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VOL 25. YORKYILLE, 8. C., THURSDAY, JANUARY 16, 1879. - 3STO. 3.
????? ??i?
jta Original ftorn.
Written for the Yorkville Enquirer.
MISS CAREY'S BOX.
BY AN OLD CONTRIBUTOR.
CHAPTER V.
To return now to Mildred. The cause of \
her unwonted p re-occupation and occasional;
fits of depression, may be easily inferred from
what has been related above. Her secret,
which need be a secret no longer, was briefly
this: She was conscious that she felt a regard
for Frank Coventry ; wanner, perhaps, than
was warranted by what had passed between
them, and she was troubled at having allowed
herself to dwell upon an idea, which, sometimes,
she thought might have sprung from
her own fancy alone. In recalling his manner,
his implied assurauce of his own sentiments
toward her, (which bad seemed so unmistakable
at the time.) it did, indeed, appear
0 116r BS iriOUgn sue uau auj^iv
for this idea. > But then, again, she wondered
that he had never spoken definitely, and her
soul revolted from the thought that she might
have suffered herself to be beguiled into supposing
that his attentions meant more than
they really did. Such an idea shocked both
her delicacy and her pride, and there were
moments when she resolved to banish his image,
at once and forever, from her mind.
But ah ! this was not easy to do. In fact, it
was not possible, for had she not felt, over and
over again, when in his presence, the delightful
conviction that she was dear to hpu?had j
he not testified his regard by a hundred signs, |
easy to interpret, which had said to her, as !
plainly as though his lips had uttered the
words, "I love you ?" Puzzled and harrassed
by what seemed contradictory in his conduct,
by the alternate hopes and doubts which sgitated
her heart, and the trying suspense which
she seemed destined, for an indefinite period,
to endure, it was no marvel that her customary
cheerfulness became somewhat clouded, or
that in the solitude of her own apartment, and
the silence of the night, a tear would drop
upon her pillow, unseen by inquisitive ?yes.
As I have already said, however, her natural
firmness and her habits of self control,
were strong enough to prevent her betraying
her trouble in any perceptible degree; though
as the weeks and mouths wore on and the
gulf of separation and silence grew wider, it
weighed more aud more heavily upon her,
and affected both her health and her spirits
? ~ ?A. 11 .V oka It'UQ Kopcplf flWitrP
more puwenuujr iuau ouv ??o
of.
"I don't think Mildred looks as well as she
used to do at home," Mr. Croflon remarked
one morning at the breakfast table iu the
presence of the family. "The San Francisco
climate doesn't seem to suit her, so well. Are
you pining to get back to Eugland, Mildred?"
The suddenness of the question brought
^ the c<dor to her face. "I don't know that I
am pining, cousin Charles," she replied with
a rather forced smile; ' but I shall be glad to
go back, of course. I suppose we shall all
be."
"Oh ! I am in no hurry," said Ethel. "I
think it is nice enough to be out here. It is
a queer place, but pleasant; and goodness
knows it was dull enough at home."
"Quiet, but not dull," corrected Mildred.
"It is the same thing. Walking, riding
and driving about the country, and paying
occasional visits to the neighbors, are not very
enlivening pastimes."
"You forget the archery meetings, and the
hont-dinners, and the country balls," said
Alice.
"Yes; they are the few bright spots in the
desert, where one gets refreshed?"
"By the sight of uniforms and the sound
of pleasant compliments?particularly when
these last are whispered in the winning accents
of a bold dragoon," said Alice.
"Exactly." was Ethel's composed rejoinder.
"But if you mean Harry Houghton, I assure
r ? i- c?...? l:_ ?n?
you i nave Deany iurguircu mm nuugtrtuci.
I have seen people since I have been here,
whom I like twice as well as him."
"Anyhow, the military balls are the nicest,"
said Alice.
"We all know that you think so," retorted
Ethel.
"Because one sees new faces there, at
least."
"Though very nearly handsome ones;
which, of course, makes the exceptions more
valuable," remarked her sister. "I wonder
why it is that army and navy officers are so
often ugly."
"They usually have fine figures, which are
more important than handsome features."
"0, yes! everybody can testify to your
admiration of a huge seven-footer, with
shoulders a yard wide. I like something
more elegant-aod light," said Ethel.
"Like Charlie Crawford, who dances with i
the airs and graces of the leader of a ballet
corps."
"That is preferable to danaing with the
airs and awkwardness of an elephant, and
treading on the unfortunate toes of a partner.
I shall never forget when your big Colonel
waltzed, or attempted to waltz, with me that
evening at Lady Brewster's. My foot aches
now at the bare recollection. I shall never
dance with him again if I live to be a hundred,'5
protested Ethel.
"He won't trouble you with his attentions
while I am present," rejoined Alice.
In this stream of idle talk and badinage,!
the original question, to Mildred's relief, j
seemed to be forgotten ; but her guardian's I
comment on her appearance had been a warn- |
ing to her to be cautious of any self-betrayal, J
and from that time she was more than ever
careful to conceal her real disquietude under
a tranquil and cheerful manner.
