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Morning Star and Gatholic UMessenger
3W OLUEAW3. IUD AT, JUat4i . 5' , CASTLE DALY: TUS Story of an Irish Home Thirty Years Ago (Conttnaed.) Pelham follooed Connor out of the room, and was seen bfEllen a few minutes later set ming forth to work off his discontent by a soli tary walk in the rain. As soon ae be we fairt l7 out of eiaght, Connor' figure dashed aoroes he road in the direotion of the Maynards' bease, olosely followinog n the wake of the poest man. Ellen, left alone, returned with a sigh to her work of spreading delicate fronds of neaweed on wet paper to send to oousia Anne, m an addition to the Happy-go Looky Lodge ollection of works of art. As her needle la borioumly aeparated and arranged the minote pink and white fibres, her thoughts made rapid excursions from one subject to another. If nly the boys would not quarrel; itf only she -l1ld once more see cousin Anne, and help her to arrange her heterogeneone possessions, If only she could learn the seoret art by whihob -Lebia kept the boys so pleasantly engrossed that in her presence such Jars as had occurred this morning seldom fell out. She laughed over the foolish squabbles with Connor, but they always left a little sting, a pin-prick wound, in her heart, that made her uneasy and re morseful for days after; and though no amount of ooaxing would hafe won each an avowal from Connor, she knew quite well that it was the same with him. It was as necessary for him as for herself to bask lithe good-will and approbation of those be lived among, and she "ew bymanyiflttle stgntthat nothing-ever elated Connor more, or made him more com fortable with himself, than when some rare chance brought an unundal mark of oonit denoe, or a word that could be twisted into approval from Pelham, his way. And Pelham, too, why did he wince so under Conbor's little maroasm and her own careless speechbes, and brood over them so long, if he did not, at the bottom of his heart, eare more for Coaoor's good opinion and hers than he ever obose to show F Barely bshe must be a very bad mane ger, a very ineffoient siLter, not to have brought about greater harmony between these two, and made them understand each other better before this. How the rain pattered down, and how atill the house was within I Boon Ellen heard her father open the dining. room door, and take in the letters which Con nor had left on the hall-table, and shut himself in to read them; five minutes after, the door of the lower room opened hurriedly and her father's voice was heard calling her mother to come down stairs. It was not a usual thing for Mre. Daly to leave her bed-room in the morn ing. How feeble her step on the stair was now, how slowly and relootantly she seemed to move I Ellen halfrose to help her, and then eat down again. If her father had any nn pleasant business to discuse with her mother, a: was only too likely, it was better that they bshould talk it out first alone, and she must -old herself ready to comfort each separately fterwarde. In dilemmas her father was apt to turn to her for counsel Instead of to Pelham, and that displeased her mother. There was something In the aspect of this day that re minded Ellen of another day at home, a day that had broughttrouble and ohange. Was it the patter of the rain I Strong, heavy rain, that would not have disgraoed the West land, where everything seemed to be done more thoroughly and heartily than here. Ellen shut her eyes and tried to conjure herself back in thought to Castle Daly, and to believe for a moment or two that when she looked up she should find herself surrounded by old familiar things. The touch of a wet cheek put close to bhere roused her, and she opened her eyes quickly to the sight of Connor leaning over the back of her chair, with laughter in his eyes, and bright raindrops triokling from his drenohed hair down upon her face. "What are you thinking oft" he began. "Have you not been oracking your sides with Iaughter over the fine disclosure we have had this morning t" "What do you mean I" "Don Pompoeo in love." "Oh, nonsense, W _did yon go out into the rain and get yourself so wet 1" "What a question for a Connemara girl I To post my love-letter, ofoourse." "Oh, Connor, have you really ?" "And indeed I have. The joke is, that I had to take one of Pelham's envelopes, with his initials on the flap. I dashed into his room. seised from his desk the first that came to hand, directed it to Miss Lesbli, and rushed out after the postman to drop it into the May nards' box with their other letters. I only neotioed the big P. D, above the seal after it had slipped through my fingers. But it's an exoellent joke." "It is not fair: she will think Pelham wrote the verses." "Will she y Won't her heart tell her better than that, don't you think '" "Connor, I do believe you are very conceit ed.' "You'll have to believe her very stupid if she is to give Pelham the credit for writing what she's reading this minute. I wish I could see her eyes, the darling jewels that they are, eat ing up the words. Won't she know who wrote them I Pelham write snch versts as thbee to her. indeed I" "Perhaps she would prefer to think they were Pelham's. She has seen almost as much of