Obrazy na stronie

“I tell you, dear Jenny” he said, "I gratified at this appointment; I am your would like her to be resigned and hope friend, though I have never fattered you ful, but not remarkably lively, -you un -perhaps your best friends do not flatter derstand ? "

you. Well, Mr. Dashwood, the last con“Very well,” said I, "I shall exhort versation we had in this room was not a my sister to endeavor to poise herself mid very pleasant one, but I must beg that way between joy and sorrow. I shall you will continue to bear it in mind.” tell her that, while I am to try very much “ There is no danger of my forgetting it, to amuse her, she is not to be at all amus sir,” said Dashwood quickly. ed.”

“What I said then I repeat to-day; my "Heigho!” began poor Dashwood, with daughter must not be troubled by your a rueful face, “what a time I shall have proposals.” with my attachéship! What long, long “I have no proposals to make to the hours I must endure before I can be with

young lady, sir. you all again !”

“I hope not. I have other views for “But you two are determined ?" I my daughter, Mr Dashwood.” asked.

“So you have taken the trouble to in“Determined! I tell you no word in form me very many times, sir.” the English language can express the “ And I wish it distinctly understood.” firmness of our purpose.

Determined ! “I am quick at apprehension, sir.” death cannot part us. Mr. Rushton, your “ That I oppose the affair in toto. The estimable father, is, I am happy to say, long engagement, the promise to wait unonly a feather in our estimation, Mrs. Bar til you make a fortune, the idle notion bara a mere puff of wind, Mrs. Braxley about congeniality, and all the foolish via mop to be jumped over on our way to sions which have flitted across the brains church."

of all the foolish lovers in the world. I And uncle Joe?"

tell you, fortunes and great names are "Pooh-small potatoes,” said Dash not so easily made. I tell you, every wood with an air. I was not then aware young man of talent is not bound to that uncle Joe had deserted the family succeed. I tell you the most strenuous party, and gone over to the enemy. Such actions are not always crowned with knowledge being considered, by his friends, success — that our most ardent wishas highly dangerous to circulate, and as es had better not be realized sometimes. calculated to embitter the domestic peace Bless my soul, suppose all my wild viof that most worthy man.

sions had been realized! where would I Papa was highly pleased at Dashwood's have been now, in the name of common appointment; and Tom Farren delivered sense ? Suppose I had married my sisquite a speech upon the occasion. Poor ter's pretty governess for whom I was acRobert declared that he had rather part tually run mad a whole year! Bless my with his right hand than with Frank, but soul—we had better leave these things to he added, "If I thought it necessary to Providence, Mr. Dashwood. Young laamputate my right hand, it should be cut dies of eighteen, and high-spirited fellows off, and I would try and do with the left." of twenty-two, had better not take their Mrs. Barbara inquired where St. Cloud destinies into their own hands. I tell was, and if Mr. Dashwood was likely to you it is wrong-morally wrong; and meet with a very dear friend of hers, who you will thank me for all this, some day, had gone with her husband to Rio. If so, if

you live-indeed


will." would he be kind enough to take charge “My dear sir, I do not blame you for of a steel bag, and a pair of button-hole refusing me your daughter's hand; I esscissors, which it seems that friend had teem you for it. I esteem all her friends left at Mrs. Barbara's on her last visit. who have her interests so much at heart Mamma hoped he would not be ship Time can only prove what we are.

If I wrecked, or robbed, or caught by the In were to say to you now, that ten years quisition, or, above all, go over to the hence, I shall be this or that, you would Pope.

laugh at me. Very well, I say no such Robert hoped he would write some tell thing. But I say nous verrons.ing letters to the Star, and let people “Exactly-nous verrons. You go off know what he was about.

to a foreign court, young, and unfettered During this visit, which was about a by promises, you will come back with a fortnight before Dashwood's departure, little more knowledge of men and things. papa took him kindly by the hand, and Exactly sir, nous verrons." led him into the library.

