The Washington critic., 1888-03-10

dress lcisurely, while Ben still slept
The empty mirror-frame recalled last
night, and looking down he saw the
small volume still on the floor.
What an idea" he said, "prop-
ing it up with book / believe it's
q bible ~
He stopped down and lifted it up,
opened the cover, and there on the fly
leaf, in yellowish ink, was written:
John Middleton, Arlington, La,
1861"
Scarcely believing his eyes, John
took it over to the window to make
surer of the faded writing. The dust
flew from the leaves, and the rotten
thread holding the chintz covering
together gave way as John turned
back the cover. Shaking it to get rid
Of the dust, yellowish paper slipped
under the chintz and fell to the floor.
John picked it up and held it to the
light.
"What in thunder are you doing ?"
said Ben Maxwell, sitting up in bed.
John turned slowly.
81 am reading my grandfather's
everything to his daughter, Mrs.
Boyd"
The Van Aldens could throw no
they said, had not been used for
years, The last gardener who had
staid in 1t was an ex-soldier, who had
deserted from the army, and whom
they afterward dismissed.
John cabled his father at once.
When the reply came he started for
the South. AT the station Ben Max
well bade him good-by and said:
81 told you, old fellow, that glass
would bring you bad luck"
"Im not so sure Of that" John re-
piled, wringing his hand.
Early in the spring, before the will
lows had put on their fringy green,
and while the fruit trees were still in
bloom, the little boat, landing at the
high bank below Arlington, swung its
plank ashore, and over this John Mid
dleton walked. The house was
pointed out to him, and he walked
toward it along the levee, the river
stretching out on one side and the
pasture dotted with sheep on the
other. Almost buried in grove of
live oaks and cedars, stood the stuc-
coed wing with its huge pillars; and,
coming within a few feet of this,
Johns eye caught sight of the pret-
tiest picture he had ever seen.
Seated on the stone step, surrounded
with snowy pigeons cooling and strut
ting as she fed them from bowl, was
young girl in some simple light
gown. With the complexion Of a
rose-petal and hair of soft gold, her
loveliness was completed by the pair
of dark-gray eyes which were lifted
in mute astonishment to his face. In
an instant, scattering her feathered
family, she sprang blushing to her
| feet.
"Does Mrs. Boyd live here?" John
asked, feeliRg he could never take his
eyes from her lovely face.
"My mother-oh, yes" she re-
piled; then, hesitatingly asked him
into the bare and loftily ceiled room,
she left him to himself.
Mother, suppose it is one of the
merchants" Rose said, desperately,
meeting her mother riding up to the
back gate from tour over the place.
Mrs. Boyd's face hardened. She
dismounted, and gathering the huge
| folds of her old-fashioned riding
dress in one hand, and holding her
whip firmly in the other entered the
house. Rose walked down to the gar
den-gate and leaned over it, nervously
clasping and unclasping her hands.
The air was filled with the chirping
chorus of hundreds Of blackbirds in
the trees above her, but it did not
prevent her hearing cry from the
house, and knowing that it was her
mothers voice.
Everything seemed to vanish
around her. In an instant, without
consciousness of motion, she was in
the room, and there sat her mother,
strong, stern woman, with will of
iron, bent over the table, sobbing
aloud.
"How dare you? What have you
done?" Rose cried, her voice vibrat-
ing with Indignation. With bound
she was by her mothers side, her
arm over her shoulder, and a stern
defiance in the fair, young face
turned to John. "Isn't it enough to
have held us down all these years,
that you should try to kill her now ?"
"You do not understand" John
| Stlu, SlOMly anu pilllully'
She gave him an indignant look.
"Can you not imagine what we have
already suffered 2" she said.
Rose, Rose-he is-your cousin,
John Middleton !" Mrs. Boyd
hoarsely whispered. Come, take
me away. l cannot stand it,"
In the most painful of uncertain
ties. John waited. Leaning against
the door-frame, he looked out through
the tree-trunks casting long shadows,
to the slow, broad river beyond. AT
last, after hours, as it seemed to him,
the door separating the two rooms
opened, and slowly Rose came toward
him. Her eyes were lifted clearly to
his, but soft rosy blush swept over
her face.
"Will you forgive me?" she said,
slowly and painfully.
Forgive you?" John could say
nothing else for a moment. Then,
leaning against the door, they talked
little, while the shadows grew
longer and longer under the old trees.
"Do you know" Rose said, sud-
denly, all embarrassment gone, "you
will have to stay all night! There is
no other boat for two days"
"Well, l sha'n't mind that" he
answered, laughingly.
"But-but you see-there is no
place to put you but the sofa in the
dining ROOM" she explained nerv-
ously, but bravely coming out with it.
81 won't mind that either, in the
least" he said; at which they both
laughed and felt easier.
John not only staid two days, but
a much longer time. In fact, he felt
as though it would be parting with
half his life to leave quaint old Airing
ton. And then there was the busi,