Historical Newspapers of South Carolina

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t^e wis m. grist, proprietor. | ^n Inbepentrent Jfautilg ftetospper:' Jfor t|e ^promotion of % Jjolitieal, ductal, Agricultural anil Commercial Interests of % Sontji. j TERMS?$3.00 A TEAR, IN ADVANCE. VOL. 31. YORKVILLE, S. C., THURSDAY, OCTOBER 7, 1875. NO. 4Q. ju original j m Written for the Yorkville Enquirer. Sleepy Hollow. CHAPTER I. MY BITHDAY FETE. On the morning of the eighteenth of May, 18? (I will leave your imagination to fill up that blank, because it is not necessary for you ; to know my exact age,) I woke up with the i delightful consciousness that something unusually pleasant was in store for me. Rose- \ colored visions had been hovering about my pillow in my sleep?mists of fancy interwoven j with golden beams; and as I opened my eyes ; to the clear morning light, these visions re- j solved into a definite form. The day was ray J seventeenth birthday; and the something j pleasant that 1 was looking forward to was 1 my birthday fete. When I tell you that I was an only child? kut ,ny mother had been wny ? and that I was ray father's sole companion in our cheerful country home, you will under- j stand how it was that I was considered a per- J son of sufficient importance to have my entrance into womanhood celebrated with gayety and rejoicing. Our place lay on the out skirts of a pretty village, and was by far the finest for miles around, being extensive and in a picturesque locality, and bearing witness, in the tasteful adornment and careful cultivation of the grounds, to the liberal management of four consecutive generations of Lamberts. My father was the last male of the name?at | least in our branch of the family; and I used to ask him sometimes, jestingly, whether he was not sorry that I was not a boy. "No, Rosy," was his invariable answer, "I am well content to have you as you are. Ten to one, if you were my son, you and I would quarrel when you grew to be a man. You know people say I have a difficult temper to I deal with." "People say what isn't true," I would answer, clasping ray arms around his neck. "At any rate, you and I will never quarrel, will we, papa ?" "Not till you get married," would be his reply. "Keep your husband, when you get one, out of ray way. I shall be jealous of any one whom you love better than you do me." j "But I shall never love any one better than \ you, papa ; and if you are going to be jealous : I will not get married at all." "Don't make rash promises, child," he j would answer; and there the conversation j usually ended. ?Jut there was a vein or trum underlying his light words. He loved me so much that the thought of ever giving me to auy oneelse filled him with actual pain. Perhaps there was selfishness in this sort of love ; but I did not stop to analyze it then. I ouly knew that my father was dear to me, that he | liked to see me happy, and gave me everything I could desire. On this morning of ray birthday, I sprang out of bed at an early hour, and having dressed much more quickly than usual, ran down stairs to my father's study, where I felt sure of finding him. He was not there, however; and in answer to my half-uneasy inquiries, i one of the servants informed me that he had I gone out into the grounds, to direct the garden- j er in arranging the festoons and bouquets j which were to adorn them for the approaching | frte. Catching up my hat, I danced gaily J out upon the green lawn, and spied, at a short distance, my kiud father returning toward the house, a magnificent cluster of rosebuds in his hand. "Here are some flowers as pretty as your* \ self," he said, offering them to me as he kissed me good-raoruiug. "They will be the most becoming ornaments you can wear to-day." "Papa!" I cried reproachfully, "have you forgotten my turquoise set ?" "What turquoise set, chatterbox? I did not know you had one," said papa, pinching my cheek. "No, of course I have not?but?didn't j you say?" I stopped, uncertain, indignant, half ready to cry, half vexed with myself for my own folly. I could uot believe that he had forgot* j ten his promise, made to me a year ago, and > more than once renewed since?and yet his provokingly unconscious manner awoke a harassing doubt in my mind. "What did I say, Posy ?" "Papa, don't tease!' I burst forth, unable to restrain ray anxiety. "You know you told rae you were going to buy me the very pret- j tiest turquoise set you could find in C . j Now have you got it?" "Dear rae! I believe I did make one such j rash agreement," said my father, rubbing his forehead with a perplexed look. "What am j I to do? You see, Rosy, it's impossible for ; me to get to C and back in time for your ft te, even if I were to start at once; so I am afraid for to day you will have to content I yourself with these namesakes of yours, in- j stead. You must forgive the old man, my : daughter ; he is growing very forgetful." "No, he isn't," I cried gleefully, re-assured by a certain sly twinkle in the corners of his | eyes, which belied bis apologetic tone. "He j never forgets what he promises me. Lome > along to the house with me, directly sir, and show me your present, or I won't talk to you again for a week." "No need to go so far," he rejoined, putting his hand in the pocket of his coat-skirt, and drawing from thence a purple morocco case, t securely clasped. "I had an idea that your I inquisitive nature would not brook suspense, j so I came prepared to meet your enquiries." I eagerly opened the case, which he placed in my hands, and fairly screamed with delight. ( There, nestling on a bed of white satin, was the loveliest set of turquoise my eyes had ever j beheld?brooch, ear-rings, necklaceand brace- j lets, complete. "Oh ! papa, what a darling you are. I only | expected the brooch and ear-rings. Oh ! how j lovely. I can't thauk you enough. Papa, you are a perfect love." He laughed at my enthusiasm. "For ray part, I think the flowers are twice as pretty," he auswered. "However, I am very ; glad that you are pleased. Now, if you have ! any admiration to spare for the beauties of Nature, come and look at the flowers which old Robert and I have arranged yonder." "That is Art, as well as Nature," I respond ed, as with a fond look at my pretty blue [ stones, I proceeded to re-clasp the case that contained them. "A little art is necessary sometimes; and i in this instance I think you will concur in my j opinion that it has been judiciously exercised." I almost forgot the turquoises, as we passed the myrtle hedge that bounded the lawn, and came in sight of the spot which had been selected as the scene of our festivities?of