University of South Carolina Libraries
lewis m. grist, proprietor.! ^ii fnbcjpbcnt Jfamilj ftcfosppcr: Jfor tjjc promotion of % ^ulifical, Social, ^gricnltaral aitb Commercial interests of % jJon% {terms?$3.00 a year, in advance. VOL. 18. YORKVILLE, S. C., THURSDAY, FEBEUARY 22, 1872. 1STO. 8. |iu (i>it()tuiil fjfrtee Jto. Written for the Yorkville Enquirer. THE OAKHURST ROMANCE. BY MRS. IlENRY DEAS. CHAPTER XI. When Brooke Eversham, or rather he who had formerly borne that name, bid adieu to Oaklands, it was with the idea of going out West and finding employment in some large city there. He had no definite idea of what the employment would be; he supposed he 1 * * - --a ? i> * eomn nnnnt- ' rnignt {jet & suuutiuu iio iu cvui^ w?.^w ing-house; but the chief difficulty in his way would be the want of references of any kind. He had naturally a hopeful spirit, however, and as he proceeded on his journey his heart | became somewhat lightened of its heavy load, I and he began to look forward and make plans 1 for the future. He had fixed upon Chicago as his destina- ! tion, and on his arrival there, put up tempo- J rarily at a hotel, where he registered his name I as Richard Powell?the first name that came ! into his mind. Anything would do, provided it was as different as possible from the cogno- j men by which he had hitherto been known. , "The only difficulty will be, that I shall be in danger of forgetting it," he said to himself, \ "I must keep a good lookout, that the other ' doesn't slip out unaware." And then the idea occurred to him, what a strange, sad thing it seemed that Brooke Eversham no longer existed. In laying aside the old familiar name it was as if a friend had died and been buried out of sight. But he had no leisure now to indulge in lamentations over this lost friend. He must act, not think. His first proceeding was to go the readingroom and look over the daily papers, in the hope of finding something that might suit him. There was a long list of "Wants," none of which were inviting; such as "Wanted, a clerk in a Grocery Store; to one trustworthy and capable, a liberal salary given. Good references required." "Wanted, a partner in a light manufacturing and jobbing business; in a good location, and making from ?10 to ?20 a day," &e. Finally at the very end came one that he paused to read over again. "Waqted, a young man of steady habits to write out bills and accounts, and do collecting ! for a large wholesale dry-goods establishment. Apply at No. , St." "That might do for a beginning," he thought. "As long as I can make a living for the first year, I must be satisfied." It was too late that evening to do anything; so he went to bed early and fortified himself by a sound sleep. After breakfast next morning he started forth on his quest. Jtle had no difficulty in finding the address given in the advertisement ; it was a large store in one of the principal streets. He entered, and asked to sec one of the firm. "Mr. Weber is in, sir," said the clerk whom he addressed, and who evidently took him for a customer. "Please to walk this way." He was shown into a back-room, and Mr. Weber, a good looking elderly German, met him at the door and invited him to take a seat. "I called in answer to this," said Brooke, or Richard as we must now call him, taking from his pocket the advertisement, which he had cut out of the paper for reference. "Indeed!" said Mr. Weber, in evident surprise. He paused a moment, then added, "Well, sir, perhaps we can agree. What are j your qualifications ?" "I can write a good hand, and am quick at j accounts," replied Richard. Mr. Weber handed him an account to fill up. Richard wrote it out rapidly and legibly. "Good," said the other. "Now, are you a good walker; for in collecting, I assure you. that's an important consideration ?" "I cau walk twenty miles a day," said Richard. "Well, we shall hardly require as much as that," said Mr. Weber, smiling. He then named the salary which his partner and himself nrnnnserl tn five. ? r-?r 0? "If that would suit you, Mr. ?, Mr.?." "Powell," said Richard. "If that would suit you, Mr. Powell, we j shall be happy to take you on trial for a I month, at the end of which time either of us j will be free to dissolve the bargain, or else j ratify it for the year. We are anxious to ! have the post filled sis soon as possible, as our business is very large, and we find that our book-keeper's hands are too full, and there are any amount of bills on hand to be col- j lected." "I can come as soon as you please?to-day, j if necessary." "To-morrow will answer. Now, to the last! and equally important point?you have omit-1 ted to show me your references." "I am sorry to say, I have none," said Richard, feeling very blank. "No references!" rejoined the merchant. "No, sir. I am a stranger here, and have come to seek business. You said nothing in your advertisement about references." "It Is understood, as a matter of course," said Mr. Weber. "In a position so responsible as the one offered, we dare not employ a stranger without some guarantee of his reliability. Of course, you will understand that this is an established rule of the firm," lie added, politely, "aud we can make 110 exceptional cases, otherwise we should be happy to accommodate you." "Of course," said Richard, greatly disappointed, yet trying to conceal the unpleasurable emotion. "I am sorry to have taken up so much of your time," he added as he rose to leave. "Not at all, sir, not at all," said the merchant escorting him to the door. "I am very sorry that this obstacle should be in the way of our coming to a mutual understanding, but as I said before, we cannot deviate from established rules. Fine day for a walk, sir! I wish you good-morning." J ? o Here was damper No. 1. Richard went off, somewhat cast down by this first failure, yet still hopeful of ultimate success. He got another paper, and looked over the list for that day; but there were no new advertisements that would suit. It would be tedious to recount the various unsuccessful attempts made by our hero during the next few days to obtain