him as of you; and he is very handsome, you must allow." "8o is that old gold ash in the vase there, but who ever suoceeded in aptting up a tender interest is thedumb beauty 1 It looks well in a room, but nobody tliugsa thought to it. It's the blarney that wins thehearte, all the world ver." "It's a shame that it should when it is shob thorough going blarney as yours, Connor dear. .I don't think you should have sent those verses to Leabla. She does not know yes as well as I, and perhaps she'll believe all that farrago you wrote about your love being a gold throne for her to sit upon for ever, and your thoeeghta her slaves following her in chains. Oh, Conner, Connor, when I know -hat erratio creatures they are-it makes me 1aupb, but she might eosmtbly take it serious 'And Ita heaven's truth she'll be taking lult -he does. I don't know why you won't belisie me, Ellen, for I'vebeen synlog the same thinog to you for the last six weeks without a breath of ohange. A man may be lin love,and keep a little fan and life in him. HIe neednot look blaok death and thunder at all the world like Pelham, I should hope; and I have loved that ittle darling in the red house yonder ever since the day when shabe made me savage by laugh ing at me." "BL~8x wseek ago." put in Ellen. "And why won't I love her for ever I don't care If all the world knows of it." "Bat I advise you not to let Mrs. Joseph Mynard know of it. or there'll be no peace for poor little Lesbia- Pelham too- " "Hang Pelham I What right has he to put In his oar He took against her at first. He aha'n't cut in dow, and spoil everything-I won't have it." "He leaves us tomorrow, Connor dear. Don't may a word to vex him again. Don't let him "now that you have really sent that letter, or for any sake breathe a word of its being put in one of blhe envelopes. We shall both be sorry tomorrow if we ver him again today." "Yeo never vex anyone-you are a regular little saint. It was Peloam's taking It upon hlmeelf to and fault with ynou, that bothered -me, more than his interference about Lesbia. cran stand anything from him better than his bullying you." "He doedos not ittend to bully-it's bis Eg glih way ; sad, Connor avooronon, what I want from you, is just a promise to take nt notice however sulky he is thereat of this day but to help me to coax him round. If blame is good for anything, it is to keep pease at home, among brother and sisters, don't o think f There is papa's volce calling me. Con nor, I'm sure that some important news hat come in those letters you took in. I have had a strange unsettled feeliog on me all day, as ii something was comg. BSuppose only II ahould be news tbhat took as home." "Put in a word for Lesbla Maynard's goin with us then, or I had rather stay where we are." CUAPTIR ZIII. " But the yeoasest sister had to sit at homrne and darn strckiogs."-Ounderd a. "Onletter for msmma, and four for papa and, hollol two for Babette. I say, Mirn Ba brete sha'n't have her letters this minute though. I'll pay her out far dragging me in from the garden, by keApig them in my pook__ till after dinner." Muttering thus to himasn, little Walter Maynard, who had constituted himself supplementary letter-deliverer to the family, slipped two of the letters he bad sb stracted from the letter box into his knioker booker pockets and trotted into the parlor with the rest of his budget. Dr. Maynard was on uon his morning round of visits among his patients. Mrs. Maynard inspected the out sides of bhi letters and read her own, while Lesbia looked up wistfully toWards the little letter-carrier, frim the copy book, along which she was guiding Bobby Maynard's red stumpy figers in their first eforts to make pot-hooks and hangers ; and sighed. 8he had not had a letter for a whole week. It was too bad of Bride, and the ready April tears swelled in her eyes, till one large bright drop overflowed and fell. "There, Baby, it was you made me make that great blot.. Yes, it was," cried Bob, twist nag his head round, so as to see her face. "Why, you are crying I Mamma, here's cousin Babette orying again. Isn't she a baby I" Thus appealed to, Mrs. Maynard looked up from her letter; her face had rather a start led expression upon it, and the children thbought her voice and her words, too, sonaded odd. "You are a very naughty boy, I am sure, Bobby, if you have made your cousin Lesbia cry, when she Is so kind as to give you a writ iug-lesson. You may get down now and let Walter come and write." "It was not Bobby's fault," said Lesbia., twinkling away her tears, and brightening in stantly into smiles and dimples under the on expected ray of kindness; '"but, oh, dear Aunt, need Walter write today 1 My tingers re so hot and tired with holding Bobby's, and I'll give Walter some other kind of lesson by and bye to make up." She strolled off to the window without wait ing for an answer, clasping her tired hands Ahbind her head. Mrs. Maynard's eyes rested on her for a minute or two, consideringly, and then turned back to re-peruse a sentence in her letter. "We have all here been mooh excited by a report that has reached us of the death of Dr. Maynard's uncle-that rich old Mr. Maynard oun told me about. They say he has left an immenuse fortune bshind him, two hundred