that j portion of them, at least, which was to take place in the open air. It was a lovely glade, carpeted with the freshest of velvet turf, and shaded by noble trees, whose interlacing branches, draped with moss, formed an effectual screen from the heat and glare. From these boughs garlands of roses were hung, their delicate hues glowing in rich relief against their verdant background, while the air around was filled with their fragrance. The statues of a Faun and Dryad, gleaming amid the trees, were decorated iu the same manner, while large stone vases, placed here | and there, were also brimming over with floral treasures, making the place a perfect bower of beauty; and at the farther end of the glade a miniature fountaiu had been tempo rarily arranged, sending up its glistening jet of spray to plash, with a musical murmur, into the basin below, and scattering a pearly shower upon the grass around it. Of course, I went into an ecstacy over everything, papa, as usual, looking calmly on while I rushed hither and thither, finding something new to admire at every turn. "Papa, it is like a picture out of the Arabian Nights! How did that fountain get there ? It must have sprung up by enchantment." "Certainly it did; don't you know that I am a magician, and have a wand ?" "I do believe you are. And oh ! there is Dickey's cage hanging up?you must have had him stolen out of my room while I was asleep." Dick, a pretty canary, as yellow as gold, fluttered joyously from perch to perch as I approached his cage, and broke into a lively carol, as if to assure me of his eagerness to participate in the coming revels. The flowers, the green grass, the sparkling jet d'eau, the bird's song, the dew everywhere glittering like a spangled veil, the fresh morning atuiustjjLeitr, reJuIeut ntCTi "pfcifuuie, were" all indeed like a lairy scene, nning me wun mi intoxicating sense of pleasure. How happy I felt! It Beemed to me as though the world, filled with so much beauty, had been created for my delight. What a joyouB thing it is to be seventeen years old ! "Let us look a little farther," said papa, and parting the leafy screen, he led me into a path that ran through a thicket toward a neighboring spring. Close by the springhouse was a little bower woven of cedar saplings, and curtained with moss. Here was a table spread with snowy damask, a mirror, with vases of flowers on either side, and the various accessories of a lady's toilette near at hand. "This is your dressing room, to which you may retire when you are a little weary, or wish to refresh yourselves after the fatigue of dancing. I had it built close to the spring, for the convenience of replenishing your rtitnlior ujiffi froah water. Now on OUT WaV back, I will show you the musicians' stand? see here, in this nook, quite out of sight. I thought the music would have a better effect if the source of it was unseen." "Papa, you really are a magician. How did you contrive to have all these things arranged so quickly ?" "Oh ! Robert and his assistants have been very diligent. They wanted to give you a pleasant surprise. Of course, I directed all the work, but they did the greater part of it." Hanging on my father's arm, I strolled with him, back to the house, in order to preside, as usual, at the breakfast table; but I was far too excited to eat, and whilst I sipped my tea, I opened the case which contained my new ornaments, that I might have the childish satisfaction of looking at them as they lay beside my plate. Breakfast over, I ran up to my room, and found Matilda, my sable handmaiden, spreading out my white dress upon the bed, and contemplating, with similar complacency, the dainty muslin flounces, with their garniture of azure ribbons. "Ki! Miss Rosamond, you'll look like a queen to-day, for sure," was her salutation to me, as I entered. But if the white muslin captivated her fancy, still greater was her delight when I put on the turquoises, and par atled, back and tortn, beiore me loosing giass, no doubt with considerable vanity, to try the effect. And now the important ceremony of dressing commenced ; for although my guests were not expected until twelve, and it was now barely nine, I decided that three hours was, by no means, too long a time in which to arrange all things to my satisfaction. Unhappily, I whs ready so long before the appointed hour, that I found myself in rather an uncomfortable condition, fori would not, on any account, sit down, for fear of injuring the freshness of ray toilette, and I found it tiresome to stand or walk about for such a length of time. It was, therefore, a great relief when the sound of the first carriage wheels was heard, and, with a parting glance at the mirror, I ran down, in renewed spirits, to greet the coming guests. What a gala time it was which followed ! I seem to see before me now the fair girls, with their attendant cavaliers, moving to the souud of the joyous music over the emerald grass, or reclining on mossy banks beneath the trees, making a scene, in its gay and delicate coloring and picturesque surroundings, worthy of the pencil of a Watteau. I was still enough of a child to enter with the most unbounded and unqualified enjoyment into all the amusements provided for us. I danced with a heart as light as my feet, and listened with undisguised pleasure to the flattering speeches poured into my ear. And they were - " " T . 1 _ X. J 41.. not lew; ior i was not omy accounieu preuy and agreeable, ('tis many years ago of which I write,) but was something of an heiress as well, and this combination of attractions was quite powerful enough to win for me any number of compliments, and a sufficient degree of genuine admiration to turn a less giddy nead than mine. My father did the honors like a gentleman of the old school, paying courteous attention to each and every member of the company, but managing throughout to give a watchful eye to his Rosy, aud see that she did not euter too seriously into any flirtation. I could not possibly have entered seriously into anything just then. I talked a quantity ofnouseuse, and dispensed my smiles liberally among my satellites, but thought them all equally nice, and forgot each one in turn as a fresh one came. "Miss Rosamond," said a voice near me, as I found myself, by some chance, alone for one or two moments ; "I believe I am the only person here who has not yet had the houor of dancing with you to-day." "And pray, Mr. Holcombe, whose fault is that?" I responded, gaily, as I looked up and encountered the steadfast gaze of a pair of keen black eyes, set in a dark, Spanish-looking face. "Am I to blame that you have not come uear