University of South Carolina Libraries
I LEW1?-j?'^SST' ' ' &n S^?tarf ^familj Setappr: jfnr tjie^ramfftian rf tjjt political, Social, ^,gricnltnral anir Cmnrntickl $ntmsfe= if % Sontb. * : VOL. 14. YOEKYILLE, S. C., THUESDAY, APRIL 9, 1868. NO. 15. ! - ? i = = : : i ; ~* For the Yorkvllle Enquirer. THE MUSIC TEACHER. BY CLAUDE FORRESTER. . CHAPTER L "Mr. Dubois, you understood me, I presume, as having engaged yoii as my daughter's music teacher. You were admitted to my family in that capacity alone, and was expected to confine yourself simply to the discharge of your professional duties." The speaker?a tall, pompous, middle-aged gentleman?was standing at the foot of the marble steps, before his exquisitely wrought and beautifully grained door, daintily drawing over hisrough, brown hands, a pair of lavender-oolor kids. The young man addressed looked enquiringly up into the speaker's expressionless face; ground the heel of his hoot into the gTavelled walk and put on an air of surprise and wonder. ?t fn dirfhftrre mv nrofessional JL UAYC^UUVuivivu vv y x _ duties satisfactorily, sir," said the young man. "If I have failed?." "Nobody said you have failed, Mr. Dubois. On the contrary, you have done wonderfully welL Your pupils have improved beyond my highest expectations, and everybody acknowledges your musical talent" The young man acknowledged the compliment by a bow. "If I have given satisfaction as a teacher, you will obb'ge me, Mr. West, by informing me wherein I have been remiss in other particulars." "Not remiss, exactly," said Mr. West, thrusting his thumb thro gh the palm of his delicate kid glove. "Indiscreet, would come nearer the mark." "Wherein have I been indiscreet, sir?" asked Mr. Dubois. "Well, sir," said Mr. West, "I am the honored father of two lovely girls, one of whom stands hesitatingly upon the very threshold of womanhood." To all of which the music teacher seemed conscious, except the "hesitating" position of the young lady referred to. He didn't appreciate the beauty of that figure of speech. "It is the paramount desire of my heart," continued Mr. West, "to give my daughters all the advantages of a first-class, fashionable and thorough education. Mr. Dubois turned his head to oonceal a smile. "And to leave no stone unturned, in my strenuous efforts to qualify them to adorn any and every position in life?aye! the culminating height 1" Mr. Dubois smiled again. ' This was why I secured the services of a French, German and Italian teaoher; this was why Swomboskic, the Polish dancing master, visited my man- ' sion periodically; this is why Madam Elishtresnipple superintended the wax, embroidery and imaginary worsted work?this is why I have enlisted your musical capabilities, in behalf of my daughters, sir." "Well, sir!" said Dubois. "Monsier Dinkski, the linguist; Swomboskie, the dancing master, and the embroidery lady referred to, devoted their entire time, while here, to the education of my daughters. When the lessons were over, they immediately retired from my parlors, and were not seen again until the allotted time for the next day's lessons. They seemed to realize the fact, that their presence was tolerated simply in the capacity of teachers, and not a moment after the discharge of their respective duties. If I employ a man, Mr. Dubois, I do not, necessarily, bestow upon him the privilege of intimacy with my family." "We understand each other at last!" said Dubois, a flush of indignant pride mantling his handsome face. "You might have saved yourself all this unnecessary allusion to your daughters' foreign teachers, sir. I am in no way associated or connected with that class of adventurers, who roam over the country with high-sounding and unpronounceable names and titles, and who are utterly ignorant of the rudiments of that knowledge or art which they profess to teach. I am the son of a native-boA gentleman, who, prior to the war, owned his four plantations and three hundred slaves, and whose reputation for character and high social position, was equal to that of his immense wealth. My respected father did not survive the war, during the progress of which he had been persuaded to dispose of three of his plantations. the purchase money of which he in vested in cotton. This cotton was seized at sea by Yankee blockading vessels, and proved, of course, a dead loss. Subsequently, he invested his available funds in Confederate Bonds. At the close of the war, his entire slave property went by the board; and, at his death, which oocurred shortly after, he left us nothing whatever but an abandoned and uncultivated plantation. This was disposed of sometime ago to a Northern capitalist; and, while my beloved mother and sister subsist upon the proceeds of that meagre sale, I have been endeavoring to earn an honest living by music teaching. So, you see, Mr. West, that the war enriched you and impoverished us." Mr. West was certainly very much surprised. "Now, sir," continued Dubois, "you observed my card in your village papers, and called upon me the very next day. You wanted my exclusive services for your daughters?these were your exact words?and offered, as an inducement, a thousand dollars per annum, and board and lodging in your house during that time. I thought that an excellent offer, because the terms enabled me to remit almost the entire amount to my mother and sister. Accordingly?as you know?I refused several situations from various applicants for my services, and * immediately took upon myself the exclusive charge of your daughters?so far as vocal and instrumental music was concerned. You certainly cannot have forgotten the written testimonials of personal character and capability, which I placed in your hands. These, it strikes me, were amply sufficient to substantiate my claims to gentility." "My dear sir," said Mr. West, "you misunderstand me altogether." "Not at all," said Mr. Dubois. "The only legitimate inference, that can be drawn from your remarks, is that you think me guilty of presumption in occupying your parlors and associating with your daughters. In other words, you look upon me simply as a music teacher, whose business it is to retire to his own apartment as soon as his professional duties have been completed. Did you consider me a gentleman, Mr. West, you would see no impropriety in my familiarity with the members of a family, with whom I reside, and to whom I am much attached." "Mr. Dubois, you are unreasonable!" said Mr. West, in a tone of impatience. "It does not follow, that I doubt your gentility because I accuse you of indiscretion. I have said nothing whatever against your moral character. However, as I wish you to understand me, I shall use great plainness of speech. If my