A MERE SCRATCH.

Hawke's Bay Herald, Volume 11, Issue 815, 5 January 1867, Page 3

A ME RE SCRATCH.

fi .* -■ ■■■ '.' • ■'• ■."-' -■-■■ it-'^-Sy&JzMd •-- (From " AU the Year Round*' for 'Oototyy.) ■?_<?ss: t IN EIGHT CHAPTERS. / CHAPTER I^vfll I " This, then, is your answer ?" said George~/y- --° Gosling, in a voice that emotion rendered /': ■ almost inarticulate. . 7y7 -7. George was twenty-four. With the ; famed old baronetcy of which he Was; fthe representative, there had descended to him . 1 tbe estate of Gosling Graize, and sixteen, - thousand a year. These, with himself, he had placed at the disposition of Miss Mildred Mulcaster, and, fromthe tone of his observation, it would appear that the yoiing . lady had decided in his disfavour. Sir George had been taken by surprise. -• The like may be said of the ingenuous, sin-v. gle-hearted reader, when apprised that Miss Mulcaster had entered into deliberate engagements with her lover, accepting a betrothal ring, supplemented with gifts innumerable; had written -to, or received fromhim, as many letters as an ordinary postman of these degenerate days could lift; -had polked, deux-tempsed, and otherwise circled with him at least one hundred and fifty * } miles ; had, in effect, deported herself on all, or most occasions (for she was wayward and ■ given to teazing), as an engaged young person should. . 1- " This, then, is your answer P" " Yes. Take it," said Miss Mulcaster'; " and," extending her white hands, "as they , say in melodramas, be happy." She was laughing. But George had not studied the map of that fair face three anxious years, for nothing. The laugh was a disguise. Therefore, though stricken with a miserable apprehension, he hesitated for an instant to' accept his fate. "But Mildred " " Miss Mulcaster — Sir George Gosling," interrupted the young lady, as though rein- . troducing those parties on a new footing. George resumed. "You will, you must, forgive me, MilMiss Mulcaster — if, for the moment, I cannot successfully imitate your self-possession. It is a great gift. I envy you. I will not ask " "Don't. It would be useless." "Mildred — can you justify thisconduct?" "I shall not try." "I mean, to yourself?" " It is to myself I have already appealed — my calmer self. . Flattered at being at length consulted, that extremely sensible ' and discreet adviser frankly declares that the thing is impracticable — was never, in reality, within the limits of possibility— and that its ever having seemed so is a weakness on my — my common self's part, only to be atoned for by an instant dismissal of the idea by my other self. You understand ?" " Only," replied George, with a sad smile, " that the complicated machinery of such a court of appeal would, if generally adopted, greatly diminish tbe confidence we delight to repose in every act and word of those we love. Ah, Mildred — there, forgive me— we are creatures of habit; is it only now that you have deemed it worth the pains to inquire, of one or both these differing selves, what were your real feelings towards me? Now?" " No. I knew them. They have never - changed," said Mildred, slightly flushing. " How ! Not changed? And our union impossible." " Quite.' I abandon it, taking every consequence." j " And your words — your professions — " "Go — as bets do — with the stakes!" laughed the young beauty, recklessly. But the still augmenting colour en tered a suffici ng protest against this assumption of indifference. " And — and those presents ?" stammered George. " Await your disposal, sir." She pointed haughtily to a side-table, absolutely laden with articles of the costliest kind. # " Good Heavens 1" said the young man — " that was not my meaning. I appealed to these things but as witnesses of the position in which we stood to one another. Your acceptance alone gave them value. At least, spare me the pain of looking upon what you approved — accepted— have used, ; and worn. Bestow them upon whom you will, destroy them, do anything but fill my rejected hand with my gifts, alike deemed worthless." "t am too easily entreated, much too easily," said Miss Mildred,- looking so exquisitely, beautiful, that poor George's heart thrilled with a wild despair.' "But," on certain conditions, I may grant you this one thing. Do you hear, sir ? It must be distinctly provided ancl understood, that, neither by look, word, nor deed, will you ever recur to the position wo have lately held to one another. Do you agree ?" "lam at your mercy. But " " Now, remember, I never threaten. I act," said the imperious young lady. "The coolest footing of ordinary acquaintance. Think