"If he really cares nothing for me, my absence
will make no difference to him," she;
said to herself; and if I have been mistaken, |
as I sometimes think I have, it is the best I
thing in the world for me that circumstances |
should have brought me away from home."
Mrs. Crofton'8 health was much benefited j
by the change to the California climate; and j
Mildred, emancipated from the constant con- j
finement of waiting upon an invalid, which j
she had formerly endured, begau to spend a
great part of her time in active exercise, j
which she found invigorating to her own physical
and mental condition. Alice and Ethel
were devoted to theatre going, and public :
amusements of all sorts. These she did uot
care to partake of, except occasionally ; but |
she did enjoy long rambles through the re-'
tired and hilly portions of the city, where
she could breathe the invigorating air that
blew freshly from the bay, and feast her eyes
on the lovely prospect of mountain and wa-1
ter that met her view. She loved, too, to visit
picture galleries and libraries, and spent many
hours in the spacious rooms of the Mercantile
Library, where she would find a quiet
corner, and turn over the leaves of an interesting
book, or a portfolio of engravings, undisturbed.
Altogether, it was a freer life
than she had ever before led, and in many
respects it suited her; that absence of the
conventional restraint to which she had hitherto
been accustomed, which so forcibly
strikes foreigners on visiting America, (most
forcibly, perhaps, in these Western regions)
proving rather agreeable than otherwise in
her present state of mind, which made liberty
of action an especial boon to her.
It was on one of these occasions of solitary
rambling that she met with a little adventure,
which made quite an impression upoo her,
and did not easily pass from her recollection.
She had gone to return a volume to the Library,
(where she was a subscriber) and finding
there a book of poems, which she did not
care to take home, but in which she wanted
to refer lo a certain disputed'passage, she sat
down to hunt the passage ip question, and re
mained engrossed in the search for a consid
erable time. Having, at last, satisfied herself
on the contested point, she arose to return the
book to the shelf, and, as she did so, became,
for the first time, aware of the vicinity of a
tall, rather elderly man, who was regarding
her with a peculiarly earnest and enquiring
expression. The exceeding iutentness of his
gaze startled her, and, for a moment, she hesitated,
and returned it, in the natural desire
to see who it was that made her the object of
his scrutiny. The face of the person, however,
was quite uufamiliar to her, and withdrawing
her glance, she was about to move past
him, when, with a quick movement, he inter
cepted her progress, by placiug himself directly
in her way.
"Excuse me, young lady," hesaid in a courteous
tone, "but it strikes me that we have
met before. Your face is wonderfully familiar
to me."
Mildred was not easily disconcerted or
..flfkor miarrl A iid though taken bv
win.mi ?.*,? g,* O
surprise at this address from a total stranger,
she answered civilly and quietly?
"I think you are mistaken, sir. I have
been only a short time in California, and know
few persons here."
"Permit me to ask you one question," eagerly
continued the other: "Are you not English,
and connected with the Seabury family
at Kent ?"
"I am English, but do not know the family
you allude to," replied Mildred, her surprise
heightened that he knew, or guessed at,
her nationality. Then, anxious to terminate
the dialogue and escape from what might be
mere impertinent inquisitiveness on the part
of her interlocutor, she bowed slightly, and,
with a dignified air, walked off to a distaut
end of the room. While she stood before a i
book-shelf, apparently scanning its contents,
6he glanced furtively in the direction of the
seat she had recently quitted, and saw that
the man was standing where she had left
him, with his eves bent upon the floor, apparently
engaged in thought. Half fearing
a second approach from him?she knew not
why?she drew her veil over her face and
somewhat hurriedly left the room.
When she related her adventure at home,
Mr. Crofton looked grave, and said she had
better not roam about too much alone. "I
know it is an American fashion for young la
dies to visit public places unattended," he
said, "but in a great cosmopolitan city, like
this, there is no knowing what kind of characters
you may encounter. In future, Mildred,
you had better let one of the children
go with you when you want to get a book, or
anything of that sort."
"La, papa, I am sure Alice or I wouldn't
be any protection to Mildred," exclaimed
Ethel. "She always takes care of us; not we
of her."
"Was he a handsome man, Mildred?"
asked Alice.
"No; only ordinarily good looking, I believe.
I did not look at him very attentively."
"Didn't you ? I should have done so, if I
had been you. Was he young or old ?"
"Rather old, I fancy. I thought he was a
gentleman, or I should not have answered him
as I did," said Mildred, fearing her guardian
might consider her imprudent. "He seemed
really to think he had met me before."
"Well, perhaps so ; but one never knows
what these fellows are after," said Mr. Crof
ton. He may have been a pickpocket Are
you sure your purse is safe?"
"Oh! yes," answered Mildred, laughing.
"He wasn't anything of that sort, cousin
Charles. Besides, he spoke of the Seaburys
of Kent, you know."
"That does not prove his respectability,
however. He didn't mention in what capaci
K/1 knnnmo annnailltpf] With t.hftni. if
b y lie ll?u UVCViiav MW|WM>*WWM ...... ,
indeed he is acquainted with them at all.
And for that matter, who are the Seaburys of
Kent?"
"I am sure I don't know," said Mildred.