employment whereby he might earn a livelihood. At last he nearly despaired, when on looking in his \ 1 | purse he discovered how very nearly banki rupt he was, with still no prospect of obtainj ing more funds. As he was sitting in his room, ruminating j somewhat dolefully over his prospects, his landlady knocked at the door. "I am to ask, sir," she said civilly, "if you would be kind enough to give me a final answer about keeping this chamber, as I can let it out to some one else immediately, if you intend giving it up." Richard had moved from the hotel to a small private boarding house, as being better suited to his means, and, uncertain whether even the present expense would not be too great for him, had told Mrs. Hart that he would let her know at the end of a week whether he would remain there or not. The week had elapsed, and it was necessary to come to a decision. Richard thought of his nearly empty purse, and hesitated. He was averse to moving, but possibly he could find cheaper accommodation elsewhere. "I shall change my quarters to-morrow," said he. "You can make whatever arrangement you like about letting the room." "Would you kindly allow this gentleman to look at it, sir ?" was the next request. Richard assented, and a benovolent-looking, grey-haired elderly man was shown in. He glanced around, and nodded approval of the chamber and its appointments. In its " " ^ i i 11 1 survey Ins eye ten upon iticnara, wno nau withdrawn to a window, and rested for a moment keenly on his face. "The room will do very well," he said to Mrs. Hart as they descended the stairs. As they reached the bottom he added, "Remarkably fine-looking youug man, that. Who is he, madam ?" "His name is Powell, sir," rejoined the landlady. "He has only been here a week, but I've taken quite a fancy to him somehow, and am sorry to lose him. I'm real sorry for him, too." "Why so?" queried the old gentleman. "Because I think he's real poor, sir, from what he told me. He's been trying to get employment, and hasn't succeeded yet. I take it he's been rich, and failed, or lost all his property some way, because he's got some elegant little things?trinkets and such like? and his clothes are of the finest." The "elegant little things" were some seals and other trifles belonging to his watch, which Richard had made up his mind to carry on the following day to a jeweller to dispose of, 0.1/I n oqqI 7*1 nor ujViinti Mr flnnwav bad civen C*ViVA C* OUMt J o him, and with which he did not care to part. "Trying to get employment, do you say ?" said the old gentleman. "Are you sure of that, now ?" "Yes, sir, I am quite sure, because he told { me so himself." "And what did you say his name was ?" "Powell, sir?Mr. Richard Powell." "Good." The old gentlemen took out his pocket-book and wrote the name down on a card contained therein; then took thence another card on which was inscribed the name "Samuel Danton," and handing it to Mrs. Hart, requested she would take it up-stairs to Mr. Powell, and say to him he would be glad of the pleasure of an interview with him. "Now, sir?" asked the landlady. "Yes, now, if you please." "Dear, I hope some good fortune is going to befall the poor young gentleman," said kiud-hearted Mrs. Hart, to herself, as she once more ascended the stairs. Richard in his loneliness and craving for sympathy, had given her some slight insight into his troubles, and her interest was quite warmly excited in him. When she knocked at his door and handed him the card, giving Mr. Danton's message at the same time, he looked surprised, but said he would be glad to see him. "Won't you come into ray parlor, sir," said Mrs. Hart. "You will be quite free from interruption there." And now behold Richard and the friendly old gentleman seated tcte-h-tite. The conversation commenced in a somewhat abrupt way. "Sir," said Mr. Danton, "I understand you are in want of employment." "Unfortunately, sir, that is the case," rejoined Richard. "Are you willing to write eight hours a day, and have your board and lodging free, and the rest of your time to employ in any way you like ?" "Willing! Of course I would be willing, if?" "If what ? Talk out plainly." "If a suitable salary was offered," said Richard, somewhat hesitatingly, for he could not tell whether the old gentleman meant for him to write only for his board and lodging, or intended that he should receive other compensation besides. "Suitable! Well, that depends on what you call suitable. Would a dollar an hour be enough to satisfy you ?" "Eight dollars a day ! Certainly, I would be unreasonable to expect more," said Richard. "Those are my terms," said Mr. Danton, slapping his hand down on the table. "Do 1 you accept them ?" I "Rut, sir," said Richard, who thought he ! must be a very eccentric character, "before j any bargain is made, would it not be better to be a little more specific in regard to this employment you offer me? You have not | told me what sort of writing I am to do, nor 1 have I shown you a specimen of my hand, i which I suppose is necessary." ' "Hum?well, yes, that's true. I suppose ' ?aii non irrito .non'f If AII ? Tfprp Juu v'"" " JV" . ? ?I j take this paper aud try." He handed a half sheet of paper and a ' pencil out of his note-book to Richard, who ' wrote off a few lines and handed thera to him ; for inspection. i "Good, very good, capital, will just do, in fact, suits me to a T," said the old gentleman, j with great satisfaction. "Now, my young : friend?excuse the liberty?I'll tell you plain; ly what it is I want you to do. It's nothing permanent, mind, but it will last you at any rate for a good while. Now, you must know, I write a great deal?in fact, I am an author. I've just finished a manuscript?a three volume one, mind you?and as I write a villain; ous hand, I want the whole thing copied off fair. Will you undertake the job ?" "With the greatest pleasure," said Richard. "You will ? Then it's a bargain. We commence to-morrrow. I'll take this room here, because it *suits mc ; you can take anj other in this same house if you choose ; I'm ! responsible for your board and lodging, as