The Lamoille news. (Hyde Park, Vt.) 1877-1881, 1877-10-03

hours later. An evening dress of garnet
velvet, cut to display the beautifully
rounded shoulders and arms, and
trimmed with rich black lace, ornaments
OF diamonds, and a cluster of white
flowers in the ietty braids of hair, all
heightened her queenly beauty.
Looking across the crowded room, she
recognized her rival in a tall, slender
girl, who wore white lace over peach
colored satin, and ornaments of fretted
gold. Lord Frederick Seymour was
already in attendance, apparently, for he
was leading this lady to the head of
quadrille just forming when Maude en-
tered. The sight stimulated anew all
the hatred of Esther Worthington that
had been reused by Cora's description.
A cold-hearted, calculating woman,
devoted to dress, wealth and luxury
selfish to her hearts core, carrying the
smiling face of belle over bitter envy
Of all more fortunate than herself
Maude Pierson had never felt the touch
of womanhood until her heart opened to
Lord Frederick Seymour.
An orphan, dependent upon an aunt
devoted to the frivohties of fashion,
Maudes education had been superficial,
and an undue value had been given in
her thoughts to the advantages of birth,
position and fortune.
Miss Pierson was very proud of the
blue blood in her own veins; and Maude's
success as a belle was as much triumph
to her aunt as to herself.
When the long illness set in that drove
Miss Pierson to the seclusion and quiet
of country home, her niece had begun
to hope that the attentions of "Lord
Fred. were more than those called for
by the ordinary requirements of society.
1t had been great blow to her to be
suddenly. whirled 'out of the vortex of
London gaiety, to be buried alive in the
little town where much of her childhood
had passed, under her aunt's care. But
she was far too polite to murmur loudly,
and when her relative died, it was with
the firm conviction that all Maude's ten
der care and devotion were dictated by
warmest affection. 1t was singularly
characteristic of Miss Pierson that in her
will she stipulated that Maude should
return to London six months after her
death, and wear no mourning. In one
Of their last interviews she said to her
"You will soon be twenty five, Maude,
and you shall not bury yourself here
next winter. 1t might ruin your pros
poets of good match"
And Maude, secretly exultant, wept
copiously as she assured her dear aunt
that "Society would have no charms for
her were she to be deprived of her life
long companion"
Yet the six months dragged YEARLY
when she thought of Lord Frederick
Seymour Would he love her better for
her golden charms, or did he know her
fortune, after all was small, compared
with his own princely income? Had a
fairer face eclipsed her memory?
Carefully during the long summer did
the beautiful brunette cherish her own
charms, and gloriously did they repay
her care when she burst upon her old
friends, more superbly handsome than
ever, at Lady Ra1ston's reception.
Esther Worthington. looking at her
as she entered the room, turned to her
companion, saying, in a low tone:
els not that Miss Pierson?"
eyes. Is-.she not handsome?"
"Magnifcently sol can scarcely
imagine more queenly beauty. She
was not very pretty child, dark and
thin. Will she recognize me, I wonder,
as easily as I do her?"
"You were children when you last
met ?"
"About twelve years old; but we
lived near each other for six years before
that. Will she look down upon me now
as scornfully as she did then?'
"Hush, you pain mel" was the re-
ply. "Try to forget the dark days"
"Nay, ior they make happy ones all
the brighter" was the gentle reply.
"Bow to your partner
For the music of the quadrille sounded
in the long room, and attention was re-
quired to the intricacies through which
Miss Worthington and her partner pro-
posed to lead their set.
When it was over, Esther, leaning on
her partners arm, turned to find herself
confronting Maude Pierson. With q
sweet smile, she extended her hand.
"Have you forgotten me?" she
asked.
"I remember you well" was the re-
ply, in freezing tone, "and I confess
my surprise is very great to meet q
charity girl amongst myssfriends."
GA cha-ity girl p cried several
voices.
"You may doubt me-" said Maud,
answering them, "but let Miss Worth
ington deny, if she can, that she was
taken from q charity school to be the
nursery maid of Mrs. Thurston, my
aunt's cousin and neighbor. Let her
deny, if she can, that she did menial' s
work for years in their house. She may
palm herself off as Mrs. Mortimer's niece
upon strangers, but I, knowing her,
decline the honor of her acquaintance. "
The delicate, beautiful Esther Worth
ington grew very pale during this in
sulting address, but she drew herself