The New Orleans daily Democrat. [volume] (New Orleans, La.) 1877-1880, 1878-04-28
A GIRLS DILEMMA.

A GIRLS DILEMMA.
At eighteen 1 was one Of the most
thoughtful OF human beings. Ny
widowed father, a rich merchant, haC
humored every whim from infancy, and
asked nothing Of me in return but light
heartedness and affection. No one
could have known less than I Of the
shadows and sorrows Of life, or have
been more childishly occupied in the
present. 1t was the night of my first
ball, to which was to be introduced
under the most fattering auspices;
was half wild with excitement, and the
moment my toilet was completed I flew
down stairs to show myself to father,
who was not going with me, as at first
arranged, being prevented, he said, by
sudden and insurmountable engage
ments. Well I remember how
impatiently I burst open the dining
room door, and with what a bound OF
citation sprang toward the spot where
he stood, spreading out my beautiful
dress and making before him sweep
ing courtesy. seem to hear now the
soft rustic of lace and satin; to feel the
glow that burned on my cheeks, and the
quick throbbings Of my happy heart.
had not at first noticed, in my eager
ness, that the table was covered with
papers, and that my father was not
alone. Mr.. Lacy. barrister- at-law, his
friend and mine-for had known him
from my cradle-sat opposite to him,
and second glance showed me how
grave and anxious were the faces of
both.
"What is the matter ?" I asked, lay
ing my hand caressingly on my fathers
shoulder. He look at me fondly, till 1
saw the tears brim his eyes.
"My darling!" he said In an abrupt,
passionate way. "We will not tell her,
at least few more happy hours. She
need not know tonight. How will she
bear it 2"
Mr.. Lacy looked increasingly grave.
/ had become very grave, too; my
childish excitement seemed to have
given place to Ii sudden and almost
Womanly seriousness.
"It is of no use hiding anything from
me-" said, trying to smile, though
trembled from head to foot in vague
foreboding. L could not go to the ball
now; tell me what has happened" The
expression on my fathers face deepen
it, as il the sight Of me was too painful
to bear. I turned to Mr.. Lacy.
DO you tell me?" implored. Mr..
Lacy fixed upon me the fine, searching
eyes, whose reproof had been the sorest
penalty of my life hitherto, and kept
UP the scrutiny till l could bear it no
longer, earnest and kindly as it was. /
knelt on a cushion before him, and
leaning my arms on his knees in IA
vorite attitude, returned his gaze with
q steady though fearful one.
'Try me-" l said; perhaps I am
more than the giddy child you you t think
you are both alive and well!"
A peculiar expression passed over Mr.. |
Lacy's face. He seemed hesitating
whether to draw me into his arms or to
push me from him; he did neither, but |
rose up suddenly, putting me gently |
back, and took few turns through the
room.
"Halford," he said presently, and in
agitated tones, "once more l renew my |
offer. OF what use is wealth like mine
to a lonely man? With the help I can
give you, may keep your credit and
breast this storm. You shrink from an
obligation there is a chance Of your
never being able to cancel2 Well, will
change places with you. Give me in
that Is, If 1 can win her con-
daughter as my wifeW My
father looked up with literal gasp Of
Mr.. Lacy went on with
out needing him. II am a fool, no
doubt" he said, "but the time has long
gone by when Mildred was a child to
me. For the last two years I have felt
from the depth of my heart that she
was a woman. have fought against
the insane wish to win her for my wife.
My age, my past relations with her,
seemed to make it crime. Now have
spoken, God knows, as much to save
you from the disgrace you are so OBJ
stinately bent on meeting, and her from
the poverty that would crush her youth,
as to satisfy my own feelings. What
she Is to me words cannot say; how I
will guard and love her, my love only
could prove. Mildred, what do you say?' (
he paused opposite me and took my
hand. was like one in dream. Love!
Marriage! Brought up as 1 had been
1t home, l had speculated less on these {
poln1S tndu tnost girls OF my age. mad
Tague theories. indeed, gathered from
,oets and novelists, and my feelings I
or Mr. Lacy, man forty years of age, I
Who had known me as an infant, and {
Vhom regarded with almost unlimited '
everence as one Of the best and wisest {
t the race, did not seem to correspond E
nth them. | was unworthy of the 6
onor-incapable of fulfilling the office t
I wife to such man. Wife, 1t seemed 6
lmost blasphemous to mention the 8
ord to such child as was. shrank b
sck from him toward my father, my