Ellsworth American. [volume] (Ellsworth, Me.) 1855-current, 1893-02-23

his departure before joining the gay caval-
cade that forms in front of the club rooms.
1t is nearing the close of what has been
dash away through the sprncipal streets
and out into the open country. The night
before little damp snow had fallen, just
enough to clothe the trees with cloth Of
ermine whiteness. under which the branches
are gracefully dropping. The faint blue
of the distant hilltops in relief against the
darker azure of the skies; the broad river
lazily sleeping in the sunlight the ice
cakes floating idly on its surface, while the
snow clad fields stretch out before them.
| dotted here and there with low, weather
stained farm houses. and little white cot
| tages whose inmates crowd to the win
dow, to gaze wonderingly at the brilliant
| procession passing. One of the sleighs, a
| large vehicle drawn by four fine horses,
contains four people, Capt. Hilton and
Mrs. Atherton, and Miss Weston with her
escort. Capt. Hilton is not little dis
appointed at the arrangement. but Mrs.
Weston who has been prevented from
attending, wished Mrs Atherton to chap
eron her daughter, and the widow had
/ consented with suspicious readiness. Miss
1 Weston is shy little maiden of eighteen,
4 or thereabouts, and during the long ride
4 she nestles among her furs in quiet enjoy
mept, saying little in reply to her compan-
/ ions gay sallies.
/ Mrs Atherton is in her gayest mood. 1t
I was said afterward that they had never
seen her so radiant with pleasure, so thor
oughly fascinating. Her quaint, witty
/ speeches. and daring, saucy retorts. keep
4 them all laughing, and as the sleighs pass
and repass each other there are merry
4 challenges, answered by showers Of snow
/ from the white. ungloved hands of the
ladies, and so much general rejoicing that
even the horses enter into the spirit of the
Y day, and jingle their bells right merri!y as
accompaniment to the silvery peals Of
laughter.
Capt. Hilton's annoyance, carefully sup
pressed, soon vanishes and he becomes in
full sympathy with his lady's joyous mood,
more attracted by her than ever, and after
each Of his backward. sdorIng glances, the
widow grows more and more brilliant, even
to the verge of recklessness.
1t is fourteen miles from the city TO the
country tavern to which they are bound
and the heavy shadows OF night are all
about them a. they arrive at their destina-
tlon, and enter the yard with much con
fusion Of voices. champing of bits. and
clangor Of bells. The tavern Is a long,
low, rambling old house, relic Of stage
coach days and now much excitement
prevails within. Lights are flashing from
every window. huge fires in big. deep fire
places send ruddy glow through the
widely opened doors over the scene with
out. White-aproned maids start into sud
den activity. nimble grooms spring for
ward TO take charge of the foamiug horses.
the smiling landlady appears at the door to
receive them, and presently the ladies are
conducted To well warmed rooms, where
the baggage which has been forwarded
earlier awaits them.
Dinner is ready when they come forth,
the long table spread with old fashioned
china and loaded with delicacies that would
rival the skill of a chef. and the old tavern
has never held beneath its roof such a
company rs gather about the festive board
this night
M inc
the wine disappears, and voices grow mel
| low, cheeks grow flushed. and eyes bright
er and more dangerous in their glow, and
after the banquet l. over the tables disap
pear as If by magic, and the band sta
| tions itself at one end Of the long room
which the wealth of the forest-boughs
of cone laden pine graceful cedar, and the
long trailing vines Of evergreen, with the
dusky red and yellow of the sumach to
| lend a touch of color TO the whole-has
| transformed into a bower Of fragrance
and beauty.
| The ladies are In brilliant attire, Mrs
Atherton regal in sweeping robes Of heavy
black satin and costly gold brocade and
| cleaning diamonds. They have never
seen her look so really magnificent, have
never seen her SO thoroughly the life of
an assembly as she is tonight. and those
! who are present notice, and speak Of it af
terward, how perfectly happy Capt. Hilton
| is.
The sweet, subtle, inspiring strains of a
| bea:. ,iful waltz ill the air Capt. Hilton
/ is dancing with Mrs. Atherton. His face
| still wears look Of sublime peace when
the music stops. and with a long drawn
| breath he tightens his clasp of the small
| hand resting on his arm and bends his
| head to listen to her words.
| How glorious that was, our last waltz
| One might well wish it to last forever"
Would that it might. | cannot realize
that it ,rds our last waltz, the thought
| seems too cruel. Mrs. A,herton, will you
| come aside with me for few moments?
must see you before go, and have only
| a little time now"
She looks up at him, her eyes cleaning
with ill-concealed triumph, that, alas, the
| infatuated man at her side does not dis
cern. She murmurs something that he
does not understand, but they move slow
ly onward toward the door, and are met
| there by servant who speaks a few
| words in low tone to Mrs Atherton
which her companion heeds not Her face
flushes with pleasure, and she turns to
Capt. Hilton, speaking clearly now, with a
note of excitement in her voice
| Il must ask you to excuse me, Capt. Hill
ton, much as l should enjoy a last tete a.
tete with you. A friend of mine has just
arrived; will you not come with me to
meet him? | SO want you to be acquaint-
ed, you both are such dear friends of
mine, and he-I do not mind telling you,
| Capt. Hilton-is soon to be more to me
than friend"
She glances up at him again to see the
effect Of her words, and, INSCRIPTIONS
woman as she Is, she is almost frightened
at the deathly pallor of his stern, set face,
and the fire Of his angry, indignant eyes.
He does not look at her as he answers in a
|