Holly Oak journal., February 01, 1889, Image 1

About Holly Oak journal. (Holly Oak, Del.) 1889-1???

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HOLLY OAK JOURNAL
/S'
VOL 1, No, 1.
HOLLY OAK, DELAWARE, FEBRUARY, 1889.
TWO CENTS.
THE BLUE AND THE GRAY.
'Tis the day of the conflict ; in battle array
Stand the waiting combatants—the blue and the
Gray.
From the green pasture-lands comes the lowing of
herds
From the forest's deep shadows the music of birds.
In warm, golden splendor the sun's slanting rays
Lie over the broad fields of ripening maize.
A little brook gurgles by hedge-row and thistle;
A quail makes his plaint in a soft, mellow whistle.
Ail nature is peaceful ; yet here, face to face,
They meet for the contest—these souls of one race!
The Gray waits serenelv in abatised strength—
eä
Just there, on the edge of the meadow, they meet,
An attack, - harp and sudden—a noise-—what is
this ?
A report ?—it is only a true lover's kiss !
'Tis a glorious capture—and thus ends the fray—
His eyes are blue eyes, and her eyes are gray.
Eva Best , in Detroit Free Press.
The Way to Win Him.
BY E. g. j.
"Will you never learn," said Mrs. Wall
lingford, angrily, addressing her daughters,
Clara and Augusta, "to be dressed in time
for morning callers? This is not the first
occasion I've had to speak of it."
"Nor will it be the last," answered Clara,
pertly. "It doesn't pay to dress so soon,
especially when one isn't sure anybody will
call. The footman told Mr. Murray to
wait."
"But gentlemen don't like to be kept
waiting. Nothing disgusts them more. And
the catch of the season, too ! It's useless
frr me to work and plan for you, if you act
in this way."
Clifford Murray, the hero of our story,
possessed every advantage that man could
desire.
'
!
I
He was young, eminently handsome,finely
educated, and the heir to large estates,
Murray House, his fathers residence, was
one of those fine old mansions that still
linger here and there, as mementoes of the
past, even in New York ; it was grand and
sumptuous, in a stately way, quite different
from anything that is built nowadays ; and
it was adorned everywhere, with works of
the rarest beauty and costliness. It was
principally for his sake that Mrs. Walling
ford had issued cards for what she intended
should be the ball of the winter. No
(
wonder then she lost her temper, when she :
found, the morning he called, that the niece
she had taken in from charity, had acci- j
dentally met Mr. Murray, and proved to be !
an old acquaintance.
But for the dilatoriness of her daughters,
she said to herself, this would not have hap
pened ; and though Clara and Augusta
laughed at the idea of rivalry on the part of
Ethel, Mrs. Wallingford was not quite so
sure of their superiority. But let us go
back and tell how it all happened.
Clifford Murray was going up the broad
walk that led to the imposing front entrance
of the Wallingford's, and was admiring the
gorgeous green-house bloom and tropical
splendor that met his eye on every side,
when his attention was suddenly arrested by
the sound of a woman's voice, or a girl's
voice, rather, singing a simple but most
exquisite strain. He was an ardent lover of
music, and paused involuntarily, at the base
of the marble steps, and listened, while the
clear, liquid notes floated out on the frosty
air. He thought it the sweetest voice he had
ever heard—and he smiled unconsciously in
his delight.
Just at this moment, the drawing-room
window flew up and a tuft of feathers flut
tered in and out, and the wondrous singing
seemed much nearer than before.
Clifford Murray was a gentleman, but for
the life of him he could not refrain from
looking up, and as he did he so, a pair of
very brown eyes looked down, and the sing
ing ceased all of a sudden.
"Why dear me !" cried a pretty plaintive
voice. "Wait just one moment, please, Mr.
Murray
Mr. Murray ran up the steps, and the
door was opened as he reached it.
"Good morning Mr. Murray!" said the as
same pretty voice. "You have forgotten me
no doubt; but I remember you. Walk in,
please.'
-I — *-** ,ht •*—* - b '
came," continued his companion smoothing
down a pair of very dainty cuffs as she spoke,
He walked in, and seated himself amid
the splendors of the Wallingford drawing
of
room.
"and the drawing-room is a little cold.
Won't you sit closer to the fire?"
Murray was at his wit's end. This was
neither of the Misses Wallingfords he had
seen on his first call. Who could it be?
He looked at her narrowly. A trim, grace
ful figure in deep black, save the spotless
white at the throat and wrists, and the
sweetest young face, and the brighest,
sunniest hair his eyes had ever beheld. She
looked up and her brown eyes twinkled.