I : told von before, while you're in my employ-! ment. Does that suit you ?" "Itsuits me extremely well," said Richard,, j who now began to think he must be dealing \ 1 with an amiable lunatic. ! "Then you can make your arrangements ! with the landlady. Don't mind my taking the j; i room you now occupy, if you please; I'm sor- j i ry to make you change, but the light there 1 suits me so perfectly. I'm coming at twelve J I o'clock to-morrow, sharp. Well, I believe:., : that's all. Good-evening, I'll see you in the ., morning." I "Well, he is a queer old genus," soliloquized j Richard after he had shown him out. I am ' j very lucky to have fallen in with him, how- ; ever; this will set me on my legs again, if the | employment does not last but a few weeks I ? j cvcu. I He then went off to make arrangement with [ j his landlady about a room, and found she I j could accommodate him with one nearly as j ; good as that he was now occupying, only a j i story higher up. j "I'm real glad you are not going away, after all," she said heartily; and Richard, whose heart always opened in response to friendliness 1 and sympathy, told her of the employment he 1 had obtained, and the relief thus afforded to his mind. Punctually at twelve the next day Mr. Danton appeared, carrying an immense bun- j die, which proved to be the manuscript he . had spoken of. He was accompanied by a ' boy trundling a trunk on a wheelbarrow, and 1 in his own hand he carried a valise, which, in conjunction with his papers, was about as much as he could conveniently manage. This j valise contained his wardrobe ; the trunk, as ? he afterwards showed Richard, being filled ] with books and papers,''the latter consisting ] chiefly of manuscripts, all in diflereut hand- , writing and carefully tied in separate packa- j ges. > _ i "There are many writings, the labor of | ?ooro " lio ooirt nninfinor t.hpm nilt. "You See. , I was not wrong in saying that I had written j a great deal. These will be quite an lieirloora , to my family ; when I am dead they can have , them printed if they like. I have never pub- ; lished anything." I "Never published anything!" exclaimed | Richard. "Never. The worry*the excitement, the expense, the uncertainty of the thing would be too much for me ; I couldn't stand it. I shall bequeath these to posterity in their most valuable form ; an author's works are always , most prized in his own handwriting. By the j way, these are not precisely in my own hand- ] writing, I forgot that; but they are in manu- ( script, which come to the same thing. You j see, it would never do for me not to have them | copied off fair; my writing is so far from dis- j tinct." , Richard fully agreed with him. Of all , crabbed, crooked, hardly-to-be-deciphered , specimens of chirography, Mr. Danton's certainly was the worst he had ever come across. He foresaw that his task would not be so light a one as he had at first expected ; however, he went to work at it courageously,. resolved to do his best. He accomplished more in the i first day than he had ventured to hope he would, and more apparently than his employ- j er had expected, for the latter seemed quite | charmed with his progress. It took him three \ weeks of steady work to get through the first < volume; after that, becoming more accustom- , I ed to the hand, he begau to read the original , ! with tolerable case, and got on much more , rapidly. It did not take many days of intercourse j with Mr. Danton to confirm Richard in his first imprission, i. e. that he was a kind-hear- } ted, but decidedly eccentric character. He , was unmistakeably weak on the subject of ( writing; he was now engaged on a fresh story, j over which nearly his whole time was spent, ; and Richard could not help thinking that, if ( the result were not more satisfactory than that of which he had an opportunity of judg- j ing, it would hardly compensate for the ex- j penditure of time and paper. His own task j was a novel, written in the most exaggerated { and high-flown style; the characters were un- ( natural, the language nonsensical, and plot inconceivable by an unwarped brain. It was ? no concern of his, however; it was his duty to , copy, not to criticise ; yet he could not forbear ] j sometimes laughing in secret over the very j ! absurdity of the thing, while he pitied the , ' hallucination that caused a lifetime to be spent j in such an occupation. j j Whether Mr. Danton's brain was afflicted j j j or not, his pay was prompt and sure. At the ; ] ! end of each week he insisted on "squaring up j j accounts," as he expressed it, and as Richard j ] i was saved the expense of board and lodging, J , he found himself, when his task was accora-1 ] i plished, which result was attained in a little j ( j over six weeks from the commencement of it, j i with nearly three hundred dollars in his pock- j ] Jet?a sura which he woirld once on a time i, j have spent unhesitatingly on the merest tri; fles, but which now appeared to him a treasure < J of magnitude, to be hoarded with care, and ] j expended with the utmost prudence and con-1 ] sideration. "Upon my word, my young friend," said the ? old gentleman, when he had paid the last in- j ; stallraent, and received the fresh-looking, I I nnntlw wfifton mnniiQcrinfr frnm Richard's ' t uvauj HliVKV" ? | hands, "I am really sorry that you have got ; through with this so quickly. I expected you ! would have been at it a couple of weeks < ! longer for the very least. And so admirably ] > accomplished, too?the best written MS. in \ j my possession. I owe you a thousand , thanks." "I owe you my thanks, sir," said Richard, "for finding me employment. It came at a ' time when I was pretty hard pushed, I assure ' you. Now I shall have breathing time, at ! j any rate, and an opportunity to look about < for something else." i i "What do you purpose doing?" asked Mr. ! Dan ton. s i "Anything I can. If I can only make a ] living, I shall be satisfied." i | "Make a living! Nay, my friend, don't be | < satisfied with that. Acquire fame ! Slacken j < : not in pursuit of her, and her laurels will t i one