of me, when you must think (and don't say I didn't frankly warn yoii against, doing so at all), no worse than circumstances seem to demand, for, somehow, I would like to retain the — the fringe — the hem, though somewhat frayed — of your good opinionhonest simple garment as it was ! And now, Sir George Gosling, as I believe I have already remarked, farewell ! Be happy." She rose, with a company-air, to which George would have preferred a stab, and seemed expecting him to leave her. But the young man still hesitated. The enigma was yet unsolved. "Miss Mulcaster," he said, very calmly, " I have bowed to your decision, and, to the utmost of my ability, I will observe your somewhat difficult conditions. I put aside all pretence of a right to question you, and, only as a matter of further generosity on your part, do I entreat of you to furnish me with some clue to the fault — the misadventure — I know not how to term it— that has produced this change. You see Ido not plead for a reversal of the sentence, I do but inquire its provocation." Mildred looked sorrowfully at the imploring face of her young lover. " You ask what you have done ? . Nothing." "Nothing? No fault?" "None — of your own." , ' " What, then, can you mean P" "The errors of one generation" said the young lady, gravely, " are frequently adopted by its successors. So far, Sir George, you cannot be held guiltless, and aiust^at, . ; all events, bear the penalty, like others pf your name." " My ancestors have not, I believe, been wholly undistinguished," replied the young man, with quiet dignity, ," True, in the

course , of a descent of more than twenty generations, some unworthy deed may have cast a temporary stain on our escutcheon, but— r-" ■■y A'The crime to which I refer," said Miss Mulcaster, putting her handkerchief to her eyes, " has been transmitted— wilfully and wittingly — from sire to son. Yourn-n ■" -.- 'The word was lost in a suffocating sob. Mildred was weeping without restraint. " My what ?" said her bewildered lover. " N — na — name !" " Name. What name ?" "Nonsense! You know I like G — . George," sobbed the young lady. " It's the — oth— the other. How your c—eldeste — eldest ancestor could have c — come by it, is am— mys — .mystery. Stupid old b— b — booby!' "Booby!" repeated George, aghast. "Enough ofthis," exclaimed the spirited young beauty. "No power on earth would induce me to appear in society burdened with the style and title of Lady Gosling. And t|at is the secret you wanted." There was something in her manner that, enamoured as he was, irritated George. He drew himself up rather haughtily. " Seeing that it is the prevailing custom," he remarked, "for ladies to assume the name, of those they honour with their hands, Miss Mulcaster must surely have had this terrific condition within her contemplation when she engaged herself to my unworthy self." "She had," replied the young lady-— " she had, however, reasonable grounds for hoping that the absurdity which, you yourself must admit, attaches to your name, might be softened — either by returning to what, I make no doubt, was the original spelling — Gausselin — orby the simple introduction of a . in the middle, Gostling, you know — which, with the o very long, wouldn't be so bad. Both these hints were suggested to you — once by dear mamma, once by Lovey — but, except eliciting a display of temper for which, I dare say, you were afterwards sorry (if you were not, it wasn't my fault), the remonstrance had no effect." ■" Fancy remonstrating with a man on the name his fathers have borne for six centuries !" said George, "I should have been greatly to blame if I had allowed you for one moment to believe that I could comply with either of your ingenious schemes for the amelioration of my patronymic. Still, Miss Mulcaster permitted her engagement to continue." " She did. (It's a capital idea of yours, that of speaking in the third person, as if I were at the antipodes.) Miss Mulcaster, sir, acted as you describe. She was, in some respects, a very remarkable woman — possessing considerable strength of mind, and singular persistence in purpose. She fought with her own prejudices, and imagined, at one time, she had overcome them. She liked— she honoured — nay, well, she loved — the bearer of a hideous name. But, under the actual burden of that name, her nature would have pined, succumbed." "Enough Miss Mulcaster," said the young baronet, thoroughly roused. "I have the honour to wish you good' morning." "I am not jesting, Geo — Sir George " — (and the young lady became suddenly grave). " Do not leave me under a false impression. I