"Ah, you have quite forgotten me, Mr.
Murray ?" she said mischievously.
Clifford Murray cudgeled his memory as
he never did before. Presently a sudden flash
"No I haven't !" he exclaimed rising to
his feet. "You are Ethel Willoughby, the
rector's daughter.
lit his gray eyes.
The young lady smiled, and extended her
'Miss Willoughby," he continued,
"I am very glad to meet you. How is your
hand.
worthy father, and my old friends ?"
I Her eyes filled with tears immediately.
He saw his mistake in an instant.
"Forgive me," he entreated, glancing at
her mourning robes. "1 did not think ; and
I have pained you so-"
"No, no!" she replied, struggling bravely
*° r command; "It roes not pain me.
* l° ve to speak of poor papa; it is the
greatest pleasure I have ; but sometimes it
comes so sudden."
"Ah ! I often look back to those happy
evenings at the old parsonage. How long
since ?"
He paused, fearing to give her pain. ''Over
( a year now," she replied quietly, and I have
: no t been home since. Auntie took me away
immediately after poor papa's death, and she
j j s s0 goo d an d kind ; but I do so long for
! my 0 [d home,
This city life is so dull and
prosy, I think. Do you know," she added
with a sudden smile, that made her face
fairly dazzling, "that I grow weary for want
of work, Mr. Murray—a plebian instinct
that must be uprooted, Aunt Wallingford
says, and I dare say she knows."
Mr. Murray laughed and made some
pleasant response, which Ethel failed to hear
for she started up exclaiming,
"But, dear me, I had quite forgotten !
you call to see my cousins, no doub'; and
here 1 sit appropriating your visit to myself,
Here Sanford, take this
Pray excuse me.
card to the young ladies, and tell them Mr
Murray is in the drawing-room.
"My dear Miss Willoughby," said Clif
ford, as the servant left, "you mistake. If
I had dreamed of finding you her<
But Ethel cut him short.
"Not a bit of compliment, please, Mr.
Murray," she laughed. "I don't appreciate
it at all, and we are old acquaintances, too."
"So we are," responded Clifford, heartily,
" and on the strength of that I am going to
ask a favor. Will you sing for me the ballad
you were singing when I came?"
She went to the piano without a word, and
began to sing in a voice as sweet as the note
of a nightingale. Clifford was enraptured,
but his pleasure was of short duration, for
she had scarcely ended the first stanza, when
Mis. Wallingford came bustling in, with a
loot ot such utter surprise on her face, that
the young man found it hard work to main
tain his gravity,
"Why, my dear, why Ethel !" she began,
as soon as she had given M . Murray a
gushing welcome, "what is this? You surely
*r >•»», —***■
continued the lady, with an anxious, angry
light ir, her eyes,
"Oh, auntie, 1
cried Ethel, as she rose
from the piano, "I used to know Mr. Mur
ray when he was at college ; he was a ffiend
of dear papa's, that's all."
Ethel glanced down at her neat apparel
with artless surprise. "I did not think of
that," s he said, innocently, "but it doesn't
signify, Mr. Murraj called on my cousins
you know. I bid you good morning, Mr.
Murray."
She left the drawing-room with a grave
courtesy as she spoke. Clifford Murray was
guilty of the gross impoliteness of staring
after her, to the utter neglect of wh.it his
at that moment her daughter; sailed in.
F resh from a hurried toilet, as the most
unobservant eye could see at a glance, and
overdressed for the occasion, yet very hand
some and showy girls withal. Mr. Murray
hostess was saying.
Mrs- Wallingford grew very red, and the
angry light in her eyes deepened, and just
did the devoted gallant to the letter, and
ex ressed his pleased anticipation in regard
to the approaching ball; but despite his
pleasant manner, he was heartily glad when
the call was ended.
And walking back to Murray House, he
found his memory wandering back to his
college days, and to the quiet evenings he
was wont to spend in the little library at the
old parsonage; and he marveled within
himself that he had not sooner recognized
Ethel Willoughby, having thought so much
of her in the intervening years.
The Wallingfords' ball was a great suc
cess. The Misses Wallingford were abso
lutely too dazzling for d scription. To play
the agreeable to both at the same time,
thought our hero, would be rather a weari
some task. But Mamma Wallingford was
too skillful a diplomatist to put him in such
a dilemma.
"I shall leave you to entertain Mr.
