The Anderson intelligencer. [volume] (Anderson Court House, S.C.) 1860-1914, 1877-10-25

| which, daughter Ann" 'exhibited: Her
1 execution was brilliant her touch Aex-
quisite, her style chaste and highly, ex- ::
pressive, and when she added asrich; con:
tralto voice to q lively accompaniment,
his surprise was 'Inbounded. A Quak-
eress an adept in musicl 1t was almost
incredible. :,
To be- brief, Frederick found himself
getting interested. If Ifhe.never had seen
Rachel Burns, it was just possible that
he might succeed in tolerating Ann Cor.
don; that is, if her hair had not been red
and ringleted which only made the color
much more. conspicuous.
There was something about the Quak-
er's daughter that -perplexed our hero.
She reminded him of Rachel Burns in
many particulars; aher smile was very
like hers, though it was more universal,
spreading itself over her entire face; her
eyes were also blue, but. unlike RachePs,
they danced about ;merrily and I shot
glances of mirth in jevery direction; the
contour of her features were the same,
but there was d mobility and yivacity in
Miss Gordon's expression that was want
ing in Rachels. The formers voice was
soft and impressive, but it lacked the sils
very sound of, Rachel's musical nsahee"
and "thou." The Quaker's daughter
was evidently warm-hearted, enthnsias-
tic, piquant creature, dependent on out
side influences for her happiness, while
Rachel Burns ,hekneBi to -lbe q serene,
quick-witted, high-principled maiden,
possessing within herself treasures OF far
more worth than art could supply or
wealth purchase. But Frederick did not
swer7ei AFFAIR in his allegiance to the
Quakeress, although he was sorely puz-.
zled at certain something which he could
not, with all his reasoning, anssyzetei2; =,
A business summons for Mr.. Gordon
left our young people alone together
which Was PARTICULAR Z ~ annoying = 70
Frederick, who, not desirous at that time
of introducing his unpleasant errand,
foresaw an embarrassing conversation or
more irksome silence. There was a
look osconsciousness; too, on: Miss Gor{
don's face, which signifed;,~ plainly
enough, "Now is your time. my. gentle
man. fOur' friend wouldn't take the
hint, however; he spoke of the weather,
public buildings, and other Indifferent
topics, with an air Of, nonehalance that
was not encouraging to aiady who had a
right to expect something different. CT,
7sI don't believe that you care for the
weather or Girard College. Confess that
you are thinking of me, Mr.. Lambert"
she said, naively, turning upon him her
fun, lustrous eyes. e" ~
'Supposing / admit that the charge is
true, what then~ queried Fred, rather
taken aback by this unexpected onset.
aWhy, that I shall take the liberty to
read such thoughts, inasmuch. as | am
the one chiefly concerned" rejoined Miss
Gordon, with a most fascsna nating smile.
Agreed; pfeass to- commencef;
piled the young man submitting with as
much grace as possible to what Es could
"I am a Quaker's. daughter, as you
know. and as the sect are noted for
straightforwardness I shall come to the
point at once. First, theny you came
here strongly prejudiced against my
humble self; secondly, you like me bet
ter than you thought to; thirdly, you are
! half inclined to make me Mrs Lambert.
Are my observations correct, sir p :.
"The first two entirely SO; but my an
, sweriis a decided no to the third" the
young man replied, perceiving that mat
ters were growing desperate.
Miss Gordon did not appear in the
least disturbed by this uncomplimentary,
though very polite avowal. '*@
'tThis whim of our worthy parents
about a marriage between tis, you tpfoba,.
bly, consider very foolish 7" she contin!
ued TRANQUILITY. -: = i. .,'.r,! .,s..
"'Absurdly so; begging your pardon,
Miss Gordon"
'"I am my fathers only heir. A for
tune -of-ene-hundred-a ~6fty-thoasand
would not alter your sentiments, | pre-;
'p9s ''ssSpI etl{9abasi I'D MissordSsaaj Saj thahs
you will acquit me Of mercenary motives,
even if you charge me with a lack of gal
lantry,n said Frederick, with an earnest
ness that carried Gconvicti0n with the
words.
-:fAHd if 1 SHOULD confess though ! own
to treading on forbidden ground, that l
that am pleased, in short, that I like
YOU 2" pursued "Daughter Ann" a lurk-
ing smile playing abolt'hef red lips
Frederick was on lthorns,, What d-
lemma to be placed in Was she anus
ing herself at bis expense? He was puz,
| zlea again-he, IAN adept in the reading
of female character! ;;isA'' y ~
/ '"I do not flatter myself, Miss Gordon,
| that suchis the case. But as you press
me so closely, Ishall be- quite frank with
YOU. Had I been fortunate enough to
| have made your acquaintance six months
ago, should only have been too will
ing party to our tacit engagement. but
-as-it-iis,-f-trust~te-yot;; 1T t;;-as-a.lady
strictest sense of the word, to dissolve a
bond that was formed without our con-
sent and cooperation. You are aware,
Miss Gordon, that this is a delicate sub
iect. l hope, in my frankness, that l
have neither wounded your feelings nor
your pride"
The lady shook her head playfully.
"Then you confess to being in love"
she added, remorselessly.
"I do. you have a right to ask the
| question:, replleu our illeiiu r[eueIiCh,
his handsome face owning the soft i'm
peachnent.I'
I "She is happy woman! Who is y"
qucried Ann Gordon.
"Rachel Burns, a Quakeress."
"What is she like? How does she
look ?" continued the: fair catecbist.
"She is good, and wears gray gown ;
she is pretty, and wears Quaker bonnet;
I love her, and she says thee and thou.
Dear Rachelp ..,-,i
Ann Gordon's cheeks took ON the hue
of damask roses. If the last apostrophe
had been addressed directly to herself,
she could not have betrayed more con-
sciousness. She regarded the half alb
sorbed Frederick moment with pecu.
liar expression, then unclasped the chain
of rold about her neck, and dropped it