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The morning star and Catholic messenger. (New Orleans [La.]) 1868-1881, June 02, 1878, Morning, Image 2

Image and text provided by Louisiana State University; Baton Rouge, LA

Persistent link: https://chroniclingamerica.loc.gov/lccn/sn86086284/1878-06-02/ed-1/seq-2/

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Morning Star and Gatholic UMessenger
3W OLUEAW3. IUD AT, JUat4i . 5' ,
Story of an Irish Home Thirty Years Ago
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
"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
"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
"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
" 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
"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
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
'-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
"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
" 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
"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
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,
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.
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
which attend a mn a nie, antm wh. " oos
0mnytoEDanSt Imn, e by the Ho.
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.
The Best Stomachic and Tonic.
xcellent for an Antl-Malariai Morning.Bevers~g
For sale in all quantities by
26........ .. ....Co-ti Strdbt. -... ... t.....
e3 78 ly Sole Manoufacturor.
Spor itvp curor aorheumatism, Gout, Nealgi_ andY
all diseaes az"ýýg from impuro blood. Tho eJUR
the most popular modiies in the oountry men of it
o sld than ll othe Rhe B matlo Medtlbanes tflDthw,
and in Is the moet coetly patent medicine for the prle
in existence.
It Is recommeJtd by al the leading phymloih, and
s pure vegetla mixture. Shold thepatient fdno
rellef from the use of one or two bottles, he maydel
assured that bede not suffering from any of theabor
diselase. and it will be of no use to contnuoe it.
For male by the principal druggists.
Price, 1 50 peor bottle.
IRSLEW & CO., Proprietors.
de 771y P. O. Box 1406, New Orleans.
TO3U-AVEf 00D "HIE"LEe T? v ill
BoAelY the Cetre of Diaew.
ars ons' PIOative Plls,
3The ret nti-Blo Remdly sw nd
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
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
Fuell dictions Mlound each box Pe Biorlan, suppled
Sje24 77 ly Manufacturers, Bangor, Maine.
We are now receiving and offer to the trade
New May Dairy and Creamery Butter,
and will be regularly supplihd by daily arrivals.
mn312tf Corner Magalzne and Pcydrae streets.
57, 659, 61, 63...New Levee Street. - .67; 9, 81,3
aulS 77 ly Corner Poydra., New Orleans.
Dow.aa IN
Western froduce Constantly on Hand.
1· and 30...... .Pydras Street....... 8 and 30
Corner of ultesa,
aulS 77ly I aw oaLaAu.

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