And the subject was dropped. About an
hour later, however, when the girls had all
left the room, Mr. Crofton laid down a newspaper
he was reading, and suddenly exclaimed
to his wife?
"Good gracious, Margaret! I have just
thought of something."
"What is it, my dear?" asked Mrs. Crofton.
"Wasn't it a Sir something Seabury who
inherited Mildred's grandmother's property
down there in Kent? Old Mrs. Sinclair,
you know. You recollect the circumstances
of her death."
"Perfectly. I know her heirs were distant
connections, but don't remember their name."
"Rockwell, or Roxburg Seabury, I think,
was the name of the one who came in possession
of the estate. Ah! that was a splendid
estate, I've heard. Pity poor Mildred was
cut out of it! However, it's no use lamenting
over that now. But what I was thinking of,
was that this man who spoke to Mildred today
might have known something about her, J
although I can't imagine where he could
ever have seen her before."
"I have heard that Mildred is remarkably
like her mother," said Mrs. Crofton. "Perhaps
he may have known her, and recognized j
the likeness. I'd like to know who he can
be."
"So should I," said her husband. "I'm
always looking out for a chance of Mildred
inheriting that estate yet?there is no telling
what may happen before she dies."
"I thought all chance of that was destroy- |
ed forever," rejoined Mrs. Crofton. "The old
people utterly renounced her mother, and :qow j
that their property is in alien hands, 1 don't
see how it can possibly revert to her."
"Oh, well, I dare say she can get on without
it," said Mr. Crofton. "But I should
like to oust those Seaburys, if I could?not I
that I know anything against them ; only I !
look upon them as interlopers. Of course,
they have a right to the estate."
"I have always thought the Sinclairs must
have been very unnatural people," said his
wife. "The old lady might at least have relented
in favor of poor Mildred, after her
mother's death; but I suppose the name of
Rathbone was enough to cut her off from any
chance of favor."
"It's as good a name as any in the country,"
rejoined Mr. Crofton, warmly; "and if
Mildred's father had been rich, they would
have liked him well enough, but because he
was an army officer, with nothing but his pay
to depend upon, he wasn't good enough for
their child. Rathbone was high spirited, too,
and I dare say there were passages between
them that no one knew of, which made the
breach hopelessly wide. He wouldn't have
touched a penny of their money if he had
been starving."
Mildred's return to the room, at this moment,
prevented any further discussion of
the subject. But the incident which had led
to its introduction was really a very important
one, though none of the parties concerned
could as yet foresee its results. The
person who had addressed our heroine
in so unexpected a manner, was none other
than Dr. Joshua Carey, Mr. Mulcahy's tenant,
of whom mention had been made in the
commencement of this history.
And how had Dr. Carey guessed at her
identity ? Simply through that strong like
A" ^ "** J??J ttfkioK re ( !rr*f.
Lieas LU IICl UCUU IllUtuci, U1 innvu V. . ?
ton had spoken to her husband, and which
was, indeed, sufficiently striking to claim the
notice of any one who had known Mrs. Rathbone
at Mildred's age.
The Doctor walked home from the Library
in no pleasant frame of miud, to judge from
the expression of his countenance as he strode
along. His meditations ran somewhat as
follows: i . . .
"So that girl has turned up at last! I
could swear it was her. I have seen Ellen
Sinclair look exactly as she did to-day, when
she was bending over her book ; hundreds
and hundreds of times. I knew she was
somewhere in California, and now at last 1
have found her. The question is, what steps
had I best take ? These people, these Croftons,
are bound to discover, sooner or later,
Seabury's friendly intentions towards her;
and, once in communication with him, my
chances are ruined forever. I'd like to choke
the meddling fool that ever told him she was
alive; would do it, too, if I could find out
who it was. However, the only wonder is,
that it didn't leak out years ago; but my
luck has kept it a secret, so long. I must
find out Crofton's residence, and keep a diligent
eye on all their movements. It will go
hard with me if I can't continue to circumvent
the whole posse of idiots, as I have clone
heretofore. I wasn't born with this long bead
for nothiug."
Reaching home, he found his sister, as usual,
shut up in her own chamber, engaged with
some harmless little bit of work. Marching
toward her, he pulled it out of her hands and
threw it, crumpled into a ball, upon the floor.
"Put that tom foolery down," he ordered,
(very unnecessarily, as he had already saved
her the trouble of doing so) "and listen to
what I have to tell you. Do you hear ?"
"Yes, I hear," answered the little woman,
meekly.
"Well, pay attention. I have found'., or
believe I have found, that girl."
"What girl ?" asked his sister.
"What girl, donkey! The girl that I have
been trying to track out, for the last ten years,
in vain, of course."
"Mrs. Rathbone's daughter?" gasped Miss
Carey, turning very white.
"Yes, Mrs. Rathbone's daughter. She's
living here, in this very city, or I'm greatly
mistaken. Crofton?that's her guardian, as
perhaps you have the sense to remember?
came out here, and I'm bound, now, to follow
them up and keep them in reach. So you'll
be ready to lend me a helping hand, at any
moment that I may require it You just recollect
that, if you please."