tne until now?" "I have been walchiug my chance," he replied, "but you were so beset by admirers that I could find no opening through which to proffer my claim to a small portion of your favor." "Oh! as to that," I answered lightly, "of course every one here has equal claims upon my favor?if it is worth having?and need not seek any special assurance of it, particularly if it involves so much trouble to find out." I wanted to pique him by this little speech, and I saw by the Hash of his dark eyes that I had succeeded. "I said nothing of trouble," he rejoined, "and you are very unkind to try and pervert my meaning. I meant simply that I did not care to go in a crowd to seek what I desired? it is not ray way. A benefit is more valuable when not shared by all the world. For instance, don't you suppose it is more agreeable to me to snatch a moment's uninterrupted conversation with you here, than to be one of a dozen trying for a chance at an occasional word or smile from your lips?" "Perhaps," I answered, indifferently, allowing my eyes to rove over the lawn as I spoke. | "After all, though, there is something pleasant in a crowd ; it takes away from the sense of exclusiveness, which is so tiresome sometimes. Don't you think that is a charming sceue before us?" "Charming; though I confess I have not i enjoyed it particularly, until now." "Mr. Holcombe, I shall quarrel with you ' if you do not find my fete the pleasantest and I prettiest thing you ever were at in your life.' "Your fite is very pretty and very pleas : ant; nevertheless I cannot retract my asser tion. If you want to make the rest of the ! day enjoyable to me, grant the request I have ; come to make." I "What is that ?" "" j "That you will give me the next waltz, and | let me wait ou you at luncheon." "I am afraid you are too late," I replied, consulting a little ivory tablet that hungfrorr | ray belt?a superfluous cereraouy?as I knew i its contents by heart. "My list is already | filled." "Then I am very unfortunate?as usual | However, if you will, you can give me someI thing better than a dance?a half-hour's | promenade, at any time that you will be disengaged." I shook my head. "I am too tired for promenading between the dances. I am glad to rest for a little while, until the music starts again, and then I am willing enough te move." He looked greatly annoyed, but pretended to laugh. "In other words, you are determined to punish me for what you are pleased to consider ray dilatory conduct," he rejoined; "but I think that having heard my reasons, you ought not to visit me with your displeasure for neglecting to throw myself earlier at your feet." "ludeed," said, I carelessly, "I am not at all displeased ; and I think you have had the exclusive benefit of my conversation for a sufficiently long time to content you. Ah ! here is Charlie Raymoud ; he went to get me an ice, but I should think he must have had some trouble in procuring it, judging from the length of time he has stayed." A deep flush rose to Stephen Holcombe's swarthy face, as with a low bow he turned away, giving place to the new comer, whose fresh-colored, smiling countenance offered at that moment a sufficiently agreeable contrast to his somewhat saturnine physiognomy. I, at least, thought so, and was not sorry to make an exchange of attendants, finding this one infirmity the best suited to my taste. "What have you been doing to Holcombe, Miss Rosamond ?" asked young Raymond, laughing. "He looks as gloomy as a thundercloud." "Indeed I have done nothing to him," I replied, "unless it be an injury to decliue giving up one of my partners for his benefit. I am very glad, however, that he did not ask me earlier." "So am I," said Charlie, "for he would have cut out some more deserving fellow if he had." "Yourself, for instance," I suggested. "Oh ! no; I always take good care to be in time. Delays are dangerous, you know?especially when there is such a fascinating prize in question as?" "Rosy/'Baid ray father somewhat abruptly, breaking in upon our tele a tete, "I should think all our friends would be glad of a little breathing-time. What do you say to going in to luncheon now ?" "Yes, papa, I think that would be very nice. What a nitv. Charlie, that I gave you the trouble to-fetch me this sherbet." Charlie Raymond and I had been play-fellows from childhood, and our intimacy excused the lack of ceremouy between us. Papa, however, viewed it with a somewhat distrustful eye. Just as we were going in to luncheon, one of the servants approached my father and handed him a card. "Show him into the drawing-room," I heard | him say. "I will be with him directly." As we passed the drawing-room windows, which opened on the lawn, I saw a tall gentleman, with a handsome face and remarkably high-bred air, standing near one of them and looking out. CHAPTER II. DR. WAKDI.AW. My father presently brought the stranger into the dining-room, and introduced him ae j Dr. Ward law. Before long, he came to my j side and entered into conversation with me, I somewhat to the discomfiture of Charlie Rayj mond, who was disposed to regard him as an | intruder. "I must apologize for being an unbidden guest," he said, in a singularly sweet, low i voice; "but it was quite by chance that I ar! rived here to-day, instead of yesterday, hav j iiig met witJi an unexpected delay on the ; road." Of course, I assured hira that his presence , was very acceptable; though I wondered mentally, at the same time, what had brought I him there at all, as I did not remember ever having heard his name before. My curiosity was soon gratified. "A mutual friend of your father and myself, hearing that I was coming to this part of the country, kindly favored me with some ! letters of introduction," he said. "Among them, one to Mr. Lambert, whom he desired ' me particularly to become acquainted with. I am from a neighboring State?South Carolina?and am making a tour for the benefit ol my health, which is a little shaken by a recent attack of illness." "I hope you will be benefitted by it, "said I, not knowing what other reply to make. "Thanks. 