Tales and Sketches.

Western Star, Issue 374, 21 August 1880, Page 10 (Supplement)

Tales and Sketches.

THE DAY YOU'LL DO WITHOUT ME. CHAPTER I. The day was full of sweetness and light, the glory and warmth that Summer can shed over and extract from the land. Down to the left of the verdure-covered old Vicaragehouse, where the chief action of the story I am relating took place—broad meadow-lands lay bathed in a purple haze—purple haze that spoke of intense heat in the open air, and that made even the self-absorbed young pair under the trees on the lawn grateful for the shelter afforded them. Any one who had seen them there would have seen the naturalness of such self-absorption and at the same time have felt sorry for it. For though the dawning liking; between them was “ natural,” it was not fit. The girl was the daughter of a poor country parson, who eked but & slender professional income by taking pupils. The boy was the highly-prized son of a noble house. And still they were allowed to be together! The young fellow of seventeen, though he had not come to his full heritage of manly, beauty yet, was a worthy idol, so far as appearances went, for a young girl to set up and worship.. lie had the slender, clearly defined, delicate form and features that belong to the handsomest race in the world—the English aristocracy. There was a look of “ breed ” about him that was unmistakable — that look that is never seen unless blood and culture have aided in producing it. What wonder, then, that May Baron contrasted him with the well-to-do young farmers in her father’s parish; and having done that, erected an altar in her heart, whereon she worshipped Lionel Hastings unceasingly! She was supremely happy this morning, for her mother had given her a half-holiday to dispose of as ’she pleased. That excellent mother, on household cares intent, quite believed that she ■would go off for a stroll in the woods with some girl-friend, as it had been her wont to do from her childhood. But Lionel magnir ficently ordered her to “ stay and read poetry to him under the weeping-willowand she was only too pleased to obey him. The sunbeams fell down like scattered gold through the leaves, fell down flickeringly on the two young heads —the boy’s covered with crisp curls of dark brown ; the girl’s crowned with such golden tresses as only fall to the lot of one woman in a thousand. The masculine head reposed comfortably on the boy’s own folded anus. The feminine one was bent down over a volume—a collection of miscellaneous poetry—from which she was Reading lines and verses at random. “ This is very jolly, ” Lionel said languidly, for the heat was subduing him. His only reason for speaking at all was that May had kept her violet eyes cast down on her book .for a long time, and he liked to look at them often. He had his “ taste’s desire ”at once. Without a moment’s tantalizing delay she lifted her silken fringes obediently, and bent her honestly adoring gaze upon him, as she said, sympathetically: ‘‘Yes, isn’t it? No lessons, and such sunshine!”

“ And you so jolly pretty,” he cut in, with a vast increase of energy. Then he withdrew one arm from under nis head, and flung it around her slender waist—slender certainly, for though May was sixteen, she was symmetrically and perfectly formed. “ hi ow, you may go on reading, ” the young sultan said, as May acknowledged his caress by saying : “ Oh, dear Lionel!” A rosy color flushed the girl’s face. The thought that perhaps she ought not to let Lionel Hastings treat her as he might his sisters crossed her mind and clouded her happiness for an instant. Then, in her purity and innocence, she blamed herself for even that thought, condemning it to herself as “dreadful.” Then in her confusion she began reading at random, selecting by chance the very poem she ought not to have selected. It was an American poem, written by an anonymous author, and deserves to be more widely known than it is. One verse ran thus : “ You call me true and tender names, And gently twine my tresses ; Anri all the while my happy heart Beats time to your caresses., You love me in your tender way; I answer as you let me j But oh ! there cornea another day— The day that you’ll forget me 1” Her voice had faltered more than once in the reading, and he had watched her confusion, and enjoyed it with half-laughing' malice. Boy as he was, he knew so well what was in this young girl’s heart. He thoroughly understood her sudden shame, and perfectly realized how keenly the dread that hfe might go away and forget her cut May Baron. “ Look at me, pet!” he said with sudden authority. j “ I—l am looking for something else to read,” she stammered.. ’ “Look at me, and confess 1 Aren’t you ' Sorry ; you read 1 those lines, as they describe your own situation and feelings to a certain decern!”- 1 : -■ ' ; ’ " ' “Lionel, don’t be so rude and cruel;” : ; He had taken her chin in his hand, and turned her fade toward him. And she knew that her face was telling the truth, that she loved him much I “My own pet 1” he said, ; more- softly and seriously. ‘‘ I shall never go away and forgfct you—trust me for that.” Then he reared himself up, and kissed the little face that was rich with happy blushes now ; and May was well content to believe him. “ I shall have you painted by Millais,” he said presently, lying back and regarding hen critically. ■ v , ■ YY' “ Shall you ?” She was alight with pleasure at the way in which he was assuming the'right to direct her and manage for her in th’e.ifutflite. “ Who is Millais? Is he any one I ought to. know about ?” “ He's one of the greatest painters alive, ” he said with reproving gravity. “I don’t know that I shouldn’t pat him at the top of the list of English painters, if it weren’t for Leighton’s conflicting claims. Of course, you ought to know about him, pet ; only, how -should you know about any one While’ you’re kept cooped up here !’ ’ Then he went on to tell heir that Millais had painted his two sisters, both of whom were great beauties'and celebrated belles, and both of whom were married to peers of the realm. “They were the youngest brides of their respective seasons, ”he added. ‘ ‘ Ida'was'ctoly sixteen. ’ “Sixteen! my age!” she exclaimed in astonishment. “ Yes, by. Jove !• you are sixteen. But toy sister Ida looked much more of a woman. She had no end of offers; but my mother knew that St. John would come on at the end of the season, as she kept Ida free.” “It was lucky your sister Ida didn't care for any of the others,’ she suggested timidly, "She did, though. She was an awful goose about a fellow called Bartie Friel \ but he hadn t the needful. The best of it is that hes St. Johns cousin, and introduced St, John to Ida. He thought ’ - the boy paused, and laughed lightly at the absurdity of it—that Ida would win old St, John’s 1 liking, and get him to give Bartie something good ; but Ida won something more than St.-John’s liking—she won the title and coronet,” “ And his heart 2” “His heart? I don’t know about that; he’s popularly supposed to have lost his heart thirty years ago to my mother. ” “ Then he must be quite old ?” May questioned in angry surprise. “ Tell me, Lionel, is he quite old and gray "Of course, heist He’s fifty, and Ida’s eighteen.” "Poor thing!'’ May ejaculated with honest pity,

