Green-Mountain freeman. [volume] (Montpelier, Vt.) 1844-1884, 1878-03-13


sank into chair and forgot TO prompt
Betsy as she had intended.
She vanced to meet Mr.. Harrington
with grin of supreme insolence on her
face and then burst into loud laugh.
Well. She said, so you are my youn9
man, are YOU? | must say whoever picked
YOU out showed bad taste; 'twasn't for
your beauty, that is plain.
No, madam, said the new arrival, it was
not for my beauty. DO | address Miss
Scabright?
Why who else should be? said Betsy
Twas not for your cleverness, neither,
Won were chosen But. now that you have
come, sit down. Been to the wars, haven't
you?
NV infrmities, sighed the young man,
are the result of my recklessness as a boy.
| have most sympathizing letter from
You upon TIE fall which broke my limb
You remember it? You also condoled
with me upon the shot which cost me my
eye, though you did not know how
serious was the result. 1t was while on
trip to Switzerland that broke my back,
and while endeavoring to drink some boil
ING ten the housekeeper carelessly left
upon the table, | scalded all the hair from
my head. This scar upon my cheek is the
result of having attempted to shave my
self with my fathers razor. 1t was inju
dicious of him not to tell you the result of
my injuries, but now you see them for
yourself. | will not 60 into further par
ticulars. You remember all my accidents?
Yes, said Betsy, and II fine figure of Il
man they've made Of you. You'll do to
scare the crows from an orchard, must
say, and you're sent to me that might
have my pick and choice of offers to mar
~. It's enough to make one die of laugh
ing.
Then you refuse me? said the young
man eagerly.
Oh, no, said Betsy, oh, no, l don't;
there's the fortune, you know. Money is
money, apd even I'M object like you is bet
ter than poverty. I'll have you; though
folks will laugh to see US paired off
together One comfort, though, SO broken
down as you must be, can't last long.
On the contrary, l expect to live to be
eighty, said the young man.
Expectations don't go for much, said
Betsy. Look how the old folks went.
We were deprived of their affections
very suddenly, said the young man, sigh
ing My father loved yours very dearly,
Miss Seabright.
Folks will take queer notions, said Bet
sy. Well, | must say you are an object.
| can't help laughing whenever look at
T. you.
We shall have merry life together,
! said Harold, if your disposition continues.
Oh, shan't see much of you. said Bet
sy, can promise you, after tue ring is on.
What possessed you to smash yourself up
so? But shan't refuse you. It's money
makes the mare 90, said the old song.
1t may be, said Harold. But let the
mare stand still for me then. l decline to
fulfill the engagement So, madam, you
have the fortune without any incumbrance
in my person.
And good riddance to bad rubbish, say
l! cried Betsy. There are better fish in
the sen than you, or women would be
poorly of. You're going, ehp Well, the
sooner the better. Miss Smith, ring the
bell
Elsie rose and touched the bell.
But now that the deed was done and
her object attained, she felt dreadfully
unhappy and singular object than this be-
| lore lltI tOult IlDl Wtll Nv lHtV. Ill
deed, compassionate as was her heart, she
felt that his appearance was not only pain
full but also ludicrous, but all the more
should he have been tenderly and kindly
used. Why had she played this childish
prank, and allowed vulgar woman to in
suit him in her presence. And this gen
Iteman--f for hideous rs he was, he evil
IDENTIFY was II gentleman by breeding a.
well as by birth-how would he hence,
forth think of her? He would always be.
lieve that she had uttered those words
she and none other.
And rs he left the room she followed
him, and the servant who had answered
the bell retired at her nod, and left the
two together in the long hall, where they
could hear the long and violent explosions
of laughter with which Betsy was now
filling the drawing room.
Mr.. Harrington, said Elsie. her face
crmsoning as she spoke, | cannot let you
90 without IL word of explanation. IL
have been grieved that you have been Sc
insulted. | never meant-
My dear young lady, you have nothing
to do with it, and my feelings are not in
the least hurt, replied the young man.
Who could care anything for what II per-
son like the woman we have just left
could say? but | am amazed that that
should be Miss Seabright. | know that
she is II lady by birth. | understood tina,
she was beautiful and gentle. i
Oh, Mr.. Harrington, cried Elsie, have
been such foolish girl She is not Miss
Seabright. Lit was a ridiculous
stratagem of mine. hated the plan of Il
betrothal to stranger and desired that
you should take the initiative step in break
ing off the match. But, believe me, had
no knowledge OF your inlirmities, which
could be only II subject of sympathy tc
me, and | beg you to forgive me fol
placing that coarse woman in II position in
which she could insult you. Prove it by
remaining with me until can offer you
some rcfreshment after your long journey
The young man bowed. looked ut her Il
moment, and then replied frankly:
Madam, l quite appreciate your mo-
tives, and entirely forgive you. | am
pleased to accept your invitation.
1t WAS the custom in well arranged
houses ut that day to send guests to theil
rooms awhile before dinner.
Accordingly, Miss Seabright ordered a
servant to show Mr.. Harrington TO m
apartment in the upper floor, and retired
to her own room to dress for dinner.
Ten minutes after entering into thi:
apartment, this servant brought her Il
bundle and small note-a bundle several
feet long. and note few inches square
She opened the note first and read these
words:
My Dcar Miss ScabrigM:- have also Il
confession to make. also, before met
you, had resolved that you should be the
one TO decline the condition Of our fathers
wills, intending afterward to give you
your share of the properly. Consequently,
| set about devisng IL scheme; and read
ing my school day letters, it occurred to
me that no one ever went through so many
small accidents quite unscathed and un'
marred before. | know that few women
would choose to marry II very hideous
man. consequently concocted disguise
which | Eincied would make me repug-
nant 10 the least particular of the fair sex.
Allow me to lay at your feet my crutches,
which never needed, thank heaven; my
hump, which was II feather pillow; the
skull cap. which did not hide IL bald pate,
and all my bandages and patches. The
Il. 4, 4. a I hn