day crown your effulgent brow." j i i "Fame!" said Richard, smiling at the gran- [ ] | diloquent language in which the advice was i < I given. "It would be very pleasant to be fa- j< i mous, I dare say ; but how is it to be done?" j l j "Write, write, write!" said the old gentle- j 1 ! man, laying each time a stronger emphasis on i ] ! the word. "You have genius?I read it on 1 1 your brow; there is a poetic fire in your eyes. \ I Write, my young friend, and doubt not, your ; ] name will one day ring throughout the land, i 1 | and be written in the annals of posterity." < I "And, in the meantime, I should lack for 11 i bread," thought Richard. However, he did j < j not say it, but only smiled at the impractica-; 1 ' bility of the counsel, and went to work at his > j | old occupation of looking through the adver- [ ] using iisus in tuc This was destined to result more favorably !' j than it had done the last time he tried it. j j i One day the following advertisement caught i I his eye: " j s "Wanted?A gentleman of education and , i good social position, to accompany a young ' \ lad to Europe in the capacity of tutor. To one answering the requirements, a liberal sal-! < ary will be given. Apply immediately, at j: No.?, street." i "Just the thing I would like !" exclaimed j ! Richard, and Hushed with hope he hastened i to his friend, Mr. Danton, to obtain a suita-1 ble recommendation. He had some difficulty in prevailing on the | old gentleman not to write too flourishing a panegyric on his mental and moral qualities, and having finally succeeded in obtaining a reasonably worded certificate of his education and gentlemanly Btanding, set off with it for street. His ring at the bell of the house designated was answered by a servant in livery, who took in his card, and presently returned with an invitation for him to walk in. He was shown into a large and handsomely furnished library, where a gentleman was sitting alone, near a table covered with papers. "Mr. Powell, how do you do," he said, rising and coming forward, as Richard entered. "Pray, take a seat near the fire; cold weather this." "Quite cold," Richard assented, and having taken a chair, drew from his pocket the advertisement that had brought him thither. "I came, sir, in answer to this," he said presenting it to the gentleman, who had introduced himself as Mr. Macbeth. "Indeed! Ah! yes.- I am very anxious, indeed, to get this matter arranged, and trust we may be able to settle it. So you are desirous of filling the post of tutor and traveling companion, I understand; or, do you come on the part of some one else ?" "No, sir, I come on my own part. If we can make a suitable arrangement, I shall be very glad to obtain the position." Mr. Macbeth glanced keenly at him. The glance apparently satisfied him, for when Richard handed him Mr. Danton's recommendation he barely looked at it and put it aside. "My chief object, Mr. Powell, is to obtain a trustworthy friend and protector for the little boy, whom I am desirous of sending back to his home in England. He came over with me a year ago, chiefly on account of his health, which was delicate, and which has now been completely restored by change of climate and a course of travel throughout the iJtate. My home is in Illinois, and circumstances render it almost impossible for me to take the voyage across the Atlantic at present, Dr for some time to come. His mother? ?rand mother I should say?who is a relative uf mine, writes me word to send him back under the care of some reliable person, siuce [ cannot go myself. Now you understand that it is an office of considerable responsibility, and one which I could not entrust to a person whom I did not place confidence in. You appear to me just the sort of person that would perfectly suit my requirements." Richard bowed. "With regard to the office of tutor," continued Mr. Macbeth, "I proposed that in conjunction with the other, thinking it would make the plan easier to be carried out. If it rnits you to take it, and you find that your pupil and yourself get on well together, I think I can insure you a permanent situation in that capacity. You could make the agreement with him for a time?say three months, it the expiration jof which period you could make your farther arrangements with Mrs. Mansfield, the little boy's grandmother. Would that suit you?" "Perfectlv." Richard rejoined. "And how soon would it suit you to sail ?" "At any time you please, sir; I am entirely it your disposal." "Good. Let me see," said Mr. Macbeth taking up a paper and running his eye over the list of vessels advertised. "I find that the "Ocean Queen" leaves New York on the twelfth, which will be just a week from tomorrow. That will give us ample time to make our preparations and get to New York mi the eleventh." "I shall be ready whenever you say," replied Richard. "1 will send you word positively this afternoon what day we shall leave here. Of course ill your expenses will be paid from the time )f starting. I will accompany you myself as Par as'New York, and see you safely off. Now, will you let me present your future iharge to you ?" Richard expressed his pleasure at the proposal, and Mr. Macbeth, who seemed quite pleased at having arranged the whole matter n such a satisfactory manner, rung the bell md desired a servant to send Master Cecil lown directly. The summons was presently answered by a ilender dark-haired boy of twelve or thirteen, who at Mr. Macbeth's bidding went up to Richard and shook hands, with a courteous jrown-up sort of air that amused the latter, pet pleased and attracted him too. He asked ;he boy a few questions, which he answered ntelligently and promptly, and they presently Darted, mutually satisfied with each other? Richard full of the new prospect openiug be'ore him, and a vague anticipation of some :iappy result. "Cousin John," said little Cecil to Mr. Macbeth when the visitor had departed, "who ioes Mr. Powell remind you of?" "I don't know, Cecil; he looks like someaody I have seen, but I cannot recollect whom." "I know," said Cecil. "It's that picture of grandmamma's sister, Aunt Marian, that bangs up in the drawing-room at home. Don't you remember it ?" "So it is, I do think," said Mr. Macbeth. 