Yorkville enquirer. [volume] (Yorkville, S.C.) 1855-2006, June 01, 1871, Image 1
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VOL. 17. ~ J YORKVILLE, S. C., ^jjpTRSP^flh JTJl^E 1, 187L ~ ' ". . -ft . , Q9.
' -St.. T ,iZi; I iru*?iL.1 1.1.? 2d!
f?t?g.
THE OLD LADV'S ADVICE.
If you should ever get married, John,
I'll tell you what to do?
Go get a little tenement,
J ust big enough for two,
And one spare room for company,
And one snare bed within it?*
If you'd begin Love'B life aright,
You'd better thus begin it.
In furniture be moderate, John,
And let the staffed chairs wait;
One looking-glass will do for both,
Yourself and loving mate;
And Brussels, too, and other things,
Which ?aakb a fine appearance,
Ifyou can better afford it. they
Will.better look a year hence. *
Some think they mnk have piotures, John,
Superb and costly, too;
Your wife will beyour picture, John,
Let that suffice for you. .
Remember how the wise man said
A tent, with Love within it,
Is^bei^Uiaua sj^lCTidid house^
No moubyin his wallet.
And now, when you are married, John,
9onvt try to ape the rich ;
It took them many.a toilsome year,
To gain their envied niche;
And if you'd gain the summit, John,
Look well to your beginning,
And what you win will well repay,
The care and toil of winning,
ggjss i y , i i.:
f&r g.
Written for the Yorkville Enquirer.
THE LOST DIAMOND.
BY MRS. HENRY DEIS.
April came?the month of mingled sinshine
aud showers; the month that was to take
Edith away from us.
On the first, she and Linda went to stay
with Ada Vera The rest of the family ifonld
follow on the sixteenth or seventeenth, and
they would all return together the day after
the wedding, Audley and his bride included.
I was invited to accompany them, bat de- j
clined.. The Veres wereStrangers to me. So
would be most of their guests; so I begged
off from going, notwithstanding the remonstrances
of Edith, and indeed of all of them.
"Miss Gray, it will be a shame in you not
go, when I am to be married so soon, too, and
want you to be with me as much as possible!"
"Your "wedding is just what I am reserving
myself for," I answered ; "indeed, Edith, I
would not be equal to so much dissipation; I
will much prefer staying quietly at home."
"But you will be all alone i"
"Oh! I don't mind that in the least."
"Won'tyou be afraid?"
"What, with all the servants?and Monarch
? He, alone, is a protection, you know."
"Oh! it will be very disagreeable," said
Edith pouting; "I had counted on you going."
"A wilful woman must have her w*y? you
v know," sydl, giving her a km: and finrfinr
iJmf: wouMfbe useless to ajfgue the^wiut, she li- '
nally gave it up.
The day for the departure of the family
came, and I watched them set off, standing in
the door-way with Monarch at my side.
"Well, old fellow, only you .and I are left
to keep each other company?and Tiny," I
said as I turned into the lonely, yet cheerful
parlor. The sagacious animal seemed to understand
my words, for after walking about
over the house and apparently satisfying himoplf
that there was reallv no one there but I, |
he returned to me and stayed in the room
where I was nearly all the time. I did feel a
^ ^ little solitary when evening came, and I miss P'd
the cheerful faces of the family circle; but
Monarch and Tiny?who were devoted friends,
spite of the extreme dissimilarity between
them?established themselves on the rug, and
I took my seat under the chandelier with a
new book, in which I soon became engrossed.
I had not been reading very long, when
there was a ring at the bell, and Thomas, the
butler, ushered in?Colonel Vavasour.
I arose to greet him, in some surprise.
"I thought you, too, were off to the VereV
to-day," I said, as we shook hands.
"No, I go to-morrow* though, to tell the
truth, 'tis a jaunt I am not particularly inclined
for," he replied. "I will be glad to be
present at Audley's wedding, of course, for he
is a fine fellow, and a great friend of mine ;
but I don't care a great deal for gaiety now."
He sat down and took up the book I had
been reading.
"Miss Evans' last, I see," said he; "is she
a favorite of yours?"
"Not altogether; I like her originality, but
not all of her peculiarities. I cannot help being
interested in her works, however."
^ "She is one of the female writers whose pen,
1 tfcink, is a little apt to outstrip her brain,"
id, smiling. "I confess there is a spice of
Airy in her books that doesn't suit my
/ '-4hink she is wonderfully learned?I wish
half, as much so," said I.
"Heav^foxmd 1" be rejoined, with a com- i
ical expression of horror; "what in the world
* women have to do with 'isms' and 'ologies,'
'Greek declensions' and 'Chinese myths,' I
%cannot understands, I should be sorry to see
you dabbling in tbem."
"Why should he be sorry, I wondered ?
What was it to him, whether I were learned
or ignorant; whether I dabjdetj in Chinese
myths or not ? He did not pursue the theme,
but strayed off into a somewhat desultory discussion
of various books and their authors,
and finally relapsed into a sort of abstracted
silence?apparently, he was not in a conversational
mood that night.
"Did Edith's engagement take you by surprise
?" he asked presently.
"It did, somewhat; I was not at all aware
that there was any attachment in that quarter,"
I replied.
"It has been an affair of quite long standing?ever
since they were mere children;
^ though there has been until recently no actual
engagement Charlie is a fine fellow, and as
for he>, she is one of the loveliest girls I
know. I feel the warmest interest in them
both."
"J am very much attached to Edith," I rejoined
; "and am glad her fiance appe^js in
every way so suited to Jjer ; but I shall miss
her very much when she leaves us, and am
almost selfish enough to wish that the event
could be postponed."
?" "Edith told me that you were never selfish,
Miss Gray."
"Edith is partial," I replied coloring, "and
her opinion is not a fyir criterion of my meri
^ "Veil, your other friends, without being
partial, may also be permitted -to have an
opinion in regard to the matter?may they
not f"
"Oh! certainly," said I, not knowing what
else to say.