“ Very few people speak of Lady St. John as * poor thing,’ I can tell you,” he said, laughing. “ She’s the leader of about the best coterie in London.” “Poor Mr. Friel, then,” she then said softly. The boy’s face clouded. “ Bartie Freil is —” He stopped himself abruptly. And she asked, with interest, “ Is what?” “Never mind; I can’t tell you, pet. Something you ought not to hear till you’re a fashionable young lady,” he added, halfsneeringly ; then he ended by saying: “He’s not half such a good fellow as old St. John, after all.” They were summoned to luncheon soon after this, and May went in dreamily, her head being full of faint outlines of the romances in real life, of which Lionel’s sister Ida was the heroine. The dining-room of the picturesque vicarage was as dreary an apartment as drab furniture and dingy papered walls could make it. Nature had done a great deal for the room by throwing garlands of blush roses and French honeysuckle across the lattice windows ; and through these floral shades the sun-beams fell in the dancing, graceful way in which sunbeams do play through leaves. But, alas ! all beauty came to an end here. The coarse, crude, time-worn, childrentore furniture could not he beautified even by the sunbeams. We are so apt to accuse the mistress of a house of “want of taste if her surroundings are ugly and stiff and soiled. But how can a woman with an empty purse and full bands drape windows artistically, and polish up her househould gods perpetually ? Poor Mrs. Baron most certainly had not solved the difficult problem of how this was to be done. She had seen things fade and grow more and more dilapidated year by year, and she had made strenuous efforts to repair them. But repairing is not replacing, and things had been meagre even at the beginning; so now it was but small wonder that an air of dull though decent poverty should reign over everything in the house. It maybe asked : “Butwith daughters who were grown up, should the taste of beautifying, or of attempting to beautify, have been left to the already overworked mother and manager ?” The answer is simple enough. The two elder girls were wearing their way through the world as governesses. And May’s education was incomplete, she being only sixteen. Truth to tell, May had never troubled her handsome little head about any of these shortcomings of her home, before this awakening day. But now, when she sat down to luncheon, something about the dinginess of the room struck her as being sordid and utterly inharmonious utterly out of keeping with the refinement that surrounded Lionel Hastings like an atmosphere. Her meditations on that subject were put to flight abruptly. Her father spoke iu agitated tones—tones which the poor wife knew so well portended fresh anxieties, fresh combats with poverty. “ Lionel, I have had a letter from Lady Hastings this morning ; she thinks that the sooner you go to Oxford the better.” Mr. Baron’s voice trembled very obviously. Lionel “going to Oxford ” meant the direct. loss of three hundred a year to the poor overwrought vicar of Balton.