family, sir, consisted merely of myself, wife and son, the case would be altogether different; but, as I have two young, lovely, marriageable daughters, it becomes me to be exceedingly cautious whom I admit upon terms of intimacy. It is an old saying, that "people talk as much as anybody," and I assure you, sir, that people report Laura and yourself engaged to be married. Now, there must be some foundation for such gossip, and I believe it to be in the fact, that my youngest daughter and yourself are so often seen together. You wil pardon me for this bluhtness of expression, when I assure you, that it costs me no little effort and considerable mortification, taallude to the subject at all." Mr. Dubois drew his imperial down to a point, and looked thoughtfully down upon the marble steps. "You are a handsome man," continued Mr. West; "have read much and traveled extensively. You, of all men, should be very cautious and discreet in your social intercourse with ladies." Mr. Dubois asked why. "Because you are one of those men whom the tender sex admire so much. A fine form, intelligent and handsome face, easy and graceful in manner, gifted beyond measure in conversational powers, and ?" "Enough, sir !" said Mr. Dubois. "You must be aware, that this is anything but agreeable to 11 me. UT am Rin<wft_ sir." "Granted," replied Dubois; "but please drop the subject. I regret that anything in my conduct should have given occasion of offence. I shall studiously avoid the society of your daughters hereafter?especially that of Miss Laura." "By so doing, Mr. Dubois, you will prove yourself a gentleman and be entitled to my continued regards. These reports, you know, are exceedingly unpleasant and annoying to all parties?particularly so to Laura. I feel confident that you will so conduct yourself, hereafter, that we shall have no occasion to refer to .the unpleasant subject again." "Before we dismiss the subject," said Mr. Dubois, in a tone of voice wonderfully strange to Mr. West, "suffer me to ask, if you consider it a part of the bargain, that I shall confine myself exclusively to my own room, when not teaching?" "By no means," replied Mr. West. "All I require is, that your rides, walks, sails, and concertvisits with I*ura, be discontinued. I shall not deprive you of the society of my family, en masse, but I must object to any marked attention to either of my daughters. And now, Mr. Dubois, we understand each other." "I understand you, sir, at all events," was the quiet reply. "Of course, then, you will act in accordance with my wishes," said Mr. West, uneasily. "I shall certainly make the effort," said Mr. Dubois. "Make the effort!?tell me, that you will make the effort! Why, you don't mean to say, that it will cost you an effort to discontinue your marked attentions to my daughter, sir?" "I would be unjust to myself, Mr. West, and un /, Mica T^nra toatp it. not so. T have real ized so much unalloyed enjoyment and pleasure in her society, that it must cost me the outlay of considerable effort to determine to give it up so suddenly." "Mr. Dubois," said Mr. West, growing very red in the face," under no circumstances, whatever, will I tolerate further intimacy with Laura. I insist upon this?cost you what it may. If you are fond of the girl?you know what I mean?take my advice, and pack up at once and leave us forthwith. I give you this advice as a friend; for I assure you solemnly, that this unfortunate attachment can result in nothing but misery and bitter disappointment." "My dear sir," said Mr. Dubois, politely, I "am not aware that I have given occasion for such advice from you. Be so good as to remember, sir, that /said nothing whatever of attachment to the young lady in question. I regret that it is necessary to remind you of that fact." Mr. West turned to reply, but feeling that, somehow or other, he had committed himself and made a very foolish speech, he abruptly turned upon his heel and walked away. Mr. Dubois looked after the retreating form of the pompous individual a few moments, then sighed and entered the raagnificient residence, upon the steps of which this conversation had taken place. Mrs. West rustled past him in her silks and satins, as he passed through the spacious hall. Hitherto she had been in the habit of greeting him very cordially, but, upon the present occasion, Mr. Dubois was made the recipient of a cold, haughty bow, which?taken in connection with the conversation outside?struck him as remarkably inexplicable conduct. ***** *** "Cannot accompany us, did you say? Really, Mr. Dubois, you are too provoking!" And the beautiful young woman let down the lid of the piano with an emphasis, that surprised her teacher. "Who are the lvs,' that you refer to, Miss West?" asked Mr. Dubois. "From the remarks, which you made awhile ago, I was led to infer that you, alone, had been invited to the sailing excursion, and that you wished to secure my services as an escort In that capacity I am positively prohibited from serving you; but, if your mother and sister are to be of the party, of course, I see no reason why I should refuse to accompany you." "Mother and Larina care very little for such things," said Laura; "and, indeed, I do not think they have been invited. The ' that I referred to, were the sailing party generally." "Then, Miss West, I am bound to deny myself the honor of escorting you, without the express permission of your father." "You will not think me impertinent," said Laura, her gaze falling modestly to the floor, "if I ask an explanation of your altered tone and manner ? There is no impropriety, I hope, in expressing surprise that you should address rnc as Miss West, or that you should think it necessary to ask father's permission to accompany me anywhere?" "It is perfectly natural that you should be surprised," said Dubois; and, perhaps, I had better inform you at once what has occurred to bring about this change in my manner towards you." And as he said this, he started up from his seat, walked once or twice across the gorgeous parlor, then dropped into a capacious arm-chair beside the piano and looked thoughtfully upon the floor. "I had rather not hear it, Mr. Dubois!" said Laura, suddenly. "It is the old story?I know it! I feel it!" Mr. Dubois looked up into the beautiful face before him. Its expression was troubled and anxious in the extreme; yet out of it all there grew up a hope, as beautiful as "A dream of poetry, which may not be Written or told." "If you are really conscious of the causes of my altered manner, Miss Laura, how does that consciousness effect you?" "That is not a fair question," said Laura, blushing, and pulling uerrously at the pink bow upon her heaving bosom. "I have been prohibited