1 am very much better already, and hope to be quite strong ere I return home." | "Do you come from Charleston ?" was my ; next question. "I have some friends there, ! with whom I went to school at one time in | Raleigh?perhaps you know them ; the WestI brooks." | "No?I know very few persons in Charlesi ton," he replied. "I reside entirely in the country, in the upper portion of the State ; that has been my home ever since I came from Scotland, which is my native laud." "Scotland!" I echoed in surprise, for he did not look at all like a Scotchman?at , least, like iny ideal of oue. Instead of the high cheekbones, ruddy complexion, and redish hair which I had always associated in my mind with people of that nation, I saw before me a pale, classic face, with delicate, regular features, dark brown hair and large, dark, deep set eyes, very soft and kiudly in their expression, while his voice and manner were as geutle as a woman's. He spoke to me in a quiet, fatherly sort of way, as if there were an immense difference in our ages ; yet I do not think for the most he could have been more than thirty-six or seven years old. "Yes," he answered, smiling. "Does it *1 ? T ~t U L.. seem a wonaeriui miug mat 1 snuuiu n?ve 1 come to live such a long way oft' from home ? I was the youngest of a numerous family, and | the paternal nest could not contain us all, so ; I took flight early, and came to try my furtuue in America. I am grateful for having prospered in my adopted country. It seems ! quite like my own now, for I have been here i sixteen years." "Nearly as long I have," said I, gaily, j "Do you kuow, to day is my seventeenth birth day!" [ He accepted the childish announcement i with another indulgent smile. "You are a ; very happy young lady" (it would have seem| ed more appropriate to say little girl) "to have i so many friends around you to celebrate the I event," he rejoined. "Now when my birthday ! comes, I don't think anybody knows anything j about it, except my housekeeper, old Barbara, and she always makes me a cake." "Why, your family ought to know," I exclaimed, thoughtlessly. An instantaneout change came over his face. "I have no family?at least, none with me,' he answered, a little hurriedly. "I lead a very solitary life." ' I blushed crimson, fearing I bad committed -1 an indiscretion; and the pause which followed -! would have been an awkward one, but for his 5 ! perception of ray embarrassment, and his evii i deut desire to relive it. "I am so accustomed to solitude, that I j cannot say I find it disagreeable," he went on 1 j in his former easy tone. "Persons, after a time, become wedded to a lonely existence. , i My place is quite different-looking from your i J father's; yet it is a pretty place, too, aud I am r | very fond of it." - "Is it near a village, like this?" I asked. "Oh! no; there ia no settlement within , j several miles. It lies quite by itself, in a shady - nook, with the woods all around it; the most I tranquil, silent spot you can imagine. I call it Sleepy Hollow." "I hope there is no goblin there," said I, ' laughing. I "Oh ! no ; Ichabod Crane might ride there i securely in auy of the small hours, and not ? encounter a headless horseman," he replied, lightly. Yet even as he spoke, the change I I had before noticed crossed his face for an instant?a look half of pain, half of shrinking j fear, as If some one were touching a hidden j wound?aud he directly changed the subject, i giving me no farther opportunity to question him. He talked fluently and well, touching , on the topics which he thought, I suppose, would moBt interest me?namely, society, fashionable amusements, novel-reading and the like. Yet it seemed to me as if this was a mere ripple, flowing over graver and deeper thoughts, which he would not bring to the surface except for the benefit of more appreciative minds than mine. The idea piqued me, aud 1 felt a desire to show him that I was not quite so childish as he supposed. I do not know what possessed me, but I became suddenly inspired with the wish to please him ? to let him see the best part of me, instead of my gay, butterfly surface. It was not an easy matter to accomplish this just at present, with the hubbub of merry voices around us, and all the circumstances of the moment opposed to anything like seriousness or reflection ; but I mentally determined to carry out my pur| pose as soon as the departure of our other guests should afford me an opportunity of doing so, if, as I conjectured, my father would keep him with us for the remainder of the day, or perhaps a still loDger time. After a time, papa came up, and taking Dr. Wardlaw's arm, carried him off to another part of the room. I turned and saw Charlie Raymond sitting on a window ledge near by, swinging his heels in school-boy fashion, with a very sulky expression of countenance. "Mind you don't fall, Charlie," said I, benignantly. "Oh ! I can taka care of myself, thank you," was his reply, in an injured tone. "You have been leaving me to do so for the last hour or two." "Now, Charles, do you mean to insinuate that I have taken an hour or two to eat my luncheon ?" "No, I don't; but you have been making me waste ray time here while you were talking to that old fogy. I'd like to punch his head?coming and interrupting people in this way." "Charles," said I, with dignity, "Dr. Wardlaw is papa's guest. Speak of him with proper respect, if you please." ' "Yes, I ought to be respectful to him," said | Charles. "He's old enough." "He is a delightful person," said I, "and I seems to know how to talk about everything." "No need to say that you found him de! lightful," was Charlie's retort. "I wonder ; how you could let your father carry him off." "Oh ! I'll see him again you know," I rejoined, complacently. "Come, Charlie, don't I be cross. I couldn't send him away before, | because he's a stra-iger. You and I are such j old friends that we don't have to stand on | ceremony with each other." I "That's all very fiue," said Charlie, some' what mollified ; "but when I hear that music i j wasting out in the grounds?" | "Music wasting! Is it possible that the [dancing has begun again already?" I ex! oluimo/) "T)flor nip ? I hplipvp T rtWP. SflfllP body a dance of some kind, don't I ?" "You owe me a schottische, Miss Lambert," said Charlie with a low bow. "May I have ) the honor of your hand now?provided we ; don't find ourselves too late, which I think is very likely." i We used to dance the schottische in those days. It was not then considered ungraceful, i as it is now. I took Charlie's arm, and we ; strolled out to our sylvan dancing-hall in .; restored peace and amity. It was growing warm, however, and gradually the dancing i ceased, and the company began to divide off J in pairs or groups and seek the most comfortj able resting-places they could find, some on : rustic benches placed beneath the trees, some . on the grass, some on the gnarled roots of the trees themselves. Suddenly the baud, which had stopped playing, struck up a soft, sweet, yet lively air. A troop of little ctrls dressed in white, 'i with clouds of piuk gauze floating about them, came tripping from the shade of the thicket, while a voice heralded their