It is needless to recapitulate here all that was thought and felt and said after the keynote of separation had been struck. In the midst of the boy’s natural delight at the proposed change, there was a pang of regret at toe idea of parting with May. Pleasure and sorrow were delicately blended in his heart, and they filled the situation with emotional interest. But in May’s heart it was all pure sorrow, unmixed with any pleasurable sensation at all. He was leaving her, going to Oxford ; going to be “ a man,’ going to “ begin life and in these facta he found compensation for leaving her. But she only felt that she. was losing him ! For her there was no compensation either in the present or toe future. Lionel was going away ! With the bashfulnesa of a girl’s first love, she never once thought of censuring him ever so slightly for not feeling this approaching separation painfully, as she felt it. it was natural, she told herself, that boys should long for and revel in the commencement of their emancipation from the trammels of their boyhood. Especially was it natural that Lionel should do so. Light as her father’s rule over the lad was, still it was a rule, and Lionel was bom to be “free,” if ever human being was so. Thus she reasoned and argued against her regret at his going, and went on regretting it just the same. The positive difference which would be necessitated in the Household arrangements by the loss of that sum which Lionel represented to her mother never occurred to her. She was too young and loving and thoughtless to cumber herself with domestic cares, or take thought for the morrow of domestic lift. It did not occur to Lionel that he ought to say something more definite than he had said to the girl, whose whole horizon was darkened by the thoughts of his departure. He had meant loyally and lovingly ; and so, when he kissed her on the lips, and put a little gold ring on her finger, he thought he had done all that was needful. When the time came for him to marry— fellows of his “order” married early—he should marry May, of course. Meantime-it was useless to talk about it. And May relied unconsciously upon the fidelity he did not plead ; but still;though far more impatiently about that “ meanwhile ” than he did. At last the day came for them to say good-bye, and the boy went out into the world, where a thousand fresh Interests sprang up like flowers in his path, making it beautiful. And May went about the old vicarage house and grounds as of old, and found the days very long and eventless now that there was no Lionel to brighten them. Lady Hastings wrote a courteous letter to Mr. Baron, thanking him for the care and attention he had bestowed upon her son. And Lionel himself wrote a nice note to May during his first term —a note which May prised next to her twisted gold ring; though there was little in it save an account of his feats on the river, and of the prowess of a certain well-pedigreed bull pup. She answered it with all the frank confidence of a child—all toe hearty, loving sympathy of a woman. And then jt ended. Gradually the old vicarage Jipuse and all the occupants of it faded from his mind. Life was full of bright promise for him, and he bad no time to look back, He finished his college career with - more tbap credit. He was a touch more than .clever, and hi? impetuosity stood him in stead of perseverance, and carried Mm well on the road be had chosen. By toe time lie was fiye-and-twenty he had done such good service to Government by the sublety, skill, and energy with which lie had carried through a d.elicate -negotiation abroad, that Government recognised his claims munificently, and gave him an important and highlysalaried honie appointment, In fact, Lionel Hastings had made his mark, rtoA ie mothers of daughters regarded him kindly. The years bed flown with him, the eight years that had passed since jvc had' said good-bye to Mary Baron, and promised never to forget her. But they had not flown with her.

CHAPTER 11. The first three years that passed after their parting had gone by peacefully enough, though they were burdened by dullness and poverty. Still they were spent ip her old home, among her loved ones. But the Ipgt five had seen her knocked about from one family of strangers to another; now as companion, now as governess ; for her father and mother were dead, and all May inherited from them was a patient, brave heart.

There had been no lack of lovers during these long years—lovers who were ready not only to woo, but to “marry and a’,” if she could only have awakened from that early dream, and left off wearing that little twisted gold ring. But she could uot bring herself to do either. She clung as tenaciously to her old memories as she did to that frail little pledge of the affection Lionel Hastings had forgotten. So she preferred working her •way on wearily enough, to forfeiting her claims to cherish hope and her ring. “ She was far too Beautiful to be a governess,” all the men said ; for time had matured and enriched the beauty that had been very bright and bewitching at sixteen. Poor May 1 She longed sometimes to show Lionel the beauty that others prized so highly. Surely if he could see her he would remember Balton and their old “young love.” Her present occupation was a congenial one to her in many ways. She was acting as Secretary and amanuensis to a lady, who insisted on being “ literary,” and who, luckily for May, was really fond of reading good works. This lady was sufficiently bright and clever to be able to collect about her a brighter and cleverer circle ; and the ability to do this proves no inconsiderable talent.. It was while mingling with this circle that May heard the name of her old love again for the first time for eight years. “ Lionel will be here in an hour, my dear Mrs. Gaspard, ” May heard one evening, and, looking round, she saw a steady matron with Lionel Hastings’ eyes. “ His mother ! ” she thought with a thrill, as she obeyed an irresistible impulse, and got herself nearer to Lady Hastings, longing to speak to her, to do her some, service, however slight, for love of the unforgotten Lionel ! Suddenly the fact that he would be before her in less than an hour recurred to her ; and the thought of how he would look and feel and act upset her selfpossession, aud made her falter in the advances she had been about to make to Lady Hastings. But that lady, being very keen about beauty, had already marked her. “Who is the girl with the crown of gold ? ” she asked of the hostess ; and. Mrs. Gaspard, who was proud of her well-selected library and handsome companion, answered : “My secretary, Miss Baron. Quite a jewel. I wouldn’t have her in the house for the world if I had a son.”