“ Thank you, sir. I shall return to bid “My dear young friend,” he said hand your family farewell

, with your permising him a seat, and then settling down in sion,” said Dashwood rising. his large leather chair, “I am extremely Certainly-come by all means. I

shall be happy to see you. Good morn But in her quiet room her woman's naing,” and papa opened the door, and shook ture triumphed. Here, the pent-up tears the hand of his guest, with much cor flooded the lustrous eyes, and she fell diality.

upon my neck, and yielded to the luxury "Mrs. Braxley brought Louise home, of unrestrained emotion. Here, the woand in a few days Dashwood came to pay man's nature shone forth in all its strength. his last formal visit to our family.

Here, the calm and placid girl shivered Now, poor fellow, his "jests and gibes" with emotion. Here, poor Louise threw were gone. He could no longer rally and off the outer garment of proud insensibilbe gay. The laughing lip quivered, and ity, and sobbed convulsively, and prayed, the lustrous eye, with its comic fire, was and refused all comfort and all hope. filled to the brim. Once or twice he She drew from her bosom his miniature, made an effort to be himself, but it would and a bit of poetry which the guarded not do. The light spirit was trailing in lover had scribbled off for her eye alone, the dust, the quick retort and happy re on his last visit. As some evidence of the partee were stifled, and the merry laugh talents with which poor Dashwood was no longer rang around the family circle gifted, I transcribe it for the reader. as in the bright days which were flown. Louise was never alone with him during

FOR MY LOUISE. this visit. Papa was all attention to his Well, we have met-nor have our eyes guest, and Mrs. Barbara and suite mus

Revealed the secret they could tell,

Nor blushing cbeek, nor faintest sighs tered about him. My sister went on care

Betrayed the truth we knew so well. less, indolent, and calm. Papa marked

A mystic chain between us lay, with pride the same lofty air and graceful

In airy links, unseen and still; ease—and he thought the dreamer dream

From heart to heart its fairy way,

Electric in its mighty thrill. ed no more. Dashwood strove to emulate her in her perfect show of insensibil

A breath, a tone, a careless note,

Would vibrate on each magic round, ity ; but he hadn't the self-command of

In airy circles surely float, the imperious Louise. And from the

Reaching the heart with lightest bound. filmed eye, flushed cheek, and nervous, Oh Love! how subtle is thy power, restless manner, one saw the anguish of

How wonderful thy changing ways, his manly, loving heart, and pitied him for

Compressing years in one short hour,

And making dreary, summer days. the struggles he so bravely made.

Louise-ah! should I never come The hour was coming-coming with

To claim each promise, and each vow; pulsating step, when these two, so dif Keep them, my darling, for our home, ferent, and yet so united, were to part.

All star-lighted above us now. Louise stood calm and clear, under papa's Keep them, Louise, all pure and true,

Keep them-ah, I'll wait them there; eye, waiting to say farewell. Mrs. Bar

Keep them--nor utter them anew, bara stood looking on, as Dashwood, after

Nor breathe them, save to Heaven in prayer. shaking every body by the hand, turned

Keep them-nor tell them save to Heaven, firmly and steadily to Louise. He took

In stilly hours, where none are near; her hand, and not a tear, or faltering word The jealous spirit floats at even,

Perhaps such precious vows to hear. betrayed the mighty strength of that love which so many had tried in vain to Once more adicu !-my heavy heart

Goes on its weary way alone: sever.

Since loving, trusting, we must part, Louise bade him “God speed” in a

'Twere better quickly, coldly done. clear, unshaken voice, and he made his bow,

And parted! oh! the bitter tears, and left us standing in the hall. I saw

And fears, which loving heart ne'er flees, him brush away a tear as he gathered the

And midnight vigils long as years,

And days—all wanting my Louise ! reins in his hand—and I saw him wring Robert's hand as though his heart was “Oh, he is gone, Jenny-gone-and all breaking, -but this was all I saw.

is blank !" cried my sister, her heart reaMy sister, as though to test to the ut lizing anew the full extent of her sorrow. most limit the great strength of her poor Somebody tapped gently at our door, and woman's heart, remained standing some Robert came in, and threw himself upon fifteen minutes with papa and mamma in the bed and wept like a child. He drew the hall. And though she felt that all Louise to him, and whispered to her, and eyes were upon her, she never faltered or laid her stricken head upon his bosom, quailed, but stood conversing with them and these two children of prosperity sobcarelessly, as though nothing had hap bed together over their first sorrow. pened. Papa took his hat and stick, “ Jenny, you must help me to take and walked out. Mrs. Barbara returned care of this poor little thing. We must to her knitting, and Mrs. Braxley to stand by her, sister Jenny, through thick her snuff, and Louise walked carelessly and thin. We must console her, and minaway.