approach , with this couplet from Gray's "Ode on j Spring:" , "Lo, where the rosy-bosomed Hours, Fair Venus' train, appear I" The foremost of the band, a pretty little | flaxen-haired thing of ten or twelve years, ; having led them across the lawn to where I : was sitting, stopped in front of me, and in a j clear musical voice, accompanied by the unseen instruments, sang a ballad composed in ' honor of the "Queen of the Fete," of which i i I can now remember only the last two lines, "And may each hour, Hying fast, Still lind thee happier than the last!" The verses had no especial merit, but the ; sentiment of cordial good will in them, and j the graceful manner in which they were ren| dered, made them charming. As the bright j little Hours glided away, the Four Seasons ; drew near. These were four young girls, apJ propriately dressed. Spring,who led the band, was attired in a light green robe, adorned j with lilies-of-the-valley, and a wreath of the same upon her head; Summer wore transpa. rent white, with garlands of pink rosebuds; Autumn, sickle in hand, shone gorgeous in a corn-colored dress, with a wreath of flaming nnmiip.q. blue corn-flowers and wheat-ears : # r | , uud Winter's rosy cheeks and bright dark ; eyes looked laughingly forth from wrappings ; of fur, while a dainty little cap of the same : crowned her curly head. All carried bas, kwts, appropriately filled with flowers, berries, fruits or nuts, and other suitable emblems. .Spring made mc an obeisance, and laying her , ' floral treasures at my feet, recited the follow- j , i ing verses : "To thee changeful Seasons Their varied tributes bring; Each strives with loving heart to make The fairest offering. We have no pearls or diamonds ; But only Nature's store, Culled from the kindly lap of earth, Into thy lap we pour. Yet gifts by Friendship hallowed Eclipse the diamond s sheen, | And with these floral gems to-day Sweet Hose, we crown the Queen !" 11 As she finished she took from her basket an i; exquisite wreath of pure white roses, and | pluced it upon my head, while her sister sea- j ; ] sons bent the knee in token of homage. This i , j little ceremony, as pretty and as artistically j I performed as it was unexpected, elicited uui I versal admiration and applause; and rising | i j from my seat, I thanked my fair subjects, iu j as appropriate words as I could muster, for j ' their affection and loyalty, assuring them that j i I would endeavor to deserve the honor they j bad conferred upon me. ' Next came trooping from the thicket a gay ; and motley assemblage, composed of various mythological characters?Diana in tunic of green, with bow and shaft; Iris in many-colored robe, scattering pearly spray from a j crystal flask ; Aurora in rosy drapery, chasing j before her star-bespangled Night; stately; |Juno, laughing Hebe, beneficent Ceres, ra-! i diant Flora with her attendant nymphs; then j i followed a group of Dryads and Naids, and i last of all a dainty little Titania with a glittering train of fays, presenting an enchanting scene as they scattered themselves over the grass and flitted in aud out among the trees, their butterfly wings glistening with a thousand hues. The band played a quadrille, and with clasping hands and entwining arms the Hours, Seasons, Goddesses, Dryads, Nymphs, and Fairies with one accord joined in a gay revel, their flying feet scarcely pressing the emerald turf, cheeks flushing, eyes sparkling, ' ?- ? ? 1 ? A ? k faiw klnnrn ttliU riugieus, Uiaun, Uiunu auu I?iij wvnu about by the soft spring wind. "How lovely!?how charming!?how picturesque !" resounded on all sides from the delighted spectators. "Why, Rosamond," exclaimed several voices, "we had no idea that there was such a pretty surprise in store for us. How did you manage to get it up so beautifully ?" "Indeed, it is as much of a surprise to me as to you," I replied. "Here is the magician whose wand creates wonders at his bidding," and seizing my father by the arm, who was standing near me, I cried gleefully, "Papa, have you a slave of the ring, who builds fairy palaces in a night, and makes nymphs and goddesses soring out of the boBom of the earth ?" "Of course I have," said papa. "But it was not I, or my slave either, who invented this gay show. You must ask your godmother about it?she has been planning costumes and composing poetry for the last six weeks." "Aunt Mabel!" I exclaimed. "Oh ! how good of her. I must hunt her up to thank her. How kind everybody is to me !" "Isn't it astonishing!" said Charlie Raymond, saucily. "The idea of any one taking so much trouble as all this, just to celebrate your birthday." "Please to go away, Mr. Raymond," I retorted, "and talk to some one else. I am tired of you now. Or, on second thought, you can go and find out where my aunt is, and come back and let me know. I must see her immediately." "I am honored by the commission," said Charlie, without stirring. "But I think you may as well entrust it to some one else. I might not be able to find her easily." Darting an indignant glance at him, I * 1 P 11 Di turned away, ana my eyes ieu ou oiepueu Holcombe, who was standing apart with a uioody face. I was wild with glee, and capable of committing any mischief. "Mr. Holcombe," said I, approaching him, and speaking in my softest tone, "may I ask you to escort me to the house ? I have an errand there." In another moment we were crossing the lawn together. As we passed around the myrtle hedge, we found ourselves alone. All the company were assembled in the glade, and the house seemed deserted, even by the servants, who had been enraptured witnesses of the novel display which had just taken place. We eutered through the piazza, and I looked in every direction, calling upon Aunt Mabel as I ran from room to room ; but she was nowhere to be found. "How singular!" said I, forced at last to give up the search. "She was certainly not out there, was she, Mr. Holcombe? She can't have gone home. Well, we may as well return from our fruitless errand. I am sorry to have given you the trouble of coming here for nothing." "Trouble!" echoed Stephen Holcombe, with passionate vehemence in his tone. He checked something which had risen to his lips, and walked with rapid steps to a window, where he stood for a moment, looking out. Then he turned, and came back to my side. "Do you not know that I would go to the end of the world to serve you ?" he asked abruptly. "Oh 1 I know you are very kind," I answered with a half-frightened laugh, for his odd manner startled me. "But I would not impose such a journey as that upon you." I moved towards the door, but he placed himself in my way. "Don't go," he