Lady Hastings laughed easily. “Those fears are quite out of elate ; men are so much wiser than they were. What does she do ? ” “Everything.” “ And how does she do it? ” ‘ ‘ Magnificently. I hope no one will discover her value and rob me of her. -She saves me all trouble, and sings like a prima donna, for thirty pounds a year.” “Pray, make her sing, presently,” Lady Hastings said. And at the same moment Lionel entered the rom.

May felt as if the words “ Lionel, don’t you know me?” must be painted on her face, as, after speaking to Mrs. Gaspard and his mother, he turned, and carelessly scanned the form and features of the girl who wore his twisted gold ring upon her finger. " A golden beauty !” was his thought as he let his gaze travel away from her. ‘ ‘Never seen her before ; quite new, evidently.” It was a relief to her that at this moment Mrs. Gaspard came to hef and issued her polite command in the words, " My dear, will you sing ? ” The acute agony she experienced at his non-recognition could not have been borne in silence. She must either have cried out or laughed. Heaven help the women who laugh in their anguish; they suffer more than those who weep. She must do something, she felt, and so it would be as well to sing, and as she got herself to the piano, and took off her gloves, she stole another look at him, and he was looking at her admiringly. His lips had left a kiss on hers which had never been brushed off. And he had forgotten her ! Oh, the pain and shame of it! She plunged into sometning, and sang it well, though every fibre trembled. When she had finished it, he was standing by her, ready to offer a compliment. Again she turned her great pleading violet eyes upon him ; hut he did not know her. The little ring shone in the lamplight, for May never killed it by wearing another. Doubtless, he admired her fingers, but he never noticed the ring. He spoke to her of her masters, of those who had trained her voice, discussing them and it intelligently. Her voice “reminded him of a queen of song whom he had heard in Vienna,” he said,and he added that he never forgot a voice. "Would she sing again? He would like to remember hers.” How dear he was to her in spite of all his’ cruel unconsciousness ! How desperately dear! How she hated Lady Hastings at that moment, for coming up to him, and putting her hand on his arm, and telling him that she must “take him away ! ” How she envied toe mother ! How she loved the sou ! “lam to hear one more song, and then I am at your service, You will sing again,, will you not ? ” he said, and Lady Hastings backed his request by saying: ‘‘ it is ’ really asking too much of you ; but do, ” She could not resist the impulse before her—though she strove to be blind to it—rose the scene and toe actors in it—the day that was full of all summer glory, sweetness, warmth and light—toe velvet lawn and weeping willow and rose-covered vicarage, and the splendid boy-hero, to whom a lovely shy little girl was reading poetry. She could not resist the impulse. Come what would, he should he reminded of that scene, t 00... And so when her pearly notes in all their purity smote his hear they fell bn the words : “ You love me in your tender way ! I answer as you let me ; But, oh! there comes another day— The day that you’ll forget me ! ” And after one eager gasping glance, he exclaimed; “ Why, its May—May Baron !” and her song came to an end. It would be pleasant to record that; as she was revealed to him, his love for her returned without delay. But mine is a true tale, and therefore I cannot wrest to my, own pleasure in any such way. As he recognised her, he admired her immensely, and remembered that even in her girlhood she had pot been gawky after toe manner of other girls, But he entirely forgot that he had ever loved her, or ever acted in such a way as to teach her to love him. There was not the slightest approach to that high misdemeanor in fashionable life - a scene. His self-possession was so easy, so perfect, that May at once recovered her own. True, shejeeased singing the instant he exclajmed: “Why, it’s May—May Baron!” But .ev.en his mother coldd find no faplt with Hip slow, sweet spiile and gentle inclination of the head with which toe beautiful anil clever companion greeted hpr father’s former pppU, “Let me introduce you to my toother,” he said at once; and May found herself made known to his mother, who complimented her “ on the possession of a charming voice.” He did not notice the ring,, As soon as she recognized that he was absolutely without any recollection of what she had suppppecl them to lie to one another, May took bare that pc slipuM not see it. She slipped bri her glove, and whop that >yfis dope she felt safer. ’ l sfie need' have )iad up fear. fie had forgotten the episode pf the rjngas utterly a? {to bad forgpttcp toe words he had spoken when she read the poem under the ■pillow-tree —the same poem she had sung

