BEFORE a bright fire, in a handsomely furnished drawing-room, two persons stood one evening a young and very lovely girl, with a merry glance and smile she was dressed in something soft and white, that floated round her like a mist; and in her nut-brown hair nestled a half-blown rose. "Not Jonathan, I'm sure," said her father; "he's old enough to have more sense.' "Did you send them ?" persisted Alice, moving nearer to him, and her voice faltering a little. "I! no; is it likely? See, here is a card in the paper." She took it up, and read aloud: "With Captain Ray's compliments." Cousin Jonathan had moved away. Her companion was a man, past the prime of young manhood; and, perhaps, the first impression his appearance gave "Very polite very proper-very was that of awkwardness only. Short kind," said her father, rubbing his hands and ungracefully, yet powerfully made," very much so indeed. with features far from regular, it would be difficult to describe him as other than a plain man, some five-and-forty years of age. Yet he had one charm-a voice of wonderful richness and depth; soft and gentle too, then speaking to his fair companion. "I hope you will enjoy it as much as you expect, Alice." "I hope I shall; but, cousin, why are you not going with us ?" "You will not miss me, and I have letters to write this evening; besides, what should an old fellow like me do at a ball ?" Alice turned round and gave him a very saucy little look out of her brown eyes. "What a silly thing you are, Cousin Jonathan!" At that moment, a tall, hearty-looking old gentleman entered the room, evidently enjoying some joke, much to his own satisfaction. He carried a parcel in his hand. "See, Miss Alice, here's a queer sort of a thing come for you; can you imagine what it is? I'm sure I can't." She unfolded the silver paper, and brought to light an exquisite bouquet of hot-house flowers. "Oh! how lovely! how very lovely! But who can have sent them ?" She glanced at her cousin as she spoke, laughing. Mr. Braybrook took his daughter's hand, and turning her deliberately round, examined her with great apparent satisfaction. "Not amiss, is it Jonathan ?" said he, appealing to their quiet companion. That gentleman was reading a letter, and, looking up for a moment, replied: "Certainly not, sir." He bent over the paper again, but any one near might have seen it tremble in his hand. Alice grew very rosy, and drew up her slender figure to its full hight. "Pray, papa, don't ask Mr. Waring to admire poor me, you disturb him from his letter; and, besides -I- I'm sure it doesn't-I don't وو "My opinion can be of no value, I know," said her cousin, with another glance from his occupation. "Never mind him, Puss," added Mr. Braybrook, as he thought he saw Alice's lip quiver, "these old bachelors always are cross and ill-tempered." "The carriage is at the door," cried the footman, entering very opportunely. Mr. Braybrook left the room, and Alice's maid came in with a warm cloak of white and cherry-colored silk. "Good-night," said the little lady. Then this charming affair was properly put on, and a black lace vail was thrown over her head. Mr. Waring looked up. She stood be- I "Good-night, cousin. How do you like side him, holding out a tiny white-gloved Captain Ray?" hand. He took it, saying: "Good-night; I hope your first ball will be a merry one, Alice." He interrupted her quickly, almost harshly. "But I'm not, so good-night. She went away silently, but turning at the door to say "Good-night" once more, he fancied he saw tears glistening through the shadowy black vail over her face. He started to his feet; but a thought seemed to strike him, and he sat down to his papers again, muttering: "She'll make me make a fool of myself, whether I will or no, with that voice and those pleading eyes. Pshaw! a man at my age- ridiculous! And on went his pen faster than ever. "I think he is a very elegant man." She ran up the stairs half-way, then turned and ran down to him again. "Cousin Jonathan, will you tell me if you think I looked nice to-night? Really mean "To me you looked just as usual." "Well, many people told me I-I ——” "Looked lovely? no doubt; and as plenty of others told you so, there is all the less need for me to do it. Now, goodnight; go up-stairs you will be quite tired out to-morrow if you do not." Alice, when in her own room, wept bitterly. "He sees that you care for him, and shuns you. He wants to guard you from yourself," whispered pride. Hour after hour passed on, and still it One was busily at work. -two-three Some weeks had passed away since the o'clock struck. There was a sound of thing of Alice's first ball. It was the bustle and hurry in the hall below. He hight of the London season; and of all the heard Alice's clear, ringing laugh- that beauties fluttering nightly from one scene laugh that was like no other. He heard of gayety to another, none was more adMr. Braybrook's hearty voice, and an-mired, more