thousand pounds at the least, and that it is all to go toone of his grest-nephews or nieces; re are hoping that the locky heir is one of your fine boys. Let us know soon." Ms. Maynard's fingers strayed to the letters on the ohimnev-piece ; the news most be in no of them. What a provoking thing it was thbat Dr. Maynard should have gone out that morning on one of his longest rounds, and that he should so often have declared his determi nationto keep his letters to himself, that even with such a question as this hanging over her, his wife dare not meddle with them. An im mense fortune for one of her boys-for darling Johnny, the old man's godson. Surely Provi dence could not have allowed anything else to happen. The anxious mother's thoughts de--w back to question every incident of the last ocoasion when old John Maynard had come down to Whiteoliffo expressly to spend an evening at their house. Whichof theohildren had be noticed most f-Those tiresome ever ready tears and smiles of Lesbia's ! 8hp was an awkward girl of thirteen then, not es very pretty, and Old John had hardly looked at her till, jnet an he was taking leave, be poked his hand under her chin, and asked her abruptly. if she was sorry to be sepa-ated from her brother and sister: then those provoking bright large tears had come into her babyish brown eyes, and the old man had turned away, and had a violent fit of coughing. Perhaps he hated tears. It was fortunate that he bad not seen Lesbia within the last year or two, for certainly she was an alarmingly pretty girl now-an anxious charge for anyone. Good graciousl suppose for an instant the two unndred thousand pounds should go to her. what could be done then f Johnny, the eldest of their family, wasonly fourteen-three years younger than Lesbia-and those two had never been friends. Only last Christmas holidays he had looked her up in the dark closet at the head of the stairs, and she had remained in the cold, forgotten by everyone, till Dr. May nard asked for her at tea-time, and went to let her out. Yet they had all been extremely kind to her ; she herself, at all events, could answer for having spent, strictly for Leabia's benefit, very nearly all the money sent by the elider brother and tister, deducting only quite small some to remunerate herself for all the trouble and care she had been put to. There could not be much tqcomplaiu of in the manage ment under which she had grown nF-~ the fresh, bright-eyed, pink-oheeked creature that stood idling in the window there, so different from the plain elder sister- Again Mrs. May nard's eyes fixed themselves on Lesbia, and as she took a more curious inventory of her charms than she had ever troubled herself to male before, she came to the conolnsion that if by perverse fate Lesbia did prove to be the heiress of the fortune that ought to come to her son, it would become her all her life to be extremely grateful to the disinterested cousius who had brought her up, and to acknowledge that she owed it somehow to them that her dark hair was so abopdant, and of such a rich color, that her figure~ras so slhm and graceful, and that such a rich peach-bloom glowed under the clear brown of her cheeks. Had not cli those endowments come to her under their Dr. Maynard did not return home at his suanl bour, and in consrquenoe the early dinner was one of the soenesof riot and squab ble among the boys, and ineffectual scolding from Mrs Maynard, that were a perpetnal jar on little Loshia's natural love of order and re inement. Her thoughts werebuey durinR the meal, planning some legitimate method of soering a quiet afternoon for h~tself. "You look ver tired, Aunt," (ahe called Mrs. Maynard aunt, though she was in reality only her cousin by marriage.) "You look tired, and I am sure your head is aMbing " she said, after dinner was over. "Let me do the week's meddiogforyou thlis afternoon. I will take he stocking b~lket into the old conservatory. rhere I shell have no interruption, and I will get all done by tea-time, and you can lie down and rest." Mrs. Maynard heasitated a minute. All din ner-time she had been lookingo at Lesbla in the ight of a posible great heiress, and the habit she had falleo into of using her as a bonse hold drudge did not look so just and natural as it had seemed any time these last seven Lears On the other hand, was it not a true Indnees to the girl, if this temptation of gret wealth were really coming, to let her do one more afternoon's useful work? She should not be the worse for it, if things turned out as they ought to do, and Johnny's advanoement lay tin one of those thick letters on the chim ney-piece. Mrs. Maynard made up her mind to be very generouas, in that ose, to Lehbia, and mael:e her a presentof the corneli an brooch g- shbe had uses her look at longingly so often, I behind its glMasseee on the pier. She would to quite deserve that and other little marks of y, favor as well,'perbape, if event proved her not my to have been guilty of wiling old Jobt May at nerd's fortune from him by those well remem in bered crocodile tears. a- "You are really a vdk good girl. Babette, to e remember the mending," she said oordially, S"and as I think it likely I may have to a suk If over some important business with