'There is quite a likeness, now you speak of it, especially about the upper part of the face." "iunny, isn't it?" said Cecil. "How in ;he world does he come to look like Aunt Marian, I wonder ?" "One sees these accidental resemblances jometimes," rejoined his cousin. "Well, my aoy, you are to sail in the "Ocean Queen" on I die twelfth, so I advise you to begin making ! four preparations at once." CHAPTER XII. "It is nearly time for thera to be here, Dorothy. How I do long for the moment to some when I may clasp my own dear boy in my arms once more!" "I wonder if he is much grown and altered," aid Mrs. Dorothy Mills, the cousin and companion of old Mrs. Mansfield, the grandmother of little Cecil, with whom she had been staying since the latter had left him. Cecil was due at Mansfield Park this very afteriernoon ; the carriage had been sent to the nearest town to meet him, and the two elderly ladies, Mrs. Dorothy in her company gown )f gray silk, and Mrs. Mansfield in the biacx velvet dress and lace ruffles, which, after twelve o'clock, constituted her every-day attire, were seated up in the parlor awaiting bis arrival, in a state of high nervous expec- j Lation aud excitement. Mrs. Mansfield, at seventy-five, was fair, i lovely and dignified looking; her complexion, j though somewhat faded, being still as soft, i smooth and?delicate as only an English wo-1 man's complexion at that age can be; short silken curls, as white as snow, peeped from j beneath the gossamer lace border of her cap, and her hands and feet (the latter clad in | high-heeled slippers with enormous rosettes) j were still the envy of every belle in the county, j These feet, be it remarked parparenthrse, were , a weak point with the old lady, and one of j them, in its rosetted slipper, now rested con-' 3picuously on an embroidered footstool, look-. ing as fairy-like as possible in contrast to the ! black velvet around it. "My feet and hands are not English," the old lady used frequently to remark. "My mother was of Spanish descent, and I presume some of the characteristics of her nation have been transmitted to me." It was not of these graceful little members,1 however, tlmt the dear old lady was thinking at present. Her soft blue eyes were turned eagerly toward the window, whence she could discern a portion of the road over which the carriage was to pass. "They are very late, Dorothy; don't you think so? It must be past five o'clock," she exclaimed, presently. "Dear me, no, cousin Louise. It isn't quite half past four," said short, bustling little Mrs. Dorothy, jumping up and running to inspect the clock. "They'll be here by five, I dare "I trust so, I am sure. But something may have happened to detain them ; I must not be too confident, you know. It is always best to be prepared for a disappointment?don't you think so?" "No, I never anticipate trouble," said Mrs. Dorothy, shaking her head. "Hope for the best, is my motto. Ah ! here they are now? I see the carriage yonder, moving through the trees." "Where, where; are you sure, Dorothy ?" cried Mrs. Mansfield, eagerly leaniug forward, that she might obtain a better view from the window. "Yes, there it is, I see it now quite plainly, but I can't tell yet whether there is any one inside or not?can you see so far ?" "I can't see who is inside, but I see trunks outside, which is a pretty good sign. Yes, there's a white handkerchief waving from the window ; that must be Cecil, without doubt." "Dear, precious boy !" ejaculated the grandmother. "How long they take to come; the horses are trotting very slowly." "No, cousin Louise, they are trotting quite fast; it's only your impatience that makes you think the contrary. See, they have reached the gate; and now I can distinguish Cecil quite plainly, looking out of the window. Now he sees us?he is waving his hand. Here they come 1" and the carriage containing the object of their solicitude, drew up at the foot of the steps, and in another moment Cecil, bounding intotbe room was iocKea rast in nis grand mothers's arms. "My dear boy ! my darling, blessed child!" said Mrs. Mansfield, with something like a sob, as she covered his face with kisses. "Thank Heaven, I've got you again ! The house has been as dull as a prison since you went away. Are you quite well and strong now, Cecil? Answer me truly, my child. Oh 1 if you could only know how anxious I have been about you!" "Oh ! I'm as well and jolly as possible, thank you, grandmamma," said Cecil, heartily returning her embrace. "I've had lots of fun since I've been away, cousin Dorothy, how-d'ye-do ? how nice everything looks! The old clock anA all just the same 1 Ain't I glad I've got back !" "Are you really glad, dear child? and you look so much better. Only see, Dorothy,how tall and stout he has grown, and what a fine color he has." "Well, I was as poor as a snake when I went, you know, grandmamma; I've got a lot more flesh than I had then. I picked up a good deal on this last voyage, I think. Mr. Powell?good gracious me, where is Mr. Powell? Ifl haven't gone and forgotten him! I'll go and bring him inand out dashed Cecil in quesj; of his tutor, who had all this time been busying himself in taking out and arranging sundry packages, which had been stowed away in the carriage. Our poor Richard had felt very forlorn as he stood there, a stranger and momentarily fnrrrntt/m nnH lisfpnfinfid f.n t,hfi hurst of wel come and joyous greeting within the house. Something very like the trace of a tear, hastily brushed away, still dimmed his eye as he turned with a kind smile to answer the summons of his impetuous pupil. "Mr. Powell, come in, right off! what are you staying out here for ? I thought you were close behind me. I want to introduce you to Grandmamma. I know you and she are going to be such good friends. Grandmamma," he continued as he led his companion into the parlor, "this is Mr. Powell, whom I wrote you about. He's the best friend I have, and the best man in the whole of England