The Jackson standard. [volume] (Jackson C.H., Ohio) 1847-1888, 1880-03-11
EAEsTEaEsOUNED;
| Story Of the Seen and the Unseen.
BY MRS. OLIPHANT.
CHAPTER LII.

SAA-'1'
CHAPTER III.
Next day the fr2st held; the pond
was bearing. and the whole house
turned out to skate-even Sir Robert
Lady Beresford looked on with that
indulgent wonder with which woman
regards mans delight III outdoor
amusements, and the charm they ex-
ercise over him. She was unfeignedly
glad that her husband should be ronsed
from that growing seclusion III the
library, which looked like temper and
meant grief-glad to the bottom of
her heart: and yet there was. q won
dering in her mind, a sensation of
half-grieved, half-smiling surprise.
She was glad to get them all ont of
the house, and said Thank God.' fer
yently, that here was something which
would take off the strain, which would
bring in little amusement, and help
the convalescence Of grief which was
working itself SO quickly in these
young people; and then she went up
| to her own room and shut her door,
feeling as if she, who had the best
right to it, had got that faithful sor-
row all to herself, and uncovered his
picture, and read his last letter, and
wept out all the tears that had been
gathering and gathering. Meanwhile,
the rest had got out Of the shadow for
the moment, and the pond was mer-
ry scene. Sir Robert skated about
very solemnly at first, taking long
turns round the island that lay at one
end of the long piece Of water; but
by-and-by he began to help little Edie
and give directions to Tom. This di-
version filled up the whole day and
the next. Edmund had been half
vexed, half irritated by the supposed
discovery that his white lady was the
keepers niece, especially as Maud had
already given him several little play
full reminders, and he determined ac-
cordingly that he would not allow
himself to think any more of the little
figure which had so charmed him. Of
course it was mere imagination, moth
ing else-a girls back. in a black fchu
and white gown. What could any
one make Of that? There was in his
mind a lurking purpose Of coming
home from the ice some evening by
the keepers cottage, just to see; but
even that he did not carry out for
those two days. On the third after
noon, however, by some chance, he
was left to come home alone. The
others had set out before he was ready.
He heard their voices sounding cheer
lily through the frosty night air, a
good way on, upon the path before
him, when he completed his last long
whirl round the island, during which
Sir Robert had got impatient, and
summoned all his flock about him.
They had all fingered to the last mo-
ment possible, as there We're signs of
the frost breaking 1t was dark, so
dark that Edmund could scarcely see
to take his skates off, and all the hol-
lows Of the park were full Of mist, and
the sky overspread and blurred and
covered with clouds. It was clearer in
the east, however, and there an early,
pale-eyed young moon, with a certain
eagerness about her, as though full of
impatience to see what was going on
in the earth, had got up hastily in a
bit of blue. She touched the mists.
and made them poetical, gradually
tightening over the milky expanse Of
the park, in which the trees stood up
like bands Of shadows.
Suddenly it came into Edmund's
head that this was the very moment
to carry out his intention. He took
up his skates hastily, and walked
round by the other end Of the pond
towards the cottage Of Ferney the
keeper. The moon, getting brighter
every moment, threw the whole little
settlement of this small habitation in
the midst Of the park and woods, into
brilliant relief There was a sound of
dogs and human voices populating the
stiffness, and the cluster of low red
roofs, the smoke from the chimnevs.
the cheerful blaze of the freight out
of the uncovered windows. seemed to
cheer and warm the whole landscape.
Half ashamed Of his own artifce, Ed
mund stopped at the door to give some
message to the keeper. In the room
beyond he saw a young woman seated
at table sewing, the light of candle
throwing full light upon her. She
was dressed in black, with the usual
white collar and little locket-a hand
some, pale girl; and as Edmund stared
in, forgetful of politeness in his curl
osity, she got up, with a reserve that
was in itself coquettish, and walked to
the other end Of the room. When he
saw this movement he had almost
laughed aloud That the lady of the
lime-walk! They might as well have
told him that good Mrs. Ferney, with
her stout, matronly bulk, and white
apron, was the lady he had met. He
went off, pleased with his own dis.
elimination, pleased that he had no.
been mistaken, wondering if he should
ever meet her again anywhere. HI
felt sure that he would know her
wherever he might see her, by he
figure AMI by her walk.
He asked the keeper some trivia