Dr. May t nard when be comes in, I shall be pooh obliged to you if you will get it done." g Leebia ran upetatrs quite elated with the e few kind words and.the sucoess of her little soheme, and forbore to scold Walter for lifting be heaped-up work-basket from its shelf in the wardrobe before she came up, and disturb a ing its contenotSby thrusting his bands into it. *'You are going to be very good boys all this afternoon, Walter and Bobby," she said coax iogly, "and when I have finished my work I ,e will tell you over again the whole story of the o terrible fight at Ballyowen fair, and how near ly your oounei John Thoroley had his ear f, broken by the red-haired Irishman, who tried I to pull him off his horse." s The conservatory was a dilapidated little i- place entered by a door and some stone steps from the back-room where Dr. Maynard cocas r louinaly saw his patients. It was many years sa oine all pretence of keeping it supplied with a plants had been abandoned, and it was seldom entered now by anyone but Lesbie, who liked a to ashb herself in among the cobwebs and s broken flowerpots beoause it was the only b place in the house where she could feel herself y quite safe from the boys, who did not dare to Spursue her so-oes their father's territory. She a used to study her lessonsthere, for the masters f her brother and sister insisted on giving her. There she diligently carried on the skilfoll I contrivances with herbeedle and scissors, and stores of ribbon and net, that gave her much a worn gowns and bonnese the dainty air so pOzling to--- a: . T h aloud, and sometimes cried and trembled over her sisters letters from Ireland ; and there, seated on the stone steps with her elbows on her knees, and her dimpled ohin propped be tween her hands. she dreamed her girlish a dreams of all the good the future wass to bring I her. If the thronging, brightly-oolored thoughts could only have taken shape as they rose up and photographed themseloes on the a cracked panes of glass round her, what a curi oos and pretty series of decorations the old tumble down outhouse would have had, and how surprised Leabia would have been, on getting up from her seat and walking round when the hour of castle-building was over, to observe what a very prominent place a certain r slim, dark-eyed personage held in all the pio. tures I She would have been quite certain that she did not really think as highly of her self as all that, and was not in truth so selfish as to want so many good things and so much Spraise and prosperity all for herseif. The i bright fancies, however, generally came when l the fingers were idle. Work, unless it weeas I very pretty work, had rather a depressing effect on Lesbia's spirits, and on that day there were several reasons for her thoughts a taking the sombre hoe of the dull grey ma terial she was forced to look at. She had got Sp in the morning expecting something very pleasant to happen that afternoon, and oh, I what a dull, trying day it had been I How I leaden the sea and sky looked, seen through the dusty, cobwebby glass panes I How melan fholy the wind sounded, and the flap, flap of of the untrained briar-rose branches against I the conservatory roof I When she and the i young Dalys parted last night at the garden I gate, she had said to herself that she would t enjoy one more merry day with her friends, t and not allow herself to think once of what was coming, but the rain had cheated her of a her respite. Of course there would be floe days after this. Even at Whitecliffe it could not rain forever, and she and Ellen and Connor 1 would walk and sail again together ; but it would not be quite the same as it had been. It never was the same in a party when one member of it had gone away. Mr. Pelham t Daly's departure wsee the beginning of the s break-up of all that had made this summer s3 different from every other. The end would come very soon. Other people left Whiteoliffe - when the dlreary autumn and wild winter days i set in, but she, Lesbia, had to stay there r always. The Dalys would go certainly. The r house opposite would be asnt up, or some stupid people would take it, and she would lr lawn the p.r.d- n- -nina. the .n..an with Bobby and Watty, when there would be f no possibility of thcse three figures looming I upon her in the distance, whose approsoh changed the dullest and most monotonous walk into something fresh and pleasant. She I might never again hear a word about them through alileher life, or perhaps some day Dr. 1 Maynard would read the marriage of one of I them from the newspaper at breakfast, and say s to his wife, "That Mr. Pelham Daly, who has made suhob a grand marriage, moust surely be the eldest brother of the young lady who once, I a good many years ago, took a sort of fancy to Lesbia." That would be the way they would s put it, and that would be the truth. Changes s would come to others, but she moust go on liv ing jast here, through long summers when the parade was hot and crowded with strangers t who never came to be frefs, and through r windy winters when the place was a desert, I teaching Bobby and Watty, and darning their socks on rainy days among the broken flower s pots till-till-she was thirty perhaps, or even forty, and had