did strive — strive honestly — to overcome what you are free to call my folly, but in vain. It is most unfortunate. Any other name I could have borne. But, so long as. you remain a Gosling, George, I cannot, will not be your wife." " You are aware tbat a change of name involves the loss of the estate ; but, Mildred," added the young lover, "if you are content to be poor——" "I am not," said Mildred, frankly. "Can this be so? Neither share my poverty nor my name ? "I have proved to you that I cannot help myself" said Mildred. "I am a naughty, foolish girl, and should have no excuse, had I not, with all my might, combated this strange feeling. You are very good and generous, and, if I have pretended to treat the matter lightly, it was because I dared not approach it in a serious spirit. George, forgive me" — and the beautiful head, under the influence of one of Mildred's rare touches of feeling, stooped penitently forward — "all that I have said is true. Granted, I should have known my weakness sooner ; but better late than too late." And Bhe held out her hand. "For pity's sake, reflect," said George. " That's nonsense," retorted Mildred, imperious to the last. " George, I tell you it is all over ; shake liands, and go." Sir George took the little cold whifce hand,, adorned with one ring — a beautiful sapphire — his first gift (she had retained that), and held it wistfully for a moment. In one month it was to have been his own. He looked at it, dtopped it as if it had given him a mortal sting, gazed once in Mildred's face, and left her. As the young baronet rode down the lime avenue just beginning to be touched with the first tints of autumn, he felt as if the summer of his own life had departed too. He might live on this many a year, live to pardon the wrong he had sustained, live to marry some other than Mildred, perhaps to tell, in after years — names suppressed — the warning story of his first youthful passion. But the first, the peerless flower of love, had been rudely stricken down ungathered; and there are hearts which, in such a case, disdain to produce another. George reviewed the whole history of his blighted affection. He had known Mildred - nearly twenty years — at all events, at their first interview, the young lady, clad in a white spencer, a frill, and a coral necklace, came, led by her nurse, to pass the day with his sister Clara. The intimacy increased. There were adventurous excursions upon a rocking - horse —an exceedingly restive animal, which Mildred would only consent to mount on condition that George restrained him firmly by the bit. There was a long-remembered gooseberry - raid, in which blood was shed and a frock severely compromised ; likewise a long and fond inspection of that inexhaustible phenomenon, the golden fish ; and, finally, a tiptoe visit to the extraordinary novelty of a chaffinch's nest, redeemed, at a ransom of twopence, from the gardener's boy. ipJyen at this early period, the question of a matrimonial alliance had been apparently mooted, since George, rescuing his love from -•/ ia gloomy dungeon of three chairs, escaped -'..' with her on the rocking-horse, the lady holding, on, with difficulty, by the untrusty^orihy'7 tail/." Overtaken, in a distant projjyinpeo^ya^fcajr^ by a phrmiing band comthe fugitives sur-

rendered, but only on condition of being j united on the spot, the ceremony being obligingly performed by the pursuer herself. Upon the death of General Mulcaster, his widow gave up her town-house, and, with her two children — Mildred being, at that time, thirteen, and Louisa ten — came to reside at the Haie, a pretty but not very extensive property, some five or six miles from Gosling Graize. There was no talk now of little husbands and wives. Miss Mulcaster, aged thirteen, understood no ribald jesting with her dignity. With this young lady the process of spoiling — instituted by her father — had been carried out with such .fidelity and success by her mother, that, but for the child's really generous and loving nature, she would have been the most intolerable little tyrant that ever ruled a household. Few could resist the spell of her marvellous beauty ; fewer still the thousand witcheries the little despot had at her command. As for the household themselves, they had long been willing bond-slaves, the only strife among them being which should be the readier to obey. It was, perhaps, sister Louey, bright and clever as her elder, and so pretty that, but for a sister so unfairly fair, she might have been the spoiled one — it was Louey alone who dared, on very great and critical occasions, to run