The Sunday morning news. [volume] (Jersey City [N.J.]) 1886-1891, 1889-12-08

swered tho question in tho Affirmative lad
any ono asked It of him few weeks later.
For when, CT now, or at what moneat tho
image Of sweet Florence Hurst had stolen
into his heart he could mover have told. since
.t feigued there supreme and bnquestioned
from the moment that he first looked into
he- large, soft eyes, and listened 20 the music
OF her gentle voice That first interview,
md tho drive in Ms. Westervliet's barouche
that followed, sufficed TO drive away tho shy
ness and timidity of the young girl; and by
tue time tha5 they had gone through two sets
of the Lancers Chen at the height of its pop
ulnrity) at tho Fillmore hop, and had whirled
through o galop to the delicious strains of
tho "Poliuto Galop," Florence was chatting
as merrily to her new acquaintance ns
though they wore old friends. Mr.. Hurst
was a wealthy southern planter, and his
pretty young daughter was his only child.
This trip to Newport was her first experience
of society, and she was charmed and de-
lighted by the new world thus unfolded to
her gaze, while Harry Danvers was only too
happy to act as her guido among the varying
scenes of that unknown region. Mrs. West
ervliet offered to act as Florenco's chaperone,
and Mr.. Hurst, ever more inclined for a rub
Der at whist or a discussion with some lead
ing politician than to such novel and uncon-
genial scenes as hops and fetes, willingly re-
signed her to the guardianship of his cid
friend, the scheming New York Rlatron.
What need is there to tell the story of those
summer days at Newport as they fled past,
wearing for Florence Hurst and Harry Dan
vers their gayest guise, and gliding away on
their brightest and most noiseless pinions7
They were young, they loved each other and
they were happy. Is not the whole history
told in those brief words9 All, life is lovely
to the young! We are like poor moths
shared in some subtle spiders web, and
knowing nanght of the monster that waits
to make us his prey How gently the
summer breezes sigh around us; how bright
is the sun, how sweet the flowers; how soft is
the silken cord that holds us suspended in its
shining coilsl But some day the grim s2ideA
whose name is Pain, or Care, or Sorrow,
rlishes forth and seizes upon us, and it is only
then, while the poisoned fangs are in our
hearts and our life blood is ebbing drop by
drop away, that we learn the true secret of
our existence and the meaning Of the silvery
threads that wrap us rouhd-threads that we
may not break, and that only chain US that
we may suffer and endure without the posi-
bility of escape.
But glad and unthinking as youthful lovers
ever are, Florence Hurst and Harry Danvers
trod gayly along the fowery paths of these
sunny days. nor asked themselves whittier
they were wandering, nor how soon this
bright existence would end. And yet the
sweet secret OF their mutual attachment was
unwhispered and unreyealed, but they were
constantly together, and the consciousness
of mutual affection lent charm to their in
tercourse and an added brightness to every
pleasure and fete. And Newport was then,
as now, the very paradise of summer joys
The drives were delightful, though the beau
tiful Sea road as yet was not, and Cod
dington Point was terra incognita for
dainty vehicles and prancing steeds There
were hops and fetes and balls, and one night
there wero tableaux vivauts at the Bellevue
-tableaux wherein Florence figured as a
guardian angel, and afterward came shyly
down in her white robes Invested of their
glittering wings, to sit between Mrs. Wester-
vliet and Harry, and TO admire the remain
ing scenes.
''Mr. Danvers," she whispered softly, as a
group of Dante and Beatrice, reproduction,
or rather caricature of AIRY Schefiers well
known painting, was disclosed.
what is it, Miss Florences"
"Was not Beatrice disembodied spirit
when Dante met her!"
eyes, | believe she was"
"Do you think that the angels wore hoops
in heaven in those daysi' And her mirthful
glance directed Harry to observe the dis
tended garments of the poets scraphic love,
the widespread folds of which betrayed too
clearly the sustaining influence of duplex
elliptic
A few evenings later, splendid ball was
given by the owner of one of the elegant
villas which, though then few and far be
tween, had already begun to dispute the
supremacy in gayety and fashion with the
large hotels. 1t was q cool, clear evening;
September had come to lend freshness and
sparkle to the days and chilling breezes to
the nights; but unheeding the latter, Harry
Danvers and Florence Hurst wandered be-
meath the trees in the spacious grounds, and
exchangedfin whispers their tender conf
dences and all the sweet secrets of their
mutual love. That night Harry had avowed
his love, and Florence had listened with
dropping head and blushing cheek, and such
faint, murmured words as are dearer to the
hearts Of lovers than all the eloquence Of
Webster or an Everett.
They had been strolling slowly to and fro,
bent on their mutual avowals and revela-
tions, for some time. The lighted windows
Oh ule mouse SloWeu lllNlUlnHsly, tNo SCrai1lS OF
Helmsmuller's ochestra playing "Marianitan
and the "Poliuto' galops twho plays them
more, wonder0 loated on the breeze; and
gay groups fitted about the shrubbery or
posed in graceful attitudes on the plaza; but
they needed none of these. Sometimes, too
a merry pair would pass them with whis-
pered comment on ''that desperate f:sta-
tion," but the laughing eyes were unseen by
them, and the whispers were unhcard. At
last sharper breeze than usual swept over
them, and Florence shivered slightly.
"You are cold, dearest" said Harry ten
derby, as he paused to draw the cashmere
opera cloak closer around the slender form
beside him. 81 must not risk the loss of my
treasure now that have just won it."
"Ah, Harry, all this time we have never
thought of my father"
"Your father-what of him, dear oneS"
"He may refuse his consent-he may OBJ
ject. ! know he has formed a plan for my
marriage"
HE cannot object; he cannot fail to con-
sent" And Harry, secure in the conscious
ness of good birth, a good character, and q
modest estate, smiled securely.
ST he shouldn
"What then, dearestYa
81 think should die"
The answer came, low and thrilling in its
intense earnestness, and Harry, too
much moved to speak, could only press the