and America, so you are bound to like him!" and with this formula he planted Richard right in front of the old lady's chair. Mrs. Mansfield, leaning forward, was about to extend to Richard a gracious welcome, when suddenly the hand she had partly raised dropped into her lap ; her eyes, widely opened with an expression of the most intense surprise and startled inquiry, remained fixed on his face, and the words of friendly greeting she was ready to utter seemed paralyzed on her parted lips. Richard greatly astonished at her singular manner, stood motionless, gazing at her in mingled embarrassment and expectation, and Mrs. Dorothy and Cecil, equally surprised, remained spectators of the remarkable tableaux. Mrs. Mansfield, however, recovered herself almost immediately. "Pray, pardon my rudeness," she said, holding out her hand to Richard, with a sweet smile, though her voice trembled as if from ilgiUUIUli. A WtUJ IllULUUlJUll fti.jr wanuscu a\j startled by your wonderful resemblance to a face I know, that I almost thought ray eyes must be playing me false. Dorothy, don't you see the resemblance?" "To Aunt Marian!" eagerly interrupted Cecil, before Mrs. Dorothy could speak". "I've often said Mr. Powell was the image of that picture! Gracious me, Grandmamma, you did frighten me so; I couldn't think what was the matter. You looked as if you saw a ghost." "My dear, it is absolutely wonderful," said Mrs. Mansfield, adding to herself in a low tone, "If the face was a woman's instead of a man's, I could have declared that Marian had risen from the grave and stood before _ j) me. Here Mrs. Dorothy nudged Cecil to remind him that he had omitted to introduce Mr. Powell to her. "Oh! I forgot all about you," said Cecil, candidly ; and having performed the required introduction, he carried his tutor off to show him his quarters. The room assigned Richard was a large, comfortably furnished apartment, opening into a smaller one, arranged as a kind of study, which was also placed at his disposal. Books, pictures and ornaments gave both rooms a cheerful home-like look, and Richard was reminded of Oaklands, by the comfort and elegance of everything around him. Mansfield Park was a beautiful place, and from his window he had such a view of woodland, water, meadow and distant hills, as no admirer of nature could fail to enjoy. "Here," thought the poor exile as he looked sadly yet gratefully around him, "I shall have quiet and repose, and apparently the kindest and most courteous of treatment. Here, too, I am quite secure from all chance of discovers Wnll?tlijit. is iiist. what I wanted to be. I wonder what they are all doing now at home?" And the thought of Ethel and Arly, and all the dear familiar faces he had left, and the recollection of how wide a distance lay between them, and how many years must pass before the time when they should meet again, if, indeed, that time ever came, rushed over him and for a moment nearly mastered him, but he had learned now to fight against these fits of weakness, and conquering the transient emotion, he hastily commenced unpacking his trunk, and busying himself with various little arrangements, in order to change the melancholy current of his thoughts. And now a very tranquil and peaceful, if not a happy life, commenced for him in his ' new home. The family consisted only of j j Mrs. Mansfield and her grandson, Mrs. Doro-: i thy having taken her departure soon after the return of the latter. Mrs. Mansfield was ex- j ceedingly kind and considerate to him, and I Cecil's affection for him knew no bounds. ; Those two having no other companions, teach- j ! er and pupil were constantly together, and in , I leisure hours would walk, ride, shoot and fish j in company, the boy's cheerful careless talk i diverting the mind of the other from the sad i thoughts which were prone to oppress it. Richard warmly reciprocated the attachment of his pupil, who was a very intelligent, araia, ble, manly little fellow, and after a time, in , some of their hours of confidential talk, he , I revealed to him some stray glimpses of his history, exciting his eager interest and sympathy, though carefully repressing the main ; point on which his story hung. Cecil would j i repeat these conversations to his grandmother, ; whose benevolent heart always warmed toward any one who had suffered trouble or misfortune, and who, in some unaccountable way had felt drawn toward Richard from the very first, so that in her intercourse with him she quite laid aside the stateliness and dignity that usually characterized her manner toward strangers, and he began to feel after awhile as if he must be related to her, she treated Cecil and himself so much alike. "Mr. Powell," Cecil said to him one day, "do you know, I've a great favor to ask you. I want you to teach me how to swim." "When the warm weather comes I will teach you," replied his tutor. Cecil now looked eagerly forward to the summer, which was near at hand. The very first warm day that came, he reminded Richard of his promise, and asked if he would go with him to the river after school. "If Mrs. Mansfield consents, I am willing," was the reply. Accordingly in the afternoon Cecil obtained his grandmother's permission, and, accompanied by Ricbard, set out for the river. There wasasheltered nook where the water lay calm and smooth as in a pond, and this spot Richard selected as the fittest place to begin his instruction in. Cecil was an apt scholar, and before many days learned to strike out boldly and venture into the deepest part of the river. He was so fearless that Richard had no apprehensions j concerning him, and soon woula sit on the i bank and muse himself reading or sketching ! while his pupil went into the water alone. I T? il. _ | A j ?t U1 ? .Doys, even me uesL ana iuusl uuvwuic ui boys, will get themselves into trouble occasionally. Mrs. Mansfield had frequently charged Cecil never to go to the river to swim, unless accompanied by his tutor, and the latter, aware of this prohibition, always made-it a rule to go with him every day, knowing that the exercise was a source to the