by your father ." "Mr. Dubois, I again assure you, that I know all about it," said Laura, rising, and walking to the window to conceal her emotion. "Then you can readily understand why I cannot accompany you to the excursion without the knowledge and consent, of your father." "Mr. Dubois," said Laura, turning from the window, "when I say, that I know what has occurred to bring about this unusual reserve in your manner, of course I only mean you to understand that I think I have a general knowledge of what has occurred. I presume that father thinks that we are too much together, and has told you as much. In all probability, he has insulted you?" "Your father has simply prohibited a continu ance of marked attentions to you, Miss Laura. He i has made me to understand that our rides and i walks are objectionable to him; that we have been i seen so much together, that people's attention has been attracted to us, and unpleasant remarks been I made in reference to the relationship supposed to 1 exist between us. He has not insulted me, I as- ] sure you; but, on the contrary, has communicated < his wishes in the kindest manner possible." "And we are to be deprived, hereafter, of all our i nice long walks and rides, and pleasant sails upon i the lake! We are no longer to read Tennyson to- i gether, nor sit for hours in harmless and pleasant 1 conversation! In short, you are to be Professor i Dubois?my music-teacher, and I am, henceforth, ] Miss West?your pupil!" < ''That is precisely the state of the case. Miss i Laura." i "And all this on account of the silly gossip and i scandal of these stupid villagers! said Laura, indignantly. I "Perhaps, forour own sakes," suggested Dubois. I "No, no; that cannot be!" said Laura, passion- . ately. "It will make us both miserable and un- j I happy to be thus cruelly separated and?and?1" 1 i She paused, looked eargerly over her shoulder, ] then, blushingly, into the face of Dubois; then, ] feeling how much she had inadvertently expressed < by the injudicious language, she sank down upon I the piano-stool, and, covering her face with her < jewelled hands, burst into tears. ] Dubois arose from his arm-chair, and gently re- < moving the little hands from the face, nU covered j with tears aud blushes, looked down into the up- 1 turned pleading eyes and softly said: "You have i spoken truly, dear, dear Laura!?thisw indeed a i cruel separation, and we shall be miserable and un- < happy! Oh! that the darkness, which has: come i down upon our hearts, might be only mine I'' Then, i stooping, he imprinted a passionate kiss upon her 1 brow and left the room. ] He had done what countless thousands before him had done! Won the heart of a woman inad- 1 vertently and without effort. And with this dis- ] covery caiue another: He had loved her all along without knowing it himself! Thus it is, we enter- ] * ?1.1 V_ tl. cam angeis unawares \ uuui, uy tuc ojjicmiui v> <. their outstretched wings at flight, we become con- ] scious of our irreparable loss! < Day after day, for seven long months had the e couple been in each other's society; day after day i had they mingled their voices in song and social < converse; day after day were they living for, in i and upon each other, without the slightest knowl- ] edge of the fact, until the hand of the Fate lowers ] the curtain between their lives, and reveals their < own hearts to their despairing gaze. i . 1 CHAPTER II. j "Mr. Dubois," said Mrs. West, a few days af ter, as the former sat upon the piazza, "you will ( oblige us, sir, by making me aware of the precise ( amount of your bill." . "For teaching, ma'am?" asked Dubois, quietly. . "Yes, sir." { Dubois took a pencil from his pocket, and after : a little figuring upon the margin of the newspaper , before him, said: "You are indebted to me, mad- J am, exactly eighty-four dollars." t "That is the entire amount of my indebtedness, j then ?" asked the haughty woman, drawing n well- ( filled purse from her bosom, and proceeding to ( count out the specified amount. "Yes ma'am," was the quiet reply ; but Dubois , watched the business-like proceedings with no lit- ] tie uneasiness and wonder. s "Here are eight tens and a five. Count them | yourself." And Mrs. West held out the open j notes between her jewelled fingers. ] Dubois arose and received them; and after lay- | ing them one by one upon the seat of the chair, , which he had just vacated, he gathered them up ( ' again and handed them to Mrs. West, simply remarking : "The amount is correct, madam." i "I wish you to retain the notes, Mr. Dubois," j said the ladv, somewhat annoyed by his air of ut- j ter indifference. "In short, I wish to make a fi- ^ nal settlement with you, as my daughters will no longer require your services as music-teacher." "Indeed !" said Dubois, deliberately folding up the notes and placing them in his vest pocket," then I shall be compelled, madam, to owe you a dollar until I go up to my room. I have no change about me." "You will please save yourself all that trouble, sir. A dollar is of no consequence, one way or the other," said Mrs. West. "Not the slightest consequence to me, madam, I assure you," said Dubois, resuming his seat "Indied?so far as that is concerned?the entire amount is only valuable to me as it ministers to the wants of others." Mrs. West looked at him a few moments in deep thought; then suddenly turned and walked into the house. Dubois arose and walked up and down the piaz. za. His countenance was pale as death itself, and his fingers worked convulsively. The discovery of his love for Laura and of her undisguised affection for him upon the very eve of all these misfortunes, ] was an almost insupportable blow to his sensitive ] nature. The burden of his own love was heavy ] enough, God knows; but his strength of character J would have enabled him to struggle from beneath ] its pressure and influence in the course of events, or, at least, to bear it manfully and philosophically, j But, alas! what was to become of Laura? How j could he abandon her now ? \ To think that he should have thrown so deep a j shadow over an existence so bright and sunny as j hers! To think that he should have begotten i such beautiful hopes within her impressible young j heart, only to blight and destroy them ! Oh! it < ? aiG in fkn Aifnno on/1 fViinlr nf was SU lJUlU lu iuviv. uuu ill iuv iuvuiv, uuu iuiu? v* the darkness which hung over the life-path 1 Darkness for her and darkness for him. Burdened with such melancholy reflections, he descended the stairs and walked out into the beautiful garden before him. Here, he had walked for hours with Laura; within these shady, flowery bowers they had sat for hours in the long, beautiful winterless