"And I believe all of Miss Gray's friends
' are unanimous in their admiration of her selfI
sacrificing, thorough amiable?"
"Oh stop, Colonel Vavasour!" I interrupted,
now crimsoning in really painful embarrassj
raent; "indeed, you speak of what you do
, not know anything about I am neither selfsacrificing
or amiable, and I shall believe you
are laughing at me if you speak in that highflown
strain."
"Am I high-flown ? Then I will be so no
lopgfr," he replied, instantly changing his
manner as he came to my side. "Believe me,
there is no one I would more unwillingly flatter
than yourself, for yours is too noblMrtfe
ture not to despise flattery?butjSK^J^^y,
you will not be ftngry with me fortriimraapn
what r really feel ?u A
[?"1 like the troth on all eCeasiwwr *an.
swered, trembling a little, for Ett ione was "entirely
different from what it had ever been in
addressing me before. ^.
"Then, I will tell yon the truth?and trust
to you to forgive the plainess of my language?
11 love you with all my heart and soul."
I sat silent?utterly astonished and overpowered
by this sudden revelation. My companion,
intently watchiqg my face,' waited
some seconds for an answer; then finding that
none came, continued in a very low and gentle
tone,
"Pardon me, if I have spoken too bluntly;
but I am not used to choosing round-about
expressions or employing courtier-like language."
...
"No?I was not thinking of that?I have
nothing to pardon," I murmured, scarcely
knowing what I said.
"Then, what were you thinking?tell me,
Frances! That you could learn to love me a
little?"
With a desperate effort I turned toward
him, and placing my hand in his, whispered,
"It is a lesson that I will not find very difficult
to learn."
"You are mine, then, Frances ?"
"Yes."
And then we said no more, but sat there silently
for a long time. I felt like one in a
dream?I could not realize that this man,
holding my hand in his firm clasp, was truly
mv affianced lover : how could it be that so
great a boon as his love could come to me?
the lonely, self-dependent governess ? For I
felt now what I had never dared before acknowledge
even to tpyself, that it was the
greatest boon Heaven could have bestowed on
me, and that, with all the ardor of my soul's
affection, I loved Gerald Vavaseur.
Imagine a way-worn-traveller, toiling
through an arid and sun-scorched desert, coming
suddenly to a fresh green oasis, shaded by
waving trees, where murmuring waters make
. fc. i.y .jii- i WB? rhft'twiv-1
eler, who in the midslN of the desert of lift '
had thus come suddenly upon an oasis of love
and happiness. I was blinded, bewildered by
the flood of sunlight that poured in upon my
soul; already the past lay dim and forgotten
; in the future all was bright, unspeakably
bright and glorious.
"Frances," said my companion at last?how
sweet the name, so long unheard, sounded on
his lips! "Frances, you must not condemn
pe to a long probation; do not let there be
any uaneccessary delay."
"I think," said I, after a moment's reflection
; "that we must wait at any rate until
next winter, if you don't mind."
"Next winter! and why so, pray ?"
"Because," said I, coming back to the realties
of life, oat of the cloud-region where I
had been floating; "I do not think it would
be exactly right in me to leave Beechcroft in
less than a year from the time I came here.
Mrs. Vivian would be disappointed."
"Conceited girl! do you think your services
here so indispensable?"
"Not indispensable, but I know she likes me,
and likes the way I teach her children; and
it might trouble her to find some one else."
"I tell you what it is, Frances," said Colonel
Vavasour; "you need not think I am going
to encourage that sort of nonsense. What!
are you to go on slaving here for months simply
because you.don't know where Mrs. Vivian
is to find a governess ? A pretty thing,
truly; so you put Mrs. Vivian ahead of me."
"Oh! Colonel Vavasour."
"Call me Gerald, if you please, Miss Gray."
"Well, then, Gerald?you know I don't
put any one ahead of you; but?"
"No buts, if you please. Answer me one
question?do you belong to me ?"
"Yes!" "
"Well, then, it is ray will that you remain
here no longer than the commencement of the
midsummer holidays; I give you grace until
I then. Are you agreed ?"
What could I say ? I felt that his will
| henceforth was to be mine; and I was fain to
j consent to his terms. It wasio new?ancf" as
pleasant as it was strange?to ftave some one
to decide for me; to tell me I must do this?
that it was not good for me to do that. Certainly
I was not a strong-minded woman, for
I found it infinitely sweet to resign my independence,
humiliating though the confession
may seem.
We parted at a not very late hour, Gerald
promising to see me the day after the next,
and to speak to General Vivian about our
plans. When he had left me, I did not feel
lonely. I had so much to think about, that I
was glad there were no eyes, however friendly,
infrv mv nftw-fnimd h&nniness. I want
I bV ?J * I
: ed to have it all to myself for a little while,
j I went up to my room, and looking into my
; mirror, said, "Frances Gray, you are no lonI
ger the same person that arose in this roojp
this morning?yoK are an entirely different
individual. That insignificant individual
who looked last in this mirror, was simply a
poor governess; the one who is speaking tc
you now is Gerald Vavasour's affianced wife."
And it really seemed to me, as 1 regarded my
I sympathetic image, that I was magically transformed
? Sometime before, I had detected in
my face lines of care ; I had even imagined 1
saw some silvery hairs. But to-night I could
see no traces of either; a good-looking and
youthful countenance smiled back on me froir
the glass; the cheeks were fresh and bloom
ing, the eyes shone with unwonted lustre?anc
, I laughed in the fullnesa of my satisfaction?
not with vanity, but because I wanted to b<
young and pretty and attractive for him?al
for him.
ft was long before I could sleep that night
WHen $p^?Noloreddream8 hovered about
my pillowr&uning me with their light graceful
wings, and. making my slumbers happy
and peaceful as they had been when I was a i
little child. i
The next day passed away all too swiftly. 1i
I too^Monarch out in the woods, and made j i
him the confidant of my secret; and the in-1
telligent animal wagged his tail, and raised j i
friendly eyes to mine with an expression that! i
plainly said he understood all about it. I j;
had no visitors this evening?I desired none; :
I did not even read, but sat dreaming away ;!
the hours until bed-time.