boy both of pleasure and of health. One day however, Richard had a bad headache, and the lessons being over, retired to his room to lie down. Cecil had not the conscience to ask him to go out with him, knowing how badly he felt; but in secret he chafed at the disappointment, and began to think it very hard that his tutor's headache should be the cause of depriving him of his usual amusement. "I don't see why I can't go alone, I am sure," he thought to himself. "I don't believe Grandmamma would mind, if she once saw that I could take care of myself. I can swim as well as anybody now, so why shouldn't I try it ?" Duty and inclination fought a battle in his mind, and the latter finally prevailed. He stuffed a towel into his jacket-pocket, that it might not betray his destination, and then making his exit through the back door quietly started for the river. It cannot be denied that he had some twinges of conscience by the way, but he stifled then with the reflection that, after all, it was only groundless anxiety and apprehension on his grandmother's part that made her unwilling to trust him, and that she would overlook his disobedience when she found that it resulted in no harm. When he reached the river he decided to go a good deal farther up the bank than usual, partly because he had been for some time anxious to try a new field for his efforts, partly because he fancied himself moresecure from discovery farther from home. Richard had always objected to this place because the current ran stronger and deeper here than it did below, and an unguarded swimmer, in venturing too far out, mrght not be able to resist its force, and might lose his strength before he was able to reach the shore. The wisdom of extreme youth, however, usually rises superior to reason, and Cecil either forgot this objection, or did not consider it of sufficient weight to deter him from his present purpose. He accordingly undressed, and plunging into the water, was soon enjoying I himself with his all his might. He had been in the water some time when he became aware of darkness gathering around him, and looking up, saw that the sky had become nearly entirely concealed by angry-looking clouds. A damp chilly wind was rising too, and the river was getting rough and turbid. Somewhat alarmed by these tokens of a coming storm, Cecil immediately turned and commenced striking out for the point whence he had qtarted. It was not many moments, however, before he discovered that the strength of the current was almost too much for him, and that his progress shore-ward was unpleasantly show. He remembered all his teacher had said about never allowing oneself to get frightened when swimming, and keeping his gaze steadily fixed on the desired point he pushed bravely on, battling the resisting waves with all his strength which, unfortunately, was already somewhat exhausted by various performances of diving, plunging and other aquatic feats in which he had been indulging. And now the clouds thickened and the j wind increased, and blew right in Cecil's face, and the poor boy grew weaxer ana weauer, and the shore looked farther and farther off. He gave up all hope of reaching his first start| ing point, and directed his course toward a ; portion of the bank that jutted out into the j river nearer at hand. His breath grew short ! and his limbs felt numb, and he began to j shiver with cold and fear. The recollection 1 of his disobedience flashed through his mind, I and with It a horrible apprehension that perj haps its punishment was about to overtake I him, in the shape of a fearful death. At least he would not die without an effort [ to obtain succor; and gathering all his strength j for the attempt, he raised his voice in shriek after shriek for help. But the last one was a j faint, broken cry, that sounded far-off and inj distinct to his own ears, and then he felt the j water going over his forehead, his strength ' suddenly relaxed and he knew nothing more. In the meantime Richard, feeling refreshed i by a short nap that he had taken, arose and left his room, thinking he would find Cecil somewhere about the house. He was nowhere to be seen, and Mrs. Mansfield told him that she had supposed him to be up-stairs in his room, as she had not seen him since study hours. The idea occurred to Richard that Cecil might possibly have gone to the river alone, and though he did not think it very Jiueiy, ne determined to walk in that direction and look. He did not wish to excite Mrs. Mansfield's apprehensions, so he took his hat, without saying anything, and walked out He had not got far before he noticed the same indications of a storm (hat had terrified Cecil, and quickened his pace, not liking the idea of being caught in a pouring rain, as he was not feeling very well. He reached that part of the nver which he and his pupil were accustomed to frequent, and looked up and down, but saw no sign of the truant; and, satisfied that bis apprehensions had been groundless, and had done Cecil injustice, he turned to retrace his steps, anxious to reach home before the black clouds overhead should empty their contents upon him, when suddenly a pieroing cry fell upon his ear. It was succeeded by another and another, and Richard feeling convinced that they proceeded from some person in great danger or distress, commenced running at full speed in the direction whence they came. A *"konlr ki*/MirrVif kim inf/i vipw nf lll<5 tUIU 1U bllC uaua UIVUKUV UIIU ?ww t?v? v* ?