cried, entreatingly. "For heaven's sake, Rosamond, give me a moment of your time." I stopped, trembling, and wishing with all my heart that I had resisted the impulse of coquetry which had led me to ask for his companionship. I knew what was coming; his ardent gaze, his quivering voice, his excited manner, all forewarned me of a catastrophe I now felt sincerely anxious to avert. But I could frame no excuse for escaping; I was struck dumb, and stood with beating heart awaiting the ordeal I saw before me. "I have borne coldness and disdain from you," he went on rapidly, "and have been stung to the quick by your indifference and contempt?" "Oh! no, no," I interrupted, deprecatingly. U?, ktt a croahim nf kia ka nH lie ancuucu UlC \JJ a g^QKUiv 1/1 ntu "It is too true. Your avoidance of me has been too marked to escape notice; hut notwithstanding this discouragement,lam drawn to say what is burning in my heart?what must be said, sooner or later, be your answer what it may. You know that I love you? that I worship the very ground you tread upon. Rosamond, can you, in the sight of God, put your hand upon your heart and tell j me honestly that you do not return this love ?" In a lessserious mood, I could have laughed at the singularity of this address ; but his face awed mc, and I did not dare to trifle with him. "Mr. Holcombe," I filtered, "did you not yourself say that I was cold?that I avoided you ? How then can you ask me if I love you ?" "Because I am resolved to know the worst at once?because I will not be kept following in your track, moving like a puppet at your bidding, if it is only for your pleasure that I am made to do so?lured on one moment by i your smiles, to be repulsed by a frown the next. I will not go from here until I find < out whether it is through pure coquetry that you have tormented me thus." -* *' 1 1 * X_ " X ou nave no rigni to accuse mo oi coquetry," I answered, stung to anger by his i words. "If I have thoughtlessly been rude or unkind to you, I beg your pardon ; but I never intended to deceive you by pretending what I did not feel." i "You do not care for me, then ?" ( "I certainly do not," was my decided answer; "and you have not raised yourself in ray esteem by your unjust accusations, or your unkind interruption of my pleasure to- i day." s i He moved aside without a word, and I ; swept past him, like a tragedy queen ; but i instead of returning to the glade I fled to ray * i own room, to cool my burning face, and com-! pose ray excited feelings, before veuturiug to encounter the scrutiny of my companions. j Here I was presently discovered by Aunt Mabel, who had, in much perturbation, come to seek me. "Good gracious, child," she exclaimed, j "what is the matter with you, and what are you doing here alone? Your father is asking for you, and every is one remarking your absence. Come down stairs, quick. There is i quite a commotion there, for Dr. Wardlaw has fainted." CHAPTER III. tr MORE RASH THAN WISE. fie This piece of intelligence quite excited my tl( interest, and aroused my sympathy, and forgetful of my own disturbed feelings, I ran n< down stairs, eager to proffer my assistance. 00 It was not needed, however. When I reached or the parlor, I found that Dr. Wardlaw had re- af covered from his temporary faintness, and was sitting upright on the sofa, looking quite com- at posed, though very pale. pr "I am more grieved than I can express, to of, have been the cause of so much trouble and confusion," he said, in a penitent tone. "Can you forgive me, Miss Lambert, for interrupting your festivities in this manner ?" "Oh! how ill you look, Dr. Wardlaw," I l<r cried, impulsively, without regarding his words, for I was rather shocked by his ap- an pearance. "Do you feel very badly ?" wl "I am better now, thank you?considerably better. There is nothing alarming in this * T. i 1_ .L. little attaCK, 1 assure you. it is merejy me sit result of over-fatigue. I have ridden farther 'ei to-day than was prudent, considering that I [it' am not yet very strong." en "And it is so warm," said I, taking up a fan that lay near me, and commencing gently to al( fan his face. Hesmiled at me gratefully, and th< I mentally wandered at no one having had an the sense to think of fanning him before. "Pray do not let me detain you," he said, inj presently. "You are very kind, but I really ' do not stand in need of any farther assistance. 9tU Your friends out of doors will miss you." Dc "Oh 1 no, they won't mind," I replied. But . ' my father took the fan quietly out of my hand. ^ "Yes, go to your friends, Rosy," he said in ? rather a decided tone. "It will not do for let them to be left entirely to their own devices. I'll take care of Dr. Wardlaw." < Thus admonished, there was nothing left toe for me to do but to obey. Soon my father wi1 had the parlor cleared of every one but Dr. doi Wardlaw aud himself, declaring that perfect * quiet would be the best restorative for the former, and the revels on the lawn proceeded ; arc but my fete had lost its charm for me, and I " was not sorry when the gayety was over, and the guests dispersed to their homes. ?< Aunt Mabel Vincent, my father's married ev< sister, a quick, active, bright-eyed little lady, to 1 stayed behind for a quiet chat when the rest had gone, and I now had an opportunity of "J thanking her for her kindness in providing ?r such a charming entertainment for us. "I ? ? I I- *~ ?AI1 kafAM " *' JL WOO lUU&llig AH AUUUb 1U1 JVUJ I/VIUIV^ I said, as soon as I found out that it was you wi who had arranged it all; but I could not find ^ you anywhere." oft "Was that what you came to the house ! for ?" she asked. [?Jf "Yes," I replied, and then the recollection 4 of what had transpired on the occasion flashed wi over 'me, and I felt myself blushing scarlet. ^ Aunt Mabel looked at me keenly. an "Was not Stephen Holcombe with you?" bri was her next question. "Yes; but I thought you were here," I re- kn plied promptly. My aunt shook her head. "Rose, ray dear," she said gravely, "I hope you are not encouraging that young man." }jK "Encouraging him !" I cried. "You need p* not be afraid of that; I detest him." ] "Do you, really ? I should not have sup- fer posed so," said my aunt I felt the implied ^ rebuke, and resented it. or "It is very singular," said I pettishly, "that J a girl can't be seen talking to a gentleman, th, or walking with him, or letting him pay her ti\ ???? o.mti o frifllnr* oHontinn ujithmit'. hpina Of C Y CI outu U bllinug UVKWUV1VU| ?> ?