months, now lying in the past.' Here, all unknown to themselves, they had learned to love each other, with a love so river-like!?so deep, so pure, so impetuous! Oh! if he could only lift the latch of that little wicket gate and walk out into the world with a consciousness, that Laura was utterly indifferent to him?or, at least, would soon forget him! But, to think, that with his going would unhappiness come to the heart of that pure, affectionate creature 1 Ah 1 that was a bitter ingredient in his cup of sorrow ! He turned to enter a little bower in a sequestered part of the garden, but started back as he discovi ered Laura within. She was sitting upon a low, rustic bench; her elbow resting upon a book in her lap, and her little white hand supporting her beautifully chiselled chin. She was evidently in deep i thought?melancholy thought, one would conclude from that anxious, troubled expression, and those ; tear-drops on her flushed cheeks. As Dubois appeared in the doorway, she started; involuntarily sprang towards him; but, suddenly i checking herself and controlling her emotion, she calmly extended her hand, and tremblingly resum1 ed her seat, a deep blush suffusing her face. 1 "You are unhappy, Laura!" said Dubois, ten; derly. ; "And you, Horace?" she asked, timidly looking i up; but instantly bowing her head upon her bosom. "I, Laura! Ah! dear, Laura! I am unhappy in your unhappiness I?grieved to the very heart : an your account I The shadow that envelopes me is doubly cold and dark, since your own heart is svithin its chilling influence too." "Oh! Horace! what have we done to deserve this bitter experience? You are a man of the world, and know more of the proprieties of life than [ can ever hope to know. You would not deceive )r mislead me, Horace, in reference to these things. What harm was there in riding and walking out done with you so often ? Was it wrong to be so much with you ? Father, mother and sister have made me perfectly wretched by their charges of misdemeanors and improprieties, which I was and im quite unconscious of. They assure me that I have become public town-talk; that I am disgracing myself and everybody connected with me; and ill because I expressed a fondness for your society md a wish to be constantly beside you. What ioes it all mean?" "My dear Laura," said Dubois, this evidence of trust and confidence is sweeter than a benediction to my heart I shall not abuse it, I assure you. As society is now governed and constituted?v^hat ? i r ? u. T L.il e 13 called jasnvoname society, ? mean?uuw 01 us bave violated its customary proprieties. I?as a poor music-teacher, earning a livelihood by the practice of a profession?was not justified, by the circumstances of my situation, in cultivating an intimate acquaintance with a young lady of your wealth and exalted social position. In doing so, I bave made myself liable to the charge of impuience and presumption. According to these fashionable rules, which I have referred to, you have been guilty of impropriety in not treating me with narked ooldness and chilling indifference. You ihould have so deported yourself, while in my presence, as to impress me with the immeasurable exiltation of your position and the unfathomable ibyss of my own. In short, dear Laura, you should bave treated me as something infinitely beneath ?ou, and inferior to the class to which yoa belong." "Oh! Horaoe!" exclaimed Laura, involuntariy taking the hand of the excited man, "how can rou speak thus?" "I am speaking nothing but the truth, Laura, [f some brainless, graceless fop, with his broad teres and immense wealth, had acted precisely as [ have done, the case would have been materially lifferent in the eyes and judgment of fashionable society. My poverty has damned me?has excomnunicated me from the elegancies and refinements >f life and doomed me to the association, fellowship and biotherhood of the vulgar herd; the iliterate, grovelling, brutish masses. This much, however, I feci bound to acknowledge: I have occupied a false position; have abused the confidence ind trust of your parents and overstepped the bounds of discretion. I was admitted within your family circle simply as a teacher and for the purpose of teaching, and to the discharge of this duty [ should have confined myself. Knowing from the ft 1_ , jutset, tnat intimacy witn you wouia never oe sanctioned or approved by those who have the legitimate right to direct and advise, as to the acquaintances which were most suitable for you, I should have been more cautious and discreet in my behavior and manner; should have avoided pour society, when not professionally engaged; should have resisted, manfully, your fascinations md attractions; should have done anything, everything?even to flight?sooner than bring about :he present unhappy and unfortunate Condition of things." "Surely, Horace, there was nothing criminal in jur pleasant walks and rides ; no violation of human law or Divine, in our delightful conversations ind charming songs at my own father's fireside; there was no sacrifice of duty in all this. If not ipproved and sanctioned by inv parents, it was, at least, allowed ; and, as everybody knew of our intimacy, some one, surely, would have advised me )f the fact, had there been any impropriety in our londuct." "It has resulted in our mutual unhappiness, at ill events," said Dubois. "Your friends were perfectly right to endeavor to put an end to our growing intimacy?to my presumption and your condeicension, as they, no doubt consider it; for, knowing your warm, impressible temperament, they bad every reason to fear that our friendship would ultimately ripen into love. Alas! alas! the motive was good?was kind and merciful to us, dear Laura!?but it is too late!" "If the motive was one of mercy, they will not separate us now, dear Horace, since naught but misery could result from such a step. They love me too dearly, they value my happiness too much, to attempt to deny me a continuance of your presence and constant companionship." "My dear Laura, you make me very unhappy! How can I ever forgive myself for having thus enleared myself to you. Oh ! why was not all this foreseen ? Why did I thus work out the unhappiness of the dearest idol of my heart?" Then tenierly taking her little hand in both of his, he said, in a lower tone, "There may be better days, my love, in the other years beyond; there may come i more auspicious season for us. In the dark pakjatTrronn flio nAnr onr) fVion ftnlff lv> IftUfll iciiui&oia i/vvnwbu tuv uun auu vnvuj vuy vv .V|, md true to ine?true to the feelings of your own !oving heart, and all may yet be well. In the sad j hours, of the days to come, let the assurance of my love and devotion makeyouof