* The next day the whole party returned. (
The bride looked beautiful and happy, and ]
. was sweet and gracious in her manner; but I
hailed with most pleasure my pet, who' ran i
into my arms as if she had been parted from
me tor a year, and whispered that "she knew j:
all a^oat it, and fhe was so glad 1" And then,' j
I found that ColonefA^uvasour had'already1 )
. told them} andthey all had kind and affect- h
r TjEwtyTfimSTo besu^r on me?^private of
rar. T 11 T I.
course, wnen x say an, ? eiuepi. juiuu?, ?uo
did not broach the sabject; but I felt quite ;
independantofher sentiments towards me now. <
"Didn't I tell you, Lady Wiseacre, that you I
were not quite as penetrating as yon imagined i
yourself to be?" said Edith when we were to- i
gether in my room; "I knew all the time he
was in love with you, and I was dying to telf <
you so; only he would not have liked it" I
"I should think him quite capable of managing
bis owivaffiurs," I answered demurely. >
"Quite so! I never doubted it, and I am i
still more convinced of the fact since I find
how cleverly he managed to have you all {0 t
himself at the critical moment, when he was
quite sure of having no interruption! If you ]
were any one else, Miss Gray, I should really
suspect you of having a pre-concerted scheme '
between you ; it all happened so nicely."
Edith's wedding affair.
and somewhat wistful d^Sj^f^^^^istened f
happiness?less bright and laughing than us- '
ual, but not less attractive on that account
The youthftil pair went through the ceremony t
with great propriety?the groon, handsome i
and manly looking, responding in tones so lull J
and clear that there could be no donbt of his j
sincerity, and the little bride giving her an- t
swers distinctly, yet with a timid inflexion in
her silvery voice. When it was all over, and l
she had received the embraces and congratu- ]
lations of those nearest and dearest to her, ]
>
shecame to me, and slipped her hand in mine, c
"God bless you, my darling," I whispered,
as I pressed my lips to her forehead ; "may I
you always be as happy as now^-may no
cloud ever dim the sunshine of f . |>1
1 The band nowrcominfenced t>laying, and in I
rafew moments a dozen couples were whirling ! J
around the room. The bride was beset with rt
candidates for her ha^rd, but she showed, as I 8
thought,. great propriety in declining the t
round dances, though she took part in all the j
quadrilles. I was then, and am still, old-fash- 8
ioned enough in my ideas to dislike the sight '
of a young woman, married or single, recline I
ing in the arms of a number of men by turns, *
not one of whom would have the slightest c
right to clasp her hand, or encircle her deli- 1
cate waist, except under cover of the bars of 8
a waltz or gallop?and I really cannot see 8
that the unfitness of the thing is cancelled by 8
the accompaniment of music, however inspi- 1
ring. Edith had, hitherto, always danced i
V...*. nkn infnntiu) InO in O rollieriPP that. 1
ItUUUly UUt OIJC Ail 11/A Ul\/U IUVj 1U W ??I ...WW
she had promised "Charlie" to give them up i
from henceforth?"a decision which I know 1
will be pleasing to your decorous ideas," she
added, saucily.
We had a magnificent supper, and soon af- I
terward the guests dispersed. The bridal pair i
were to leave, quite early in the morning, for i
the North, where they were to spend their
honeymoon with an aunt of Mr. Forester's,
who lived in great style, and had promised
them a round of entertainments, after which
they were to go to Niagara, and other points \
of interest, and then to return to Beechcroft, *
for a short time, ]>efore establishing them-' g
selves in the city where Mr. Forester was going
into business. j
"I will be back in time for your wedding, I
hope,Edith said to me, before starting; t
"mind, you must make Colonel Vavasour wait f
until we come; I shall never forgive you, if
you don't" t
They were gone, an'd Beechcroft seemed
very dull and lonely, indeed, without its "pre- t
siding fairy," as Miss Marchraont called her. t
However, there were still enough there to
cheer it up, when the first gloom of her de- i
parture had worn off. I found Mrs. Audley i
Vivian a very pleasant and amiable person,
and we soon became good friends. Besides, 1
I had now an inward-source of happiness <
which it was hard for any surrounding ciroum-- 1
stances to quench. Even if every one else had i
been disagreeable, cross and exacting, I be- j
lieve I would have been supremely indifferent
to them all, while the one who reigned su- ]
preme in ray heart supported and cherished <
me with his affection.
I used sometimes to sit and think over my
past experiences, with very much the senea-11
tion of a person who awakes from a long unpleasant
dream, to find everything around
them happy and unchanged. For to me it <
seemed as if this, ray present happiness, was
nothing new, but rather that it was a long- i
standing reality, while all that had gone be-11
fore was shadowy and phantom-like?so easily i
does the remembrance of past trouble grow i
cjjm ancj vanish from us in the sunshine of i
; prosperity?and so easily, alas! may it return
| when least we expect it.
, I had nearly four months before me, in i
> which to make ray preparations for our mar'
riage. They would be simple enough, but I ,
had very little leisure time to devote to them,
. and so I commenced them without further dei
lay, not wishing to come to him I loved with[
out a certain degree of fitness and propriety.
I How pleasant were those hours, frequently
I after the family had retired in the evenings,
i which I used to employ over my work ! I
. lingered almost tenderly over each article,
I putting it away with a sort of lingering re
gret when it was completed. Never before had
3 my needle, worked so deftly and so much to
1 my own satisfaction. Thus May, June and
July passed away, and by the beginning of
. August I was ready?oply my wedding dress
f - PJH
remained to be got, and Mrs. Vivian told-i*
I was not to give that a thought ^ &
"Ladies," said Frank Vidian, one molrnu
at breakfast, "there is an arrival inf 01
neighborhood which I have no doubt wi|J ii
terest you all exceeding, as I suppose yqJfcr
none of you, destitute of the ordinary ojjniC
ity-of your sex. There is a gipsy camp
a mile from here, and among their number
a real bonarfide fortune teller, who. wiil>.f
you peep behind the mysterious curtain a?j|
future for the small sum of ope silver dd?j
Don't you want to visit her ?"
