The Osceola times., 1880-12-25
THE DRIFTWOOD FIRE.
IIarpcr's.

Harpcrs.
II was our last night at the Beach
house, and those of us that were left had
clustered round the fire that had been
laid on the hearth of the great hall, where
all summer we had been wont to do our
masqueradng ana our dancing.
We were none Of us very gay; indeed,
we were some of us very sad. We were
lust about to separate, and summer was
over II was a wild autumn storm out
side, and there was not another house
within a half dozen miles Of this lone
some hostelry; but, more than all, it was
two davs and night since we had seen
or heard of Raymonde, and everybody
about the place loved Raymonde, whose
royal foreign name only bespoke a royal
foreign nature; for how such tropical
soul came out of our commonplace tenn
perate existence and civilization was not
TO be explained. lie was wonderfully
charming in his appearance; dark and
pale, with glowing eyes as dark rs eyes
dare be, and the dark locks falling over
a wide, low white brow. As you looked
up at his face, you were reminded of
something of the princes in the halls of
Eblis before their hearts took fire, so gen
tie melancholy was stamped there
Yet il was not easy to understand this
melancholy; he seemed to have almost
everything in this life that made other
people glad and gay. He was rich, and
had no sordid cares; he was so manly that
women adored him, and SO gentle that
men loved him; he had such marvellous
powers that he could acquit himself well
in almost every one of the arts-could
paint. could model, could harmonize; and
he had such discretion that he contented
himself with swallow flights, and stretch
ed no broad canvases. planned no great
symphonies. lie liked his gun better
than any of his play things, and really
seemed to be little proud of being able
To toss II pcnkniie in the air, and split a
bullet on its descending blade, and of
nothing else. He had been at the Beach
house since June, and had unconsciously
led all hearts captive, although he cared
for nothing less. We were a little inter
ested to see how he would strike Marion
Mercer when she arrived, with her moth
er and aunt, and the maids, and the Bird
and the dogs, without which Mrs. Mercer
never travelled. Apparently he struck her
no more than if he had been shadow of
somebody else. She never had any color
and so none rose to her cheek, and no
fresh light came to her eyes, as-when
hailed and saluted on the piazza, rs she
came in, bv sallie Worthen-Mr Ray
monde, standing near. was presented by
Salle with the air of trcasure-trovc and
Miss Mercer bowed in her SLOW. graceful
wav. and passed on, while Mr.. Raymonde
lifted his hat as indif!erently. We Won
dered little that Marion did not give so
extraordinary person, as we had come
to consider him, second glance, and at
Mr.. Raymonde's languid carelessness as
well in the presence of Marion, who had
never known anything but conquest; but
perhaps we were just as well content,
although, for ny part, nothing of the
sort made any difference to me-a sick
old maid on the outside Of all such mat
ters. But sometimes the lockers on in
Vienna have u better time than the play.
ers in the pageant; and realized il one
evening, after week had gone by, in
which no one saw Raymonde looking
over Marion's sketching book. or asking
her to dance, or exchanging o single
glance with her, or Marion's eye 0Rca
flashing in his direction. had taken
longer walk on the lonely beach than /
had intended, and quite tired with hur-
rying, / had stopped to rest on my way
back, in the shadow of the cliff, and /
think | must have fallen asleep Ia o few
moments; for all at once | started, shiv.
ering, to think what had happened, and
finding that il was quite dark, and to
hear voice-a voice that knew at once
was MISUNDERSTANDING. marion.
how long do you think can endure
this?"
81 don't know what you mean, sir, was
the cold reply.
"Aha, Miss Marion Mercer" thought |;
suitors suit. And you and Mr.. Ray
monde such strangers toor'
Marion" he exclaimed again, in
tone that would have rent her heart il
she had had any, ! thought.
"Be 80 good as TO let me pass, she said.
very low and distinctly.
"No," he returned, mot till know of
what il is that you hold me guilty, why
my letters have been returned, unopen-
ed. and nv name refused at your door"
"You wish TO know" she cried out, as
IL repression suddenly ceased, and the
food gates were opened. "You dare to
address me so--you, whose wife / had
promised to be, whom ] adored, who
forsook me for dancing :girl. and left
me desolate."
There was one moments silence.
"And you believed this" he gaspcd.
II suppose II was the dancing girl who
stood 10 me for my picture of the Aimee
that innocent little thing, the support
Of mother and sisters. Since you could
believe that" he said, In . voice shaking
with suppres1ed passion, II will not ok
yoa TO believe 6o truth, that skctrhine
u the Marsmma, Was sslscd with ever,
end n.sssd back 70 iits hy the zosaants