good cheer; and et the certainty of my triumphant return keep hope and love alive." "Your return I" said Laura, her bine eyes looking wonderingly and anxiously into his. "You must not leave me, Horace I There is no necessity for that Father only wishes you to discontinue my marked, public attention to me; to cease walkng and riding out together. You are still our uusic teacher, you know; and, as such we will meet alone, at least once every day, and, no doubt iftencr. It would break my heart to part with rou now I Oh! indeed, indeed it would." "Dear Laura, I am no longer even your music eacher." "Oh! Horace! this is too cruel. You shall not eave me thus. You are going to be very rash and Drecipitate I fear, when a little patience might acjomplish so much." "You misunderstand me, Laura," said Dubois, much affected, and pressing the trembling hand to lis lips. "I have been discharged." "Discharged 1"^ "Your mother informed me awhile ago, that my irofessional services were no longer required. Her manner was unusually cold towards me. Indeed, t was almost disrespectful and?but what is the natter dearest? Laura! Laura!1' And Dubois mrang forward and clasped the tottering, sinking orra in his arms. ''I am?better?now!" she said, lifting the poor, lad face from his shoulder, and gently, but firmly, eleasing herself from his embrace ; then, after an iloquent but expressive silence, during which the overs sat hand in hand?their eyes fixed thoughtfully upon the ground, Laura said: "No argument an convince me, that this is as it should be. It s downright injustice! Listen to me a moment, Horace: mother loves me. I am as certain of hat as I am of my own existence. In discharging you, I verily believe that she has my best in? rests at heart She knows nothing of the tender elationship existing between us; and, fearing that ve may become attached to each other, thinks it jest to separate us. I believe her motive to be a merciful one, to you, as well as myself. Now, Horace, mother shall know all! She loves me too nuch to insist upon a separation, that would renier me so miserable. She shall know that my leart is altogether and forever yours; that with four going, will go the love of life for me. She' may be disappointed ; may be angry and mortified ; but, if I have read her dear heart aright, depend upon it, her ultimate decision will be favorable to us." "But should her decision be unfavorable!" "Then, as an obedient daughter, I shall abide by it; trusting, that in His own good time, God will open up a path to the desired goal, and bring us together again. Dear Horace, am I right? Is not this the path of duty? and would you have me walk elsewhere?" "Laura, you are not of age; and, until you are, I counsel no opposition to parental authority, even though it be ever so unjust and cruel in its manifestations. Before God, I assure you that I love you I In his presence I vow to be faithful and true. Study intimately your own heart with reference to its feelings towards me?it is a very intricate and deceitful thing, Laura !?and if you find that you can and do reciprocate my love, 1 call God to witness that you are mine?mine, in spite of all opposition! So, Laura, if we are doomed to separate now, in accordance with the commands 1 nlinll nn'ik/lMnr A?nm fKo OAntflcf \Jk }'UUi paicilU)) x ouuu nnnuian uviu vuv wuvwuu until you pass from under their control. Then I shall return to claim you. If, in the meantime, however, any attempt should be made to give you to another, against your own consent and free-will, I shall oppose such authority from whatever source it may emanate, and rescue you from the sacrifice, even at the peril of my life. And, now, my own beloved, you had better return to the house. I shall alter a previous determination, and remain beneath your father's roof until the morning. By that time you can ascertain yonr mother's opinion, wishes and final decision in the premises; and, as soou as your father returns, I will endeavor to secure an interview with him on tho same subject And, now, dear Laura 1 I cannot tell you how dear !?look up through the blue depths of those beautiful eyes, and tell me if I have not won your heart ? As Tennyson says, in the 'Princes'?which, we have so often read together : "Indeed I love thee; corae, Yield thyself up: my hopes and thine are one : Accomplish thou my manhood and thyself, Lay thy sweethands In mine and trust to ine.'" And Laura threw her white arms around his neck and kissed him ; then her head fell upon his shoulder, and she burst into tears. CHAPTER III. All this while, the haughty Mrs. West is reclining upon her crimson velvet lounge, feeling perfectly confident that she had "put an end to this fellow's flirtation and unpardonable impudence all this while, she is congratulating herself upon the expeditious manner in which she has "quenched this rising flame" and cut short this scandalous intimacy. * * * * * * "Can I have a few moments privato conversation with you?" asked Dubois, opening tho door of the library and looking timidly within. "Certainly, Mr. Dubois?walk in !" and Mr. West hastily arose from his reclining position upon the settee ; threw his half-smoked segar into the fire-place and drew out two chairs into the exact centre of the room. "Quite a chilly evening, sir," he added, seating himself upon one of the chairs, and motioning to Dubois to occupy the other; "indeed, it is becoming exceedingly frigid." "As it is my intention of leaving your house in the morning?" "A temporary absence, I presume," interrupted Mr. West. "You need scarcely have put yourself to the trouble of mentioning the fact tome, though. Of course, you need a little recreation occasionally; and a week or two will make no material difference, I presume, to your pupils. As a matter of course, you have my consent." "Why, sir!" said Dubois, in a tone of intense surprise, "your wife has discharged me! I leave to-morrow for good." "What ! 