"Yes, Oh! yes, that Will be cbarming^jjj
claimed several voices. "When can ;we go}!
her? Will she be here long?'' . ^
"I do not know what iheir sflftjrifejg
they are a set of roving vagru^Mfl|
who will remain as long as thfyjflKBjjHjj^
loft for thorn to ehaat_. SDODOttHnBilH
tajtlajr; ijvili be jour escofel?jPHHpj|
imagine Audley i^too gobef-minii^Jl ^ co(jfl
tenance such frivolty."
"Slot at all," said Audley?
wife cast a persuasive glance;
jrou just for the novelty of ^ A
course you are all going to was& IP***0&J&
but if you like to do that it is noanatri
tnine. I dare say the fortune teller will pt
it to some good use."
"Oh! mamma, may Lucy and I go too 1
acclaimed Blanche; "I do want my. fortur
M" .; "
"If Miss Gray will give ycgpa holiday
mswered their mother; for tlttrimcatioii ha
iot-yet commenced.
"Why, Miss Gray must go roo^F coure
ihe wants her fortune told," said Frank.
"Miss Gray's fortune is told alreatfy, isn't:
Miss Gray ?" said Blanche. . *
"Not that I know of, Blanche," I rejoined
'I have never been to a sybil in my life."
"Whait is a sybil ?" asked Lucy; "I
will show you one to-day," said .Frank
'Blanche thinks that getting engaged is hai
ng one's fortune told; all she wants to fin
>ut is whether she is ever going to be marriec
sn't it Blanche V "8
"Then I suppose I have no business at a]
o go to the fortune teller, have I?" said Ad
aughing.
"Well, I suppose there is not much more t
ind put about, after that," said Blanche
'books always end when people marry."
"What business have you to be readin
hose books which tell you of people raarrj
ng ? You ought to read Robinson Crusoe an
Little Dora," said Frank. "Does Miss Gra;
illow you to indulge in that style of liters
ure ?"
"No," said Blanche coloring ; "but I ge
>ooks out .of the library sometimes. As fo
kittle Dora and Robinson Crusoe," she adde
oftily, "I read them when I was five year
Id."
"And whose writings do you prefer now ?
rnrsued her brother.
"Mrs<Caroljpe Lee Hentz and Mrs. ^outli
.oiioi t?\mY ffirvnritei" mnlipd
ThereOwas a lauJb at the"Blanche*
tastes, and Mrs. Vivian remark?
hat she did not think it was altogether advi
able for her to select her own readmg, am
hat ill Die future she would prefer being th
udga of what books it was best for her t
Soon after breakfast we separated to pp
?re for our walk. It was a rather, wane
>ut pleasant morning, and as our way la;
ihiefly through a woodland path, we Vlid no
ind the sun annoying. At last we came t
in open space, where two or three picture
[ue-looking tents were scattered about, am
ome queer and not very clean looking figure
noving among them. Sitting down on th
ground with a black looking stump of a pip
n her mouth was an old woman whom we al
mmediately decided must be the fortune tei
er.
"How dirty she looks," said Blanche." .
"T MI i_ 1?t ;?? ??;;j Xf5r
"Young man," she sai(^ solemnly; "thei
arfe some to whom the mysteries I apeak a:
but idle fancies ; to such I would say, I ha^
"1 Will U8K ner UUUUb my liUg, Miu mn
darchraont; "perhaps she can give me som
nforraation concerning it; at any rate ther
s no harm in trying her."
CHAPTER VII.
"Good morning, mother," said Frank, a
ve approached, adding in a low voice to ue
'that's the orthodox way to address thes
ipecimens, isn't it?"
The old crone nodded, without
)ipe out of her mouth.
"These ladies have come to have their foj
unes told," continued Frank ; "are you th
ortune teller?"
The woman shook her head.and pointed t
he farthest tent
"She must be dumb," said Frank, soto voce
hen aloud, "Do you mean we will find her i;
;here ?'
Possibly his surmise was correct, for sh
lodded again without replying; and straighl
jay we proceeded to the indicated spot.
A swarthy, rough looking man, and a young
jlack-eyedy rather pretty girl, both miserabl
dad, and wretchedly 4tey
;he door of the tent The girl arosJTam
lodded civilly, the man stared at us withou
noving. ' <
"Is the fortune teller in here ?" enquire*
Frank, who had taken upon himself the offic
)f spokesman for the party.
?
X es, WOO U1C icyijr.
"We want to see her; I suppose she will ac
wit us ?" #
"I'll see," said the girl.
She disappeared within the tent, and pre
ently returned, saying that we might go ii
We accordingly entered, and found the sybi
a, tall, masculine looking, but rather hanc
some middle-aged woman, seated on a bene
at a sort of rude table, on which were place
a pack of well-thumbed cards, a dice-box an
a piece of paper ipajdte^ with son^e qaet
looking figures! She was better dressed tha
the others of her tribe, we had seen, and wa
altogether, more respectable looking. W
bid her. good-morning, and she returned tb
greeting with a grave inclination of the hea<
"Can you tell these ladies their fortunes 1
asked Frank; "they are all apsfioqs to get
peep at the ftiture."
"The stars have their mysteries, and tl
minds of mortals cannot encompass the woi
dere of the universe," said the dame, oraci
larly ; "nevertheless, it is given to some I
read their signs."
"Well, we want you to read them for 01
benefit," said Frank.
TVio wnmnn twit, nn him a searching erlanc
flMprpart with you. Xet scoffers depart; for this
mo {dace for them." v 1
"Item sure I didjot mean to acoff," said 1
lrVFhink, quite meehl^ * c
S^^Itis well," said the woman.
i^^' Sbe then glanced.over the party, and con- i \
^tinued.in a less oracular tone. . .?
"There are but tiro aajpngyoiFto Whom |he I r
U jWrets Ofjove.remain to berevealed. Do you
{*?iiwish to consult me?" ^
fi&id Blanche, eagerly stepping for^^*The
woman regarded her with a slightly ?
