The Press., 1894-03-29

under an utter misapprehension In fact, mistook you for your sister. You wore her red cloak, and had left my glasses at home-you know l am near sighted Until you turned l did not know you, and then you would not let me speak. Then he paused moment and began to untangle my hair. Dis parity in years, great disparity he went on, as ne carefully freed my tresses, one at a time, is an obstacle to happi- ness in marriage-hold that piece of hair, please. regard you as a little girl, an obstinate little girl, but your half sister-catch that piece-lovely Miss Victorine, simply adore. You take very little notice for your age if you never saw that for yourself. There, you are free, if you want to run away again.
 "Oh. MT. Summers!" gasped. "l have been such an idiotl 1 might have known! am so ashamed of myself!"
 You have done me great injury. You have robbed my life of happiness, he said. Il suppose you told your story to Miss Victorine? She turns from me with scorn and evidently detests me. She has strong feelings, Miss Persis. A girl of your age and temperament can not comprehend an attachment which could conquer, as regards each other, such strong sectional prejudices as were ours. y
 Say anything, MT. Summers. de- serve it, '' said, but have never told Victorine anything, and 1 will undo the consequences of my folly. am sure it will not be difficult. '"
 "Ah. l am afraid it will" MT. Sum- mers replied, turning dejectedly away.
 As for me, fairly skipped home again, feeling that after all might hope to make Victorine happy.
 1 ran into the room where she sat and knelt down beside her and flung my arms about her waist.
 "Vicky, darling,'' gasped, all out of breath, it was a mistake. He took me for you. I had on your red cloak, you know, and he had left his glasses at home, and 1 ran away, and he tum- bled down in the watermelon patch, and he's been trying to explain ever since, and he"----
 What under the blue canopy do you mean, sister Persis?'' said Victorine. "Who is he?"
 "Mr. Summers loves you. and you only, Victorine. went on.
 She put her handkerchief to her eyes, II never doubted it, she said.
 "Then what does your conduct mean?' inquired.
 Gan you ask?' she responded re- proachfully, "when a man has been pay ing devoted attention to lady and sud- denly, from pure fickleness, proposes tc her sister? Could that sister, if pos sessed of spark of loyalty, do anything cost to herself?'
 But he did not, Victorine, said. Tt was mistake"
 "Sister, l am compelled to defend myself" said Victorine. "Older, plain CT, less attractive than you, doing, VOW, nothing to bring it about, never fancying that could charm so young a man as Harry Summers and glad tt believe that he loved you, fancy my horror when 1 discovered that it wal he who had knelt beside my chair anC klSS6u lily udLu-A0 dllu uOI GI0 OLS o whom 1 dreamed. When l arose iron my chair, letter which he had placed there fell from my lap. Since yol fancy me the victim of my imagina tion, read it." And Victorine put fortl her arm, drew her letter case, whicf lay upon the table, toward her and ex tracting an envelope handed it to me A moment more and I was reading this in Harry's handwriting:
 DEAREST, Mosr BEAUTIFuL-How often have tried to speak, but l grow coward on th' instant, and l grow tongue tied. You are st | dear to me, so dear-you know that, am sure but do not know your heart, and so l shal | find opportunity this evening to give you thi rote. Will you be my wife, angel? Will yol write me just little word to tell me that hay, not deluded myself with false hopes, or even if have I could bear to hear it thus far bette than to read it in your eyes. Yours forever, n' matter what may come, HARRY SUMMERS.
 And what did you reply2" que ried.
 Simply this, said Victorine. "'Yor are both presuming and ridiculous Miss Carlton And of course that wal an end of everything between me ant that rascal's estimable parent" sait Victorine, rising and pacing the floor.
 You are a devoted sister, Victo rine, I said.
 Then 1 ran out of the room, and iI my own went off into wild and gleeful mysteries, for of course 1 knew that let. ter was written to me and no other. and that Harry, supposing as his father did that the red cloaked lady in the garden was sister Victorine, had assumed in the faint freight that the person asleep in the rocking chair, yelled in my shawl, was myself, and so gone through with the kneeling, the hand kissing and the delivery of his letter to the wrong individual, while his father was per forming the same absurd prank in the garden. However, felt that could not undertake to explain matters to Victorine, and finally inclosed Harry $ billet doux in letter, telling the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth, and sent it to him by Aunt En- fly.
 Our little tragedy was fast turning into comedy of errors, and I felt that we should all be happy in the last act.
 II dunno which of my ladies makes the prettiest bride," said Aunt Emily one day as she surveyed us standing | a-, ~S ,><a-y ns