With this parting injunction, he walked off,
leaving his sister in a state of great agitation.
"Here, in this city!" she muttered, clasping
her hands. "Oh! Heaven, help me to be
strong!"
CHAPTER VI.
The reader may, perhaps, by this time, have
become curious to know who Dr. Joshua
Carey really was, and in what way his interest
could be affected by Mildred's identity,
or his relations in life at all connected with
1
ners.
To Bod out this, it will be necessary to go
back a number of years and learn something
of the Sinclair family, of which Mildred's
mother was a member.
Old Mrs. Sinclair, to whom allusion has
already been made, had been a Carey, of j
County Cork, Ireland. Now the Careys were !
nobodys. But the Siuclairs were among the
best people of Kent, and Miss Carey, by her
marriage to Mr. Sinclair, was considered to
have raised herself many degrees in the social I
scale, and became, in consequence, the pride !
and boast of her owu family. She had one <
brother, Mr. Michael Carey, and this brother i
had two children, Joshua and Clarissa, who
were, par conmjuent, her own nephew and i
niece. After her marriage there was little i
intercourse between the families; but her i
brother dying some years later, his children i
removed to England, and her own-daughter
Ellen, being near the same age as themselves, the
young people occasionally associated, and i
once or twice Joshua and Clarissa were in- <
vited to visit at the Sinclairs' country house, i
Meanwhile, an uncle of Mr. Sinclair died, 1
and his large estate reverted to his nephew, <
who was his nearest living relative.
Mr. Sinclair did not like Joshua Carey, 1
and only tolerated his society. Though, for i
his wife's sake, he never quarreled with him,
until he had the presumption to seek his 1
daughter Ellen's hand in marriage. This !
was a piece of audacity which he could not
brook, and Joshua was peremptorily ordered 1
to take himself off and never dare to show i
his face in that neighborhood again. ]
Of Ellen's subsequent marriage to Col.
Rathbone and the consequences, an account
has already been given, so that it will not be
necessary to dwell upon them here.
Mrs. Rathbone had lost sight of her cousins
from the time when Joshua's ill-advised
step had placed a barrier between them; but,
by a singular coincidence, it chanced that he
was a passenger on the very ship in which
she embarked for England after her husband's
death?a circumstance of which neither
was aware at the time, and which only
came to his knowledge when she was too near
death to recoguize him. By a natural sequence
of events, the letters and other papers
which she conBded to the chaplain's care, fell
into Joshua's hands; he coming forward as
her near relative and representing himself as
the fittest person to have the charge of her
dying bequest.
ia oofimaKI/3 I
11/ ueeu scaitcij ut oaiu hii? una
personage cherished a lively hope of inheriting
the KeDtisb property, after the renunciation
of Ellen by his aunt and her husband ;
and it was not to his^nterest that the fact of
Mildred's existence should ever come to his
aunt's ears, especially after her overtures of
reconciliation to poor Ellen, of which he was
now made aware. He took especial care,
therefore, that Ellen's communication should
not reach her; and with this view destroyed
(as he believed) all the letters and certificates
of which he had become possessed, which in
any way could lead to the discovery of the
truth; merely sending back the old lady's
conciliatory epistle, by way, as he thought, of
putting an effectual end to the matter.
Old Mrs. Sinclair's mind grew very feeble
during her last illness, and Joshua took occasion
to intrude himself at various times, and
on various pretexts, into her praience, in the
hope of ingratiating himself into her favor,
and coming in for, at least, a portion of the
estate. But to his chagrin and mortification,
he found himself disappointed in this hope,
inasmuch as he was left out of the will entirelv.
and all the satisfaction he cot was in
V ?
the shape of a small legacy to his sister, which
he had no difficulty in turning entirely to his
own advantage. Clarissa was, and ever had
been, a poor, weak, helpless creature, quite
unfit to combat her brother's powerful will,
and becoming, for the most part, a mere tool
in his hands.
I have said that he believed the evidences
of Mildred's existence to be destroyed. Such
was not, however, the case. How intense
would have been his fuiy, if he had known
that, through carelessness, in a moment of
haste, he had substituted the wrong papers
for those which he desired to burn, and that
these last, thrust into an envelope and left
unguarded, had fallen into his sister's hands!
Clarissa, already knowing something of Mildred's
story and of her brother's interest in
keeping her from her rights, had wisdom
enough to seize upon the envelope and its contents,
and 8tow them away where he could not
find them, trusting to some future opportunity
to turn them to good account. Of course,
she lived in redoubled terror of him ever
after. But she had, nevertheless, kept herse
^ ?P 11 xl
crei sum an uicse y ratio.