&M' t??? little one ?" she said; "well, to <
'r^keMO you, I ;will, but ^odjr future, at least
futurfe,^^]^^ahead. Will ?
I ^'hesitated, drew back, and final- i
HHK| ?il to retim," co??ed the]'
B the rest of us; "only one ; i
withdrew, and awaited j}
K Linri&^f&fe-appat&nce. She came out 10 j
if about tiW oaimiMl^ looking quite flushed and
ft excited. I
)f "I do believe she is a witch," I heard her ]
it sfcy in alow tone to Ada; "she told me such j
curious things, but she said I must not repeat, y
j "Well, who will go next ?" said Frank. j
ie i "I will," saicKAda; "I just want too see
Aether she will-think I am single <
" ("Ob I no, she pitched upon youllisW^wp ^
d married woman, "said Frank. \
-r'Well, I will try her," said his sister-in-law. (
ie Jo they went, stayed abdufc as long as Linda
httd done, and cam^Oht laughing. (
it "She did actually .know I was married," (
stid she; "wasn't it curious, Audley ? Per- }
[; hagf she is really a witch." . j
! Blanche then pleaded earnestly allowed
to go next, and returned looking ex- (
. trejbely. mysterious and important. Lucy, (
j. mole timid, declined going in.
d Well, Miss Gray, it's your turn," said
I# |
' C entered the t8nt, not without some scru- ?
U pla in regard to my folly in doing so. The (
a old woman appeared to be intently studying
her cards, which were spread out before her,
o and did not look up for some moments after j
; I htd approached her.
'Well, are yon ready to tell my fortune ?" <
g I aiked at length, impatient of the delay. ?
p? 'Give me a piece of silver to cross your (
d Jiand with," she replied. I produced a small ,
y coil, which she drew twice or thrice across g
k. the palm of my extended hand. (
"Your hand is hard to read, my lady," she !f
,t said after looking earnestly at it; "I see here y
r an odd mixture of good and bad in store for ^
d you. Your life hitherto has not been a pros- -<
B perousone." .
'Will it become so ?" I asked. <
1 " - " Mt %
?> "Tee," she replied slowly; "you win nave
happiness, but not immediately; "there is trou- I
?j^ ^ '
g rJiscouijiging ; however, I procee?
f'j^wSt'sort of person will I marry ?"
itj in every way worthy of you." ]
" P^Efcfik true, at any rate, thought I. |
_ f ' "'IfHitn will I be married?" I pursued. ,
I i ^#ho consulted her cards too or three times, |
0 twm shook her head. ? '
h "The trouble I speak of lies between that ^
time and now," she replied ; "and like a veil, ?
^ makes the future dim. I cannot tell when it
3 f
will be."
6 -"But I can," I thought to myself; "well, 1
U good-bye, mother," I added aloud, "and thank ^
1 you for your information. Please tell me
wtotJ-am to pay you for it."
She named her price, and thanked me as I
paid it to her, and I then rejoined my com- *
panions. Miss Marcbmont then entered, saying
that she wanted to consult her about her log*
ring. She stayed but a short time, and 1
when she returned, exclaimed clapping her hapds
in pretended exultation. 1
"^'Congratulate me, ladies and gentlemen! (
my valuable ring is not lost; it is in the house
* at Beechcroft" *'
i: "Indeed! and whereabouts may it be 1
6 found?" asked Frank. 1
* i?*'Iti a certain box, in a certain room in the
e second story," she replied. "Who placed it 1
there she could not inform me; but she said (
* - - -
that it.was not in its usual place, and that it c
e got there by extraordinary means." *
"Well, we will have a search when we get
0 home," said Mrs. Audley Vivian ; "come,
Frank, are you not going to have your forr'
flune told?"
D "Who, I ? No, thank you ; I am afraid of
that ohl witch. Besides, she calls me a scofe
fer, and she will be sure to tell me something
^ unpldlsant."
. "At for you, Audley, I know you are above
f>'<ia0i^jyolitv." said Miss Marchmont; "so if
T you are ready, *e may oajyell go
1 - VA&hi Alice klmpatienl^o recover her diit
amgid^,'#aid you really bel ieve,
-^-MM^AUce, that you will find it?"
d "I mean to look, at any rate," she rejoined;
e "ana yon, ladies, who also live on the second
etory, will please be complaisant enough to
ransack all your little boxes, in case some,
U mysterious agency has hidden the ring among |
your.possessions."
. ?I will willingly look in all of mine,"saidl. {
s- *And I, also," said Mrs. Audrey Yivian, j
i. laughing; "though as I was not in the house j
1, at the time of its disappearance, I scarcely |
1- think it likely it can be in my room."
h As soon as we reached home the search was |
d begun, though of course, with but little hope
d $f success.
nr "Gome, we must all look together," said | r
n Miss Marchmont; "because some may have j
s, bettef eyes than others, and then there will t
e beumtcJiflRce of its escaping our notice." i
ie Accordingly, we commenced in her room, f
1. Every little box she owned in the world, as i
she said, was" produced, ai^ ^e pqnieuts exa
fi rallied but with no result t
"My room next," said I? ]
le I opened my trunk, and took out three or 1
i- four boxes, of different sizes, the ring was not <
j- in any of them. I replaced them, and was i
to about closing the trunk, intending to look i
somewhere else, when Linda exclaimed,
ir "There is another box, Miss Gray, down at <
the veiy bottom; you have forgqtt?n that" s
e. "That has only.one q? tvyq rihhqns in ty" 1
re Baid I; "however, let look by all means." '
rq I took it out, and showed them the contents, i
re "You see it is not there," said I. s
"Stop ]" said L/incla, ana, as i tnougnt, a
ittle rudely, she took up what I believed to
>e a little piece of tissue paper, crumpled up
it the bottom of the box. "What is this ?"
She unfolded the paper and displayed?the
ost ring.
There was a general exclamation of surprise;
lone more genuine tlian my own. ?