counter to the sovereign's will. On some of these, poor Louey— like other too-forward revolutionists— had been the victim of a cruel treachery. Her mother ' — her very mother — after instigating her, by every species of argument, to insurrection, would, if the movement failed, after a feeble demonstration of support, desert her ally, and, craven as she was, purchase immunity by openly denouncing the mutiny she had fomented I There had occurred one period of intense perplexity. It had been hinted by a devoted band of real well-wishers — nay, was tacitly admitted at The Haie itself— that a brief interval of school between Miss Mulcaster's childhood and womanhood would be decidedly advantageous to the latter. But how to effect it ? School ! School for the indomitable Mildred — petted, wilful idol, whom one and all had joined in placing beyond the pale of restraint or reproof of any kind! But for the heroic devotion of Louisa, nothing would, perhaps, have been done. She, who was to have remained at home, undertook not only to present the project to her. sister's mind, but, in the event of success, to accompany her, as school-mate and general attendant, her duties being to dress, soothe, and comfort her, assist her with her lessons, take her punishments, if any, and generally abet and promote all such whims, fancies, and eccentricities as might be found compatible with scholastic life. Louey's proposal elicited but little surprise. It was, everybody felt, a natural thing, and merely fell to Louey, as it were, in the line of duty, no other slave being eligible for the office required. So, gravely kissing her mother, as though she were bound on some remote and perilous mission, Louisa sought her sister. To the unspeakable amazement of the whole house, Miss Mulcaster received the unexpected representation not only with clemency, but with pleasure. She had been in search of a new idea. She was a little wearied of always having her own way. " School !" School was the very thing she had been wanting. (Louey assented.) When should they go ? To day ? In about three months, Mrs. Mulcaster made her final selection of a school. There were but seven pupils, and the terms, owing to the carriage and ladies-maids, were somewhat high ; but the opportunity of two vacancies with Mrs. Lofthouse was not to be let slip, and thither, accordingly, the youno ladies repaired. About this period George Gosling quitted Eton, and went to a German university ; and, with the exception of a few weeks, during which he and Mildred did not meet, was not again in England until the decease of his father summoned him, at the age of twentytwo, to take possession of Gosling Graize and the oldest baronetcy in Britain. Prepared as George was to find his little wife grown into a lovely woman, he was absolutely startled by her excessive beauty, and scarcely less so by the extraordinary facility with which she seemed to have acquired accomplishments not often perfected in an ordinary lifetime. Her governess Mrs. Lofthouse, had managed, with excellent tact, tp win the child's love and confidence from the outset, and, becoming warmly interested in the beautiful but un--disciplined little genius that had come under ber care, laboured so successfully to develop her singular gifts, that when, at the end of four years, the young lady, duly completed, made her entry into society, she at once carried it by storm. George Gosling, returning to England just as Miss Mulcaster made her triumphant sally from the ambush of Mrs. Lofthouse's, hastily enrolled himself among her slaves, and, skilfully using the opportunities afforded at certain seasons by the vicinity of the country residences, soon distanced his many competitors, and became an affianced husband. It was an unwise proceeding of the rejected lover, as he rode mournfully under the yellowing trees, to trace back this history. Before it was half finished, his stolid resignation had melted quite away. " Not win her, after all ? And who — who, then " He looked round, as if to assure himself that he was not riding in a dream. Not so happy. There were the familiar paths and trees. He passed the famous larch-tree, pride of The Haie, one hundred and thirty feet from crest to root. " Steadfast old boy !" said George, giving it an envious lash with his whip as he passed. "Quiet, jade," to his startled mare. " Will you dance ? Ho, then, for a rattling gallop ! Ho for a frantic leap ! Going — going to be married !" he shouted, waving his hat in the air as his mare bounded forward. " But ho, the bride ! Where's my bride? Hurrah, my ladies! Who will be Dame Gosling ? Stay — I have it. I will have my fancies — my caprices, too. Horne — home ! And, as I am a living man, the first woman I speak with — marriageable and consenting— shall be my wife ! I swear it — I ' swear it. Yes, by this living face of nature." He pulled up, took off his hat, and turned his excited face to the sky. "And may my pledge, if broken, bear the penalty of a violated oath ! I will ride home, and the first woman I meet shall be my wife. Conditioned always" — his heart ' gave a half-hopeful thrill — "that she will

