Year: 1865

know you ar tired enough Of tales Of war.
and that your own dark memories OF the sealed
record of the nation bloody baptism need no
fresh reminders My story does not concern
battle, but woman and how can help il il
she lived down there On the border, so surround.
cd and hemmed 10 by conflict and combatants
by scenes OF peril aud blood and death, that
they must necessarily interweave themselves
with the controlling events OF her life | hard
ly know what you would have thought of her
il you had seen her standing there alone on the
lawn IN the haze Of that sulry June evening
iJu would have stopped iuyoluntanly, as before
some striking picture. woman with certain
regal bearing IN the dropping Of her shoulders,
in the position OF her hands IN the curve Of her
neck, IN the very folds Of her lustfeless black
silk dress and the mantle OF white Grape that
fell over it-a graceful woman certainly a
well-polsed head, held little loftly, perhaps a
face somewhat pale contrasted with the hair
that was pushed back from it, and features as
regular as a statue's.-A beautiful woman
then That would depend partly on yourself
partly on her mood 4 particular curl in the
bright color Of her lips an arch Of her eye.
brow, sharp, decided tone about the whole
contour OF her lace, might at any time and al
ways have repelled you. Or, II you had seen
her smile as she could smile If she chose, as she
did not often, you might wish Murllo could
have painted her. The slant sunbeams were
decking the grass and the trees above her,
touching spots oil gold, too, upon her dark
dress. You would have noticed rather her In
dependence of their effect than that they added
anything by 1t the play of light and shade
and color did not seem necessary to her as to
many women. You would fancy that she might
stand in the dimness Of a dungeon unchanged
10 this circumstance AS often through lesser
avenues the soul finds yoice-lay the key to
Mlss Bronson nature.


People were rather dubious on the subject of
ayoung woman who carried pistols, had no dc.
sire to marry, and was not afraid OF guerrillas.
II was outge, it eyinccd discomfort with her
sphere it vast really was" strong minded
Very likely, And you don't like the word
am sorry, for 1t seems to be appropriate and
am Obliged to use 1t. 1t and she fitted well
into the life she had led For mother she had
only the memory Of kiss on u dead face for
childhood and gitlhood, long, luxurious dream
with her own iancies and the companionship Of
that unoompanionable. silent father, who, dy-
ing six months 6go, left her as an inheritance
enough of his own Northern temperament to
cool the heats of her Southern blood we'll.
ordered plantation, and crowd of model slaves
moulded after the most sacred pattern OF the
institution perhaps because their master
was 100 much oil u gentleman TO be grossly cruel
perhaps because he found OCCASION TO nacify
within himself certain clamorous memories of
the faith of his fathers.


As to the slaves, Miss Bronson freed them
within month after tho old man gave her his
last kiss she would have dono it the day after
the funeral, eScep. cut OF respect for him. This
utterly Illogical aud iDconsequent act was doubt
less the foundation of the Objectionable cpithet
aforesaid, which Mortified rumor had attached
to her. AS for the plentation, she carried its
business on by herself, with such of the negroes
who chose to remain with her as she could sup
port smiled when the neighbors were scandal
lIed that Miss Bronson should reduce herself 10
such disgracelul poverty; chose neither rcla-
tive, iriend, nor husband for company, but
passed her days in solitude and the gloom Of the
old rooms which lad such foreign hush in
them, from missing tho dead mans silence
. one might have been lonely, for she loved him !;
or she might not No one knew but herself


Inc haze had blotled out the golden lecks on
her dress and hair, aud the twilight had fallen
heavily, while she stood there alone watching
the west, She began at last to pace back and
icrth under the trees in peculiar, nervous way
sue had, which was moro like that of man
'han ct woman, yet not unwomanly nor un.
graceful.


iootstep in the street, and a voice at the
gate calling her name, aroused her from her rev.
cry. She turned her head slowly, and stopped
her walk.


" Mr.. M'Ginley, think 1t is rather dark. -


" Yes Miss Bronson.


She did not advance to meet him or invite
him to enter, but stood as she had stood, watch.
Ing tue sunset, IN that statue-like attitude
which could not bc anything but naughty, II