"How in the world could it have got there ?"
aid Ada.
"Oh! my dear ring. I am so-glad to get
t back, tlgit I don't care how it got there,"
fcid Miss March mont.
She looked perfectly delighted at the recov-1
jry of-her prize.
"Ah! that is the mystery," said?Linda; i
' can you rifct unravel it, Miss Gjay ?"
Hertone wa^so peculiar that every one in/oluntarily
glaired first at her, then at myjelf.
? .<>>
* I, . 'V N '
I felotny face flo.sh'^T Jo not1 understand;
pou, Miss Vivian," I said fojdly. "I believe I
iave already asserted wi^Npfhcient -distinct- '
jess that I was quite at a lo&to account for
;be presence of the ring in my trunk/'
"My dears, what are you talking about,
x)fch of yon ?" said Miss Marchraont aajrious|y
"<jf course if was put in here by accident;
n the hurry and concision of that evening, H
ivas not to be expeoted that any one should
think particularly what they were about"
"You forget, annt Alice," said Linda;
'that I was the one to whom you entrusted
mat ring. I &mperfectly certain that I placed
t in your drawer, and nothing can shake my
xmviction on the subject".
Ada, looking very uncomfortable, and trying
a speak in an unconcerned tone, here tried to
:hange the subject by making some indifferent
remarks; but I was resolved not to be ^ienced.
"Linda Vivian," I said very slowly and
listinctly ; "you have implied before, every
>ne present, that you suspect me of concealng
from you all some knowledge that I had
>f the whereabouts of that ring. Do you astert
openly that you doubt my* word,, when I
lay that I most positively, bad no knowledge
>f it whatever?"
"I do," said Linda..
There was a dead silence, broken by Miss
Vlarchmont :
"Oh, Linda I" she said as she took my hand ;
'what do you mean by offering Mite Gray
mch an insult??Miss Gray?PVariW, my
lear child, don't heed her. , She is dreaming." !
"Oh no, aunt Alice, I am quitd' awake,"
aid Linda composedly; "you see, it is a
question of veracity between her and me ; I
issert that I put the ring in a certain place,
vhere it is not found; she asserts that she did
- - * * ? /? a
iot put it in a certam place, wnere 11 is iouua.
STou choose to doubt me, and to believe uer."
"But I do not doubt you," said ber aunt,
'if you say you are quite sure you put it in
;he drawer."
"I am quite sure/' said.Linda.
"Then?I must believe you." .
"Then Ivow did it get in this box T
*-'"Tbw box was lir Vonrg and tour jristerV
oom; on the dressing table," said 1; J'? nau
t there that evading."
"There, Lilw^," said Blanche; "don't you J
tee y*oU .might have put it in there without ]
"Hush, Blanche," said her aunt "Pray,
Linda, apologize to Miss Gray for your unfor;unate
expressions, which I am quite sure you
isod withoutconsideration."
"I used them with' consideration, and with
;ood reason, as I think," said Linda.
"Pray, Miss Marchmont, drop the subject,"
taid I; "I am quite indifferent to your niece's
ipinion, and consider it beneath my self-reipect
to answer her; but of necessity, after
ier insulting remarks, there is but one course
eft open to me. I shall leave Beecbcroft
vithout delay."
Here Mrs. Aiidley Vivian left the room,
aking Blanche and Lucy with her.
"Linda, I am amazed?I am horrified ai
four conduct," said Miss Marchmont. "And
is for leaving Beechcroft, Frances, of course
fou must do no such thing?but we had beter
not discuss the matter any further at presint."
"It would make no difference in my deternination,"
said I; "I appreciate your kind-1
less, Miss Marchmont, but I could not sleep j
mother night under the root with your niece."
I was nearly choking, and could scarcely
irticulate these few words; Linda swept out
)f the room, and Miss Marehmont, after lingering
a moment, in great distress and perdexity,
followed her/
Burning all over, and trembling with ex!itement,I
hastily commenced packing up my
vardrobe and the few valuables I possessed,
or I was resolved to take my departure with>ut
delay. I was stung to the quick by the
nsult which Linda had offered me, and alhough
I knew perfectly that no one else suslected
me of speaking an untruth, I determined
then and there that until the mystery of
he ring, by some means or other, had been
ully cleared up, and my innocence in the
natter established beyond a doubt, I would
lever set foot within fhe walls of Beechcroft
igain.
One by one, I folded up and laid in my
runk the carefully prepared articles I had
vorked at with such a happy heart?my wedling-trousseau,
destined now perhaps never to
>e worn, for I would not marry marry Colonel
i/avasour until the slightest stain of suspicion
io longer rested uppp my character*. After
iJlA \yqs J not a stranger among them ? What
lid they know of my antecedents? What proof
rnd they that I was really honest ? Might I
lot be a thief and the descendant of thieves ?
Fever burned in spy hrftip and maddened
ny senses. I would not even stop to think,
>ut went on with tremblitfg hands arranging
ny effects until everything was ready for my
leparture.
Just as I had finished Miss Marchmont came
0 my door with a message from Mr. Vivian
equestiug to see me. I went down, without
1 word. I found tyiss Vivian PR her- sofa,
n tears. t
"Altss Gray," she said holding out her hand
a me; I have just had an interview with
Linda. I can put but one interpretation on
ler conduct, and that is, that from some cause
>r other her mind has been thrown off its balince;
I do not think she is answerable for
what she said."
"If you mean, Mrs. Vivian, that yo\ir
laughter is insane," I replied," she is quite as
iane as I am. I have observed no indications
whatever pf weakness of mind."
"My sister tells me you are going to leave
lis. I cannot think you would subject us to
juch a mortification on Linda's account."
ruu jurgct uiat iuo iiivinuumvu _
mine," I rejoined smiling bitterly. "If I an? ?
asked why I left jtou, I shall say, because I ?
was suspected of purloining a valuable piece
of jewelry."
"Linda never said that," said MirfMarch- JfJ
mont ( ? *.
