Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1890-02-08

seriousness made me very serious and almost
| frightened me.
Il am pleased that you should be engaged
even earlier than was. Daisy" she said, ''and
| that you should not be hardened and spoilt by
the experience of the world, where girls learn
| to be selfish and vain and self-seeking. / am
pleased that you should be engaged to your
| firstloyer, in the very freshness and dawn OF
your life. 1t is too early to think about marry.
| ipg just yet awhile; but year or two hence"
| IN, not Tor ever so many years" L cried,
inteerupting her. Pray don't talk about got
! ting rid of me. want to stay with you, mother.
You are all in all to me. You are not tired of
| me, are you?"
Tired! No, my darling. 1t will be sad
| DAY Tor me when my bright bird leaves the
| home nest; but married very young. Daisy,
and my welded life was all gladness. An en-
gagement should not last too long. even when
the lovers are as young as You and Cyril. Two
years viii be quite long enough. In two years
you will be nearly twenty"
| That sounds dreadfully ancient" said I;
| for indeed it seems that one has done with
youth when one is out of ones teens. Mother
gave me her small pearl necklace on my thr-
| teenth birthday, and was so proud of myself.
ana thought myself quite parsonage because
was IN my teens; and now here she was talk
| ing cody about my soon being twenty and old
enough to be turned out of doors.
| Two years will be no time" told her. Il
would rather be engaged for ten. SO that may
| stay at River Lawn with you."
| who know" dearest, if you need ever leave
! River Lawn" she answered sweetly Il have
always thought the French much wiser than US
/ In their domestic arrangements. because they
| are not afraid to keep their children under the
family roof when they are married, and thus
the bond OF parentage grows stronger instead
of weaker, and the little children OF the third
generation grow up at the feet OF the old peo-
| pie. L have heard Engllshmen say that this
plan can never succeed with us, and if SO, one
cannot help thinking there must be some want
OF affection in the English heart. Now, in
your case, Daisy, there Is every reason that
your married life should be spent in your
mothers home since you are to marry my step
son."
Dear, dearest mother" exclaimed. giving
her hug which would have done credit TO !.
! young she bear, show sweet and how wise You
are. am very glad 1 accepted Cyril. l see
now that he is just the very best husband
| could have chosen"
"My darling how lightly you talk" said
mother, almost reproachfuliy. Your step
father and are naturally pleased that you and
| Cyril should have chosen each other. but that
1snot enough, not nearly enough; nothing 10
enough unless you love him truly and devotedly,
with your whole heart and mind, as l loved
your father"
Il suppose like him as well as could like
anybody" answered, rather frightened at her
grave looks and earnest words.
Liking is not enough"
well. perhaps love him. 1 know I have
been very happy with him ever since We came
| here-so happy as to forget every idea of sor-
row or trouble in the world,' said, checking
myself confusedly; for the thing that 1 had
| forgotten more than ever thought could for
get was the lark story of my fathers death.
Il have been quite abandoned to happiness,
but don't know how much Venice may have
| had to Go with that. and whether l shall care
quite as much for Cyril when We get back to
| Lamford."
My love, be serious" urged mother, looking
| dreadtully grave.
seriously. then, believe love him as we'll
as l shai, ever love anybody"
Daisy. you talk like coquette and not like
! an earnest woman"
| dearest. don't be shocked with me. It all
! seemed like dream or fairy tale today when
| Cyril and stood on the beach in the sunshine.
| with the waves making music at our feet. If
you had heard how lightly he asked me to be
his wife-ndeed, he never once mentioned the
! word-you would not wonder that am inclined
to speak half In jest about this solemn business.
| Let lis take the situation lightly, mother, and
if after a year or two we should happen to grow
! tired OF each other why we can apologize and
drop back into the position of brother and
sister,
NO, Daisy. that will not do. There must be
| no engagement, there must be no semblance of
bond between you unless you and he are both
sure of your hearts. No hay burlas con ell
amor. Good night, dear. Pray to God for
! guidance. Remember marriage means for
ever As bond or as stigma it marks
woman's life to the end.
| II felt miserable after she had left me. but 1
| did what she told me to do. knelt down and
prayed to be guided and led in the right way
| led to choose the fate that should be best for
! my own happiness and for my mothers. The
thought that need never leave home if Cyril
| were my husband made him seem to me quite
| the most perfect husband that could have.
Scarcely had l risen from my knees than
| heard the distant dip Of oars and the music of
| a guitar and a couple of mandons accompa-
nying the song Cyril and are so fond of. The
sounds came nearer. slowly and softly growing
out of the still night; the melodiouS plish plash
| of the oars, the silvery tinkling of the mando-
Inns, the deeper tones OF the guitar and fine
baritone voice which fancied knew.
will they pass; will they stay?" asked N.Y.
self, throwing open my window and hiding my
self behind the heavy velvet curtain, where l
| could see without fear of being seen.
| The moon was near the full. and all the
| palaces upon the opposite bank were bathed in
| silvery light, and along the broad open canal
gondoa came gliding onward, lit with colored
| lanterns, like tirefies, which danced and trem-
bled i'll the soft breeze. 1t came nearer and
nearer. till it stopped under my window. and
then the mandolins and guitar played a
| familiar symphony, and the voice knew very
! well began Schuberts Cute Nacht."
/ He-it was Cyril of co1rse-sang the serenade
! beautifully. Music is one of his greatest
talents inherited from his mother; for doubt
! II Uncle Ambrose could distinguish God Save
|
| He sang that lovely melody to perfection, or
! 1t seemed perfection. on the moonlit canal.
with those fantastic Chinese lanterns trembling
in the soft sweet wind. l feel assured that it
was on jlst such night as this that Desde-
mona eoped with her Moor
! When he had sung the last notes and the
! mandolins had tinked into silence. he stood
! looking up at my window as if he were waiting
for some token of approval.
! What Desdemona would have done under the
same circumstances foated upon me in an in
slant. l crept to the mantelpiece and chose a
! lily from the vase of flowers, and, still hidden
| by the curtain flung it out of the window
! lie caught the flower cleverly, and then. after
a pause, the oars dipped and the mandolins
! began to play the serenade from Don Pas
! qualc," and the gondola moved slowly slowly
down the canal. he singing as it went
wonder if the other inhabitants of Venice
| considered him nuisance. There was man
! at the table d'hote at Daniels who called
Venice "a smelly place"-that was all he had
to say about the most enchanting city in the
world. Such a man that would be sure to
object to serenade.
Cyril and Were solemly engaged this morn
ing. We were plighted and pledged to each
other for life, and when We marry we are to
have our own suite of rooms in Grosvenor
! square, the whole of the third floor, which is
to be decorated and furnished according to my
taste This means that Cyril and I are to
choose everything; for. Of course, should not
! be such selfish wretch as to choose without
/ deferring to him.
| At River Lawn we are to have the east wing,
1 n 10Th hr,ill