1!" exclaimed Mr. West, with an emphasis, inexpressibly beyond the power of the pen. "Discharged you I?for what ?" "I am unable to state her reasons," replied Dubois, uneasily. "She very abruptly handed me the amount due me, and informed me that she had no further need of my services." "Well, well, Mr. Dubois; of course, my wife knows best about that," said Mr. West, after a thoughtful pause. "1 yield to her wishes, however, with no little reluctance, I assure you. Granting, that your services, as a teacher, are no longer required?that need not hurry you away in this fashion. There is no necessity for haste." "The fact of the matter is simply this," said Dubois: "Your wife evidently desires my absence. Her manner has undergone an entire change towards me. It is all folly to assign, as a reason for my sudden discharge, that her daughters are sufficiently advanced in vocal and instrumental music; for such is very far from the actual facts of the case. The secret of this unexpected notice to leave, may be found in the fact that she wishes to interrupt and cut short my intimacy with Miss Laura. It is too late, sir; for we are already in separably connected. JL am nere to lniorm you or the fact." "What in the devil do you mean, sir?" asked Mr. West, starting to his feet and upsetting the chair. "You surely are not married!?you can scarcely have the impudence to tell me that, Mr. [Dubois!" wWe are not married, Mr. West." "Then how are you inseparably connected?" j "We love each other." "What? And you sit there so quietly and tell me such a thing. Well! well! this is exceedingly romantic, I do declare. A beautiful and wealthy young lady falls in love with her poor music teach1 er! Inseparably connected, indeed 1 That's decidedly rich. Ha! ha! ha! Dark lanterns, masks, rope-ladders next, I presume!?eh! Dubois?" And Mr. West struck an attitude. "Mr. West, if you are inclined to be witty on the subject, I refer you to your coachman or butler. I approach you, sir, as a gentleman, and since you do not deign to treat me with the respect due to such, the only alternative left me is to bow myself out of your presence. Good evening, sir!" and Dubois bowed and turned towards the door. "Now, don't fly off in that kind of fashion, Mr. Dubois. You know very well, that I have always treated you as a gentleman. Sit down again, and let us dispose of this matter like sensible men. Come!" "Dispose of it?" "Well, let us talk over it, at all events." Dubois put aside his hat and cane and silently resumed his former position; and, for some mo ?? a- ?: J 1 i?: ii? i menis, ncimur purt^ huiu u wuiu? x'xuuujrj uuu after walking once or twice across the room, with his hands behind his back, and his little piercing ' black eyes fixed thoughtfully upon the floor, Mr. West dropped into the chair before Dubois, and said : "This is an exceedingly unfortunate occurrence. I scarcely know how to express myself on the subject I certainly do not wish to offend you, Mr. Dubois, but I must impress upon you the necessity of preparing yourself for a severe disappointment. I was fearful of this; and gave you some advice on the subject sometime ago. I regret very much that you did not shape your conduct in accordance with that advice." "Your advice came too late, sir," said Dubois, "and only opened my eyes to the existence of that which you so much feared.'' "And you really loved Laura, then? Are-you quite sure that you are not only fond of her socie ty. As you are about to leave us, you may feel a 1 degree of reluctance in bidding adieu to one who * has contributed so much to" your enjoyment while r here ; but that is no evidence that you are in love. In the future practice of your profession, you will [ be thrown into the society of women equally as r fair, fascinating and attractive as my Laura, and in c all respects better suited to your nature, prospects a and condition in life. In the society of such, you * will find an effectual remedy for the disappoint- , ment now about to be experienced.'' a "Never! never! I desire no Lethe for the blessed memory of the past?no exchange for present t experiences, however sad! Mr. West, allow me * to be the best interpreter to my own nature. I ? love your daughter, sir I It is no passing fancy? j no boyish, sentimental dream. Nothing, in all the wide, wide world, could induce me to turn aside 1 from the adoration and worship of this idol of my I heart. I am aware, from the expression of your c face, that this language sounds very presumptuous -< and bold,* that you think me infinitely beneath T anr>h nanirntinna T rannnt hfiln if. sir 1 and. thank''{ God, my heart realizes its impregnable security in 1 the answering love of your angel daughter." "This is very absurd, Mr. Dubois," said the j agitated, anxious father, getting up and walking , rapidly to and fro. "Has Laura given you any < right thus to speak for her ?" "I am as much assured of her love, sir, as I am 1 of her existence." 'The devil!" exclaimed Mr. West, walking | faster than ever, "what do you mean to infer, sir, j by that remark ??not that Laura has made any \ express declaration of affection, surely?" j "That is a fair inference, sir," said Dubois. "Great Heavens!?she told you that she recip- ^ rocated your love?" "Yes, sir." } "Then, what is to be done? Oh! Dubois! you 1 have driven her from her Eden, man! You found * her as contented and happy as a little child; and J now leave her miserable and wretched. If she a really loves you, she will pine amidst all these ap- a pliances of wealth and luxury and in spite of all 1< that can be done for her." "It is that conviction that distresses me, dear 8 sir! It is for you to say whether or not these are j to be her experiences. Consent to the present t conditions of things, and all may yet be well; op- $ pose them, and bring down into her hitherto hap- i py life, a sorrow as dark as the night." "In the name of God, I protest against this 1 cruel injustice!""Said Mr. West, with an energy c quite uu usual to him. "How dare you, sir, en deavor to shitt the responsiDinty upon my snow- * ' ders. If Laura is to be unhappy and wretched, it 8 is your own work, sir! She was as happy as it is c possible for a human being to be, when you first c darkened my doors with your presence. Instead 1 of confining yourself to your duties, for which you 8 were paid, you betray the trust and confidence re- ? posed in you, and seek to rob me of my child! No, 1 sir! I am in no conceivable way responsible for 1 the consequences of this scandalous affair?this i reprehensible conduct" Mr. West," said Dubois, "you extort from me j a revelation, which, under other circumstances, I ' should have preferred burying within my own bosom. < I deny, positively, that I have sought to rob you ' of your child; that I have abusea the trust and 8 confidence reposed in me. I have confined myself 1 to the discharge of my duties; and the allusion to J paipnent was altogether gratuitous on your part, * for I expected remuneration for my services. In 1 the course of the last seven months, I have never, 1 until a week ago, mentioned love to Miss Laura 1 or dreamed of winning her heart I have accom- c panicd her in all her walks, rides and sails, at her I express solicitation, and simply as an escort. When J at home, our conversations and readings weTe of a 1 general character. We never alluded or referred, in any way whatever, to love. Immediately after s your conversation with me, sometime ago, in reference to my growing