deep hollows under her eyes and grey streaks in her hair, and had grown silent and sour-looking like the Miss John stones next door. Lesbia could not bhr the Spicture she bad conjured up one moment t longer, it was too dreadful ; she snatched the t sock she was darning from her hand with a - childish gesture of drepair, and, turning round, a threw her arms on the upper step of the flight r she was sitting on, and, leaning her forehead s against them, groaned aloud. Down fell the t workbasket by her side, hopping from step s to step in its fall, and scattering its miscel leneous contents all around. Lesbia sprang I up to arrest its progress, and there, staring her in the face on the top of a pile of stockings, B lay the two letters Walter had kept back in r the morning. Sne seized them with a cry of Sjy, hardly caring to consider how they came to be there, and tore open the uppermost en Svelope. A sheet in her brother's handwriting Soaught her eye first. The sight caused athrill of alarm, for it was not often John wrote to her, Oh I if while she had buen groaning a over imaginary troubles, bad news from him Sawaited her. If Bride should be ill. Away - flew her self-occpation and little vanities, dis pelled by a tomult of tender fears. "My dear little sslater," she read. "I flatter myself, as a letter from me is rather a rarity, a that you will take my aheet and read it first. I You had better do so, for I have some import ant news to tell you, and you will understand I Sit in my plain words sooner than if you get it first wrapped up in all the loves and cautious a nd engratulations that Bride is busy just now untting into her sheet. Of eourse you a have often heard of eur old grand-uncle John a Maynard. I think you saw him fouryears ago when he spent a day at Whiteuliffe, and I hope I be left a sufrociently pleasant impression of himself on your mind for yon to feel some sor row when I tell you he is dead. Call back and - cherish any kind recollection of him you can, a little Babette, for he was very good to you in Shisla Ist thoughts. He has left all his fortune - to you, so that in reading these words in my I letter a new sort of life opens out before yenou. May you be thoroouebly happy and act worthi a ly in it, little one ! You will hardly understand I at first all the change it will make, but one Simmediate consequence of what has haeised 1 is, that there.is no longer any need for obthree to live aparrt. We are setting our wits to work to devise a apeedy method for transport - ing you here; so be prepared to take a journey I to Irseland soon. Be sure that Bride and I re ,jolice utterly in your good fortune, and men Stally shake hands with you on it from across the sm".e.,f anyoe.els. says anything, satisfy your oonoieaeo (you see I am giving you ore dit for being too sorupuloes conoersang other people's rights to be over elated with your own look) by reaooting that old Jobhn Mynard ehad a right to do what he pleased with hie own money; he got very little pleasure out of it while he was alive, and he has chosen you to enjoy the benefit of bis savings and his labors beoauee you are the youngest pet child of our mother, who wase a daugher to him onoe, and the most like her. If those two have met up there after their long estrangement Bride and I think that she will be glad of what he has done for you. I am writing to explain it to all the Maynard. By the way, one olasse of the will enao that you are to take the name of Maynsrdjand give it to your husband if-or shall I say when you marry-so you will keep our dear mother's name, Lesbia Maynard, to the end of the ehapter. "Your affBetionate brother and faithful guardian, 'Joan TnORnxaY." Lesbil read this letter twioe over before the fall meaning of the words forced itself on her mind; and then it wee not elation, nor joy, nor regret for other people's disappointment, that rushed in with it The tender little heart swelled first, with a pang ofremokseful shame, suhob s a little child feels who has been angry with its mother for leaving it alone, and been surprised on her return by the present of a fine new toy. She bad been discontented with her lot, tbhinking herself hardly usneed, and all the while God end that old man bed been prepar lug this wondrous ohbbge for her. 8Se bent her head down humbly ouqber olasped hands, and tried to shape a prayer eot of the tumult of thoughts and emotions that welled op. Had the old life really gone from her in that mo ment ? The stooking darninge, Mrs. Maynard's perpetual fault finding, Bobby's fits of sulks over his lessons, the shabby clothes. the grumblings shbe used to bear ageiost Bride end John for not sending more money ? Was r, and in itisplace a dazzling vi o proopelity and joy opening out before her ow muooh easier it would have been to bear patiently all the little pains of the old life, if she bhad only known they were not to last for evert! he certeinly would not have given Bobby that box on the ear last night when he overthrew her work-box, or have refused to coyer Johnny's books when he last went back to school, because he had teased her so all the holidays. For five minutes, instead of looking forward, Leebia was absorbed in wishing vehe mently that she could have two or