The Pulaski citizen. [volume] (Pulaski, Tenn.) 1866-current, 1882-03-09

IL u S1ON, tropny, ne holo
: ~. it up, single hair, Ion,
]. white, and shining. 1t
I not the hair of his mothe
nor of his father; neither is it
mementO from the venerable hea
of Gamaliel at whose feet he wa
, wont to sit. Where did he get i
and why?"
My lady Patterdaile sits in tn
large drawing-room of her palac
down in Blankshire, and listens t
the rain which falls drip, drip, upo
the stone terrace.
Ny lady is not there from choice
but by reason of the medical tyrants
In her hstless hand is a novel whicl
she does not read. Now and thel
she glances at the fire which is ther
not because it is cold, but becaus
the place in Blankshire is dreary;
dampness hangs about it, and ;
chill; queer sort of creeping, a.
though the dead Sir Oliver still lay
in state on the hearse-like bed o.
crimson velvet in the western
chamber. My lady's own compan.
ion sits behind her occupied in q
mysterious fancy-work called tat
ting; but it is not upon her that
those wandering glances fall as they
leave the fire; it is upon two figures
at the other end of the room-so
far away, that in the dim light they
can rather be imagined than seen,
and their voices are inaudible.-
These are the daughter and the
nephew of my lady Patterdaile.-
BY and-by their conversation is
finished and they come up together
opposite my lady's great chair on
the hearth.
"Speak lower, George Haughton, "
said her ladyship, 'why are you
looking like Gagged lioR?'
Twelve months ago." replied the
young man, "my cousin bade me
wait patiently a year, a whole, long
year. 1t expires to-day and L am
here to know my fate.'
"Speak lower George Haughton,"
"She tells me- he went on, with
a gesture of impatience, that she
cannot fetter herself yet; that L am
still boy, and must serve yet an
other year for her"
"To which you have agreed"
interposed a softer voice, while
little white hand touched his arm.
"To which 1 have agreed. 1t is
no boys love l have given you,
Catherine, but my whole life. You
must not think l do not know you;
it is because you love admiration,
because you would be accounted
free to exercise your fascination
over others, that you hold back
from keeping your promise. l can
wait; but do not try me too long,
you are mine and l am yours for
happiness or misery, and the one
shall not suffer without the other"
My lady Patterdaile bent her
false eyebrows into a frown as he
finished, ''These are stl ange words
for lover, young Hampton. >
Then the naughty face softened
with a sudden CLEAN of tenderness,
and he took both the hands of his
betrothed in his own strong, earnest
grasp.
Catherine knows that 1 love her
as my own soul"
He was gone. Ny lady's book
slipped slowly down to the stool at
her feet, for she was watching her
daughter. A strange look came
into the eyes of the young girl as
she pressed her clasped hands to-
gether. and felt the touch of George
Hanghton's ring.
"You are wise, Catherine" said
her ladyship. "When we go back
to town you will have many bet
ter parti at your feet
"That is not it." exclaimed
Catherine scornfully. "And the
man does not live whom 1 should
think worthy to compare with him."
My lady bent her uncertain old
eye to look into her daughters face.
"You are endowed with a singular
power of fascination" she said
"You would firt, my daughter in
your shroud."
A shudder passed over the beau
tiful chrouching figure, and the poor
companion made false move in her
tatting. "But do not trust to it;
Kate; with youth and beauty it
passes away-ah, so quickly!'
Then my lady rang for lights, and
began to reckon up the days and
weeks that must elapse before she
would dare to go back to town and
from the dreary place in
Blankshire. So that year went by,
and then another, leaving the prom
Use unful1lled; and still George
Haughton repeated as firmly as ever,
81 can wait;' while the hope that
had ripened his youth was wither
ing his manhood. Two years more
had he served for her, this was the
fifth. And my lady was back again
at her place in Blankshire, but no
longer alone with her unread novel.
She had filled the house with fash
ion and youth and beauty. There
were daughters and sons to be
merry, and matrons to gather round
the card table of lady Patterdaile,
and to squable over the cards which
she touched lovingly, with her
trembling old fingers, while the
dancing went on around her.
On such an evening it was that
George Haughton again entered the
large drawing-room of the place in
Blankshire. He stood in the door
way watching the light clouds of
gauzy blue and and pink and white,
with the black coats that relieved
them. George Haughton's head
was higher than any there; he
leaned in his lazy strength against
the wall, watching. with a smile to
which years of disappointed hope
had given a sort of despairing bit
terness, while his cousin drew near,
and stopped with 3 gesture of sur
prise. George made her low bow,
and then offered his ungloved hand.
"Have you forgotten the day of
the month? Let me speak to you a
moment" he said, taking her apart