not relent. And, by Heaven, I will put that to the issue !" The next moment he .had wheeled his horse, and was speeding towards The Haie. As fortune would have it, Mildred was coming out, flower-basket and scissors in hand.' Gravity— a rare visitant — always became Mildred. She was grave now, and when, as George, dismounting and leading his horse, came to meet her, she lifted up her violet eyes with not well-pleased astonishment, the young man thought he had never till that moment fully realised the true character of her loveliness. "Returned ?" she said, the smooth brow slightly contracting, but expanding again, as she noticed his agitated face. " Heavens, what is che matter ?" "You" ask that!" said George, bitterly. Then he added : " Miss Mulcaster, I have returned to tell you what I have already done in acquiescence with your .. decision. In losing you, I lose all that constitutes the worth of human affection. Henceforth, it is a matter of indifference to me what objects cross me, or associate their interests with mine. So, listen ; you who, for two years, owned yourself my affianced wife. My heart, Mildred, recognises no degrees of content. If you will not be my wife, all I women are the same to me. I have sworn, ih | the face -of Heaven, that, if you persist in this destruction of my hopes, I will return by the way I came, and take to wife the first woman I may see — no matter of what station — willing to accept what you have cast away." Mildred gazed at him for a moment, as if considering whether he were in jest or not. Then she burst into a silvery laugh, and clapped her little hands, like a pleased ; child. "An excellent idea ! George George — what a romance it would make ! May I tell mamma ?" " You do not believe me, then ?" said the young man, with heightened colour. Mildred's manner changed : " Believe that you would so far forget what is due to yourself, your friends, your renowned ancestors, of whom you are so proud— believe that, had you actually formed a resolution so preposterous, you would have been guilty of the additional folly of using it against me, as a weapon of insult and menace ?" ! "Farewell, Miss Mulcaster," said George. And he rode away. When Mrs. Mulcaster and her younger daughter returned from their drive, they perceived at a glance that something had ruffled the tranquillity of the spoiled sovereign ; and, by dint of respectful cross-ex-amination, at length elicited the startling truth. George was dismissed ! George— the old playmate, friend, accepted suitor, betrothed husband — banished to the Siberia of distant civility, without hope of recal ! Perhaps, for the first time in her life, Mrs. Mulcaster experienced a burning desire to box her darling's ears. The latter had never been at the pains to conceal her aversion to George's unlucky name, but none dreamed that it was so deeply rooted. Sacrifice an amiable, honourable man, whom she unquestionably liked (not to mention sixteen thousand a year !), for a name, a word! Dismiss the familiar George into the region of ordinary acquaintance — perhaps alienate him altogether — perhaps goad him into some foolish alliance, such as, in his passion, he had hinted at ! . "Child, child!" cried Mrs, Mulcaster, breaking all allegiance, and wringing her hands in despair, " what — what have you done?" | The child evinced on this occasion a less | imperious bearing, and made a far more feeble fight than might have been expected of her. Still, the necessity of defending her prerogative induced her to vindicate with some warmth her title — so long allowed — to do precisely as she pleased. She really could not understand the unprovoked attack thus made upon her, and by those from whom, of all others, she had a right to look for solace and support. Two to one (Louey had not opened her lips) was usually considered unfair odds, and, but for a sense of duty, she would decline a controversy conducted on such principles. -Tf^a.was the duty? Why, the duty she owed her sex, which was that of her assailants, to check the proud pretensions, the cool self-sufficiency, of