three of the last years over again, that she might so com port herself in them as to make them a worthy backgrounod for what was to come Well, it would be easy to make up for every shortoom ing now. She would forgive all little wrongs, and make everyone in the house a splenoid present the very first thing. Mrs. Maynard should have a velvet dress, and the Doctor a new carriage, and Bobby and Walter every toy or story bLok they had ever mentioned with longing. She would be a benevolent fairy, divining everyone's wishes, and soettering gifts in their path. A greet wave of intoxicat. ing joy rushed in now, swollowing up all so berer thoughts. She seized Bride's closely written sheets and began to read, only paus ing now and then to press eager kisses on the affecotionate words. As she reached the last sentence, a bell in the house rang, and she started up with exactly the same feeling she had had a hundred times before, when that sound had called her back from a brilliant day dream. The tea bell-was it possible that this was a common day, and Shat people were going to take their meals just as usual Toe news John's letter had brought faded end lost all signifioance for her-just as a eastle-in-the-air I would have faded. She did not believe a word I of her change of fortune. Life was going on I just as usual, and there was she, her work on done, and the contents of Mrs. Maynard's work-basket scattered all over the conserva tory floor. She began to collent the socks and replace them in the basket with trembling fiu gere; the last thing she took up was Connor's letter. More news on that wonderful day. Curiosity oonquered fear, and she opened and read. The rhymes seemed to ring in her head and make her giddy. Did they belong to the I old Lesbia, who sat down on the steps with I her work two bours ago or to the new one 4 that wasooming She felt like a person standing on a bridge, leading from one count try to another, who can only hear the swell of I the dividing waters rushing below. "Yet, oh I oame to her lips, s she paused over that line, on her third reading, and before she had made up her mind whether she weas glad or sorry I that the person who wrote it would have to I change bhs description of her in the future, the i conservatory door half opened, and the parlor maid, with a very satiricalexpression of face, poked her head in. "Mrs. Maynard desires her respectful com- I pliments, and wishes to know how much longer I it is Miss Lesbia Thornley's pleasure to keep I them all waiting for tea." I Lesbia drew nup her head, and mounted the steps slowly. John's letter had grown per- 1 fectly real again; but the warm plessant thoughts about good will to all, and splendid 1 presents, had received a painful oheck. She I understood quite well that Mrs. Joseph May- t nard bad sent her a declaration of war, and that she must not expect anyone in that house I to be glad with her to-night. It was hard to have to bring her tumult of feeling under the ken of cold sympathising eyes-hard to have I no kind shoulder near to lean her throbbing head against, while she talked out her won der hnd excitement. John and Bride were far out of reaobh, and she felt very lonely. There was that second letter in her hand, perhaps I after all it told better news than the first. It I was balm to her wounded heart to know that I some one had been feeling all those fine things I about her, while the Maynards loved her so little. She thought she should always feel very much obliged to Mr. Connor Daly for writing her that letter, even though he had I remarked upon the poorness of her gowns. She paused under the gas burner in the hall, for it was already dark in the house, to study once more the handwriting on the outside of the I letter, and as she held the envelope up to the light her eye fell on the monogram ontside P. D. All at once a vivid crimson flashed her face, aad after oturtive glanoe round to see tbhat no one wos near, she raised the corner of the paper to her lips, end then thrusting it I deep into her pocket, walked boldly in the par lor to confront her angry counsins. CHAPteR xvI. "Ah could we live As friend with friend, As though each passlng boer mqat ive That friendshlp sadden end. '-Axol. 'Come, Ellen. All strotogems are fair in love; and if you don't drop sueoh a hint of Con- 1 sin Anne's alrrm s as will frighteo Lesbia May nard into joining us in our esudden flight to Castle Daly, I'll be foroed to forge a letter from her preioona brother to summon her to Ireland in a huarry. He'll have to get his head broken in a scrimmage ;-or stay, be shell fight a duel with Darby O'Roone and be shot through the heart, dead; and the sslater, hurry ing to meet the oorpse se it is brought in at the front door, shall fall down and break her 1 leg. I'll write a neat letter from old Dr. I O0Moore conveying the pleosing intelligence, if you persist in your obetinaoy: for, to leave the darling at twenty-four hours' notloe, just after telling her she's the jewel of my heart, end without knowing how she takes the news, is what Conner Daly is not tbhe boy to do-let Pselhbam Daly say w at he will." "And you would frighten her to death to prove your affeotion I' "Once get her safely wiled away with nus, and leave it toJne