The Penn's Grove record., 1885-10-10

/ EOIDDdHlOH bidu III Olu hOloEhbbR0ls
Sometimes her only sister came from
Pau, where she resided with an aunt,
to visit her, but these events were com
paratively rare. To u mutual de-
light, In this sister was a pretext found
for our acquaintance. / had often met
her at parties, and she had described
me to Beatrice as a ''woman-hater,"
but immensely RICH"
81 don't know why she called you
that said my Nymph, doubtfully.
"You are not unklnd to me, but quite
the reverse"
"Never judge a man by what you
hear,'' returned 1 gravely. "Man IS a
many-sided animal; gentle to those who
treat him well, the opposite when bad
ly managed. He must be humored,
Miss Beatrice But are you never lone
w, separated so much from all society?
Do you never wish to be with your
sister2"
"No," she answered, quickly. 81 I'M
quite happy as l am. Now and then |
long to see the beauties of other lands,
but that cannot be. And, after all,
though nature may look otherwise, she
cannot be more beautiful than here
"You are right said L; ''there may
be difference in kind but not of de-
gree"
$50 / believe. People often say the
Coteaux are disappointing, the Pyre-
nees not to be compared to other mighty
ranges, but the fault it seems to me, is
theirs. If you come to nature" she
continued, waving a little hand to IL
Iustrate her meaning, with a fixed
idea, there must be a hill here, a foun-
tam there, icebergs glittering in the
sunlight yonder, and moss-grown ruins
where l stand; of course one will not
always find them. But come to the
great earth-mother saying, Show me
what thou Wilt And what loneliness
she then unfoldsl The morning sky of
palest yellow, darkest indigo, and clear
est rose, so shaded s to be a miracle;
no harsh discord, but all a blending
harmony, the pure air shaking the dew
drops off the trembling grass; the mel
ody of fifty different birds, and the
solemn tremor of the forest trees. At
midday, the deep hush of sleep-only
the cicala to make the silence felt. AT
night, the glorious stars and peaceful
slumber of the woodlands. Nevertwice
the samel''
As she stood, with hands clasped over
the ferns, her eyes, shining with a
strange light, fixed on the ~quivering
beeches. 1 almost fancied that she saw
the earth-mother herself, reckoning
from the dim recesses of The whisper
ing shadows, and that, like some hero
inc of German folklore, she was fast
losing the consciousness of mortality
| ,,olOr 4Io ,al,.nnao of n ~ uufiO ahaT,n
while unhappily the snap of a dry twig
aroused her, and with a gentle dignity
she babe me farewell.
1--WE shall meet AGAIN." / asked, de
tanning her hand.
"Who can tell?'' was the reply, as
pushing aside the brambles, with a
merry laugh the wood-nymph vanished
out of sight.
l wanted to follow but dared not,
retracing instead, the dusty way to
Pau, oppressed by a strange sensation
of loss, and dizzy with new ideas. Oh,
childi-yet no child, but woman in all
the depth and tenderness of unsophisti-
Gated wisiom-who could have told
but yesternight thy lot and mine were
interviewer in the weft of time? Alb,
that it may not prove a passing golden
thread, glittering against the darkness
of a lonely life, but that the two may
Irvine together all through the years
the future holds concealed
1t was not difficult to interest my
uncle in the adventure. The elder Miss
Ross had impressed him faYorably by
her beauty and accomplishments, but
he fully approved of my winning a wife
whose youthful mind could readily
adapt itself to her husband IS views and
customs. However well Miss Ross
might play the lady of the Manor, her
younger sister would probably be a bet
ter match for me. Then the question
arose, how to gain Mr.. Ross's consent?
Plainly the road to the villa lay through
his sister Madame BIS drawing
room. My uncle, therefore, proposed
calling on her, stating my wishes to
see more of her niece, and enlisting her
sympathies on my behalf. AS the plan
seemed feasible; 1 consented gladly
promising to await the issue with all
the patience at my command.
Weeks passed on without any visible
result. My uncle only responded to my
opportunities by mysterious mods, or
more exasperating proverbs. |
dered all over the country in the hope
of meeting Beatr ce, returning at the
close of the day more respondent than
ever. l haunted the pool, but though
the sun-elves played upon the surface,
no girllsh figure came through the
brambles, no sweet voice sang the praiS
ses of the wood. Granted hat all my
attempts began and ended in folly
what will not a man do when he is In
love2 l grew discontinued and peevish
and augmented my private woes by anx.
iety about my uncle's health, he having
caught a cold which he seemed unable
to shake off. We did not talk much in
those days, we were not sociable COM
panions, he sat on one side of the fire,
rolling his head and coughing; / sat on
the other, responding by impatient
signs.
One evening, on coming home In a
more detected mood than usual, / was
greeted with a volley of chuckles that
man.
"You seem merry. sir" l remarked
Grossly, throwing down my hat.
VERY merTyl' he replied, rolling
his head fearfully. 4 think you need
a change of air, Cyril. Wen go to
Mentone or Rome. They say the cli-
mate is NOR exhilarating and quite as
mild as this. What do you say to it2"
"I'm well enough, sir. Butall places
are alike to nae. and Pm quite ready to
accompany you anywhere"
"a very proper frame of mind" he
chuekled, gathering his legs up sharply
and shooting them out again with
equal rapidity. ''Very goodl Then
ven be off next week. By-the-by,
Madame Bias a party to night, as
you know. She wanted me to go, but
I said the nigh air was too great a risk
and | told her I'd send you instead.
You'll look in my boy?"
Certainly, if you promised, sir" |
answered. morosely. "But frankly, l
wish you had not done so. L am in no
humor for ~frivolity just now"
quite right coughed my uncle,
aafirioolIu ga vauf odva uoad auo unY