**??? ? ^ accused of encouraging him. If Stephen thl Holcombe chose to dangle after me, I could sh not help it. cu "He certainly has appeared very devoted," she rejoined. ' "Well, he won't appear so any more," said a" I. "I have let him see pretty plainly what th( I thought of him." 11 On being questioned regarding this asser- w| tion, I acknowledged that Mr. Holcombe had hj; addressed me, and that I had refused him. wi "I suppose it is hardly proper for me to tell," 001 said I, "but of course I can trust you not to pa, let it go any farther." tu< She looked more relieved than surprised. he "To tell the truth, I anticipated something of he the kind," she replied. "I am glad you have se] shown such good sense, my dear; he is not ob. the style of person I should like to see you atp marry. In fact, you are too young yet to th< think of anything of the sort." ?P "I don't see that exactly," said I; "how- ' ever, it's not likely that I will have any more pr| offers at present." 4 "No," said aunt Mabel, laughing; "I sup- 8e< pose not." pa "Is Dr. Wardlaw going to stay here any at time ?" I asked, abruptly changing the sub . B ll ject-.... wi "1 believe your father has invuea Dim to ini stay for some days." "Oh ! I am so glad. Don't you like him very much, Aunty?" ] "I have scarcely seen him, child. He has a a f good, clever face, and looks and talks like a gentleman; but as to his real merits, I can't 4 decide on them so quickly. I suppose, being on* a physician, he ought to know how to take ^ care of himself, but he looks verj' far from 9h: strong. His fainting so easily was a bad sign." ' "He said it was from over-fatigue." Hf "May-be so ; he has had a fit of illness, I gei believe. I dare say, with a little geod nureing and cheerful company, he'll soon recupe- ? rate." trc I mentally resolved that he should have fe? both My father informed me that evening that yo our guest had promised to stay with us a week. "He is really not fit to travel again tj1( just yet," said he, "and it will be a pleasure Sh to me to have him here. He won't be in your be' way, will he Rosy ?" "Of course not, papa." ( "You know, dear, you need give yourself th4c no trouble on his account. He is so much old- esc er than you are, that he won't consider it shi incumbent on you to entertain him ; so you thf can go among your youDg friends just as r(7 usual." "How old do you Buppose he is, papa 7" "I am sure I ne er asked," said papa. "But he I should call him a middle-aged man?not as ?? old as I am, peihaps." "No, I should think not?why, you are * quite an old gentleman, you know." in? "You are a very complimentary young lady,"said my father, laughing. "However, ah when I was seventeen, I suppose forty-five .1 seemed an immense age to me, too." Notwithstanding the absolution I had just | " received from the necessity of devoting myself ^ to our new friend's entertainment during his Up sojourn under our roof, I quietly laid myself pre out to do all that was in my power to make "e his visit an agreeable one. Finding that he was particularly fond of music, I regaled him see with as many songs and pieces as he could de- " sire, in the day-time as well as in the evenings; fQr and having heard him express his love of i flowers, I took care to place the fiuest I could acc find in his room, a piece of attention which seemed to afford him great pleasure. I also ha) read aloud to him, from such books as he se- wil lected, at my request, from ray father's libra- ^ ry, and was delighted to find that he shared for my admiration for Sir Walter Scott, and did " not despise my favorite Miss Mulock, which it is the fashion of men to do. In short, we ? got on excellently well together, and before " the term of his visit bad half expired, had thc become the best of friends. His health im- j proved rapidly, and finding his strength suffi- on< cieutly recruited to render horseback exercise both enjoyable and beneficial, we took two or iy> three pleasant rides together about the couu y, which, at this season of the year, with the Ids green and the woods in bloom, was par:ularly pretty and attractive. Never had I enjoyed music, flowers, books or ling so well.before as now; jet it did not cur to me to question the cause of this fact, to think that there could be anything hazdous in an intimacy so naturally brought >out, and so quietly sanctioned by my father. [ was startled as if by an electric shock, when, some allusion made by Dr. Wardlaw, to his apoaching departure, I felt a keen, sudden thrill pain stir my heart to its very depths. [ questioned myself closelv, and found that my terest in him was deeper than I had suspected. What had come over me? Had I suffered my ections to go forth, unsolicited and undesired, an object utterly unconscious of them ? [ argued that it was folly to suppose myself in ire with an individual so much older, graver, d wiser than myself. No, it could not be love at 1 felt; it was simply congeniality of feeling, d a reverence for the great and good qualities lich each day developed more fully in my end's character. I felt that he was lar above 3; with my childishly impulsive nature and disciplined,uninformed mind, I wasonly fit to at his feet and offer him the incense or a siit, far off worship. But what should I do when is calm, refulgent star no longer illumined my tie firmament with the brightness of its presce? I felt blankly that his departure would tve a void impossible to fill, rheevening before he left, we two were sitting > 6 in the library, my father having gone into a village on some business. I felt very sad, d I suppose I looked so, for he watched me with licituae, and presently asked me, in the kind, lf-paternal tone he was wont to use in address; me, if I were feeling unwell. Oh! no," said I, rousing myself from my abacted mood; "I am quite well, thank you." 'Then something troubles you, does it not? n't think me impertinently inquisitive." 'I feel a little blue, that's all," I replied, forc5 a smile. "Every one is subject to that disle sometimes ; don't you think so ?" ' Vapeura noira?that's a bad disease. Come, me try and cure you. I'm a professor of the Uing art, you know." 'I thought you only cured physical ailments." 'Generally; but I prescribe for the mental ones , sometimes, when I am intimately acquainted th the patient. I have known you long jugh; Miss Rosamond, to feel sure that you n't yield often to morbid feelings." 'And, therefore, they are the more difficult to re." 'By no means ; deep-seated, chronic ailments : always the hardest to get rid of." 'Well, I don't think you can do me any good w, Dr. Wardlaw, so it will be ofno use for you *y." '1 don't like to see you look dull on the last ining of my stay here. I have been accustomed * regard you as the embodiment of cheerfulness, I it makes me unhappy to see the sunshine obired." [ am certainly not worth being unhappy about," ejoined, "but I feel ashamed of mv selfishness, not trying to make your last evening pass more eesbly. Shall I give you some music?" 