this night. . , Presently lie asked after her father, and May had to ice herself in order to avoid breaking down as she replied that he was dead. H,e adpiffed her very much, It was quite a treat to meet with that genuine radiantly gold hair, in conjunction with such intensely violet eyes. She was altogether in "good form,” too,'and he lazily wondered

if she was married. She had not corrected himwhenhehad introduced her to his mother as “ Miss Baronbut that might be due solely to the fact of her having lived long enough to have discovered that it is not worth while to correct any one for anything. She was dressed well, too. Lionel liked women who were well dressed. He recalled a vision of her in the old days climbing up a tree to get apples fofhim, in a tom dress and a ragged garden-hat. “ Are you living in town ? ” he asked, “lam living here with Mrs. Gaspard, and I must go and attend to some of my duties, ” she said, rising and smiling at him as composed as if her heart had not been nigh unto breaking with revived hope and bitter disappointment. She had pictured meeting him a thousand ways, but not one of the had been like this. He turned to his mother as May crossed the room away from them. “ She must have made a sensation when she came out, ” he remarked. “My dear Lionel, she is very handsome and nice ; but she has never made a ‘ sensation’ or ‘come out,’ as you seem to think. She is and has been a governess all her life, I suppose. But she is really a beautiful woman.” “Magnificent! I was in hopes she was married, that I might have seen more of her. She used to be a clever girl, I remember. ’ Then there was a fresh arrival. Lovely Lady St. John, the leader of the wildest, gayest, most daring set in town, entered, and in another minute a “friendly ” smile flashed round the circle as Bartie Friel lounged in. Of all spectacles on the face of the earth, Lady St. John’s reckless disregard of appearances was the most obnoxious to Lady St. John’s brother. He was fond of her, proud of her, well inclined to believe that there was—as she used to assure him—“no harm in her intimacy with poor Bartie.” But he could not endure the looks that were cast upon the affair. And in exact proportion as he loved his sister he detested Bartie Friel. So now, with a sterner face than Lady St. John’s friends and aspersers cared to smile into, he proceeded to takeleave of his hostess aud bow himself out of the room. As he was doing this, he heard the man who was carelessly compromising Ida —the man he most disliked in the world— ask: “Who is that lady witli the jet in her hair ? She’s the loveliest woman out! ” As these words fell on Lionel’s ears he remembered that he had not said good-bye to the “loveliest woman out,’’who was no other than his old friend and playfellow, May Baron. He made his way back to her ; and some little delay being caused by»the increasing crowd, by the time he reached her, Bartie Friel had gained the introduction and was engaging her in conversation. A sharp angry spasm, of annoyance—he could not define the cause of it—seized Lionel Hastings, aud he turned away and left the house without giving another word to May. Well, it was over! And it was over without her having derogated from her feminine dignity at all. There was a certain amount of satisfaction in this; but the dubious satisfaction was not balanced altogether by the keen anguish she felt at that utter forgetfulness of his. * * After this, I can never wear his ring again,” she thought, and she tried to take it off. The ring had been given to her as a pledge, and he had forgotten that he had given it ! That night the ring and his one letter were packed up and carefully put aside. She could not make up her mind to destroy them, though something told her that it would be wiser to do so. But “just for a little longer,” she pleaded with tiiis instinct of hers. And so “just for a little longer ” she kept them. Mrs. Gaspard prided herself upon “ living in a whirl.” She went everywhere, and received every one, aud so May, her beautiful companion, was very much before the eyes of that portion of the world who constituted Mrs. Gaspard’s “set” at this juncture. Further, Mrs. Gaspard had “no prejudices,” she was fond of averring, and so Bartie Friel, who was rather a black sheep by this time, received a warm welcome whenever he came to the house. But,, though a black sheep* he was a marvellously attractive one; and so people talked about him and about what he -was doing, and what he might be expected to do. His admiration for Miss Baron was not a secret very long. Every one heard of it; among others, Lady St. John and Lionel Hastings. It is greatly to be feared that every one is afflicted with that baleful thing a communicative friend. At any rate, Lady St. John was so afflicted, and thus it happened one day, when Lionel was quietly having a cup iof afternoon tea with his sister, that they learned from the lips of this friend that Mr. Bartie, Freil was positively going to marry that Miss Baron who lived with Mrs. Gaspard ! , , ;, : ~,, t ■ Lady St. John received the tidings with the utmost sang froid, “Is he?” she asked indifferently, And the friend replied in a friendly manner ; “Yes, I wonder he has not told you ? ” What could Lady St. John do but acquiesce in that wonder faintly. “ Bartie Friel marry that girl! ” Lionel exclaimed the moment he was alone with Ida. “She shall know what he is before she is a day older. Why, she's a good girl. The fellow would shock her out of her life or her reason." , , “ Oh, Lionel, don’t be harsh ; don’t malign him,” she muttered. Lionel scowled. “Then spare me,” she replied in a lower voice. “Iknow you blame him, but spare, me. Let him marry her if he loves her,” and then she began to weep bitterly, He would make no promise, but he went away from her feeling sorely distressed. Was she not his own sister? “Boor girl,” he thought bitterly; and then he remembered the other one, At least he would-for old friendship's sake— go and hear _ from May Baron if there were any truth in this vile report. He could not help calling it a “rile report,” as he reflected on some portions of Bartie’s career, and contrasted them with all he knew of May. “Why, I was in love with her myself when I was a lad,” he thought, and he wondered if May ever thought about that. An hour later he was inquiring for Mias Baron at Mrs. Gaspard’s door, and hearing that she would receive him.