Sir Roxwell Seabury, the present owner of
the Kentish estate, was a widower, elderly and
infirm; and to him Joshua hastened to pay
court. He did so far succeed in his attempts,
as to convey the impression to Sir Roxwell,
that he was a very worthy and estimable individual,
who bad suffered great wrong at his
aunt's hands; and all things seemed to be
progressing in the dissimulator's favor, when
an anonymous communication was received
by Sir Roxwell, which cast a fresh damper
upon his hopes. This mysterious letter announced
that a young orphan girl, the rightful
inheritor of the estate, was alive, and commended
the said orphan to Sir Roxwell's consideration,
as the fitting person upon whom,
after his death (or before it, if it pleased him)
the property should devolve. Mention was
made of the quarrel between her parents and
grand-parents, and of the subsequent desire
of Mrs. Sinclair for a reconciliation, and the
manner in which it was frustrated. But to
these remarkable statements, no proof was
appended, and only the exceeding earnestness
and simplicity of the writer's tone, staggered
the conviction, in Sir Roxwell's mind, that it
was not all a hoax. It was evidently the production
of an unsophisticated mind, quite ignorant
of all legal requirements and forms,
and merely imbued with a warm desire to see
" '"a Jnnn milknilt Qnu nntt11 pd(TP nf fhfi
J UOIILO UUU^f TTJbllVUV MUJT IBUV w.
means, most efficient, in attaining such an
end. The letter was, in fact, from Clarissa,
who, though Mildred was personally unknown
to her, felt most anxious to have her put in
possession of what she considered her rights.
This was partly in consequence of an affectionate
remembrance she cherished for Mildred's
mother, (of whom, in an humble, clinging
way, she had been very fond,) and paitly,
it must be owned, because of a desire to frustrate
the plans of Joshua, whom she cordially
disliked and despised. It was unfortunate
that she could give account of Mildred's
whereabouts, or any clue to her discovery, for
neither she nor her brother knew what had
become of her after her mother's death. In
fact, like many other persons, they had not,
for some time, known even of her existence.
Joshua could never exactly discover how it
? - i -J * J _..j.
was mat nis sisier nau iouuu out auytumg
about Mildred. Assuredly, he would not
have made her his confidante in the matter.
But he knew that, in some way, she had got
into the secret, and for this reason he kept a
most vigilant watch over her, lest she might
betray it, and do mischief io his plans. He
believed her to be half an idiot, but capable
of doing him a bad turn if an opportunity
occurred.
Sir Roxwell Seabury showed him the
anonymous letter, and asked him what he
thought about it. Joshua laughed, and said
that it was his opinion that it was a hoax;
most anonymous letters were.
"I am not sure about that," said Sir Roxwell
; "and I own I should like to discover
the truth. If this girl is really living, it
seems a pity that she should be kept out of
the property which would eventually be hers,
had her mother lived to come in possession
af it." # ;
"It is singular, being so near a relative, i
that I should have been in total ignorance of
the whole affair until now," Baid Joshua.
, "And you never had any reason to suspect
that your cousin's child was living?" asked
Sir Roxwell.
"Never. I always believed, and still be- i
lieve, that every one of her children died in i
infancy. That, I know, was my aunt's supposition.
Don't you think it singular that l
my cousin should have put in no claim for
the girl, even supposing she would ask no fa
vors for her husband or herself? Mothers
usually forget their pride where their children's
welfare is concerned."
"I can't say," replied Sir Roxwell. "I
don't know anything what passed between the
old lady and herself, beyond the mere fact of
their having quarreled. I always fancied
the old lady must have been hard and unjust
; though, according to most people's opinion,
I ought not to find fault with the injustice,
since I have benefited by it. But to tell
the truth, I don't care much for the property.
It is a fine property, to be sure; no man
could desire a better. But whom have I got
to share it with me, or leave it to when I die,
that I care a straw about ? If I was a married
man with a family, of course it would
be different. But my wife and two boys arc
dead, and probably my turn will come before
lnnra T f iltin ?n litnnra if WTAIllr?
luug. 11 uiio git'i ID icauj iiviugy iv ttvuiu
be a satisfaction to me to look forward to ber
enjoying it after me. Or 1 might adopt her,
or something of that sort. But where the
deuce can she be hidden away ? That is the
question."
"Yes, that is the question," said Joshua.
"This is not an age in which orphan girls are
kept mysteriously concealed from the knowledge
of every one, until such time as it suits
them to appear suddenly and put in a claim
to a fortune. There are no grim castles or
enchanted woods, over which fairies and
witches keep watch and ward. If this girl
were really alive and in England?or even
out of England?what more improbable than
that her very existence should have remained
a secret until now ?"
" You ought to have an interest in hunting
her up, if she is alive," said 8ir Roxwell,
looking narrowly at him. "You are probably
her nearest relation?her mother's first
cousin. Of course you would wish to be instrumental
in securing her prosperity!"
"Of course," said Joshua, seriously. "Nothing
would give me more satisfaction. If I
really believed one word of that letter, I'd
start to try and hunt her up without an
hour's delay."
It was auite true that he would have liked
" 1 ~
to do so; though he would not have been actuated
bj as praiseworthy a motive as he
would have wished Sir Roxwell to believe.
For his own satisfaction, he wanted to discover
Mildred's whereabouts; but nothing
was farther from his thoughts than to make
Sir Roxwell a party to the discovery. On
the contrary, he meant to use every means
in his power to keep him in ignorance on the
subject. His hope was, (there being no direct
heir to the estate) to make himself so
useful and important to its present owner, as
to establish the likelihood of coming in for a
handsome share of the property after his
death. He had already been once baulked
in this aim, and he did not mean, if he could
help it, to fail a second time.