ister to her in her grief, for she is a ten


his son.



der creature, Jenny, and we must shield have tested his heart and soul. He is her for his sake;" and then our gentle chivalrous, magnanimous, glorious. Let Robert wiped his eyes, and kissed her, him succeed. Let him—God bless himand tried to be cheerful and stout of heart. come back renewed and re-established, “There's a better time coming, little sis and I will be responsible for this dear a happy time coming. The sun does not girl's happiness." always shine, little sis, and clouds and " But, my son, your papa knows best.” darkness are quite as useful as the sun. “ We will not discuss the subject," said Come, Louise-cheer up, my pretty pet. my sister with dignity, and the supper You can be brave, I know. Come, little bell rang merrily, and we obeyed the sis, remember all is for the best." And Robert took her in his lap, and with tears Poor Robert had a difficult task before in his eyes, talked of being strong and him, viz., to storm the library and sound brave.

papa concerning Mrs. Blanton. Papa was Dear mamma, with her mother's in remarkably cautious and reserved. He stinct, came gently in and sat down by had treated Mrs. Blanton not only with her suffering child, and spoke like one marked respect, but sometimes playfully, who had suffered and had endured. After and almost affectionately. But this was these little outbursts of uncontrollable no proof that he thought her worthy of emotion, Louise recovered her usual calm

There were not many who could self-possession, and we sat in our little aspire to that honor. Papa thought Ro

the indulgent mother, and her bert destined for great things, and Robert children, talking in the twilight until tea thought Mrs. Blanton was on the very time. Robert was chief spokesman of pinnacle of greatness.

Under all dispensations, he was Mrs. Braxley, who was staying with voluble and wise. He was always kind us, expressed herself as being glad that to those in trouble, and was never more Dashwood was gone, and wished Mrs. happy than when in sad, chastened hours, Blanton could receive an appointment of he could hang about mamma, and caress the kind immediately. Mrs. Barbara reher, and fondle about her, like a child. I peated for our edification, that she had no need not say that this handsome, tender opinion of widows with little boys, turnson, was the pride of my mother's heart. ing out their shoulders, and stripping Robert declared to mamma, upon his their arms, and coquetting with every honor, that Frank Dashwood was the green-horn in the whole country; and noblest fellow in the world. And he went on with string after string of anectook that opportunity to favor Louise and dote, illustrative, and forcibly bearing me with such lectures on matrimony, as upon the subject in hand, with divers cafew debutantes are privileged to hear. tastrophes and horrible denouements, of a My brother said if a handsome woman startling and extraordinary nature. Mrs. married a rich fool, who would lavish Braxley had collected a budget concernevery dollar he had upon her, she mighting the widow in her dippings. She had be happy, provided she possessed none of learned from some of the mop sisterhood that exquisite delicacy which was the first that she had made the deceased Blanton charm of her sex. Provided, also, that see sights. she had no conscience-not a bit-no gen “Didn't I tell you all so ?" inquired erosity-no pride—and had been pinched Mrs. Barbara, looking around. But none by poverty all her life. To such women of us remembered her ever having intimoney was happiness. He said his sister mated to us that Therese had made her Louise, with her reserve, her modesty, husband see sights. her delicate nature, her extreme sensibili Mrs. Braxley went on to say that the ties, could not be happy with Tom Far late Johnston Blanton had died of yellow

Because Tom Farren was such a fever in Mobile, it was true, but she unmachine of a man. So severe, so stiff, so derstood that his system had been pre forn so built up in his own rectitude, viously undermined by a train of nervous so hard and common-sensible, “that he disorders, brought on by jealousy, for would break this regal flower of ours, which, it seemed, Mrs. B. had given him mamma, in less than two years,” said my sufficient cause. brother earnestly. “Her beautiful eccen “I'll be bound she did !” broke in Mrs. tricities would be harshly put down-her Barbara. “I'll be bound she aggravated tears would be childish-her whims un that man to death. Why I have known becoming, and all that. I know Tom more people aggravated to death,” said Farren-every body must bend to him. grandma, with open eyes.