"Not in actual words; bat what, did she fa
imply? She said she believed that I knew fix
the ring to be in my trunk, therefore she ';
thought I put it there. She asserted that the ?
put it in your drawer. I did not iSSralt her by ?
doubting her word; I simply thought it must ^
afterwards hare been moved, but by what pr
means I am incapable even of imagining. gt
The box in which it was found> was on her so
dressing table the night of the charades. I de
brbughU^out for some tritiin^ purpose con- th
nected with th preparations we were making, c?
I forget now wfrai..^ The next morning I car- JJj
MBO It DMt to Uirew il> uaronar ^
Iy fcl my/riuik without erweu opening it Tfce di
ring mu#t batabeen put in it that night; % pa
whom, Snd for what purpetefiTdo not kndw
any more than , yourselves. ' Your daughter
chooses to disbelievoJWs, and has spokefa to tg
me in a manner that allows me no dhoicebkf ^
to go away. It is the only mode of BelMefijfly
that I have at ray command, against furuwr ;
insult" .a
"Miss Gray," said Mrs. Vivian (she was P
still trying). have I?have any of us/exoe|>t Linda-^ever
tteated you with anything but :
confidenc^and rejectr la
"You ne^hr have," I replied; "I belieys la
you have alwaya^eoognized my true position? fri
that of a lady, forced by ^circumstances to *$
work for her living* . R
"A perfect kdyj any one who has won our &
sincerest affection and esteem," said: Hrs?
Vivian. "How, is it right in }ouK because this hi
unfortunate misunderstanding^ occurred th
between my misguided childl 'aivT^nfeflf to dc
leave us in this sudden way, eVen- J*1
waiting for an elucidation' of themyster^that
is nuzzlinc u? all?" ' \
"I can wait for it better and morepatient^
Iy elsewhere,* I replied. I woul^nfgt allow tu
rayselfto be touchedbyj^et pleading tone. T to
steeled myself against her peoslaslonS. Long ?t
she argdld with me ; ,but I was film- in. IP? ^
resolution, and she finally gave op in despair** nc
' J-ftquerted her?as a last fhvofr?tdallbw
the carriage to take me to ThOfabyr\iit time,
to catch the night train. & ;U|
: Afternoon came. I will passover the part- PJJ
ing scene ; the bitterness of toy feelings, as I ?
turned away, would be impooaBle tO desca*ibe.
I carefully suppressed-: all Ugns of eaietKH^ ^
even when Blanche and.j&(K^, clij^ing tnkBie, ru
sobbed aloud. I gently pnt aside their en* pi
twining arms, and entered the carriage with- 0
out a word. In a few moments more, the w<
gates of Beechcroft had closed behind me ; I pi
was again a wanderer hj. the wide world. _
I had left with Miss Marchmpnt a note for ^
Colonel' Vayasour.: I had intended leaving th
without offering him any explanation ; but I ti<
tefliH fed that I owed it to him to vfjjfc at **
least a line in; regard1 to niy' tatfdir"1 ' -to
Time Suuiameu imi niuec riuius.
r "I cannot now folly enter into an account
bf what has occurred?you will hear, it from SI
fathers. My mind is in too disordered a state th
to permit me to write clearly. One thing &
only seems clear to my mind; until every- a
;thing has been fully explained,^you must con- gfa
aider that the ties which have hitherto existed th
between us have been entirely broken off. If 8)<
this mystery is ever unraveled, I am again th
jours; meanwhile do not -wait on me, but be et
happY, if yon can, with some one lern misem- ?
bletnanlam. F. O. ^
T Ji/1 nni amn naMOHU fVio nnntMilipflAn In all
A U4U kM\Mt WV^U |AMW4TV VUV VVUMlTUAVVavM M? .?
the last two lines; I scarcely knew what I Was
writing, so completely crashed and stupefied .
did I feel. >As the carriage rolled along, I
stared oat of the window without seeing a 01
single object on the road. One duD, ever-pree- ug
ent idea alone filled my mind?I was leaving Be
behind me all of happinem the world contain- 61
ed for me. Every instant led me farther from
the one who to me was all in all; I was going
back to misery and despair. jn
I had scarcely thought where I was going,
but I supposed my old home?Bentonville? sti
was the best place. There I knew people, at mi
any rate, and could probably obtain employ- 00
raent Then I began to wonder, in a con- n!
fused.way, what they would all think of my ^
return, and whether my life at Mrs. Ellyson's he
would go on just as formerly. wf
We reached Thornby at dark. Audley Vivian,
who had accompanied me, waited with me 011
until the train started. He was very kind 04
and considerate, attending carefully to every- ^
thing .ithout trying to force me out of my ^
miserable abstraction and gloom. He pot pr
me in the care of the conductor, and at part- ev
ing warmly pressed my hand, bidding me re- *n
member how glad they would all be to re- jP
ceive tidings of me whenever I conld write, j**
Then the whistle shrieked, the train started
off, and we were going rapidly on towards
Bentonville?away from Thornby?away j4
from dear Beechcroft-?away from Gerald ^
Vavasour,
How well I can recall the sensations of that ha
miserable night, as I sal up in painful wake- an
fulness in my seat, watching the carious spec- sh
imens of humanity sprawling around me in ?*
every conceivable .variety of uncomfortable 7a
position. All of them could sleep. I was the cr|
only person in the car to whom the boon of ^
slumber seemed to be denied. X felt auffoca- th<
eating for want of air, and raised the glass of th
the window by which I sat; but I had not b?
experienced the relief of inhailing the refresh- P*
ing breath of air that stole in for three minutes,
when an old gentleman on the opposite v0
side of the car woke up, shook himself, gl&nced
savagely at ine and pulled his collar up ra
over his ears, and a woman behind me with a 8U
baby leaned forward saying, "If you please* ^
ma'am, my little boy is subject to. oroup;
would you be so kind as to let down that sash t" to
Of course I submitted, and excluded the com- T1
fortinj^bree^^fi^^^ W&S already aching, stc
on^Jlv Bontnnni|jn in >n? I fol
IAS1A T AM VMW
scaromj A and dizzy did I ^
^il RP ' **
wjebk.j tyrCopUBHHBQBBHVns
Uw previous cbiptera a( jui
thU SiorrtSw romldlfippBe* lObacribem.]