Sometimes a vague thought as to the possibility
of his finding Mildred and marrying
her, so as to make his prospects doubly sure,
floated through his mind. But as it would
not do to depend upon that, he redoubled his
attentions to Sir Roxwell, and as time went
by, and nothing was heard of Mildred, and
the anonymous letter seemed to be almost
forgotten, it did really appear as though his
patience and perseverance were about to have
their reward. Sir Roxwell's health grew
more feeble, and Joehua, both in a medical
and confidential capacity, grew more and
more necessary to his comfort. All this time
he kept his sister at a safe distance, but sufficiently
within reach to control her movements,
and maintain in her a wholesome awe
of his displeasure.
Sir Roxwell's health grew more precarious,
and several times he was so ill that it seemed
doubtful whether ho would recover. On one
of these occasions, when Joshua, as usual,
was hovering assiduously about him, he uttered
certain expressions, which created in
the Doctor's heart a livelier hope than he
had ever yet indulged in, of attaining his desired
end.
"Do you know, Carey," he said, after a
nmlnnced silence, durine which he had ap
parently been absorbed in thought, "I almost
incline to your opinion in regard to that
letter?"
"What letter, Sir Roxwell ?" asked Joshua.
"That annonyraous one. I verily believe
it must have been a fabrication."
"There can be little doubt of it, sir," rejoined
his listener.
"I know you've thought so, all along. It
seems to me that if there was any truth in the
story about that girl, something more would
havecome to light by this time?eh?"
"Assuredly, I think so."
"Because, as you say, it's not easy for people
to keep a young girl concealed from
everybody's knowledge, like an enchanted
princess. And besides, what motive could
there be for such a prooeeding ?"
"None whatever, that I can imagine."
"But then, on the other hand, it seems remarkable
that anybody should have taken
the trouble to invent such a tale, without
the chance of deriving any benefit from it?
and what possible benefit could any one derive
from it?"
"Isn't there any person you know, who
might possibly have an idea that you contemplate
leaving your property to some other
person, against whom the said party may
have a grudge ?" cunningly hazarded Joshua.
Sir Roxwell, who was irritable at times,
answered with some sharpness?
"Can't you talk plainly, man, so that I can
understand you ?" he exclaimed. "What the
deuce can I make out of such a mixing up
of 'some persons' and 'other persons' and
'said parties' ? What do you mean ?"
? virVtAt T un xt ftir Pnviroll flirtIIffVl
1T1C1 Cljf n lllkb X OWJ ) ?/! I JLUVA livo } Vi*WMga<|
perhaps, I did not express myself with sufficient
clearness. I meant that there might be
some one who hoped to inherit the estate?
mind, this is simply a conjecture without any
foundation?and at the same time feared you
had other views. Now to preclude the chance
of your leaving it in a quarter unfavorable
to them, they might trump up this story about
my cousin's daughter being alive, to turn
your thoughts in that direction, don't you
see ? and thus alter any other intention you
might have. Of course, as I said just now,
this is mere conjecture on my part Some
people go to work in a very roundabout way."
"I should think that would be a roundabout
way, indeed?a way I oan't see the
sense of," said the invalid, testily. "I don't '
understand yet what you are driving at. ,
Who knows anything about my intentions in
regard to the estate ? Maybe I don't know |
them myself. And what could put the no- <
tion into your head that there is anybody
hoping to come in for my property ? Do you
know of such a person ?"
"Certainly not," Joshua meekly answered.
"Then why the deuce do you start such an j
idea ; and why should anybody care if it toat (
so ?" I've no relatives to bother themselves ,
about me, and mighty few friends. You ]
know how long I lived abroad. England is i
scarcely like my home. I didn't suppose, as
regards any claims others may have upon me,
or any obligations of, mine to do this, that
or the other for anybody, there is a more independent
man alive than I."
"I know that, Sir Roxwell. I know all
that Pardon me for making any suggestions
that are distasteful to vou. I snoke merelv
at random," Joshua hastened to reply, anxious
to propitiate the irritated old man.. "I
was only trying to sift this little mystery, as
well as I could ; but I had no intention of
displeasing you."
"Oh! well, it's no matter," said Sir Roxwell,
softening, "I don't want to quarel with
you, Carey, of all people; for 'Fin sure you
are the best friend I have. I did not intend to
speak impatiently just now ; but a sick man
isn't accountable for all that he says, you
know."
"My dear Sir Roxwell 1 don't speak in
that way; I require no apology," said Joshua,
earnestly. "You have been too truly my
friend and benefactor for me ever to doubt
the kindness of your intentions."
"I don't know about being a benefactor.
We may cry quits on that score," said Sir
Roxwell, who was easily appeased. "You
have been invaluable to me during my sickness?particularly
the last attack?and I
don't hesitate to say so. And this much,
.man, I'll say to you, in confidence?if that
girl doesn't turn up, you may look out to be
handsomely treated by me, one of these days.
You deserve it. In any case, you'll not fail
to reap a reward; but if the cousin ever is ,
found, of course you understand that she'll (
be the one to be mainly considered."
