seed. I have
had TO take TO him; he'd do no GOOD in the
world without me. Sings little, paints a
little, writes in a certain style, and will
some day inherit my modest income. He
is with me here"
"And will come with US of course" said
Mr.. Radnor. "He shall have no complaint
TO make of his welcome
"The carriage is ready, sir" interposed
the waiter. "Thore's not too much time to
get to the station"
"Never mind we'll take the next train"
replied Mr.. Radnor, unconscious that in
that one sentence he sealed his own death
warrant.
They went back 10 their sitting-room,
and Leon Huntington joined them. The
two old men were soon deep in the discus
sion of by-gone memories, leaving the
young people to look at each other.
Leon Huntingdon was one of those re-
markably good-looking men rarely seen.
A tall and gentemanly figure, with a clas-
sically beautiful face and attractive man
ners lefl nothing 10 be desired outwardly.
But he was a selfish, vain man, not, in
deed, possessing active vices, but very
fond of his own qualification and his self
importance. With talents of high order,
he had suffered them to lie dormant, and
was drifting down lile's current, a useless
member Of society. Col. Huntington saw
no fault in him; and Leon depended upon
inheriting his uncle's small fortune, and
left the future to take care of itself. He
was about five-and-twenty now, and might
already have made a name in the world
had he chosen TO do it. But he had amused
himself instead, living an idle life, travel
ing over Europe and TO the East. Just now
he had come back from an expedition TO
the Nile. With poets love of the beau
tiful, he lacked the poets stimulus TO write;
with an artists eye, he wanted the artists
perseverance with the soul Of n musi-
clan, he was content to skim over the prac-
tce of the musicians art. And this man
was studying Elise with a lazy apprecia-
ton of her beauty, pale and sad as the
young face now looked. Mr.. Leon Hunt
.ingdon was not quite heart-whole. The
silvery laugh of gay coquette, pretty,
fascinating girl, who had made one of the
party on this Nile expedition, yet rang in
his ear blonde face with merry blue
eyes and floating curls Of palest gold, even
now lifted between himself and Elise, and
his memory whispered Of honeyed words,
of hand -pressures, of eyes melting under
his gaze, during these past weeks, only
now gone by. The girls name was Lew
is. But there was a present pleasure in
the sight Of the delicate, beautiful face be-
fore him, and he was not man TO let past
mar present. So, gradually the dis
tance between him and Elise narrowed,
and soon he was leaning near her chair, his
arm resting on the mantel- piece, and she
was listening, spell-bound, TO his vivid
description Of the Nile. lie talked well,
with the poets power OF weaving his
Thoughts into words, the artists eye TO Sc
lect the beauties of description, and the ex-
perience Of a man of the world to avoid te-
dious lengthiness. An egotist and Sybar-
lie in feeling, he yet possessed the art of
keeping the personal prOnoun in the back
ground of personal narrative.
To Elise the three hours before the car
rage came round again was one dream of
delight. Even the break made by lunch
con was rendered pleasant by his atten-
tion at table and by her fathers frightened
face.
1t was afternoon when the train started,
and The first few hours of the journey were
passed in delightful converse. The party
had the carriage to themselves, and COM
pared with what Elise had during the past
week gone through, this was indeed a
change. Years later, had you asked Elise
of that day, she would have said that it
seemed like Paradise, and that she had
been suddenly hurled from il into some
dreadful Hades from peaceful whispers,
into demons cries. With Icons voice yet
in her ars, she was stunned by crashing
noise-by shrieks, groans, aud the falling
of heavy weights; from Icons face her
scribable confusion of a railway collision.
She escaped, as did the Colonel and his
nephew; but her father -
POrters carried him 10 the nearest hotel,
and for nearly month he fingered on
there, and then death supervened.
That month! who can describe those
days of suspense and agony7 Mrs. Court
ney came at once TO her brother; the Hunt
ingdons never left the place. Every care
that love, friendship, and anxiety could
suggest, was spent upon the life passing
away, but Elise trusted no watching but
her own. Until utterly wearied out, she
never left her fathers side, and when
obliged to rest, it was only for few hours
at time. From childhood's unclouded
happiness, her transition toa woman's mis-
cry had been abrupt and cruel. Just wax
ened to the knowledge of her debt TO her
father, he was dying, with the cravings of
her heart to cancel 1t unsalisfied. Could
longing worship, utter unseltish love, the
yearning prayers of pure heart have
saved him, he had not died but, with ev-
cry pain soothed by his daughters touch,
every want met by her care, her hand on
his brow, her kiss on her lips, Thomas
Radnor drlfted away from life, desolating