those who preferred their suit, just as if such a thing as refusal was not to be dreamed of. Consented ? Well, yes, in a manner, she had.' But that was beside the question. She was saying, when interrupted by clamour, or was going to say, that really any young lady who, at her own expense administered a wholesome rebuke to such pretenders, deserved well of her sex, her country, and her family, not, at all events to be chidden like an infant by those to whom she fled for sue — for sue — succ succour in her m — mise — misery; — concluding with a burst of tears, which completed the business, and caused the muchinjured beauty to be soothed, entreated, idolised, for the rest of the day. Speculation now set in. "But whom," resumed Mrs. Mulcaster, » can George marry ? Suppose him serious in this mad idea, it is the merest chance in the world that he should meet with any woman of respectable station before reaching home. Suppose it were a village-girl, gathering fagots ! Imagine a gipsy ! You may laugh, but, take my word for ifc, George Gosling is the man, of all others, to adhere to a resolution once made, however intrinsically absurd. Ridicule would not deter him. His regard for a pledge, or promise of any kind, is almost fanatical. Let me see. At his own lodge, he's happily safe. There are only the old people. Sally Downey's gone to service. There wouli have been a chance for Sally ! And she was a plump, rosy little woman. I've seen him chat and laugh with her." " Perhaps," said Miss Louisa, unguardedly, " George recollected that Sally was the usual portress." " He did nothing of the sort," said Mildred, decisively. "I wonder, Louey, you dare to make so unworthy a suggestion." "It was a foolish observation, my love," said her mother. " Your sister, lam sure, already regrets having made it." " No, I don't," said Louey, hardily. " Hush, my dear. (Footstool nearer to your sister. So.) Now then, who is there at Gosling Graize ?" "No Visitors at all," said Louisa. "As to the servants, if you can possibly allude to them, they're almost all oldish and — and fattish — the cook enormous ! Mrs. Mapes, the housekeeper, is laid up with rheumatism, But really, dearest mother, we may spare ourselves these grotesque conjectures. That

t George will do his best to keep his wicked • vow, or whatever he chooses to call it, 1 3 think very probable. But his safety lies in . the respect of those about him. Not one 3 of the household would be so forgetful oi i all decency, so wanting in duty, as to re--5 gard such a proposal as anything more than I a boyish jest!" ; Mrs. Mulcaster coughed gently. She » had seen something more of the world and ■ its ways than her daughter. That look of [ manifest uneasiness provoked the petted i Mildred. "I do think, niamma — it is positively • cruel in you !" she said, in a fretting tone. : "'Cruel,' dear? In me? To do what?" "To make so much of such utter nonsense. You must see how it annoys me — yet you pursue the subject." "Pursue, my dear! I did not say one word," pleaded poor Mrs. Mulcaster. " I appeal to Louey." Louey came gallantly to the rescue. " Mamma said nothing, Mildred. It was I." "I am obliged, Louisa, by your flat contradiction," said Mildred, with dignity. " But I never said mamma had spoken. Her looks, however, were eloquent — and I repeat ■" "Mildred, Mildred," said her mother, " this is too bad. Is it not, Louisa ?" "It is unkind and unfair," said the latter, warmly, " and I " Mildred burst into tears. "Louisa, Louisa !" exclaimed Mrs. Mulcaster, turning fiercely on her ally. " How dare you address your elder sister in that tone P Do, I beg, restrain that impetuosity of temper. There! Wipe the pretty eyes. Come, now — compose yourself. Hark, love! A visitor!" ' Mildred started, and became composed. A few moments, and Colonel Lugard was announced. He had been taking his evening ride, and, as was his frequent wont, dropped in for a chat with his fair neigh- , hours. In the course of conversation, the colonel observed. " By-the-by, I have had what I might almost call an adventure ! I was cantering up to the Graize, to have a word with Gos- • ling. Good fellow, George. Rides capitally to hounds. I wish he'd take them himself, out of the hands of that mere horse-jockey, Screwtop ! As I was saying, I was riding up the park, when my horse made a furious swerve. It needed the old dragoon grip, to avoid measuring my length on George's turf, so startled was my usually steady old hunter at what he had seen. And what do you think it was ? A young lady, Miss Mulcaster. Yes, Miss Louisa — a beautiful young lady ! We had come suddenly