The Superior times. [volume] (Superior, Wis.) 1870-1912, 1877-07-21


Auntie, who had not danced for years,
looked, in spite of her toilette, which
was exquisite, Though | must confess l
thought it little too youthful, some
what stiff upon the floor. Some time
later. in the course of the evening, after
having promenaded with Mr.. Sloane on
the yerandah, Auntie brought a clumsy
looking boy, introducing him, and hop
ing | was having pleasant evening. l
am thankful now that | restrained the
resentment felt; but preferred to sit
by the window all the evening than to
dance with any one but my own choice.
felt know it now-that the only
thing that had consoled me here, was
the knowledge that Mr.. Sloane had
come, instead of going to Long Branch,
where he always went; and that Auntie
could have the heart to break through
all her habits, and monopolize him in
this way, convinced me there was some
deep-laid scheme on her part to separate
us. Her choice of Wearemouth was also
explained; and now that he had followed
me, she was determined that we should
have no opportunity to be together.
Another day, week, passed in this
way. They-Auntie and Mr.. Sloane
persistently left me alone upon every
occasion. 1t was only in our room, and
our afternoon drives, that Auntie and
were alone together; and sometimes,
even in the latter, Mr.. Sloane joined us.
On such occasions, Auntie leaned back
in the most uninterested way; and Mr..
Sloane seemed determined to make most
of the opportunity by talking to me I'M
ceasingly. He gave me a long history of
Wearemouth; of the lighthouse that
dated back to Queen Anne's time; and
expatiated upon the advantage of being
here, away from crowds that cared moth
ing for us, and enjoying the society of
those for whom we cared most. And the
meaning glance he threw back to where
Auntie and | sat, emphasized what he
said.
OF course | did not let Auntie know
that | at all suspected her desire to sepa-
rate US; but took care that whenever
Mr.. Sloane had an opportunity to con-
verse with me, he should see in my ami
nation, my sparkling replies, and in the
interest expressed in my whole bearing,
that | returned his admiration. Auntie
was always so languid, that it was nat
ural [ should suppose he must know that
| felt the heaviness-I don't know any
other word-of her presence as much as
he did.
| think we had been away a month,
when, one evening, Auntie complained
of headache, and did not go down. Mr..
Sloane was at the table; and it rather
surprised me that he did not seem in his
usual spirits; we had not often so good
an opportunity at being alone. | was
sure he would ask me to walk on the
verandah or esplanade, after tea, but he
left the table before [ had finished; and
when, some ten minutes afterwards,
HChG tt1oCOuoO1dUCiy lhlo VIC pd1AolJ L
found him walking about impatiently
his hat in his hand. On seeing me, he
came hastily forward, and in an excited,
hurried way, slipped a freshlywritten
note in my hand. The people were COM
ing in from the tables, and he only whis-
pered as he passed me, "Will you have
the kindness to take this to your room?"
and was, the next moment, out of my
sight
| moved toward the window, and
looked at the superscription, " Miss Beat
rice Denvers."
My pulses throbbed. He had taken
advantage of Auntie's absence, to make
the confession upon paper, which he had
no opportunity of giving in words.
Take it to my room? Impossible!
Auntie would ask at once about Julie, y
or " Addie," or Minnie;;" and in my
present perturbed state of mind, 1 would
be unable to reply.
So, after moments hesitation, | drew
close to the fading light, and broke the
seal.
dearest Beatrice" the letter began
and / wish | could describe the rush
of emotions that overwhelmed me, as
read the words" cannot return to the
city, even for a day or two, without
taking with me the assurance of your re.
gard.
You know the hopes | entertain. As
shall probably not be able to see you
before leaving, tomorrow, will you lei
be have line from your hand-an as
surance that my affection is returned"
The signature, "Charles Sloane"
scarcely saw, such was the tumultuous
nature of my emotions. A line! But
how to write 1t.
But | Gained myself, slipped the note
in my pocket, and went quietly VI
stairs.
Did you send me my tea, Beauty
dear?" said Auntie, in a feverish sort OF
way, as | entered our room.
felt little pang, in the midst of my
happiness, at the thought of my neglect
Poor Auntie! All her labors had been
in vain. And / went penitently down
again, to order her tea and toast.
When the tray came, and [ saw hel
engaged in preparing her tea, drew my
chair close to the window, and opened
my writingdesk.
A proposal to be accepted! Never
a girl had so short a time in which to