Middletown transcript., 1886-02-19

goodnight l went up to my own room,
and with an aching throbbing Of my
heart 1 sat beside the open window,
aud tried to recall the incidents of the
past two hours. Was I jealous Of
Philip Gilbert2 Had he only been
courteous to a stranger, and that
stranger my own cousin Was this
my loyalty to a lover, to nurture with.
in my breast d woman's mean and
pitiful suspicion of his fealty to a
plighted troth? And while thinking
thus Gertrude Harland entered the
room. She seated herself on a low
stool at my feet, and, crossing her
hands on my knees, she looked up in
my face. I thought it was in tone
Of raillery she laughed
" He is rather good looking young
man, your friend, Mr.. Gilbert or
shall ! call him by dearer nameY'
Most people think Mr.. Gilbert a
very handsome man." I said quietly.
but you have not told me, Mary.
Perhaps, as those odious politicians
would say, he s..still astride the fence,
Less than lover and more than a
friend" The lineis very suggestive,
Mary, aud very tantalizing to girl
under certain circumstances"
Mr.. Gilbert is my betrothed
lover" l answered almost de6antly.
why, I guessed as much. Yes. as
you say he is very handsome, but you
mustn't make a hero of your lover for
all that. 1t is not good form, Mary,
and men are so intolerably vain. Well,
it is a sweet hallucination that lasts
the lover until he emerges into the
husband. mo man is hero to his
valet it is said, nor is any man, my
Mary, hero to his wife. Did you ever
hear this story about Sir Walter
Scotti The guide leddyssof Scotch
laird once visited the great noyelist's
wife, and shifted contemptuously at
the shabby carpet that covered the
sitting-room, and the wife of the man
whom all the English-speaking world
revered explained apologetically, Z !
must make that foolish Scott write
one of bis ridiculous love stories to buy
me new carpet But, as you say,
Mary, your betrotbed is very hand
some, and let me congratulate you."
At an earlier hour than usual Philip
called the following afternoon.
"Mary." he said I've rugged up a
lug sail in your fathers boat, and it is
just the pleasantest day imaginable on
the water" ,
While addressing me, l felt his
words were directly intended for my
cousin, who the evening before in-
cidentally mentioned how delighted
she would be at a boating excursion
on the Hudson. She clappej her
hands with the pleasure Of q child,
and our. preparation being quickly
made. We vent down to the river & As
we took our places in the boat, Philip
said:
"The wind is blowing down stream.
Mary. Suppose we run as far as Spuy-
ten Duyvil."
"OhI what a funny name, Mr.. Gill
bert,"' exclaimed Gertrude.
But you would know the legend
that gives the. creek its name, Miss
Harland, if you read Washington Irv-
ing. You see once upon a time a
Dutch trumpeter wanting to cross the
creek, and not bsing able to find
a boat, swore he would swim across zen
spuyt den duyvil.' But his Satanic
majesty, it is alleged. indignant at the
challenge, when he had him in
the middle, caught him by the legs
and pulled him to the bottom forever
more"
Almost every afternoon for many
days afterward found US on the river,
often lingering in the shadows Of the
Palisades, when darkness had descen-
ded on the bosom of the waters. And
the suspicion that Philips love was
being transferred to another, struggle
as might against it, daily drew
into the bitterness of a settled convic.
ton.
The day had been oppressively sui.
try, and portended an approaching
thunderstorm. To seek relief from
an aching head, l threw a shaw
around my shoulders and left the
house. The very stiffness of the night
was painful to me, and not a breath
Of air was stirring among the foliage
Of the trees. The full moon Of the
summer night threw the long gaunt
shadows of the sycamores along thu
grass, and the shadow of a man anG
woman, too, standing BY the orchard
gate. My heart gave one sudder
bound. and then it. seemed to have
ceased its beating. Ny recreant love-
was standing there, his arms enfold
ing the 1.-THE and graceful form Of Ger
trude Harland. The simmer of tb,
moonlight lit up the pale beauty o
her face as it rested on his breast, ant
her arm coyly stole around his neck