She was quite as composed as on the occasion of their meeting that first night—quite as composed, and quite as beautiful. He could not stand by patiently and see her become the ppey of such a one as Bartip Friel, f'Pp'the spore pf p|d friendship? I’m going to presume greatly with ypu—greatly, Miss Baron,” he began, She opened her eyes in astonishment qt him, <f Haven’t you forgotten the old friend-, ship yet ?” she said, “ What a wonderful memory you have ! ” * ‘ Indeed, I have not forgotten the old friendship,” he replied gently ; “it prompts me to say something you may not want to hear.” He paused, and her treacherous heart began to beat. But she was mistress of herself. His ring and his letter were nestling in her bosom all the while. And hfi PPM! -PP‘ ! - caljnty of plji friendship ! Men dlffej -9P 1 women >rith (i vengpance, she thought, t l6 who kissed me, to ask if I have forgotten old friendship ! “ They say you arc going to marry a man of whom vou know very little, ” he began softly. And her face and heart grew like stone. “Tell me, is this true ? 5 She made no answer; and lie thought ■; V She is resenting <ny intgffefepee 5 she has forgotten how fond I was of her when Iw as ft hoy, and she looks upon this as mere impertinence,”

Nerving himself by all he knew about Bartie Friel, he resolved: “He shall never have her ! the splendid creature ! She deserves a better fate than to be a worn-out roue’s wife; ” and he spoke, warming with his words : “ You’re astonished at my presumption in interfering; I feel sure of that. But, May, I cannot forget the old days when we were children together. Can you ? ’’ She bent her head down lower, and he could not see her eyes; but he went on : “You have forgotten, probably, May, and why should you nave remembered, indeed ? But I will remind you, and then you will understand that it was more than mere friendship that prompts me to interfere.” Memory jogged him at this moment, and he went on glibly: “You may have forgotten how I loved 'you, darling—” , “ Have not you been the one to forget ? ’ “ On my faith, no 1 Not now, when I see you again," he protestedardently; and then, as he clasped her in his arms, she showed him the ring and the letter, and sang him a verse from the song that had awakened his memories; “ I do not fear the darkened way. With those dear arms about me ; i But oh ! I dread another day— The day you ll do without me 1 ” THE HUSBAND AND WIFE—THE LOVER AN D FRIP'.ND THE DONKEY AND BOX. AN AMUSING TRIFLE FROM AN ITALIAN NOVEL. Many years ago there dwelt iu the city of Ainalto a certain merchant, who, among his other speculations, was unlucky enough to venture in the matrimonial lottery, and to draw a bold and very artful woman for his wife. Now, his business frequently leading him to a distance from home, the lady was at full liberty to indulge “ her love of pleasure aud her love of sway, ” neglecting no opportunity of domineering over her household and coquetting with the prettiest young fellows she could find. One of these at length became so particular a favourite as to excite the notice of one of the merchant’s neighbors, who often amused himself with counting the number of visits paid to her by her gentle cavalier during her husband’s absence. He next resolved to add to his amusement by acquainting the poor gentleman with his suspicions, who, expressing all the surprise and concern possible upon the occasion, thanked his friend for his advice, observing that he would take care to provide a remedy. And in order to convince himself the more effectually of what he did not in the least wish to know, he fixed to return suddenly to his own house the very first night he should be supposed to be at a distance. So, to be as good as his word, he feigned a pretty long journey, but, retracing his steps towards evening, he went straight to his friend's house, situated just opposite his own, whence he could easily descry the motions of his enemy, if such, indeed, were lurking about his premises that night. His friend, who had stationed himself at his side, when he was just on the point of dropping to sleep, about midnight, was suddenly roused by an exclamation of horror from the poor merchant, and, looking out of the window, beheld the lover standing at his usual station. The door not being immediately opened, the latter took a few turns before the nouse with an easy and confident air, by no means an auspicious sign in the eyes of our jealous