courted than the lovely Alice other-a voice he did not know. Braybrook. People did say she was a They came up-stairs-Alice, her father," bit of a flirt "—and perhaps people were and a tall, elegant-looking young man in uniform. "Mr. Waring, Captain Ray," said Mr. Braybrook; and then the three began to talk over the ball, and apparently forgot the very existence of the writer at the sofa-table. Jonathan Waring's heart grew full of bitterness. Alice glanced towards him, saw him pale, and with compressed lips. Her eye grew brighter, her laugh more joyous: Captain Ray thought her each moment more and more lovely. Refreshments were brought in, and soon after the Captain took leave; not, however, before he had promised to call on the morrow, and bring Alice a book he felt quite sure she would like. "I am sorry you sat up for us," said Alice, as Mr. Waring was leaving the room, letters in hand: "you look quite tired out." "Thank you, but I do not feel so." "It must have been a long, lonely evening for you." "Not at all; I was too busy to find it either. Good-night." not very far wrong; certainly it seemed So. "Legion" was the name of her lovers, and she apparently enjoyed their adoration to no small degree. Sometimes "that quiet Mr. Waring" was seen with herself and her father, but not often. No one took much notice of him, and he did not keep with Miss Braybrook much, unless she happened to be tiring herself with dancing too long together, or resting where there was a chill draught: then Cousin Jonathan was sure to be near, with a kind word of warning, or her scarf ready to put on. One morning, as she lay buried in the cushions of a luxurious sofa, trying to read a newly-published novel, Mr. Waring came into the room, and struck with the wearied, listless expression of her face, stopped, and asked if she had a headache. "No, not much, thank you. What time is it ?" "Nearly two. May I sit with you a little, Alice? I have a great deal to say to you." The weary look was gone in a moment: it was a very unusual thing for him to ask to stay with her, and it made her color come. He brought a chair, and sat near her, but where she could not see his face. He took up the book she had been reading. "Who sent you this, Alice? Which of the adoring swains ?" "Mr. Craven sent it to me." "Did you ever hear an old song"Heigh-ho! heigh-ho! I'm afraid too many'?” "Hush!" cried Alice, rather pettishly; "if you talk in that way I shall send you away." He took her hand, and held it in both his own. "My dear little cousin, will you take a word of advice from one who really has your good at heart?" She neither spoke, nor yet withdrew her hand. "You have no mother to watch over you, dear Alice, and are placed in what I know must be a very, very trying position. I am sure you always wish to do right; but it is very hard to escape from the unkind remarks of the world. You are very young, very lovely; many envy you-many censure you دو He paused a moment, and Alice hid her face upon the arm of the sofa. "Do not think me presuming, dear Alice, in speaking thus: we are old friends we shall always be friends, shall we not ?" Her fingers closed on his. "Remember that you have much to answer for, many responsibilities. Above all, take care that you do not make others unhappy, or trifle with affection, which, if true, is more priceless than all the wealth of the world! You know what I mean, Alice ?" "Yes." "Do not raise hopes unless you mean to fulfill them?" She was sobbing, in a low, subdued manner, that went to his heart. "You are not angry with me, Alice?" Angry with him! If he could only read her heart! "We old bachelors are privileged persons, you know-nay, you must not sob in this way. I only wanted to give you a word of caution before I go!" "Go!" cried Alice, springing to her feet-"Oh! are you going to leave me?" He was not prepared for this. He hardly dared trust himself to look upon her, as she stood there with clasped hands and quivering lips. "Yes, I am going back to Lescombe: I have been here too long!" he added, half to himself-but she heard the words. "Too long! Then you have been dull, lonely with us-and now you are going! Oh! what shall I-what shall we do without you?" "Nay, Alice, you will hardly miss me; it is not as though I were a young man, and could be more companionable to you; besides, my people at Lescombe want me; and-but, Alice, Alice, do not cry, I can not bear it, dear child That word recalled her to herself. It was better to hear it, though, from him. Yes! he thought of her as a child; and she, she had dared to love him, not as a child loves, but as a woman: she had poured out her whole heart at his feet, and perhaps he knew that it was so-perhaps he scorned her for it! She dashed the tear-drops from her eyes, struggled to stay the sobs that nearly choked her, and sat down by his side. the manor "Tell me about Lescombe." Lescombe was his home house of a country village. He told her of