Middletown transcript., 1881-07-29
GILBERT HARTNETTS CHOICE.
BY MRS. MAY AGNES FLEMING.

The last CLEANS of red and orange,
lingering where the sun had gone down,
were fading out of the July sky as
Sybilla Vance stepped through the open
French window on the grassy lawn. 1t
had been such long, hot day, and she,
poor child, had been closed up within
doors, listening to Carrie Hartnett
strumming drearily on the grand piano,
and finishing that embroidered hand
kerchief for Miss Eleanor Lansing.
But the dismal exercises were at an
end, the last rosebud and forget-me-not
completed in the wreath, and the gov
erness, for the next hour or two, free
to call her soul her own.
Swinging her hat by its rosy ribbons,
Sybilla Vance walked down the gravel
path to the gate, and looked along the
white baked, dusty road. The pale
orange light, cleaning in the low sky,
threw an aureole Of glory around her
dark hair and gilded the roses that heat
and fatigue had flushed her dark cheeks.
She was very pretty, as it is in the
nature Of these little governesses to be,
and very graceful and very lady-like,
albeit her muslin dress was rumpled
and limp, and cheap and questionable
in make and material, and the black
hair damp and loose, and sadly in need
of hair-pins and brushing.
With her arms on the gate and her
heart in her eyes, Miss Vance stood
looking at that low yellow light dying
out of the summer sky. No living
thing, far or near, could she see-she
and the twittering birds and the crack
ing grasshoppers had it all to them
selves. Mrs. Lansing and her daughter
were dressing for party, and Carrie
was sleeping the sleep of the just on
the parlor carpet. But presently round
from the back yard came a big black
dog, who jumped, and gambOled, and
capered about the young lady, until no
alternative remained but to respond to
his greeting. She sat down on bench
by the gate and put her arms around
his shaggy neck.
"It's all very pretty, Frollo, and very
romantic, no doubt, but it's all vanity
and vexation of spirit nevertheless. If |
one can't look at beautiful sunsets, or
moonrises, or pictures, or poems, with
out signing their soul out for all sorts
Of impossibilities, why then they had
better keep their eyes shut forever
that's my opinion. What's the use of
wishing to be five-foot-six, like Eleanor
Lansing, and to have a beautiful
queenly hook to your nose as she has,
or that you had ten thousand year,
or other worldly advantages of that sort,
it won't bring them. Here am 1, Frollo
look at me, old fellow nineteen years
old, with nothing particular the matter
with me, plenty to eat and drink, and
enough-such as it is-to wear, and
vet can't have sense and be satisfied.
What is it to me that Mrs. Lansing is
coarse and vulgar, and Miss Lansing
and insolent; if they don't
tyrannize over me, some one else will,
for what are governesses made for but
to look pretty and be snubbed. Haven't
I lots Of consolation Isn't Carrie an
angel, or only one remove from it =?
and isn't her father coming from for
eign paTtsshortly to marry Miss Eleanor?
And oh be joyful, Frollo, for you and
will be rid of her then.'
Yes, that was Mrs. Lansing Is version
of the story anyway. She was only
housekeeper in this pretty cottage
among the hills, but she was Gilbert
Hartnett's first cousin, and blood is
thicker than water, so when his wife
died and he went abroad to forget his
trouble, he sent for his widowed cousin
and her daughter to take care of the
cottage and his little Carrie. That was
how Mrs. Lansing and Miss Eleanor
came to be there and when they adver-
tised for governess and got a little
black-eyed, black-haired girl, they con-
signed Carrie over to her and made
drudge Of her, and hated her for being
pretty and lady to her finger tips.
But Mr.. Hartnett, after three years.
absence, was coming home, and it was
all settled between Miss Eleanor and
mamma that he was to be ensnared by
the light of that young lady's azure
eyes, and entangled in the meshes of
her red gold hair. All! it aUas just a
little red but she was tall and stately
as young queen, and the auburn hair,
all ripping, and waving, and simmer
ing, was really magnificent.
The yellow glory faded entirely out
of the sky, and dark clouds began scud-
ding over the face of the blue-black
arch. A low wailing wind was rising,
worrying the trees, and moaning mel
ancholy warning of coming storm.
Darker and darker the sky grew, the
leaped out like two-edged
sword, and
"Sybilla Sybilla p called the fright
ened voice of child at the window,
q do come in! Pm afraid Of the light
ningr'
A great drop Of rain fell on Miss
Vance's face as she arose another, and
another. Then, with a rush and a
roar, the foodgates opened, and down
poured the deluge. Laughing, Sybilla
gathered up her skirts and skurried
head foremost into the house.
Goodness what tornado Has
Mrs. Lansing gone, Carrie ?"
Yes, half an hour ago, and Eleanor.
Oh do make them close up the win
dOWs Svbi1la am so scarnd at LIGHT |