spectator, who pronounced himself to be a very unhappy man. With his friend's advice, therefore, he resolved to employ the following stratagem. After disguising himself as well as he could, lie very quietly stepped downstairs, and joining the gentleman on the terrace, he accosted him in a low tone as follows: “My mistress, signor, knows veiy well who it is, and lias sent me to say, that, fearing her husband s return, she wishes me to introduce you some other way into the house, lest anyone should observe you walking before the door.” Signor Dnido, believing him, of course, one of the lady’s domestics, consented to accompany him, and, upon approaching another entrance the husband took another key from his pocket and led the unconscious lover up a back staircase into a room where lay a huge chest. “ My mistress begs me to conceal : you a few moments in this trunk, signor, until my foolish master goes, when you may depond that she will not delay a moment in coming for you herself, and will give you the best entertainment the house can afford. So, jump in, signor; plenty of room aud plenty of air; and you will not have to wait many minutes.” Accordingly with abecomingdefereuce for the lady's orders, thebold youth steppedin, and the husband, locking him fast, put the key into his pocket and hastened back again to the house of his friend. “ He is caught! ’ he cried ; “the rat is fast in the trap. What will be the best way, think you, of disposing of him?” To add to the publicity of the affair, the lady's parents were roused from their beds in the middle of the night aud requested to attend ; and even her brothers and sisters, and cousins from the country, were not spared upon the occasion; all being, assembled in council to strike the souls of the guilty pair with tenfold awe, confusion, and despair. In the meanwhile, the imprisoned lover, hearing footsteps passing in all directions, but none approaching near, began to kick and cry out with all his strength, in which he was successful enough to attract the lady’s ear iu the next apartment, who inquired, in a great fright, what it,was. “It is I, my dear soul,” returned a feeblc voice; “ I am just dead. I wonder you can he so cruel as to keep me here.” “ Why, how did you get here, in the name of all the saints ? It is none of my doing, I am sure,’’ “I do not know,” said the voice, “ but your servant Eut me here by your orders, lest your husand should see me.” “0 Lord help me then !” she cried. “ I see how it all is : it is my husband's doing. It is all discovered. What, in the name of Heaven, shall we do ?” “Let me out by all means,” cried the voice, “unless yon wish to see me perish.” “Oh, dear ! bat my husband lias got the key, and it is impossible to break it open. Besides, he would murder me if I did.’ “Lookifor another key, then,” said the voice. “ That is a good thought; so I will,” said the lady; and, directing her search very effectually, she hit upon the right key, and was happy enough to liberate her lover. Once free, after drawing many heavy sighs, not for love, but to recover His breathing, he was about to leave the lady and secure his escape there was yet time, yyhen, seizing hipi half frantic in per arms, she conjured him not to. abandon per alone to death and ta dishonour, “ But wpat cap be done?” cried he; “ how can you contrive to escape ?” “ Wpy,” said she, “ if we cquld put somebody else into the trunk, there might he some excuse for letting you out.” “True,” said her lover; “but who can we find to take my place so that I may go, fbr it is quite time ?” “Now I tln>'h of it” returned the lady, “there is a young ass in the stable; if you would assist me to get it here, and shut it up in the box ?” “ Certainly I will do that,” replied the lover, though pot much flattered at of his successor ; * • I {lp that ; and let us go about it quickly.” So haying achieved this feat aud kissed his fair deliverer tenderly, he ran out of the house ; while the lady, having locked up the little donkey, very quietly went to rest. Ere long, however, she was roused by a tremendous noise at the door ; all the relations she had in the world were arrived, aud she went down to welcome them herself. “Now,” cried tpe enraged husband, rushing in, followed by the whole troop, “I will convince you of the truth of all I have said. Go in, go in ; and you shall take this vile dau"liter of yours home with you after wc have itispatched her wretched paramour before hey

