The Osceola times., 1881-03-19
NY BEST FRIEND.
BY FRANK LEE BENEDTCT.

from our rich neighbor, Mr.. Ogilyie.
Can SEE you,n ii said, "on a matter
Of importance? If can, would to-mor-
row be convenient"
Mamma replied in the affirmative, and
named two o'clock; and then we fell TO
wondering, as women will, what he
wanted.
"Perhaps it is about Miss Perkins," /
said, finally, after hazarding dozen 9TH
er coniectures. THE principal of the
academy, they tell me, wishes to get rid
of her. He has sister-in-law, for whom
he covets the place; and he has accused
Miss Perkins of inefiiciency; and has
brought some of the trustees over to his
way of thinking
II don't know, I'm sure, "said mamma;
but she seemed pre-occupied; and so the
subject dropped.
When we parted for the night | went
TO my chamber window, and began Won
dering again about Mr. Ogilvie and his
letter. The full moon was in the sky.
II looked lust as it had, on the night
when the tragedy Of my life eliminated;
and soon forgot my conjectures, and
Mr. Ogilvie, in recalling the suffering Of
that time. This had been two years
ago. when ] was eighteen. All my
troubles had come together; my fathers
death, the loss Of om fortune, the wreck
of my girlish dream. ! had loved Leon
ard Ballol my whole life. We had been
children together To give him up, i'm
piled the overthrow and roofing ont ol
nearly every association of the past. OH
the unworthy, selfish motives, which
had actuated HIM | had made him
hero; he was but clay, after all, and the
coarsest of clay. For it was my fathers
pecuniarv reverses that had caused him
TO abandon me. Nor had he had the
poor courage 10 come and tell me the
truth himself. He was absent from New
York, when my father died, and re-
ceived, at first tender. aiiectionate let
ter from him. IL nfote that he would
return as soon as he possibly could; his
presence might prove, perhaps, a comfort
in my grief So counted the days, tlll
his arrival. But the time he had set went
by; he neither came nor wrote. Then |
learned that he was in town; had been
there several days then he had gone
away again-g0ne without so much as
sending me a single world You compre-
hend. lie had been met, on his return,
~ llit litN0 AiisAA ieiAaNi AAes'A 49, 'as
solvent, and that we were ruined.
Nv mother had known almost as little
about my fathers affairs rs | did. My
father had been a large ship-owner, and
we had lived surrounded by every luxury
that wealth could afford. In one of the
few lucid intervals, during his brief i'll
ness, papa had chosen old Mr.. Balliol,
Leonards uncle, as his executor. In
certain ways, Mr.. Balliol had been con-
nected with him in business; but do
not understand how. Papa told us that
though Just then his matters were in q
complicated state, there would pc enough
left to make us all comfortable, even
rich; but before he had been fortnight
in his grave, we learned that we had
nothing left, save the income Of a small
property, which belonged to my mother
MIR Balliol himself told Us. in his hard,
cold fashion. lie did not even affect
sympathy, or commiseration; he flung
off completely the veil of pretence he
had worn, during my fathers life
Mamma told me that she had always
known he hated us in his heart. When
she was a girl he had wanted to marry
her, and she had refused him. My faith
er had been ignorant Of this, and had
believed in his friendship.
1t was Mr. Balliol, too, who came TO
tell me that Leonard desired to be re-
leased from his engagement. 1t was the
very morning had heard that Leonard
had been Tor several days in town. In
the prostration of my grief for my father,
this new blow seemed only to stun and
paralyzc me. knew what such conduct
on Leonard's part must mean. realized
il fully; and if had doubted, Mr.. Balliol
came, that very day, to confirm it.
He did not try for delicate phrases; he
did not even show the courtesy of ask
ing after my mother, who had been i'll
in bed ever since the funeral. He rose,
when appeared, and frowned blackly
at me, from under his heavy eyebrows.
This was my second interview with him;
the first he had requested, in order to
inform me that We were utterly ruined.
lie had attempted no circumlocution
then; he did not now.
Il have come to you, on a painful er-
rand, Miss Osgood,p he said "but YOU
/ have 50 much good sense, that am sure
/ YOU will meet me halfway. Leonard
/ has been in town, and gone away
again"
$50 | heard hismorning,' | answered,
! seating myself opposite him.
"Ah, You had heard-well, then dare
say you have pretty clear idea Of what
/ my business is"
Something in regard to him, sup
/ pose, from what you have Just said |
replied. | can recollect how calm and
| cold my voice sounded.
ssNNh, t-acf H., AZ.
/ Osgood-I can't beat about the bush--l
don't believe it ever does any good,n he
continued, eyeing me savagely, as ii my
composure disappointed and vexed him.
81 agree with you" answered. "Please
tell me plainly what your business is
with me-"
"Ah, that's right. You're a sensible
/ young woman. Well, my nephew tells
/ me there was a sort Ola sort of boy and
/ girl attachment between you and him"
lie paused, not from embarrassment,
but in the hope that now would show
some trace of feeling.
Your nephew and | were engaged"
said; 'the fact is no more secret to you
than to my own family"
well, no-no-l never regarded it as
a serious engagement-girl and boy fan
cies are slight things, Miss Osgood-they
seldom come 10 anything" he said,
NOW Leonard was quite upset-quite SO
but, you see, under the circumstances
OF course, all that youthful-what shall |
call lit-romance-yes, romance, must be
put aside. am sure you see this-so
clear-headed as you are"
And now he stared more keenly at me
but l went on with my work, some en-.
| broidery ] had taken I'M. as | said.