'No, not yet; perhaps before going to bed I II ask you for one of my pet songs. I think I uld rather talk just now. You know it may a long time before I see you again?I do not en leave home." 'Perhaps you will travel again next Spring," I oined, speaking as carelessly as I could. "In it case, you must certainly pay us another visit." 'I certainly shall. Indeed, if I travel at all, it 11 probably be with that special purpose. My le here has been so happily spent, that I shall ry away a lasting remembrance of your pleast home, and the kindness of its inmates?a ight little picture to be framed and hung up in smory's spacious hall." [ sat stupidly looking out of the window, not owing wnat to say next. Dr. Wardlaw rose ? -1?1- 1 l.:?U Urx U/uin ait + inrv >LU U1UIUW CI Jill I III W L11CU UO uau uclii Di?i<iei rt coming to my side, stood there for a few mojnts in silence. How peaceful the lawn looks, with the moonht sleeping on the grass," he said, presently, 'etch your hat, and let us take a little stroll, rhaps we may meet your father coming home." [ obeyed mechanically; it was equally indigent to me whether I went out or stayed inors. We roamed about among the flowers, Dr. ardlaw occasionally stopping to gather a bud leaf. 'I have no such flowers as these at home," he id. "I am nothing of a gardener myself, and s negroes, with the best intentions, cannot cul ate a garden properly without the supervision an experienced eye. Old Barbara gives an eye the vegetables, which she appreciates more ?n the choicest plants in the world, because, as e says, they are of some use. She is a real old riosity, by the way. I think she would amuse u." 'Your housekeeper, is she?" 'Yes. She is an old Scotch dame, very shrewd d very faithful. The servants like her, because e is kind to them, and seldom finds fault with Bm, though she keeps them in excellent order, jave known her all my life, and have had her th me eversince I firstwent to housekeeping?" He stopped suddenly, with the same change in * manner I had before noticed in connection th an allusion to his home life; but directly ntinued, speaking rapidly, as if to discard some inful thought? 'She is nuite a comnanion to me in my soli do. I don't know bow I should get on without r." Had he ever been married, I wondered? Was a widower?or bad he once been engaged, and sarated by death or other misfortunes from the jeot of his love? Or was he hopelessly in love the present time? Some secret care weighed on him. I felt sure; and I longed to arrive at 3 knowledge of it, yet dared not venture, too enly, on what seemed to be unsafeground. To my surprise, he himself touched upon the >ic I was trying mentally to find a way to apaach. 'I suppose you wonder at my living such a jluded life, with only my dependants for comny. Several persons have suggested to me the p'ediency of renting my place, and taking rooms one of the farm-houses in the neighborhood, lere I would have more cheerful surroundings, it the old place has charms for me, and I am not Iling to give it up. There are, in fact, tiesbind? me to it, which I could not break." 'It is hard to break old associations," I hazard, in reply. 'Very hard; nor could I desire to do so." Evidently, thought I, he clings to the past with ondness which nothing can shake. The presl and future have less interest for him than his -gone life. 'Sot that my past has been altogether a bright e," he continued, answering my very thoughts, n the contrary, I have suffered much. But e's surroundings become hallowed even by tfering." iTi ?Ia onffnw '? T OQt^ VQffllfil\7 It lliunt L/t7 uicauiui tv ouuuit jl omiv?} ? wv.j . ; looked down at me with a smile. 'You have never experienced it," he responded, ntly. "You are one of the favored ones of th. May your skies ever continue as bright J cloudless as now." 'I suppose everybody has to go through some mble, at one time or another," said I, with a ling as if my time of trouble were in some way ?r at hand. 'Yes?except here and there one who dies very ling. I knew such a one, years ago," his voice 'tened as bespoke, "who passed from earth uniken by a single storm?a flower upon whom i wind had never blown with rough breath, e told me, in her dying moments, that she had m happy all her life?vet she left this world, lieh was so beautiful toher, without a murmur, token of regret." Of course he had been married ; my doubts on (question were settled at once.) 'T don't ihink dying is a very pleasant way of aping from adversity," I rejoined, with a little iclder. I feared, afterward, that he might have >ught me flippant, for he made no immediate )ly to my remark. 'ft is Longfellow, I think, who tells us ....'how Hubllme a thing it 1* To ?ulT?r and be etrong,'" continued, presently. "Many hearts are enbled by suffering?tney do not know their own labilities until they have been tried in theflery nace. 'I hope I shall never be tried," I exclaimed, pulsively. 'It is fortunate," he answered quietly, that the iision is not left in our hands, and that there is igher Power in whose wisdom we can confide." felt rebuked, and was silent. The conversan had taken a turn which was not enlivening; lides, I had no turu for metaphysics. There is your father," said Dr.* Wardlaw in a mged tone, as we emerged into am open path tied in the direction of the village. I looked . and saw naDa at a short distance off. ap aching ur on horseback. He dismounted when reached us, and wo all walked homeward toher. You've been taking a moonlight ramble, I ," he remarked. "Lovely night, isn't it?" Lovely, indeed. Miss Ftosainoud seemed a le out of spirits, and I prescribed the fresh air her benefit." ^or my benefit 1 It had been simply on my ount, then, that he had brought me out?not t he cared for my companionship. Perhaps, t ho was sorry to see me so dull, he would even fo proferred walking alone! So I told myself, ;h a little petulant, inward burst of mortifica11 ; yet he had certainly given me many proofs, lifferent times, of the pleasure my society aided him. By the way, Rosy," said my father as we were ng in-doors, "I was surprised to hear, this ming, that young Holcomoe is going away?" 'Stephen Holcombe, papa ?" 'Yes; he hasgot weary of village life, itseems; ugh with what precise object ho leaves home one seems to know." ly next question was apparently an irrelevant 3. 'Did you see Aunt Mabel, papa?" 'No, mv dear," said papa, quite unsuspecting"I did not go there this evening." (TO BE CONTINUED NEXT