"No one would be more delighted, in such
a case, than I," replied Joshua. "As to the j
rest, your kindness overwhelms me. And
I'm sure, my dear, kind friend, you will ac- 1
quit me of all selfish or interested motives, in '
doing the little I have been able to do for j
you. I never dreamed of reaping any re- j
ward, beyond the mere gratification of feel- .
ing myself instrumental to your welfare." \
"Ah! well," rejoined Sir Roxwell, tumbling
himself wearily over on his pillow, "we 1
have discussed the subject enough for the 1
present. Let me have my drops now. I (
think I shall try to sleep." ,
Whether or not he thought that be had j
spoken too plainly on the subject, he did not
revert to it again, but carefully avoided any <
further allusion to Mildred, or the property.
But he had said enough to fill Joshua's heart <
with the most delightful anticipations. ,
"Mildred Rathbone never sh&U turn up," ]
he mentally resolved, "as long as Sir Rox- i
well's alive. When once he's dead, and I '
have matters in my own hands, I won't give 1
a fig for her chances. But I swear she shall j
never come in my way."
Quite by chance, he at last found out (
where Mildred actually was. He had ridden i
over to a neighboring town to transact some 1
business for Sir Boxwell, and stopping to dine j
at an inn there, overheard a conversation be- j
tween two gentlemen?strangers to the place? ^
which at once, put him in possession of the .
facts that he desired to know. i
"I Buppose you know the Croftons are off <
to America," one of them said; and the other 1
replied? (
"No, I did not know it. When did they *
gO?" ; " 1
"Only a few days since." j
"The whole family?" t
"Yes. Wife, daughters and ward. By the i
way, did you see that ward of Crofton's?
She's a beautiful girl." |
"Mildred Rathbone, you mean ? I met
her once. She is uncommonly handsome but ,
very reserved." <
"She is better looking than either of Crof- (
ton's own daughters; but as she hasn't a 1
penny in her own right, she may remain on *
her guardian's hands longer than he wishes." j
"Why, isn't he fond of her?" asked the ,
other. , ? |
"Oh, yes, I believe so," carelessly rejoined s
the first speaker. "There was some idea,
when he adopted her, that there was a chance *
of her coming in for some property. Her
mother had been disinherited, or something g
of that kind, and people thought the daugh- j
ter might recover the forfeited property, if i
Crofton took the right steps to secure it for 1
her. But he has never done so.. He is a 1
proverbially lazy man, you Know; and 1 ;
have heard him say that if there was anything r
that he detested, it was the idea of having to c
go to law. Perhaps there was nothing in the i
story, after all!" s
They talked of something else, but Joshua, ^
who had listened with breathless attention to 8
every word, had received a clue which he '
was not slow to follow up. By diligent, e
though very guarded inquiry, he speedily t
learned all he wanted to know about the t
Croftons?people of whom he had known noth- c
ing previously?and their relations toward I
Mildred. He found out that they had gone a
to California, though not exactly to what part *
of that distant region, in regard to which ^
Joshua's geographical knowledge was defective.
The idea occurred to him that by fol- j
lowing them there, and placing himself in e
direct contact with the object of his search,
he could more readily bring matters to a fo- ?
cus. At any rate, he was restlessly anxious
to accomplish some definite end. He trumped g
up an ingenious story about unexpected news g
having reached him, which rendered it neces- a
sary for him to absent himself for some time a
from home; and whisked his surprised sister D
off to California, where the Croftons, having
lingered for some weeks in New York, ar- g
rived about the same time as themselves. d
[to be continued.] , tl
gy "Friendships are never completed till .
men are bound to each other by the common {
experience of sorrow." Correct Men who "
never before exchanged more than a nod in *
passing, will become sworn friends and allies P
in a common cause in two minutes after they >
meet at the back door of a saloon on Sunday
morning, and find it closed. ^
A married man in New Hampshire has p
adopted an original method of economy. 01
One morning when he knew his wife would r<
see him, he kissed the servant girl. The tl
bouse expenses were instantly reduced $300 81
per year. ni
Heading.
THE SONG OF THE CAMP.
Bayard Taylor's recent death brings to
mind his literary labors, and among the earlier
writings of the poet, none surpass the
charming lyric which follows. It was suggested
by an incident in the Crimean war, while
Mr. Taylor was engaged in his duties as . a
newspaper correspondent:
"Give us a song! the soldiers cried.
The outer trenches guarding,
When the heated guns of the camp allied
Grew weary of bombarding.
The dark Redan, in silent scoff,
Lay grim and threatening, under;
And the tawny mound of the Malakoff
No longer belched i ts thunder.
There was a pause. A guardsman said,
"We storm the forts to-morrow;
Sing while we may, another day
Will bring enough of sorrow."
They lay along the battery's side,
Below the smoking cannon;
Brave hearts, from Severn and from Clyde
And from the banks of Shannon.
/, They sang of love and not of fame,
Forgot was Britain's glory;
Each heart recalled a different name,
But all sang "Annie Laurie."
