The daily Cairo bulletin. (Cairo, Ill.) 1878-1???, 1881-05-08
CHAPTER VII.

she Is filled with" were questions that
were poured eagerly into Philip Caring.
tons ear on the day after his arrival.
| "What do think of her, Ethey Why,
II Is early for me to think anything; and
| surely II cannot be my province to specu.
| late about our high-born lady-cousin."
| "Oh, but II isw Maud declared, her
| brothers opinion always being the cue for
| her own; and on this occasion she hoped so
earnestly that Philips would be what she
| desired.
"Well, If must tell you something,
| Maud, | will tell you that / think the
young lady very charming, though little
cold perhaps, very proud and seli.contain-
| ed; of her beauty there cannot be two
| opinions"
"Do you think that 1t Is pride that Is her
besetting fault, PHIL" Ethel asked: she
had her own misgiyingS on the point.
"Yes | think it is" Philip answered
slowly; shut II matters little, child; we
shall soon cure her of It when she has been
with Us little longer"
Days and weeks passed in Florence
Worthingtons new home. Summer was
fading into autumn; the long lingering
| evenings In the old fashioned garden were
| gradually subsiding into others scarcely
| less pleasant, but spent within doors, over
| billiards, music, needlework, and reading,
There were evenings when Florence
would decline 10 take part in any OF the
| family pleasures-when she would sit with
| flushed face bent down persistently over
fancy work. repelling all her cousins nd.
yanceS, and when the chief culprit, Philip.
III an ~ riff lV Hind Ia b.r
manner, and would meet her always on her
own ground, ready in moment to be eli.
ther friend or foe Us she chose. But Flor
ence often found that, when they were
foes it was she who had to make the first
concession to be friends--worse still, she
felt herself utterly miserable until they
were SO. There were times when she was
often stung TO the quick because Philips
laugh was so constant and mirthful, and
his blue eyes so bright and mocking. Then
she would sit apart in stately silence until
he had provoked her into quarrcing with
him again. In spite Of all wranglings She
found herself anXiOusly awaiting the even
ing meal, which nearly always brought
with 1t the society of her hated cousin
Philip. Her letters to her aunt, who was
now in Nice, were anything but frequent;
still in some of them she must have be-
traycd u secret happiness; for Lady Raven
wrote back rather fully TO her niece, con-
graduating her upon her good sense In be-
ing able to conform 80 checrfuly TO her
present life while it should last, but ur-
gently advising her in 10 way TO entangle
herself irritreyably with her new relatives
so that she could not easily withdraw from
a close intimacy, should she be called up
on to do 50 upon any future time. They
were most cstimablc people, Lady Raven
wrote, and worthy Of all consideration and !
gratitude; but still under her guidance, a
little time hence, there could be no reason |
why Florence should not make a match |
suitable TO her positiOn-a position which |
might exclude relatives who were engaged |
in trade. Above all things she warned her |
against any sort Of ENHANCEMENT with her |
step-cousin Philip, though she felt sure |
such advice must be quite supcrluous, rs
Florcnce's good taste and breeding must |
preclude such possibility.
With curling lip Florence read the let
ter.
"Ihcy are sentiments worthy my most |
cstimablc aunt" she said to herself, while |
she tore the letter into u thousand frag-
mcnts
1t had arrived at a time when Florence
and Philip were not good friends. He had
offended her by reading her heart too
clearly, and more by informing her that
he knew perfectly well that the arrival of
MI. Arnes, brewer, or John Hastings. tea
broker, both passablc English gentlemen,
or their sisters, girls quite her own equal,
In refinement or education, was always
the signal for her to keep herself In close
seclusion in her own room. She had plead.
ed her heavy mourning, but her naughty
and silent greetings TO her cousins friend,
had betrayed her to Philip, and he had
taxed her with GOODNESS and unsociahiity
on the previous evening, even prcsuming
to enter her own stting-rOOm for the pur.
pose.
They were all below in the full cnioy-
ment of the piano and the billiard-tabIe,
while Florence was sitting In solemn
grandeur In her room, an open book on her
Knee, but her ears listening to the happy
voices IN the apartment beneath her.
difference, | have come TO fetch you,-
veal insist you shall not remain upstairs
SO long by yourself; 1t is not good for YOU,
child Philip Darlington declared stand.
ing close TO his cousn--hc had run up-
stairs so lightly that she had not heard hi.
step, and was little nurricd ut his on.
trance. "Come Florence" he said, taking
hold firmly Of one of her hands; awe are
longing for the pleasure Of your society.
Come, dear" he pleaded, still clasping her
hand
"lou know | never see any one In my
deep mourning 1t would not be right
even If | wished II; and Heaven know,
DO not" she said eXcitcdly.'
Philip dropped her hand, but drew
chair close to her side.
"Florence the time for that excuse t.
past, or we should respect your wish; YOU
know we should even now If X concerned
any but old friends like John and ANY
Hastings-alm0st our own family. That
excuse cannot hold good aud, II you per.
sst IN II, you will give them a nervous
feeling about coming so often, and pain
Ethel not u little, which | am sure YOU
would not wish to do"
ono; | certainly do not wish that, Flor.
ence admitted.
"let you must inevitably do 80, IL YOU
persist In your present determination. You
should remember too that In few weeks