upon her, seated between two trees, and either her surprising beauty, or else a scarlet thing that covered her head and shoulders, had thrown my horse into the consternation I have described. I had managed to drop my whip in the manceuvre, but even before my groom, Will Crooke, could ride up, the young lady had stepped gracefully forward, and placed it in my hand. Her hood fell back as she did so — and, by Jove !" The colonel stopped, as if quite overcome by the remembrance. "Who upon earth could she be?" said Mrs. Mulcaster, looking at her daughters. "Who indeed?" resumed the colonel. " She was plainly, nay, humbly dressed. I should call her of the cottage class, for I noticed that her hand, though well- shaped, and critically clean, was not especially white, as if it had not disdained rough work. Her manner, however, was perfect. A precious old churl she must have thought me ; for, so much was I taken aback by her singular beauty, that I merely clutched my whip, grunted, and jogged on. I wish I had stopped. I wish I'd gone back. If Will Crooke hadn't been behind me, I think I should." "Very well, colonel," said Mrs. Mulcaster. "I am coming to call upon Mrs. Lugard to-morrow, and it will be my painful but , imperative duty to place her on her guard." "It will be a most neighbourly precaution," replied the gay veteran ; " and, in order to assist your admirable scheme for the promotion of domestic harmony at ' Brambridge, I gave you authority to add, that it is my fixed resolve to find out, by hook or — more probably — by Crooke, who this damsel is." "Did you see Geo — Sir George Gosling ?" i asked the lady of the house. "I did not see Sir George Gosling, my ■ dear lady. They told me he had ridden over hither, and would possibly not return to dinner. I thought it quite possible," . added the colonel, with a sly glance at • Mildred. Shortly thereafter the visitor took his i leave. Mrs. Mulcaster, who had been watching her eldest born with stealthy solicitude, now sat down beside her on the sofa, and took her passive hand. " How pale you look, my own darling !" she began. " That wicked George ! I declare I cannot forgive him. Vexing my pretty rose." "I am going to bed," responded the flower addressed. " Come up to me, some of you, in two hours, and see if I require anything. Knock softly, and, if I don't answer, go away." And her majesty withdrew. But she did not go to bed. Mildred sat looking in her glass for half an hour. Ifc was a habit she had, holding these tete-a--tetes with herself. Howsoever, on this ' occasion, the parties did not agree. She rose pettishly, went to the window, and ' leaned forth. Restless and out of sorts as she was, the calm face of nature, preparing !■ for repose, seemed to rebuke with its i serenity the selfish passions that seethed . within her perplexed bosom. Conscience, suddenly awaking, began, in accents stern and inexorable — more distinct, as it seemed, in the vesper-hush — to accuse her in such wise, that her wilful heart; gave way. She began, culprit like, to palliate her doings. 1 "I was mad," sbe found herself murmuring, as in miserable extenuation. "I waa not mistress of myself. The resolution ' came" — (from the days of Eve temptation has always " come ") — " on the sudden. If I had reflected — reasoned. But I never 1 can reflect. Besides," she continued, gaining courage in her self-vindication, "I am not; sure that, after all, I was so very wrong, i Gosling! Lady Gosling! Too absurd! i Perhaps I expected that he would have vea- [ soneel with me. I think I remember being , angry that he didn't. Then, to be threat- , ened! Stay, though, did he threaten? i Good Heaven! if be should do it! Who ; can this girl be, cast in his way at this un-

I happy moment ? What shall Idp ? What [ can be done ? Fool that I have been ! i false to my word, to my peace ; for now I i know that I loved him, and, in refusing him f for his detestable name, I have but proved ■ myself a truer Gosling than he ?" i With something between a giggle and a sob, the beautiful head sank down, and the > voice lost itself in genuine tears. I When the obedient Louisa, followed by a maid bearing tea and other restoratives, came as commanded to her sister's chamber, a startling change had come over the spoiled ' one. She was affable, not to say humble, thanked and caressed her sister, as she had » not done, since their school days — sent her love and duty to dearest mamma (who received the latter consignment, at all events, ■ with profound astonishment), declared she was well, better, in fact, than usual — and '■ begged to be left quite alone.