The Democratic advocate. [volume] (Westminster, Md.) 1865-1972, 1886-10-09

"Carrle, permit me to introduce to you
one who for years has been to me true
and valued friend, although he can boast a
royal pedigree, while 1 am only an humble
commoner True, his people hail from
Central Africa and are hardly choice with
regard to their food, but that can not be
placed to his account; it is his misfortune,
not his fault. His family name is Bohun,
his title"
Norman" interrupts Bohun, angrily.
"His modesty forbids my dwelling on
his manly perfections," continues George,
utterly unabashed "But before leaving
the subject, Bohun, should tell you my
sister is also of blood royal-she is, in fact,
the well-known Queen Of"
"Georgel" exclaims Miss Norman Sc
verely.
"Well, shall say no more," says Nor
man and then he and Wilding give way to
much unseemly merriment and taking each
other by the arm march off to distant
table,
81 hope you will forgive my wretched
mistake, Miss Norman" says Bohun, when
he and Carrie are alone. "I'm sure | can't
think how the absurd idea got into my
head but l was positive you were a-a-"
u.aa sq was I-of you says Miss Nor: Nor.
eyes But Bohun happily understands.
'I'm awfully ashamed of myself con-
tinues he, earnestly. II really think L
must have been mad when-when thought
you So"
$50 must l." murmurs Miss Norman,
growing more incoherent and alway with
her lovely eyes cast down.
~ hope 1 am forgiven" says Bohun
anxiously.
"I hardly think there is anything to
forgive" with low, half-nervous laugh,
and just one swift glance from under the
long dark lashes; ~ think we have both
sinned equally. When remember all the
absurd things l said to you,' putting up
her hand to her soft-fushed cheek, ~ feel
SO angry with myself? But didn't mean
them. "Of course l understand that, y
says the young man. You must under
stand that"
Il wish you would promise me to forget
II shall do my best, but there are some
things one cannot forget You told me,
for instance, that when we were both free
of our asylum l might call upon you. 1
can't forget that, you know. And there
were few other things l don't want to
forget, either"
"Ohl but 1 really wish you would, -
says Miss Norman, "that is-some of them
the other things, l mean confusedly
-"indeed, perhaps it would be better if
you forgot everything"
"Oh don't say that says the young
man"
"And all | said about the heart" with
another glance from the beautiful violet
eyes-'you must have thought me so fool
ish, so conceited, but didn't mean word
of it. The only heart 1 have in my pos
session is my own"
"Are you quite sure it is in your pos
session ?" asks he even more earnestly than
he himself is aware.
"Quite sure" replies Miss Norman, ex-
amining her fan with interest.
1t is a glorious day toward the close of
the London season. Outside, beneath the
hot rays of the brilliant sun, the heat is
almost insupportable; but within, where
Miss Norman is sitting in her pretty draw
ing-room with all the blinds pulled down,
and soft little breeze signing in and out
through the half-opened windows, it is al
most cool.
Miss Norman is dressed in charming
morning gown-all pure whitehall clings
closely to her perfect figure, and suits her
a nsarreille, with a good bit of lace, and
just suspicion of black velvet at the throat
and wrist. She has some fanciful bit of
crewel-work between her fingers, but it can
hardly be said to grow beneath her hands.
She is alone (Lady Norman, her mother,
having gone to sit for an hour with her
eldest daughter and the new baby but
from the expectant manner in which her
eyes seek the door every now and then, and
the little impatient sigh that sometimes
escapes her, it is evident she does not an
ticipate being long so.
1t is rather more than two months since
that memorable evening when she and
Bohun first met Two months, in which
endless balls, dinner and garden parties,
operas and small and earlies, have done
their appointed work. Perhaps, indeed,
the small and earlies have the most to an
swer for. At all events, Bohun in this
short time has lost his heart irretrievably
to her, which hardly makes her richer, she
having given away her own
There is knock at the door-a short
silence-than quick step upon the stairs.
Miss Norman, taking up the neglected
work, evidently throws her whole soul into
its completion and stitches away diligently.
Then the door opens and Bohun is an
nounced.
"You p says Carrie, rising, with smile
and glance of well-feigned surprise, al
though in reality she has been waiting for
this moment for fully half an hour.
"Yes, was anxious to know how you
we're after last nights fatigue. l needn't
ask, however, you don't look in the least
done up
"No. Dancing does me good But
how very thoughtful of you to call''
"There is nothing very remarkable about
that, says Mr.. Bohun. "You know l am
always thinking of you,@
taking no notice Of his sentimental remark,
''it was a pity you didn't put off your visit
for another hour Mamma has gone to
see Lizzie, and now you will miss her.
"Has she, really?" says Bohun; but the
news dosen't seem to affiict him very sorely.
On the contrary it is with decidedly
more cheerful air that he puts his hat away
and draws his chair little nearer to Miss
Norman's.
Then ensues an animated conversation,
in the course of which Mr. Bohun imparts
good deal of information. His cousin
has died quite suddenly in Florence. He
is the next heir. He has come in for the
title and all the money and that. Miss
Norman is charmed, delighted; she con-
graduates him with all her heart. at
must be so nice to be baronet, you know,
and"
Then the voices grow lower and lower
.4.l - La tbo.r oaoea olto0athar Whau