Perrysburg journal. (Perrysburg, Wood Co., O. [Ohio]) 186?-1965, 1879-03-21

ised pleasure. The family that distin-
guished the name of Jones by the prefix
of Ponsonby gave their party. Madge
was in her glory that night One
looker-oD called her charming; another,
the mother of fair daughters, admitted
her expression was charming, but voted
her features plain. Mrs. Ponsonby-
Jones, weighed down with bright-col-
ored silk and jewelry, said, in her finest
tone, that Mr.. Selwyn's would be quite
femme Fesprtt. Madge had no lack
of society, but she kept place in the
conversation for Jack Hawkesbury, and
her love of mischief was gratitied to the
full by his making of it what he called
ga hawible muddle." But the trivial
triumphs and pleasures of the night
were long forgotten by Madge before
she lost one remembrance of n scene
that passed in the conservatory, when
the music was hushed by heavy cur
tains, and there was only the soft light
of few dim lamps among the masses
of blossoms and dark green leaves.
She had lost the flower from her hair
--one of her favorite camellias-as she
said, with a darling bud" and Fitz-
allan had promised, with Ponsonby-
I
with Il darling bud too. She had placed
his gift in her hair, and sat near the
dewy glass, saying it was cool there
and she would rest. Fitzallan stood at
little distance, penknife In hand still,
swinging carelessly the fan-like leaf of
a dwarf palm.
"If this were nearer l could fan
you," he said.
"Thank you; l am tired rather than
hot"
Never in her life before had Madge
been so serious or so troubled as she
was now, in the soft light among the
cool plants, within sound of the half
hushed music.
"Will you do me favor?" she in
quired, raising the fray eyes that shone
for moment with luid brightness.
"You have only . name i'll am at
your service"
His manner, unromantic in studied
degree, made her feel all the more safe
in taking heart to speak, while she gave
him, at the same time, in generous
measure, that most precious offering to
which every noble-hearted man entities
! himself-a woman's heart.
II have seemed very happy tonight,
Mr.. Fitzallan," she began in a quiet,
low tone, the torn leaf trembling in
her hand, and the color dying out of
her face, "but am in great trouble"
"Indeedi l am sorry to hear it." He
drew little nearer, listening attentive
ly, and helping her now and again by a
word of encouragement.
Her story was a simple one. She was
trNh ho,
Mr.. Hawkesbury. She had dreaded
it all her life, but it was her fate.
And then taking courage from the re-
spectful and almost patcrnal demeanor
of her listener, she made the frank con-
fession that she disliked her cousin just
because she was forced to marry him;
and to this she added such childlike
entreaty not to be thought "too bad, ~
that it must have required more than
ordinary self-control for Fitzallan not
to say something that would have al
lowed the scene to become a tender
one; but this he seemed determined to
avoid, and so in her simple way was
the sadly perplexed girl that was pour
ing out her hearts trouble to him.
"Will you speak for me to Mr.. Sell
wynn" she said, "as you are an old
friend of his? cannot reason as men
do, but want you to try if there is any
wav of release for me. Pray forgive
me if am wrong in asking your inter-
ference, but am very wretched"
came a burst of tears that must have
tried the listener sorely-" and myself
have so often spoken to Mr.. Selwyn,
and it is no use. He always says my
fathers will must be carried out; and
oh! how | wish could do it,"
"It must be done, If possible" Fitz-
allan said "But it would not be your
fathers will to mar the happiness of
your life or to put you in bondage"
80! if Mr.. Selwyn would only speak
like that" said the girl, sadly.
"Well, | shall have talk with him, "
said Fitzallan, "and do my best for
your happiness, though l would be
sorry to injure Hawkesbury's prospects.
Let us go back now; there is a new
piece beginning. That is one of Ru-
binstein's, is it notP need not say
you have done me favor by granting
me your confidence"
With that he drew aside the heavy
curtains, and they returned to the
dazzling light and bewildering music
and movement of the ballroom.
After that night Madge waited in
anxiety to hear the result of Fitzallan' s
parley with her guardian. Three days
passed and note came from him, only
few words, saying that he had sue
ceeded at least so far as to win a
promise that the matter should be con-
sidered. But Madge saw little good
coming of Mr. Selwyn'S " considering
what seemed to be decided irrevocably
long ago.
, At last it was the eve of her birth.
day; tomorrow would be the dreaded
day, and that very morning Mr.. Selwyn
had said to her gravely, but tenderly:
"My child, it has been the work OF
many years for me to see the fulfill
ment of your fathers last wish. He
was my best and dearest friend, and
!, his life was sad one. At least his dy.
ing will must be done. But | promise
!, you happiness do, indeed"
But beyond that day Madge was un.
, able to bear her hearts burden. 81
must tell him everything" she
thought. In the afternoon twilight
some time after Mr.. Selwynf had re,
, turned home, she found him asleep in
, his armchair in the dark dining-room
} But little daylight came in between the
: red curtains, and it was only the glow
J of the fire that showed her his white
: hair. She knelt beside him, as she oft
, en- did for talk when he was in tha
} chair, and she woke him by stealing
, her hand into his.
"Who is it --Gerty? No, Madge-
: my little Madge that is to be so patri
archal tomorrow"
Papa Selwyn;" she began, not Civ
; ing him time to joke any more, lest sh,
might not be able to disclose all he
troubles, - want to tell you some
, thing, and you went be angry, viii
you, no matter what it lisp"
He took her face hatwean his hanhs