to comfort her, and let her know. all in good time, thattheletter woejust a sligh? misunderstanding " "Sne would hate you forever afterwards for giving her soch a fright." "Not she, when she understood it wes all the ( wayfiasd of keeping near her. I I thnoqub e- bad such a po heart as not to pot up t with a bit ofa f.:gU about a brother or a sie a tar, that her lover plaoned to save them from I parting, by Jove I Pelham would be welcome a to bavo her, for she'd not be the girl fok me." S" Ibould think it the poor heart that would r put tl lover above the brother. Whir will i you say. Con, when I do that same I" r "ind lover to love you half as well as your l brother aonnor, and you are welcome to put him where you wilL* "Ob, the King of Blarney that be is; but I I shall not look out for one that will match you I that was: and. Connor dear, I think you have Scarried the blarney a taste to far with Lebia, I and that she is annoyed by your sending ber those verses. I wrote a little note lIst night to let her know that we were leaving White Soiliffe in a day or two, and there has been no sign is answer from her yet. She has not ap peared at window or door, and just now I saw Mrs. Maynard leave the house, driving the whole troop of boys before her, and no Lesbia. Caghe be b ill I" "I vow I'll not leave the place is she is, till I have seen bher again. She has the tenderest little heartin the world; and you may depend my versc--" "Have half killed her with the laugh over them she bas had. Oh, Connor, how glad I am I'm not in love with anyone, and that no one's in love with me. I would not have the pleasure of going home spoilt by having to give a thought or a look back to the noblest lover in the world. I am glad there is not the least beginning ofa slender thread to hold my heart from home." Ellen danoed to the window. threw it up as she spoke, and leaned out. "You won't get a sorrowful good-bye from me," she cried, "you poor little bits of white stones that call your salves rooks, and you doll, leaden sea down there creeping up to them, and you great lonely oorlels and meadows, and straight or hears a "Glod save you kindly." Won't I shake the dust of you from my feet when I go with a laughing heart I" "Without a thought of the friend you leave behind youo That's what a woman's friend ship's worth." "Little Lesbia 1 Of course, I shall be sorryt to say good bye to her; but, Con, I oan't see' ously put her beside Cousin Anne and hope,. Qh, the smell of the peat, and the sparkle of or own lake, and the thunder of real waves on' the shore, and the friendly warm words, and faces that brighten when one comes near. I did not know how sick mybheart was for them all till now. It will be always that way with me. You may make mdch of falling in love, if you like. With me nothing will ever come near home and my own people. Those blessed, stupid fears of Cosmin Anne's, how I thank them for dragging ns back I" "If thanks and blessings are fying aronol I shall put in my claim for a share. Trace back far enough, and I'm the moving spring thbat set ail the litle wheels in motion that poll the rope that is drawitg you." "Connor, I hope not. How can you have had anything to do with our people's discontent against Mr. Thopley, and the troubles that have worked paps up to such a state of indig nation that hecannot rest here a week longer?" "Not intentionally, perhaps; but if I had notatood by Dennis Malacby at the time you know, of, and aceverly kept my father and other people from finding him out for the sworn rebel and Ribbonman I know him to be would he ever ve had that little place by the edge of the Wog given to him t And if my father bhd notpptbim there, could Mr. Thorn ley have turned bim out 1 And if he had not had the roof lifted off his head, would there have been the black blood there is between his faction and Mr. Thornley ? Cousin Anne would never have heard that gun fired, and we should have stayed here till the end of the chapter." '-You don't think it a fancy of Anne's, You think the danger real an that Dennis MYlachy is in it ? "I think Thornley is a dunderheaded pedant, who will set the country on fire if he's left to work his own will; and that it is high time my father was home again. I agree with Anne that he ought never to have left his post,"eaid Connor, grandly. "It's easy talking; but with mamma so ill andalways so sad hearted, I don't know what he could have done but travel about to please her. There are moments when I hate myself a look on her face when we were al talking and laughing last night that jest broke my heart. She looked as if she thought it was to her death she was going, and you and I laugh ing over it. I hope the day won't come, Con, when you'll hate to think it was your doing." "If you don't manage it so that Lesable May nard goes with nus, I'11 hate to think of it now. Ellen, is not the door of the Red House open log thiisminute 1 Is not that she herself com ing down the garden to the street t You look; I dare not." k. "Graciousl what a sadden fit of modesty. Yes, there she is, with her head up, stepping daintily. What pretty, gay pinmaged little bird is she like ? There most be company at the Maynards'. She is wearing the lilao ohequered silk dress