The Elk County advocate. [volume] (Ridgway, Pa.) 1868-1883, 1879-11-27
"Joe never bungles about anything,

as he friend of yoursP" said Mr..
| Morton, modulating his voice to Won
derfully gentle tone. :,
"Neyer mind what he is," replied
Kitty, hotly; "but he's no bungler-of
that you may be sure"
Here she slipped away and vanished
up dark little staircase, and suddenly
all the charm went out OF the picture. :,
| "That central figure taken away"
said Mr.. Morton to himself, rs he picked
his way 10 the Comstock farm, "of
course the whole effect is marred; but
| il was a fine interior-very fine."
That central figure" followed Mr..
Morton to the farm, and all the way
down to the railroad. He found Joe
Comstock up and ready to accommodate
him, and had to concede with Kitty that
Joe was no bungler; there was quick
capacity about the sturdy hands that
handled the reins, and natural grace
and vigor in all his movements-the
little that he said was terse and to the
point, but Mr.. Morton found him taci-
turn and reserved after the first mile or
two. He had ventured to speak OF the
inmates of the cottage.
81 think it probable the young girl
was one of the nutting party of to-day"
said Mr.. Morton.
"More'n likely" said Joe.
"Isn't her name Bensonp-Kitty Ben
sonP"
81 shouldn't wonder if 'twas!" said
Joe, and relapsed into gruff monosylla.
bles. The road was rough and dark,
and the drive was exceedingly disagree
able. Mr.. Morton was glad to fall back
upon his memory and imagination for
amusement. The bit of interior he could
recall vividly enough.
Kitty had been asleep for three hours
at least. and Joe Comstock was dream
ing of her under his patchwork quilt.
when Mr.. Morton reached the city. 1t
was long after midnight when he got to
the reception, and at least one young
ment-two hearts, for an old one in the
vicinity had grown exceedingly heavy
as the hours wore away.
Its strange Mr.. Morton don't come
Madeline" Mrs. Van Vleet said to her
daughter.
Eyes, mamma" said poor Madeline.
Didn't he say he would be here,
Madelinep"
"Oh yes, mamma; please don't say any
more about )" and then the elder lady
walked majestically away, the feathers
upon her head nodding in mournful uni
son with her thoughts. And at that mo-
ment Mr.. Morton entered, making his way
to group of exquisitely dressed and
beautiful women, who received him with
enthusiasm there really were so very
few available parties that season, and
Mr.. Morton was so uneXceptional in
every way, and had shown some de-
cided inclination to orange himself, u
! and make somebody comfortable in
their mind about the wretchedly uncer-
tain and procrastinating future. He was
still in the market, though his attentions
had been rather pronounced of late to
Miss Van Vleet; but she was cold and
reserved, and must take her chance-the
r tournament was omen to all; so all these
beautiful women fluttered their fans, and
in their softly modulated musical voices
said charming things to the tardy arri-
val. But Mr.. Morton, with many a
, winning smile and whispered compli
ment, went listlessly by. His face wore
: that vacuous and bored expression
dence of cultivation, but in truth it was
only that he was still absorbed in artistic
t reflections. He went on to the further
ends of the room, where in feverish
naughty, uncompromising but agonizing
reserve sat Miss Van Vleet Her mother
( had nudged and frowned and beckoned
all to no purpose, when MIR. Morton en-.
tered the room.
) "You can at least allow yourself to BIZ
7 seem" said her mother, acrimoniously
1 eff he wants me, he can find me,
t said Madeline, with sharp pang of feal
| ond distrust, which deepened when a
2 last he reached her side, and said, in the
most commonplace way in the world
e did you save that waltz for me?'
Y And when she looked up in his face
with thrill of delight, and found nC
l response there, only that vague, liStless
: dreamy expression, her own beautiful
t face grew almost haggard with the in
e tensity of her emotion; it was all sht
e could do to keep the hot, wretched tears
y out of her eyes.
"Why are you SO absent tonight p
t she said at last. "What is it you are
:, thinking OFF" And then. as they were
= whirling-no, not whirling, but Ian
guidly stepping about-in the waltz, h,
e told her of his accident, and described
I to her minutely the bit of interior which
a had so charmed him.
And there is Sydney .now-you'l
7 excuse me, won't you, if l go over tt
!, himp"
y Certainly she would excuse him
$ What else could the. poor girl do?
v Mr.. Morton led Madeline to he
, | mOllltIs anu tlldI pOuucIOuS lellldl
I eagerly whispered: Has he spoken
), Madeline-only tell me dear, has h
e spoken?"
"Of course not, mamma; how coult
he, in the waltzp"
"He was talking so earnestly.
! never saw him quite so earnest before
= = 1 thought perhaps he had spoken"
q =" He is talking just as earnestly will
: Mr.. Sydney now, mamma; he is inter
> ested in art just now.n The bitterness
!, in the voice of her daughter tinge'
;. acridiy the thoughts of poor Mrs. Val
! Vleet.
i Il shall not accept the colonel's invi
v tation for Thanksgiving" she said. dole
fully. In the mean while Mr.. Mortol
y was endeavoring generously to give hi
- friend Sydney the subject for sketch
% and the artist was listening with tina
" quizzical, amused air that was charaC
4 teristic to him.
n "See here, Norton" said Sydney a
n last, "a horseshoe is a sign of good luck
/ and your steed shed one, it appears, a
- the door of this rustic beauty. / believ
y your heart followed it. Go in and wir
- old fellow, and then send for me to pain
her portrait. I'm not much given t
y Joe awoke the next morning and n
TX solved once for all to make an end {
a these witcheries that half maddened q
frln n1 II L.