intimacy with your daughter, 1 1 altered my entire manner towards her, ana hon- ^ estly endeavored to eradicate the affection of my 1 heart, which upon reflection and self-examination, I 8 then, for the first time, became painfully conscious i of. This self-imposed coldness and reserv, on my s part?so utterly at variance with my former man- 8 ner?was, of course, observed and wondered at by 1 Miss Laura, and she very innocently solicited an explanation. I then informed her of your conversation f with me in reference to our intimacy, and of my ? intention of abandoning my former marked atten- | tions, in obedience to the express prohibition of her 8 father. Then, sir, she so expressed herself, in ref- 1 erence to the matter, as to leave no doubt upon my T mind that she loved me, and would never be satis- ? fied, save iu intimate companionship and associa- I tion. I am only a human being, Mr. West! and ? when she so innocently, and almost unconsciously, f revealed her love, I inadvertently expressed my 11 own. God knows that I would have striven against c my own love away down to tottering old age! E ims, ciear sir, is "An unvarnUhed tnle of my whole course In love." f And, now?as a man, addressing his brother man? r am X to be blamed or pitied for this unfortunate condition of things? Am I altogether responsi- 3 ble ? Is there no excuse?no palliation in tne cir- 11 cumstances? Oh! sir .'?not as the rich and influential Thomas West!?not as the offended head ? of a family, among whom I have occupied the po- 11 sition of a mere hireling?but as a fellow-man, I 3 approach you? Have mercy upon us 1 We have 0 only loved each other!?there is no crime in that I" J! '"Hush!" said Mr. West, wrenching his hand 11 from the grasp of the excited and desperate man, ? and walking to the window to conceal his emotion. ? "I must think, Mr. Bubois!?I must think! For ^ heaven sake! don't say another word about the 0 matter! Go!?leave me to myself awhile! I shall ^ talk with?. Give me a little wa-wa-water!" and p Mr. West staggered to the sofa, and passed his hands to his throbbing temples. "Thank you, sir!?'twas only a momentary weakness?I am bet- . ter now." P "Allow me to ring for a servant," said Dubois, " alarmed at the deathly palor of Mr. West's face; ? and he approached the bell-rope. "Don't ring, Mr. Dubois. I assure you, that I 11 feel perfectly well. You will do me the kindness n to retire now, if you please. I shall see ynn <w?in 81 during the week. Not a word more, sir!?go I" . And Dubois took up his hat and cane, and si- . lently retired. _ > * Mr. Dubois went immediately up to his room, when, to his surprise and mortification, he found , his bed taken down and every article of furniture removed from the apartment. This was equiva- 81 lent to an ejection; and his pride forbade a further ' occupancy of the house. With an exclamation of a' indignant wrath, he drew his trunk into the pas- ,w sage-way and hastily descended to the street. An J2 "?no /^Ttitrnn nn M nf Mr ^ IIUUriAlLClj a TTOO U(lf V?ll up bu vuv v*vvi v* West's residence j and, without the knowledge of Ie the family, Dubois removed his trunk to a neigh- mi boring hotel. JjjjJ While all this was going on, Mrs. West?who Wl had but just concluded a long lecture to Laura? 0' was considerably exercised at the sudden discovery that her pearl necklace, topaz bracelet and diamond to ring were missing, together with twenty eagles in ** money. This was a considerable loss; and, strange oil to say. poor Dubois was not only suspected of larceny, Dut positively accused. Mr. West and his daughters expressed surprise that such a suspi- bl cion should have been entertained for a moment, al and very naturally asked an explanation of this m sudden and unexpected charge. Laura declared to that she would inform Dubois about it as soon as so he came home to supper. Mr. West said that ac she should do no such thing; said he would not thus insult and outrage the feelings of the young M man for a thousand diamond rings and a bushel of hi golden eagles. a "And, for fear of insulting him, you will suffer m this unprincipled adventurer to go unwhipt of jus- at tice !" said Mrs. West, in a towering passion. oc "He is not an unprincipled adventurer, mother I" ai said Laura, her eyes filling with tears and her bo- b< som heaving convulsively. "If this cruelly unjust fo charge originates in your dislike of the man him- w self, and a determination to bring about an effect- ai ual separation between us; if you purpose to disgrace nim in mv eyes, and sink him in my estima- L tion, regard and affection, let me assure you that lit no amount of evidence can convince me, that he is other than my heart declares him to be." h Mr. West passed his arm around the waist of p* lis peerless daughter, aod gently, but firmly, led ler away. Hour after hour passed, and yet, Dubois did not etura. He had never before absented himself fter dark ; and that he should do so upon the ast evening of his abode with them, struck every nember of the family as remarkably inexplicable onduct Finally, howevej-, Mrs. West entered, md triumphantly communicated the intelligence, bat Mr. Dubois had secretly removed his trunk rom his room ; and, that, in all probability, this ras the last of the ingenious robber and her jewels ,nd money. "And now, Laura," she adtfed, "I trust that he charm is broken and that you are cured of your oily. If such is to be the beneficial results of the ontemptible theft, I shall scarcely regard the cost if the timely lesson. It is cheap, even at that )rioe I" "Oh! mother?dear, dear, mother!" exclaimed \nnm "dn Tjmi rp*l]v ViaIiava in vnnr flaort. that joor Horace Dubois is capable of a deed like that; >r, that the absence of his person, and the removil of his trunk, have any connection with it at all ? STou know very well that every article of ftumiture vas removed from his room by your instructions? sven bis bedstead and bedding. In all probability, le returned to his room, as usual; and discovering )y the condition of things there, that his further itay was undesirable, he aid not feel called upon to tiform us of his intended movements. Indeed, ifter such outrageous treatment, we had no right a expect it?were in no way entitled to it" "Zounds 1" exclaimed Mr. Wet. getting up ind walking about the room, with his arms folded icross his cnest, "that is so, Laura! We have forfeited all claim to polite consideration from Dubois )y these shameful proceedings. What must the ioor fellow think or ub 1" Then, turning to his vife, he added: "And to your petty spite andmalce, madam, are we indebted for this unparalleled dignity and outrage upon the common proprieties >f life I Who ever heard of such a thing? I engage