The Sentinel. [volume] (Trenton, N.J.) 1880-1882, 1880-08-14

Mr.. Russell found her very agreeable.
She had big, purple-blue eyes, hair Of
the real Roman gold, complexion
W aich was undeniably work of art,
and soft, languid voice, whose sylla-
bles dropped from her lips like globules
of silver.
''Life is such vacuum!' said Miss
Gushington Gordon.
"My experience exactlyw said the
young theological student, who was fast
losing his head.
cat least" corrected the beauty, 81
have always found it so until now. But
your grand grasp of subjects, your read
ing of the book of existence has some
how awakened me to new sense of
tlings!''
Mr.. Russell grew red to the very roots
of his hair, with pleasurable tin
Cling.
q am but too proud" he stammered,
eff l have succeeded in unraveling any
problem which,"
"Oh!" cried Miss Gushington Gordon,
shave 1 said too much? Pray, pray
forgive my impulsiveness! l am the
creature of emotionr'
She put out a little, sparkling hand
with bewitching frankness TO the spec
tacled student. Mr.. Russell gave it a
gentle pressure, and forgot to drop it
again.
That was the first day that. he omitted
to write to little Penelope Joyce, at the
red farmhouse in Raspberry Vale.
"She won't be so foolish as to expect
q letter by every mall he said, q little
impatiently.
At the end of the six weeks he came
home. Pennie met him at the railway
station, with her dimpled lips put up
for kiss.
81 may as well tell you, at once, Pen
ME" he began.
But just then Deacon Oberne came up,
with that vise-like hand grip Of his, and
there was no chance to say more until
hey parted at the crossroads, by the
mill.
Perhaps it is just as WELL" said the
theological student, to himself. "I'll
write to her that [ have changed my
mind, and engaged myself to Antoi-
nette Gushington Gordon. l ought to
have written from Saratoga, but one
breads to send such letter."
Mr.. Russell felt as if he had behaved
very like q scoundrel, now that he was
removed from the magnetic influence of
the heiress and her jewels.
But of course" he pleaded, before
the tribunal OF his own conscience, "a
man devoted to my profession should
select the sphere in which he can do
the most good. And with Antoinette's
wealth and position, am morally GER
tain of rapid advan ce in the world"
But, somehow, the letter would not
get itse,f written. To do q contempt
ible action, is one thing, to confess it
boldly to ones fellow creatures, is an
other.
Two or three days passed, and still
Reuben Russell could not bring himself
to tell Pennie Joyce about the Saratoga
heiress, with the purple-blue eyes and
the low, silver syllabled voice.
Pennie watched him, wistfully.
"He is changed" she admitted to her
self; ''but of course l could hardly ex-
pect him always to be just the same.
Only-only-"
And the tears came into Pennies eyes,
she scarcely knew why, and she blamed
herself for being such foolish little
goose"
But, one sultry summer evening, Mr..
Russet did force himself to write the
letter. vague, mysterious sort of
missive, containing only one plain fact
that he was engaged to Miss Gush-
ington Gordon.
And, as ne wr5te it, he felt more and
more what q fatal mistake he had made
in giving up Pennie Joyce's true,
womanly heart for the artificial smiles
of the Saratoga belle.
AS he folded and sealed it, the land
lady's little boy handed in the evening
mail--two papers and letter.
A letter from one Ernest Valdez,
whose acquaintance he had made at
Saratoga-an idle, good-humored young
fellow, with no harm in him, and a deal
of latent good.
Mr.. Valdez wrote:
"We are all progressing much the
same as ever. We drink the waters,
we criticise the music, we watch for the
incoming trains. By the way, you
surely haven't forgotten that tall girl at
your house, with the curious pansy
colored eyes and the magnifcently-dyed
hairp Miss Gushington Gordon, you
knowp Well, she has turned out a
humbug AN imposition-a stupendous
fraud 1t seems she is only a lady's-
maid, the whole time, and she has been
skillfully masquerading in her mistress
wardrobe, during that lady's absence al
the sick-bed ola dying relation.
Mrs. Montague has come back; the
| sdaw in borrowed feathers, hos heer