^ " ' 1 * '
B&" THoraas,'I have always plawd t^e great- 4"
eat confidence in you. Ifow tell me, Thomas r ^
how is it that my hatcher's bills are so larger pij
aqd that I always have such bad dinners V
Really, sir?I don't know; for I'm sure we
never have anything nice in the kftcbexi that jn
we don't send some of it up in the parW*
?= 7" " ' ^ : -j,a
98r Some persons make a great flourish '
about always doing what they1 believe to be t
right, but they always manage to believe ju<
that is right which is for their awn interest. ph
Ej^l3$jpjtM!!ii'jU4lP gw-nwwHj*
This celebrated mountaineer and "^trapper
tlwwott the Missouri river, near the town
Arffcv Rock; is hale, stout and hearty,
le and willing to make more like tripei He
fall 6r anecdotes of hairbreadth* escapes
mi mountain storms and Indian fights.
He says the last tight place he got into was
the year 1846, during the Mexican war.
le Mexicans were committing' depredations
*H kind*, and had stolen some of thh govSent
horse* and ponies. Captain Sterling
i was in command of a company of United
a tee volunteers* who were ever ready for a
>ot or a fight. He was ordered to make a
tail of tyelve of las best send
Uwa roda uft weii iniwittwa oB -niB wvuriMs
tptiog horse, Leo. A s^out from the twelve
*ye men bid him welcome, their object stai,w?d
requeetiBg'him to take command.
as they wer^ on
Jt^fo?fcwW a Sd
? men came nigherf^s keen eye discovered
Carson, after queetiooip/ie chief a short '
?e,;foand that thejp itereiriyjn pareuit of
^Wfe&w?'*id:tdld him tins tale to 'TM
rett themselves. But all intrigue could
ifodace Smdivefe to release him and' ha
Ntlm men.
Tire next morning the old chief commenced
takers. Oaipdn catted him for ft talk, and
lally j^wwde4*ii? to eend one 6f his beat
innere to Captain Price's camp, and if things
ere not fohndjust as represented, that on
e fourth-<li? from''the departure of sard
inner, at 12 o'clock, his might <jowlth his
i&oners & he pleased. The runner started,
jreon and his men, sanguine that everything
auldprove satisfactory tothe chief, remained
isonerc, cheerful and happy.
On tbemorriing of the fourth day all were,
oinentarily expecting the. runner to appear.
e could reach.
Carson thought his hour had cone, as prepationa
were made; and well knowing that
e terms would her complied with, he called
indivereand fold him be would like to have
talk with.him before he and his men were
ot. Carson and Sandivere commenced
eir talk, Carepn in the meantime walking
)wly and leisurely from , the camp, telling * .
e chief that the horses, saddles, blankets,
c., were all donated or willed to him, the
eat chief, an<f that he was not compelled, on
$SQrofa>f this donation, to divide them
oong his Warriors.
The chief was much interested and pleased
tUr his donation, and by thw time they were
afhtyto one hundred yards from "the Indian
mp, when Carson, with the dexterity of an
d mountaineer, pulled from his boot leg an
fly looking holster pistol, cocked and prented
directly in the face of the old chief,
claiming:
"Stand, sir 1 you are my prisoners."
"What do you mean ?" p.zked Sandivere.
"I mean jnst What I say?if you move one
ch you are a dead man r
The Indians, seeing their chief in danger,
- ' 1 ' - n t f_T M ..
irtea to ms rescue, oat uanon toia mm u>
otion bis men book, or he wouldshoot him
the root The old chief,well' knowing the
sn he had to deal with, instantly complied
d motioned his men back. Carson then
Id him. to order up his twelve men with their
irsee jnst as he had received them. This
is instantly complied with.
Canon then moon ted the old chief behind
e of his men and started for Capt Price's
mp, where Sandivere found things as repre3ted
by Canon. The runner had been
ere, but bad lost the trail, which had caused
b delay. Captain Price gave the chief many
esents, and escorted him to His tribe. He
er afterward was a true friend to the whites,
d in many instances did valuable service,
ins, by the coolness, canning and downright
avery of Bob Carson, this devoted "band of
elve brave men were rescued from death.
Card Playing on the Sabbath and its
j) Results.?One of the strongest evinoes
of the wrath and corse of God ever
lown, has been seen in Greensboro, North " - _
trolina. It was on that bright, clear Sabth
morning, April 23d, when all was calm
d the sun seemed -as though it could nol
ine bright enough to make glad the hearts ,
Sundry-school and church goers, when the
rious church bells of the town were sendy
forth their notes of welcome, summoning
awds to hear the word, that a company of
ine eight or nine colored men assembled in
b woods just outside the corporate limits of
b town to have a social day of "gambling,"
ttiug, card-playing, <fcc., <fcc. Well, the day
asee away, until up in the afternoon, the
me and betting runs high, when there,
thin the sound of the Baptist preacher, hie
ice is heard, and one of these gamblers
ys Amen. About this time one^of them
ises his baud, (cards in it) when all of a
mm Km ^aaIo o rt/uinl ia i* conon iina U ia
UUC^ 4^U XSXsip ?, PWVlWA OVVMWWW*, MU/
leers refuse to move. The eards drop out
d fall to the ground. The arm drops to his
(e and he is a palsied man?to-day not able
earn his living. Such ie the fate of one.
tat of another is more terrible. He waff _
Mit and defiant of law. He tries hu band
r a half hour. But that enough. He
ivesfor the bariro^
These to^.aa^ hia.dtnew it was wrong to
ay cards, ancCSejieciallj on tbe Sabbath,
le pahaedurfau says he is done.
Has .not providence a strong arm in deal7
thus in such caM??and does it not teach
that the way of the Sabbath broker is
rd. M.
^ Every period of life has-its peculiar prelices.
Whoever saw old age that did not aptud
the past, and condemn the present times I
%