“ Gracious ! ” He is a walking model in his own estima Of course nobody disputed this alarmtion, and every body must walk exactly ing fact. by his rules. And I know Dashwood. I Mrs. Braxley still running on, undis



turbed by grandma's shrill remarks, continued. She represented the artless, exuberant Therese with her overflowing, boundless heart, and good will towards all mankind, as a wicked, vexatious little imp-destroying the peace of every family into which she entered—and. as being leagued with the yellow fever, and the green-eyed monster, to carry destruction into all quarters. She was notoriously fond of waltzing, and polking with beardless youths, easily overcome by her wiles. She was, furthermore, excessively fond of Mr. Blanton, and made nothing of treating him in a most sisterly manner.

The family convocation about this delightful Therese was held in mamma's room. Aunt Braxley had related her dippings, flourishing her tooth-brush with grcat effect. Grandma had made several blunders, but on the whole her remarks were caustic and telling. Poor Bob had battled for his sweetheart manfully, telling of her simplicity, her gentle charities, her meekness, and forgiving heart. Mamma had related how Therese, during her memorable visit to Fairy Hill, would leave the gay company to come and sit in her room and have a quiet chat with her, and how tender and charming she was. Louise had said how she loved her, and how she had rather Robert would marry her than the queen of all the Brazils. And I had told how she had stolen her soft arm around my waist, and asked me so innocently if I loved her ?

“ As though any body could help loving her!” cried Robert.

Just then papa came in, and inquired what we were all talking about.

“Why, about this widow who has come here and turned Robert's head," said the ever ready Mrs. Barbara.

“ Turned Robert's head! His head is not so easily turned, depend upon it."

"Don't you believe the harf (half) of that,” returned the sapient dame. have had beaux, a few of them, report says;” Mrs. Barbara had been a famous belle. “At all events, I know enough of courting and love-scrapes generally, to know when a young gudgeon nibbles at a bait (which has been passed and repassed, and seen through by wiser fish, I fancy), and then, like a certain young man not a hundred miles from here, gulps down the hook and the line, to the infinite wonder and amusement of connoisseurs in that sort of thing."

“ Tut, tut-I hope I shall hear no more of this,” said papa. “Mrs. Blanton indeed!"

“My dear Mr. Rushton," interposed mamma, her eyes filling with tears at Robert's discomfiture.

VOL. 1.-17

“ Be quiet, my dear, Mr. Robert Rushton should know better."

"Exactly," said the dowager; “he should really know better. Why, Sappingwood is a Solomon to her.”

"I beg that you will not speak of her in that way,” said Robert, knitting his brow.

“And I beg some consideration for one who has been our guest,” remarked the elegant and impassive Louise, from the lounge.

Hoity, toity!" cried grandma. “It seems that I have aroused a hornet's nest. I am constrained to remark, at the peril of my ears, that young Mr. Hornets moustache will have to exert itself considerably before the uncommon glibness of his tongue can annihilate me exactly.”

“Pshaw!" said papa. “I wonder, Robert, that

you are so silly. I expected a flirtation between Mrs. Blanton and yourself, but, upon my word, I was not prepared for any further exhibition of folly." "I do not like to reply to you now,

sir," said Robert, handing papa, who was standing, a chair. “I might be tempted to say something which I should regret. We will dismiss the subject, if you please.".

The reader can form no idea of the inimitable grace of these words, or of my handsome brother's beautiful and respectful manner. He softened all hearts, and dispelled all acrimony.

Mrs. Braxley, who had not been figuring at all during the latter part of the conversation, now thought it time for prayers. She was a professed expounder and exhorter. She did not mind rising in a crowded church and giving out an appointment for her neighborhood. Indeed she did not mind doing any thing she chose to do. She always rang in the servants, during her visitations and gave us prayers. And such prayers! None of your lack-adaisical, lukewarm affairs, but fervent, strong, knock-down-and-drag-out improvisations.

She prayed for rain if she wanted rain. She called sinners by their names, and prayed for their speedy disenthralment from the bondage of sin.

