Year: 1861

THE STEP UPON THE PATH.
l heard it first. We were sitting around
the fire, one clear, cold autumn evening"
Elsie Russell, my mother and l. Elsie
was reading aloud to US from quaint old
book, frlI Of dwarfs aad giants, enchanted
ladies and valiant Knights; and every now
and then as she paused 10 turn a leaf, OF
make some merry comment, the murmul
Of the winds among the branches of the
old elms around the house came family to
our ears, and made the inner comfort more
intense. / could not see the cheerful room,
OF the shining of The freight, or the bright
young face Of Elsie Russell, or my mothers
smooth, white forehead, and clear, thought.
full eyes, although l could remember them
well, o, how well of old. l might never
hope to gaze on any of those things again.
Yet, was happy with that clear voice
falling on my ears, and that tiny hand rest
ing on the liable, SO close that l could
touch it with my hand, as did, now and
then, by accident. | was often then very
miserable; but just then Icould have said,
had been called upon to do so, that sight
was nothing when compared with such a
home, and such mother, and that it was
better 10 be lead about, and read 10 by FL
sic Russell, than to be Independent of aid,
and unblest by such friend and comforter.
In word l had forgotten past and future,
and was living only in the present, when a
step, one that had never heard before,
broke upon the quiet of the little room,
dispensing it utterly-so it seemed to me
at least. The others scarcely noticed it.


"There is strange footstep upon the
garden path" l said. and spoke suddenly,
with an unquict futtering of the heart,
and an undefiued prescience of sorrow for
which l could give no reason, or rather,
for which was ashamed to give one my
self.


-"It is Tom, my dear; l sent him out up
on a message before dark" said my moth
er kindly.


1T is not Tom, mother. l have never
heard that step before" persisted.


s'It is Tom in new boots. What stran-
ger would grope his way through the
woods, to this out of the way place after
nghtfall 7" laughed Elsie. "Be quiet
Paul Blair, and listen to the story, as you
value my appreciation. The knight is about
to deliver the enchanted lady from her
thraldom. AttentionT'


Ere she could resume her book, howev-
er, loud peal of the bell announced the
fact, that the step Of which we had been
speaking and to which | had been listen
ing all The while had ascended the porch;
and in another moment Elsie read from a
card which the servant handed to her, the
name and title of DR.. Claymore


"Whom | met at the Twins last week.
IL believe mentioned him." said Elsie,
in somewhat confused explanation
"Show the gentleman in, Diuah."


The strange step fell upon my ear once
more. Across the ball, up the. stairs to
the parlor door it come; thence, smolhered
by the velvet soflness of :he carpet into the
room itself, and there paused very near me.
l heard that alone of all the other sounds;
words of welcome and introduction that
accompanied it. Only when all was quiet
again and all were seated, could l bring
myself TO listen 10 the voice Of its owner,
and try to discover in my own way what
he was like. A handsome, gentlemanly
man, with that peculiar dashing frankness
of manner which captivates all women and
men, and voice clear and firm enough to
match his step-was what l made of him.
That be was in possession of intellect and
refinement, and he that could, at least, ex
press excellent sentiments, was evident
from his conversation. The man of all
others to charm Elsie Russell, 1 thought
and following this came a long train of
thoughts, wrong and selfish beyond meas
ure. l knew them to be so, and yet l
could not drive them off Ny head ached
and burned intolcrably beneath their weight
and l fingered for my opportunity to slip
out unperccised. At last I heard their
voices recede to the cool open air, I knew
the path by heart, and feeling for the little
paling fence, turned my steps towards
small building spoken Of rarely, and then
in whispers, BY The members Of our family,
as the burnt summer house,


will tell you a story of that burnt
summer house. 1t was a monotonous one
10 me at least. ...'.........-. .


Elsie Russell was nm orphan. In our
richer and happier days, my mother had
adopted her. l was many years older
than the child, and she had been my pet
and playlhipg from tine first hour Of her
arrival. l was not blind then and many
long holiday have spent in amusing and
caressing the shy little beauty, to whom
kindness had been an unknown thing un-
ill she came among us. With my hands
l had planted vines around the bare walls
of an ancient summer-housr in the garden,
and fitted it up with cushioned seats and
tiny tables for her express delight; and
here on hot, midsummer days, she loved
to read aud sew, and sometimes would fall
asleep among the cushions, curtained by
the floating vine branches. so4 to u.I +


One afternoon / had left her thus, and
going to fish by the water side, my moth
er being on visit. There was no one in
the house but stupid black servant; and
partly that she might not be disturbed, /
locked the door of the summer house, and
placed the key in my pocket before start
ing. ! had not idled away half an hour
when casting my eye in the direction of our
house, saw faint blue wreath of smoke
curling up into the air. As | watched it,
il orew denser. and felt assured that il