that becomes her so well, and generally only comes out on Sunday, and her freshest bonnet. Perhaps it is a protest to show you that she does not always wear the 'poorest gown,' and acorns to fall back upon the airy olothing you propose to invest her with." "Ellen, don't. You have not a spark of poetry in your composition, I declare, or you would let those lines alone. Why, positively there's Pelham rushing out to open the door; he must have been on the look-out for her from the dining-room window. Hang him! he'll get the first word, and fancy that it is for his sake she looks down-hearted about our leaving Whitecliffe." " But I don't think shbe does look down hearted. As well as I can judge from the window, she is a little more smiling and im portant than usual in her lilac dress-like a little bantam hen forbelowed down to her feet." "I shall rush off, and come back in time to escort her home, and have her for a few min utes all to myself; I can't stand Pelham's watohing." Conner condescended to the undignifiled measure of peeping over the balsaters when he had reached the landing of the topmost story of the house. He had the satisfaction of seeing Lesbia Maynard mount the lowest flight of stairs alone; but he had previously sur prised a look on her faose, as she and Pelham stood on the door.mat together shaking hand., that disposed him to dash into his own room and relieve his mind for the next quarter of an hour by throwing bis boots and hair rusohes about. (To be continued.) The Laboratory of the System. The stomach is the laboratory of the system, in which certain mysterlous proesees are going on. These result in the production of tbhat wonderful vivi tying agent, the blood, which In a state of health rnushee laden with the elements of vitality to the remotest parta of the system. But when the stomach is semi puaralysed by dyspepsla, blood manufacture is carried on imperfectly, the creculation grows thin and slug gish, and the system suters in consequence. More. over. indigeetion reacts upen the liver and bowels, rendering the fst lpuggish and the lttier oansttpsted. The brain aleo suffers by sympatby, snu stokhaecdehes, loeepreneeu and nervous $mptoms re engelndered oeetter'e toemachr Bitlers reformp thlastat of things, gives pertisnet tone and regulrity to the stomaoh and Its associate organs, the bowels nnd liver, and ensuree couplete nourtismenst nd increased viger of ll! ststem. it iste moest popular swell a lths moslt elclent sItl-dyspeptio and tonol in America. For pyticnlara regarding Eliptrio Belts, ad. dres "PPluvermaeher Salvante Company," Cwennsrti, Ohio. ,IDICAL ADBERTISI iag, . SPABKLING, 000LW and INVIdORATIX that most bealpg and poplar prepamtlon, Tarrant's Seltzer Aperlent, overeomse inaction of the Livet ad e, 0and Dysppepsi depusrtee the blood, subdue. fs - and sick beadache. le anI aIpetlslg tonic, brated for its alterative properties. SOLD BY ALL DRUGGISTS. m- . COMPOUND OXYGEN. A NLW TREATMENT c t:.;,. al S t r rt O I T AL I -vr t l l Z t o n . , nltQ h sse aren made REMciiigifABlEo .CURESg ..."."...... . kh.* !tad/n." ,, r, ai, anndt he ht iaci soot ratim i Id SOUTHtR LATITOiES.lon which attend a mn a nie, antm wh. " oos 0mnytoEDanSt Imn, e by the Ho. LEY T S. ARTHURIt HoN. MONTOOMEOtk 1 LAIIL. E-dov. IIOREMAN of cest Virgi and otn who have ued the eNo TreatDent. lA Treatise 190 Iave] on COMPOUND Oxyr. FREElen r i auih manry restlmonialr to nmoe renarkable l urelrs set rrle. Adqlr°e Du ITARKEY d I'AL.N 11H irard t .0Lilads. 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TO3U-AVEf 00D "HIE"LEe T? v ill SIR KEPT lt ORSIEM.G L MYSTERY SOLVED. BoAelY the Cetre of Diaew. ars ons' PIOative Plls, 3The ret nti-Blo Remdly sw nd PA MYSTERY SOLVED.PZ s ths reateslt Medical Triumph of Modienti ernti toease Disrovered, and al Certain Catre Provided. The Stomach, Liver andd oe. o grip pis o Bow th e othe Centre Plls ofles the Boael ee. Threo Great Anti-Bl ommonFa Remedy ando PARBSON'8S PURGATIVE PILLS tis, and are warrante5dor to cuore ldl diseases B vinat In the Stomach Liver and Bowelet. No griping pusrps ifollow the use of thee ll Piurs the blood nd retl inhamedm, buTotter RELIEFor, IMMEDIATE REEls, Tmay oe rblid upoellin. As a commerton, Family Physnd Blothe Standt Compequalled before titlo r wnteedorld to day. By var fnllg the diose according to directions. Pbarson' pplure( ive Pils effectually purifysend the blood anty reatbly Eruptions and Eruptive Diseases of the Skion., Sal Morbid Swellings, Uleryhere.ations, Pimples and Bloche I.EVERY BOX WARRNON TD CO,, Fuell dictions Mlound each box Pe Biorlan, suppled Sje24 77 ly Manufacturers, Bangor, Maine. WESTERN PRODUCE, LIQUORS, ETC. NEW BUTTER. NEW BUTTER. We are now receiving and offer to the trade New May Dairy and Creamery Butter, OF THE FINSI. QUALITIES, and will be regularly supplihd by daily arrivals. SCHWABACHER & HIRSCH, mn312tf Corner Magalzne and Pcydrae streets. JOHN T. GIBBONS & CO., GRAIN, CORNMEAL AND HAY, 57, 659, 61, 63...New Levee Street. - .67; 9, 81,3 aulS 77 ly Corner Poydra., New Orleans. JOHN McCAFFREY, Dow.aa IN EAY, GRAIN; CORNMEAL, FLOUB, ALL KINDA OP Western froduce Constantly on Hand. 1· and 30...... .Pydras Street....... 8 and 30 Corner of ultesa, aulS 77ly I aw oaLaAu.