Voice alter voice caught up the song,
Until its tender passion
Rose like an anthem, rich and strong,
Their battle-eve confession.
Dear girl, her name he dared not speak,
But, as the song grew louder.
Something upon the soldier's cheek
Washed off the stains of powder.
Beyond the darkening ocean burned
The bloody sunset's embers.
While the Crimean valleys learned
How English love remembers.
And once again a fire of hell
Rained on the Russian quarters.
With scream of shot and burst of shell,
And bellowing of the mortars!
And Irish Nora's eyes are dim
For a singer, dumb and gory ;
And English Mary mourns for him
: ) Who sang of "Annie Laurie."
Sleep, soldiers! still in honored rest
Your truth and valor wearing;
The bravest are the tenderest?
The loving are the daring.
GOVERNOR SIMPSON'S VIEWS.
Acting-Governor Simpson has recently been
"interviewed" by a correspondent of the OinrinnaH
Inquirer, from a report of which we extract
the following:
Correspondent?Governor, in view of the
Bxed political complexion in South Carolina,
which may as well be accepted as a political
fact, and in view of the possible influence arising
therewith, it has become important to
know the policies and political preferences
finding acceptance with your people. I have,
therefore, called to know your Excellency's
views touching certain questions of interest to
the Dublic.
Governor.?I am quite willing that you
ibould know my individual views touching
matters of public policy, and though not elect*
^d to office with particular reference to my
opinions touching such matters, I think the
news I entertain and hold are in common with
my fellow-citizens generally in the South.
Cor.?Who do you prefer for President,
and ought he to come from the East or the
West?
Gov.?T prefer Senator Bayard for president
jver any man in the United 8tatee. He is
pure in character?which is the first and most
important qualification?exalted in intellect
and sound in politics. I thinkjie .has the ?.
best conceptions of the trus "theory of our system
of government of any of our public men,
and his integrity of character would not allow
him to deviate from that theory for any purpose
whatever. 'Tis strange that the people
if the United States don't see this, and breaking
through party trammels, don't put him at
the head of tne government. Next to Bayard
[ wculd prefer Hendricks or Thurman. Not
because they are from the West; I don't think
;hat the question of locality should have anything
to ao with this matter. That idea implies
that a large number oi electors could be
nduced to vote for a man simply on account
>f his locality, without regard to his political
riews or character. I have a higher opinion
)f the masses than this, and I don't think we
ibould pander to this idea. If there seemed
to be any chance for Hancock, I would prefer
iim next to Bayard. I don't know rtiy man
n the East suitable for the place.
Cor.?-What are your views about hard
noney?
Gov.?As a citizen T am a hard money
nan, but in the election of President, I think
svery question of mere legislation ought to be
lubordinate to the higher question of confining
the general government to its constitutional
orbit. That is the vital question of the
lay with us?in fact, the very existence of the
government of our fathers depends on it?
ind where a man is sound on that, this covers
i multitude of faults on matters of mere legisation.
We had better decide the question
whether we shall have the right to legislate,
jefore we fall out about what measures we
ihall adopt
Cor.?What do you say as to the solid
South?
,Gov.?As to the solid Sooth ? That mater
is perverted. The 8outh is not solid as a
ection against the North as a section. The
neople of the several Southern States are sold
in the belief that we in the South have
>een most unjustly dealt with by the Repubican
party, since the war, in overthrowing
tur ornrppnmAnta on/1 nnttino no un/lot* tVio
ieel of ignorance, corruption and incapacity,
rhey are solid in the belief that the only rescue
from this state of things is the restoration
n each State, of integrity with competency,
ind as these qualities were found alone in the
Democratic party of these States, that party
hould be placed in power; and, inasmuch as
he danger to this came from the general gov*
irnment transcending its constitutional powtrs
and interfering with the internal aflairo of
he States, they are solid, too, in the belief that
hat government ought to be confined to its
institutional boundary, and they are surmised
that the people of the Northern States
.re not solid on the same line, because this is
10 sectional question, but it is a question
vhicH lies among the foundation stones of the
government.
Cor.?Do you think that the Democratic .
larty South ought to demand a place on the
lational ticket in 1880 ?
Gov.?I don't think the Southern Demorats
ought to demand a place on the national
icket as a sine qua non?certainly not on the
;round of locality. No; what we want is
;ood government; and what I mean by good
;overnment is, as already stated, constitution,1
government. We don't care anything
bout office. No doubt the South could fur,ish
men eminently qualified; but office is a
mall matter to us, compared to the great
uestion of getting the national government
ack to its old moorings. Bayard and Henricks
would start this government right for
he second century.
The Big Breeding of Olden Time.?We
ear a good deal about the high breeding and
1 vincible politeness of the olden time. There
as more ceremony; there was more deference
aid by poor to rich, by employed to employer,
y commoner to lord, by citizens to theirpubc
servants; but after a wide survey of the
jcords of the past, and noting hundreds of
idications too trifling to mention, I am fully
ereuaded that in our hourly intercourse with
oe another as mere human beings, without
sgard to rank or caste, we are more polite
lan our ancestors'?more generally conaiderte
of one another's feelings, rights and digIty.?Jame8
Burton,