*.? poor little pupil, feebly buffeting the waves, and still at a considerable distance t)ff; and even as he looked, he saw him throw up his hands with a last despairing cry, and disappear. In an instant he had thrown himself into the water and was swimming to his rescue. Thus it was that when Cecil came to his senses he found himself lying on the bank rolled up in Richard's coat, and the latter bending over him, chafing his cold hands and gazing on him with an expression of intense anxiety and concerDi---- "Oh! Mr. Powell," gasped Cecil, faintly. "I am very sorry?I was very wrong?" "Hush, dear boy, never mind that now. Do you think you can walk home ?" "I don't know?my head is so giddy still." "Sit.up and lean against this tree, while I run for your clothes. Do you think you can ?" "Yes." He leaned shivering against the trunk of the tree, while Richard brought the clothes and helped him into them. "Now we must run for home; or shall I carry you?" . "Oh ! I am too heavy for you; I think I can walk." "You are not too heavy, but you are so chilled, the exercise will be good for you. You will soon feel all right again." , "Oh! Mr. Powell, you saved me from drown _ ft 1Dg"Never mind that now. You gave me a good fright, you may be sure of that. Come, shall we start?" Cecil would fain have rested longer, but Richard saw that it was chiefly nervous reaction that made him weak and helpless, and pointed out the stormy clouds above them as an incentive to exertion. They accordingly started, Cecil at first leaning on his companion's arm, but presently quickening his pace and only retaining Richard's hand, while the latter encouraged him with cheering words, and finally reached the house just as the rain came down in all its fury. "Why, you been out, both of you, and such a storm at hand!" exclaimed Mrs. Mansfield as the entered, and Cecil sank panting on the nearestsofa. "Why, Mr. Powell, your clothes are all wet! and Cecil, ray dear boy, how pale you look!" And while Cecil, in broken words and with penitent and childish tears, related the story of his adventure, Richard quietly slipped out of the way to avoid hearing a recapitulation of his own share in the exploit. He could not escape so easily, however. When he came down again afterchanging his dripping garments, the old lady cJaspea ins hands in both of hers, and gave vent to her thanks and gratitude with a fervor that quite unmanned hissensitive heart. He could have rendered her no greater service than he had done in rescuing from danger, and perhaps from death, her beloved grandchild, the idol on which her tenderest affections were centered. As for Cecil, from that time his love for Richard increased tenfold, and the two became more inseparable than ever. Richard was no longer "Mr. Powell" in the household ; Mrs. Mansfield called him familiarly by his christian name, and even Cecil, dropping the formal appellation, asked permission to call him "cousin Richard." Thus treated with affection, esteem and confidence, and surrounded by all the luxuries of life, Richard found himself as happy and contented as he could hope ever to be again while separated from those he loved so dearly at home. But ah, the remembrance of them, ever present to his mind, filled him with yearning inexpressible once more to see the dear faces, to revisit the happy scenes of his past life, that life between which and the present such a great gulf seemed to have opened. Did they often think of him, he wondered ? Arly would, he knew, and Mr. Conway; but would Ethel ? And with the thought of Ethel, his Madonna-eyed love, between whom and himself the rolling waves nfthfl wide Atlantic seemed but a trifliner barrier in comparison with that other fatal one which stood in the way of their re*union, poor Richard's constrained fortitude would oftentimes give way, and he would be fain to indulge for a brief while in the emotions that over-mastered him. But these moments of weakness generally occurred in the long weary nights, when in the solitude of his chamber he would lie awake for hours and hours, thinking of the irretrievable past. In the daytime he managed to be cheerful, and to conceal from his kind friends the heaviness that weighed down his heart. One thing was, he was secure from anxiety in regard to the future ; he was sure of a home at Mansfield Park for some years, at any rate until Cecil should be sent to college, for which he felt himself fully competent to prepare him. Once a vision, startling and unexpected, came bodily out of his former life and stood before him, nearly throwing him off of his well-maintained equilibrium of mind. It happened in this way. Cecil had been suffering considerable pain from a tooth, and Mrs. Mansfield, who had a London dentist and believed in no other, requested Richard to accompany him to the metropolis, and there have it attended to. To London they accordingly went, and having, immediately on their arrival, made an appointment with Mr. Smith, the dentist, for the following day, were amusing themselves in the interim by walking about and enjoying all that was to be seen. As they were standing by the counter in a confectioner's store, where Cecil was purchasing some bonbons, an elegant carriage drove up to the door, and a liveried footman alighting:, entered to perform a commission for the occupants. There were two ladies; one, who bent forward as the man was entering the store to call out something to him, was a stylishlooking, rather pretty woman, on whom Richard's eyes rested with the careless gaze of non-acquaintanceship; the other sat farther back, and her features at first were not discernible, but presently she, too, leaned forward, to look at something that was passing by, and Richard's heart gave a sudden thump and he drew quickly back to avoid being seen by her in turn. It was his former fiancee, Clare Ransome. She had not returned home with her father, as she had first intended, at the end of the first summer, but had been prevailed on by some friends she had become intimate with in London, to remain as their guest for some months. How she had come there he did not stop to conjecture, but the sight of that familiar face appeariug so suddenly and startlingly before him, made all that had passed since the time when he had last seen it seem shadowy and unreal, as if it were all a confused dream. He found it hard to shake off this impression, and was so silent and preoccupied during the walk back to the hotel that Cecil at last asked him, somewhat anxiously, if anything were the matter. Except this one incident, nothing occurred to disturb the even current of his life, which glided smoothly by until two full years had elapsed since his leaving home. [to he continued next week.]