Staunton spectator. [volume] (Staunton, Va.) 1849-1896, 1884-09-02

clasped over her knees, her eyes like tt
eyes of dreamer
What are you thiuking about?" enqui
| ed Miss Scott.
Nothing.' starting mp.
Interesting subject. You have bee
completely absorbed. What dull day tn
has been! thought perhaps John Barnar
would come" looking carefully at he
plump white hands.
He did, but sent him away" said Jea
firmly.
''Sent him away ?''
eyes,
sWhy?'
"Because Mr.. Stuart was here, and | di
not suppose you would care to be disturb
| Cd"
| You take good deal for granted. Wha
90 care for MIR. Stuart2 If you have ot
tended John Barnard, will never forgiv
you-never!''
And placid Phebe's eyes flashed, and sh
turned away in anger
| GOOD gracious! does she really love him
and am | sacrificing my sister to heartles
matchmaking scheme? But how can sh
love him after seeing Mr.. Stuart? Girls ar
| queer creatures ~ mused Jean, somewha
troubled at the mischief she made.
She felt positively guilty, when, waking
one night, she heard her signing
| A week had passed, but the jealous youns
farmer kept to his own grounds-at least thl
SCOTS did not see anything of him.
what is the matter, Ph@be?" Jean en-
quired tenderly.
"Nothing at all.''
care you troubled -about-about-
John?' dragging the words out hesitatingly
wen, am sorry yon wounded the feel
ings of one who has always been our friend
$50 am l, but did it for your good
promise you will never meddle again.
"Why did you do it ? curiously.
And then Jean made clean confession o.
her matchmaking.
"But, of course, if you intend to greve
your eyes out about John Barnard, I give
up the whole affair."
Phoebe listened, first rather hooked ther
greatly amused.
''Oh, you blind, silly child ! What mac
scheme Mr.. Stuart cares no more for me
than any other Indifferent acquaintance. Dc
you think he loves me?'
VI think he would if you encouraged him
Why shouldn't he? You are sweet anc
lovely"
| Phoebe leaned over and kissed her, touch
"There, child, 90 to sleep, for you seem
to be eight instead of eighteen
Now Jean longed to undo her work-tc
bring back her sisters lover-but not a word
of this did she breathe. It was best left un.
talked of until accomplished, she wisely
| thought.
| And fate threw the chance in her way the
very next afternoon.
Returning from the village she met John
Barnard face to face in the road.
"Why, how do you do, John? Where
have you been for this week past ?'' she said
with friendly smile.
"At home," he rather gruffly replied.
"Why have you not been round to sec
us P''
"Didn't know that I would be welcome -
"Why, John!'' in shocked tones.
"Well, to tell you the truth, Jean, did
not believe Phoebe would care to see me- "
'Indeed, she does care; but shall not
tell you anything about it, - making move,
as though to pass him.
"Oh, yes, Jean; please do! Where is that
| fellow Stuart?'
81 really cannot tell you where Mr.
Stuart is. 1t is not pleasant to hear him
called that fellow"
'Hang him"'
| ''What tor? Now, you are very unreason-
able and if you want to know anything
more, you must ask Phebe.'
Gone question! Are they-are they en-
gagged ?''
"Engaged? Good Heavensl no! Who
ever dreamed Of such thing - she ex-
claimed with as much astonishment as
though she had not been planning to that
very end.
"Poor fellow! lie does love her. 1t was g
shame to make him suffer so p she thought
watching him as he walked on up the road
whistling, Il will never try matchmaking
again-never!'' she continued aloud. ''Bu1
what does the old song say?"
eff you do not succeed, try, try again, .
and blushing, she turned to face Victor
Stuart. ''Care marks your brow. Miss
Jean; tell me your trouble"
"Why not? do assure you l will KEEP
the secret, if secret it be, and give all the
comfort | can."
"Thank you; but l am not in need of sym
pathy," she said, walking on.
He kept at her side, carrying his gun or
one arm.
"Well, l am, for l love girl-a sweet
beautiful, loveable girl; but am afraid she
does not love me-"
Il0 otOlO ltehOO etU Vic oOUOl JOuuS iiCc
shaded by the broad -brimmed hat. It turn
ed white, rather than redsand a faint quivel
passed over the sweet soft lips.
"Have you asked her?" she managed to
say very steadily.
1t was dreadful thing to hear him talk
to that girl.
"No; she is young and do not want tc
be too hasty. But l love her with all my
heart, all my soul, and if she would but
marry me-" He drew a long breath, his
eyes alight with loves fire. "Tell me, Jean,
shall I wait a while longer, or can l ask hel
now?"
ssDo as you think best.''
They were walking along a shady path,
almost in sight of the house, Stuart flung
down his gun, and stretched out his hands
to Jean.
"Then say that you will be my wife, for
you are my love ~
So ended jeans first and last attempt al
matchmaking.
Phoebe lives contentedly with her farmer,
but Jean is in the city, and is Mrs. Victor
Stuart.