a music teacher for my daughters, and agree ' 0 employ* him one year, at a stipulated salary. rVithout my knowledge or consent, yon discharge lim, without a moment's notice, and remove tne urniture from his room I Then, to cap the climax, rod accuse him of robbing yon of yonr jewels and nocey. Heavens! that's insult and injury with 1 vengeance 1 How comes it to pass, madam, that .rticles of such intrinsic value, should be left care- esslv about the house?" "Tbey were locked up in the bureau in my dresing-room." "And. in the name of all that is fair, how was t possible for Dubois to get at them, if theywere here, under lock and key?" asked Mr. West, mowing very red in the face. "Was the lock broken?" ' 'There was no necessity for a resort to force.'' said Urs. West. excitedly fanning herself . "The key >f his trunk fits the drawer. nu.j.r. " Mr Wwifji nnntnfll mvi. y, ''if a statement of that character was made m i court of justice, Mr. Dubois, or his lawyer, would cross-examine you a little more rigidly than it becomes me to do, under present circumstances. 1 rill only remark, that it strikes me that one could carcely be certain of a key fitting more than one ock, unless the experiment had been previously node. Of course, you know best about that knd so saying, Mr. West resumed his walking to ind fro about the room. "Very well, Mr. West!?very well, sir!" said lis wife, nibbling at the whiti ermine around her an. "If you are disposed to undertake a defence >f Mr. Dubois, after all that has taken place, I lave no particular objections to urge. I would limply remind you of the presence of this oentinental young lady"?pointing to Laura?"and rive it, as my opinion, that it is not politic, under he circumstances, to make an in iurea anApereecu:ed hero of her presumptotts ana love-sick masioceacher. She is evidently under the influence of hat impression already, and requires but little encouragement from her father to abandon the proirieties of her station and become entangled in the viles of an unprincipled adventurer and subtle vilian." Mr. West looked upon his wife in speechless lurorise. Just then, a servant entered, and announced the u-rival of Mr. Dubois, who, immediately after, valked breathlessly into the room, his face as white is a sheet and his manner singularly excited. For * i moment or so, he silently surveyed the party, urning from one to the other alternately; then, luddemy taking a parcel from his bosom, he opened it and thre^ the glittering contents upon the able. "An enemy has done this!" he said, fixing his pze upon Mrs. West, who quailed beneath his inlignant glances. "'lis no Benjamin's cup, secreea in the sack of corn, as an excuse to briog me >ack and retain me among you! Whoever placed hese articles in my trunk, intended to charge me rith theft, and then substantiate the charge by an xamination of my baggage. Vou understand this, jaura f They desireato make me hateful in your yes; to cover my stainless name with eternal inamy and shame, and drive me from your presence n disgrace. Well, here are the jewels and the oin. Their owner can see that I have retained lothing." "By my hope for the future!" said Mr. West, grasping the hand of Dubois, "this is no deed of nine, sir!" "I ask no questions," said Dubois. "They are uperfluous. I am conscious of everything con lected with the base transaction. " "The unblushing impudence of the fellow !" aloost screamed Mrs. West, feeling it high time to Qterfere, "1 am indebted for the return of these tolen articles more to an awakened and troubled onscience, than to any principle of honesty in your ature. You may well say that you know e veryting connected with the base transaction. Your Ilusion to Bepjamin's cup, and all that stuff, has een recited to an un&ppreciative audience, sir. leave the articles where they lie and retire from ur presence immediately; and be thankful that ou are not handed over to the tender mercies of a oliceman. I charge you, to your faoe, sir, with inmtional theft. I pronounce?" "I deny the charge, madam!" said Dubois, rembling with indignation. "I accuse you of plaing these articles in my trunk; and I have that 1 my possession, which establishes your guilt" md he took a small, enveloped note from his pockt "This, madam?in your haste to work my lin?was inadvertently dropped into my trunk atong the other articles. It is directed to yourself ad signed by Victor Edgerton." "Uiveit to me! uof wxi sake, do not?!*' nd Mrs. West staggered towards Dubois, and fell isensible at his feet * * # # # * "Laura," said Mr. West, "upon reflection, I Bern it prudent to make you acquainted with the artling contents of this note of Edgerton's to Dur mother. You must never permit her to im^ine even, that I have read it to you." And, ithout awaiting her reply, he went close up to the ,mp upon the mantel-piece and read in an underlie : "Dear Mrs. West:?If things arc beginning to assume tha rlous aspect which you mention, you hod better resort to that rateglc movement which I alluded to It: a former cooimunica>n. It may possibly?though scarcely probable?cost you the oney and the jewels; bat should yon fXil to recover them, I ill refund you for any loss sustained. We must get clear of j hols in some way; and perhaps our little plot may pro; j the ost effectual'method. It will frighten all Ideas of love out of * head and heart, and Laura will then be more likely to yield our joint solicitations. You promised to make her my wife, en If force had to be resorted to; so be on the alert, and do ur beat for me. Write to me Immediately, ana let me Know the particulars of the trunk-trap. Yours truly, VICTOR EDGERTON." "Oh! papa!" exclaimed Laura, "this is terrie. I tremble to think what is to be the finale to 1 this plotting and planning. To think that other should do this! But, dear papa, what is i be done? For, somehow or other, I feel that mething must be done, though I don't know exitly what." > "I have already done all that is necessary," said 'r. West, taking the hand of his daughter. "1 ive written to Edgerton and threatened him with cow-hiding if he persisted in his interference with y family affairs ; I have forgiven your mother, id obtained a promise from her to abandon her irrespondence with that unmitigated scoundrel, id?last, though not least?I have wntten to Duns, informing him of the perils surrounding his inner little pupil, and begging him, if not otherise and more agreeably engaged, to come back id take care of her for me.' # " "God bless you for that, dear, kind papa!" said aura, embracing him, and nearly upsetting the ttle man into the fire-place. And Horace Dubois came back soon after, and as been "taking care" of beautiful Laura for the ast five years.