But, as I was saying, after much ringing, and scolding, and “ blessings over the left shoulder," as Sap called them, she succeeded in gathering in our straggling undisciplined troops. She then read the sermon on the mount, and sang the Old Hundred, after which she favored us with one of her strongest impromptus. She had a clear, ringing voice, and the ready words came trippingly on her tongue, and Mrs. Braxley would have made no ordinary preacher. After a soul-searching and Satan-exterminating prayer, of nearly a half an hour in length, we all received her benediction


and arose from our recumbent position, I must explain to the reader that Maria save my brother's devout man Sapping Fletcher was what is called cock-eyed, wood, who thought proper to remain on though immensely rich, and of distinhis knees in an attitude of profound de guished family, and that she was an old votion.

bone of contention between papa and “ I am glad to see Sappingwood so re Robert. ligious,” remarked grandma, in a loud “You will at least have learned, I sinwhisper to the company, while Sapping- cerely hope,” remarked papa, " that hapwood still remained upon his bended knees. piness in this life does not exactly depend

“Sappingwood, you will please finish upon the turn of a lady's eye." your devotions elsewhere," said papa, as “ Nevertheless," replied Robert, “I exthe servants retired. Grandma then ap pect to find it sadly inconvenient to repeat proached him gently, and tapping him on the story of my love to a lady with one the back with her spectacle case, said, eye full upon me and the other out of the “Sappingwood, you will please finish your window." devotions elsewhere."

"A trifle,” said papa, and the converAt which Sap started up, rubbed his sation ended rather differently from what eyes, scratched his head, and seeing grand- Mr. Rushton, junior, expected. ma, cried out “the devil!" and took to I am sorry to say that difficulties in anhis heels, running over "eight foot eleven," other quarter beset my brother. Therese as he called Epsey, and finally made but wrote him a little odorous letter, containone step from the head of the stairs to ing rather a startling and unique propothe landing.

sition. She proposed, with her usual Poor Sap had fallen asleep under Mrs. naïveté, that they should endeavor to forBraxley's soporific prayer, being the most get each other, and that she really thought sleepy-headed nigger, grandma informed Mr. Blanton would die if she rejected him us, between this and a brother of his she again. had sold somewhere, wherever that was. He had taken his bed when she told

Not very long after this, Robert stormed him all about “an affair,” the dear little the library, and informed papa in a pa woman said, and had never gotten up unthetic manner, that he was dying for Mrs. til she promised to be off with Robert. Blanton, actually dwindling away, and Therese went on to say, that she and Rolosing his appetite (in the height of the bert were young and could forget perhaps, strawberry season too, said my romantic and form new ties, while poor Mr. Blanton brother), because Therese would cruelly was getting old-indeed was bald under persist in being so enchanting.

his scratch (!)—and turning gray-and " And what have you done with your had proved so-oh terribly constant, that old flame, Mary Jennings ?” asked papa, she was really afraid he might die, if she turning round in his chair, that he might persisted in being so cruel as dear Mr. get a better view of his hopeful.

Rushton had advised. “Mary Jennings !” said Robert, slightly Such a note my brother returned to coloring “why, when have I thought of this confiding, pliant creature, as would Mary Jennings ?”

make one's hair stand on end. He wrote, "Exactly, and yet that girl alarmed me that of course Mrs. Blanton could consult for twelve months."

her own wishes about the matter-he had “But she is not like Therese, nobody nothing to say—and would respectfully is"

withdraw his proposals, rather than sub“Oh no, I suspect not, and the next one mit the lady to any such heart-rending will doubtless eclipse Therese."

trials as she had described. “Well,” said Robert, laughing, "will After this, my handsome brother wore you try me a year, sir?

a sneer upon his lip, and read Byron with “Yes, two of them, if you like. Come wonderful relish. to me in a year, if we all live, and tell me that you are still true to Therese, and that Therese is still true to you, mind that,

CHAPTER VI. and my blessing will be upon you both.”

“Thank you, sir. If-if-by that time we are changed, I will go right off and In due time the season arrived for every propose to Col. Fletcher's daughter, upon bird of passage to take flight. Dress my word.”

makers were sewing night and day, and “ As a personal favor to your indulgent spry clerks excessively active. Robert father,” said papa.

graciously offered to take Louise and “ And,” said Robert, “any other cross myself to the famous Black Mountain eyed lady of your acquaintance can be Springs (which, by some mysterious ar favorably noticed about that time.”

gency, were to be the fashion that sea



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