his tenantry, and how poor some of them were; of the efforts he had made, and was making, to improve their condition; of the schools he had built, and the new parsonage then in progress; of how he visited among them, and tried to win their confidence and love; and, as he spoke so earnestly and truthfully of all this, his homely face to her seemed beautiful, with a higher beauty than that of mere form, and she felt, as she had often felt before, that to be his wife would be the happiest lot on earth, and one of which she was unworthy. Mr. Waring was in reality but a distant connection of her father's; but Alice had known him since she was a little child, and the name of "Cousin Jonathan," given to him then, had been retained in after-years. She had always looked upon him as her friend, but unconsciously had learnt at last to love him as a woman loves but once. The very fact of his being so many years older than herself had, for a time, blinded her as to the real nature of her feelings; but when she met with that love from others, which from him she would have given all the world to possess, she knew how it was, and bitter, very bitter, were the pangs of wounded pride "To-morrow," he replied, without looking at her. That night they had no engagement. Alice made tea for them in the drawing room. "My darling, are you not well?” said Mr. Braybrook, taking her hand in his. Mr. Waring looked earnestly at her for a moment. A bright crimson spot burnt on each cheek, but there was a livid circle round her eyes, and her lips were almost colorless. A strange thought came over him-a thought that made his pulse bound wildly and his hand tremble. Could it be so? He tried to put the thought from him. He dared not dwell upon it. The footman entered: "Captain Ray is in the library." 66 Why did you not show him in here ?" asked old Braybrook sharply. "He asked to see you alone, sir." Alice had risen and walked to the fireplace, where she stood, holding the mantel-shelf with both hands; but Mr. Waring had caught a glimpse of her face as she passed-it was deathly pale. Her father left the room. There was a dead silence. "She knew of this, hence her agitation," thought Mr. Waring, as he covered his eyes with his hand, to shut out the sight of her from before him. The silence continued unbroken, and he felt his self-control deserting him. from Mr. Waring, and decide the fate of Captain Ray, for Alice had petitioned time to think. She came down to the breakfast-room looking almost like a living statue, so calm, so pale. Mr. Braybrook was not yet down, but a figure stood in the deep bay window. "Good morning, Cousin Jonathan." He started, and turned at her voice. "I have a beautiful morning for my journey." "Very. What time do you go ?" "In an hour." "Then I must give you your breakfast." "You shall; but first I have a word to say to you. Nay, Alice, do not look afraid, it is no lecture this time-only to tell you how deeply, how fervently I pray that the lot in life you have chosen may be a happy one." He had meant to be very calm, but his voice faltered, and, unknowingly, he almost crushed her delicate hands, as he held them in his own. She raised her calm sad eyes to his face. "And you care this much about me, Cousin Jonathan ?" "Care, Alice!" "I did not think you cared so much; I am very, very glad." She spoke so low, it was almost a whisper; but suddenly clasping her hands, and holding one of his to her heart, she went on to speak vehemently, passionately; all her assumed calmness gone. "I know that to you, so noble, so true, so good, I seem but as a weak and erring "Alice, I shall go to my room-I have child; but do not think-oh! never think letters to see to-and-I might be in the that all your kindness can be by me forway." gotten; or that my heart is not full of She turned to him—such a mute ex-gratitude for every gentle word you ever pression of anguish on her face that he uttered an exclamation of horror and surprise. She stretched out her hands to him, as though in wild entreaty. He sprang to her side, clasping hands like death, so cold, so lifeless. "Alice, darling, do not look in that way all will be well; you will be happy you must be. God bless you and him!" He hurried from her presence, feeling unable to bear it even one moment longer. The morning came the morning of a day fraught with fearful interest to Alice Braybrook- the day that must part her spoke ; and more than all, for telling me when I was wrong, which no one else beside has ever done." She would have spoken more, but something in his face arrested her. His voice sounded hoarse and unnatural. "Alice, hush! you know not what you do." A change came over her. She dropped his hand, and with both her own pressed tightly down upon her breast, as though to stay its beating, stood gazing on him with wondering eyes and parted lips, from which all shade of color had faded. He passed his hand across his forehead, and turned from her. |