Murray, Clara, my love," she said when the
salutations of the evening were over.
"Come, -'-ugusta, I promised to present you
to Mr. Falkland."
waltzed.he promenaded,he talked all manner
And fairly white with anger and disap
poi"tment, Augusta was forced to obey, while
her elder sister sailed off with the prize. Mr.
Murray did his utmost to be agreeable. He
of pretty nonsense—and Miss Wallingford
was in the third heaven of triumphant bliss.
His eyes wan
But not so her companion,
fibred, an< ^ h* s heart belied the words hi3
tor.gue spoke. At last, when patience began
to desert him, he ventured to ask if Miss
Willoughby was well ? She was quite well,
Miss Wallingford said. "But I do not see
her," hesitated Clifford. The young lady
arched her lovely brows in well-bred sur
'No, mamma could not induce her
prise.
to come down ; she has an idea that it isn't
proper to dance so soon after her bereave
ment. She's an odd kind of a child you
know, Mr. Murray," added the beauty con
fidentially. "Mamma is really worn out
with efforts to improve her ; but they seem
to effect nothing."
The ball went on with its glittering throng
of dancers, and its bewildering music, but,
for Clifford, much of the interest and enjoy
ment was gone. Other girls than Clara and
Augusta strove to attract his attention.
But, though he was well-bred to all, he was
impressed by none.
Every face had the same stereotyped look,
of which he was tired ; that look half of dis
content, half of envy, which prevails so in
fashionable society,
innocent face of Ethel, rose up before him
continually.
He remembered how it had fascinated him
in other days. In his memory all through
those long years, had lived a portrait. It
was that of a young girl dressed in white,
sitting musing. He had surprised her in
that position one day, and he had never
entirely forgotten the picture. It was inno
cence and loveliness enshrined in one.
Often and often it had come up to him in
his student days abroad. It was the same
face now, only more matured, and, there
fore, even more beautiful.
Full of this memory, he stepped out into
the garden, for the glare and noise of the
ball began to jar on him. Pacing up and
down the fragrant walks, he saw an open
casement high above him, and a fair, sweet
face, and still girlish figure, dimly defined
in the uncertain light. It was Ethel, he
knew. But the figure disappeared imme
diately, and the light was put out.
Clifford was punctual in making his
"party call" at the Wallingfords. But he
failed to see Ethel. He had asked for "the
ladies," as was proper, but only Mrs. Wall,
ingford and her daughters appeared. When
he ventured to inquire "if Miss Willoughby
was well," the elderly lady replied, "yes,"
indifferently, and let the subject drop.
Again and again Clifford called, but nearly
always with the same result. If he saw
Ethel at all, it was when he surprised her
practicing in the parlors. These interviews
soon came to be the great objects of his life.
They were always the result of accident, but
he regarded them as triumphs, and went
away thinking of every word Ethel said,
and how she looked ; and on this food he
lived till he saw the sweet girl again. Once
or twice he overtook her in the street, and
attended her home. She was always the
same, innocent, fresh and unpretending,
attired with striking simplicty and neatness ;
in all things the greatest possible contrast to
her dashing, insincere, fashionable cousins.
It was this difference that won Clifford's
heart.
He was heartily tired of the shams of
polite society ; of the managing mammas,
and the scheming daughters and the very
frankness and naturalness of Ethel was a
charm that was irresistible.
Ethel little suspected,the conquest she was
making. She remembered Clifford as the
friend of her childhood ; she always felt
pleased to see him; nay, in secret, she began
unconsciously, to think of him a good deal ;
but she had no idea that she was falling in
love, or that Clifford was in love with her.
Pure, innocent darling ! There are a dozen
Claras or Augustas where there is one Ethel.
At last Clifford determined on a coup
d'etat. Convinced that the Wallingfords
were deliberately keeping Ethel away from
him, he drove to the house, one morning,
quite early, and boldly asked for Miss
Willoughby.
"Miss Willoughby done took a long walk
this morning," said the old black woman,
who answered the bell, for it was too soon
for the fine footman to be about. "Sun
never catches her in bed."
"Then ask her to come down, please."
And in one brief moment Ethel came,
neat, fresh and smiling, with a sparkle in
her brown eyes, and a rose-bud in her bright
hair. Clifford held out both hands to wel
come her.
"Sit down, Mr. Murray, please," she
said, "my cousins are not up yet."
"I am not calling upon your cousins, Miss
Willoughby, my carriage is at the door,"
( Continued on Fourth Page.)
The fresh, sweet,