face !” This they one and all promised him to do, proceeding with lighted torches and drawn swords to the scene of action, and followed at a convenient distance by the women, extremely curious to behold the termination of the tragedy. “ Come, no whining !” cried her husband. “I have long known your practices ; but I hardly thought that he could have made such a complete hypocrite of you ; he seems to have taught you to some purpose indeed ! Your time is at length come. I will give such proofs of your depravity ! Come along, lam going to open the box. But first, my good friends, have .four weapons ready, and draw round closer. Strike sure, and take good care he does not escape ; for I assure you he is a fierce and powerful fellow.” “ Never, fear, ’ they all cried at once ; “we will do his business ! I think we are a match for him !” and, wrapping their mantles around them, and brandishing their swords, they entreated him to proceed. One of them even cried in an insulting tone, “Have you confessed yourself, viUain ? for you are likely to have no other priests to officiate than ourselves.” As the jealous husband was unlocking the trunk his mother and sisters turned their heads aside as if desirous of shunning the horrid sight, even the shedding of a wicked adulterer’s blood. With hands and eyes intent upon the approaching slaughter, the men of veugence stood ; the box opened, and the ass, uneasy at having been so long confined, got upon his legs, and, the better to take his breath, brayed a long and discordant welcome to his friends. Such was the sudden shock he gave them that some of the spectators fainted; the more fortunate ran away, and great was the terror and confusion. HIS TELEPHONE. “I guess I haf to gif up my delephone all ready, ” said an old citizen yesterday, as he entered the office of the company with a very long face. “ Why, what’s the matter now ?” “ Oh ! eferytings. I got dot delephone in mine house so I could speak mit der poys ins der saloon down town, and mit my relations in Springwells, but I haf to gif it up. I nefer haf so much troubles. ” “ How ?” “ Vhell, my poy Slum, in der saloon, he rings der pell and calls me oop und says an old freut of mine vhants to see how she works. Dot ish all right. J say : ‘ Hello !’ und he says : ‘ Come closer. ’ I goes closer und hellos again. Den he says : ‘ Shtand a little off, und yells vmice more, and he says : ‘ Shpeak louder.’ I yells louder. It goes dot vhay for ten minutes, and den lie says :■ ‘Go to Texas, you old Dutchman !’ You see?” “Yes.” ‘ ‘ And den mein brudder in Springwells he rings de pell and calls me oop, und says how I vhas dis cafuings ? I says I vhas feeling like some colts, und he says : ‘ Who vhants to puy some goats?’ Isay: * Colts—colts— colts !’ und he answers, ‘Oh ! coats, 1 thought you said goats !’ Vhen I goes to ask him if he feels petter I hears a voice crying out, ‘ Yaht Dutchmans ish dot on dis line ?’ Den somepody answers, ‘ I doan know, but I likes to punch his headt!’ You see ?” “Yes.” “ Veil, somedimes my whife vhants to spheak mit me when 1 am down in der saloon. She rings mein pell und I says, ‘Hello!’ Nopody spheaks to me. She rings again, and I says, ‘ Hello !’ like dunder? Den der Central Office tells me to go aheadt, und den tells me to holdt on, und den tells mein vhife dot I am going avhay. ' 1 yells oiidt dot ish not so, und somepody says : ‘ How can I talk if dot old Dutchmans doan keep sthill!’ You see?” M Yes.” “ Und vhen I gets in bedt at night, somepudy rings der pell like the house vas on fire, und vhen I shumps oudt and calls hello, I hear somepody saying : ‘ Kaiser, doan' you vhant to puy a dog ?’ I vhauts no dog, and vhen I toll's ’em so, I hear some peoples laughing: ‘Haw! haw! haw!’ You see ?” “Yes.”

“Und so you dake it oudt, und when somepody likes to speak mit mj dey shall come xight avahy to mein saloon. Ouf my bmddes is sick he shall get petter; and if somepody vhauts to puy me a dog, he shall come vhere I can punch him mit a club !’’— American Paper. A GENTLE TEXAS YOUTH. His hair was long, yellow, and straight, or, at least, not curled. He rode into Sail Antonio on a pony. His boots were spangled with stars and his Mexican hat was heavy with the double toquilla that girdled it, and the horn of his saddle had on it a metalrimmed plate big enough for a ballet girl to dance on. When he had taken about twenty drinks, his soul waxed warm within him, and he remounted his pony for a ride. At the corner of Alamo and Commerce Streets he halted and uttered a yell that made all the glasses and bottles in the saloons for a block around rattle. “I am a Texican,” he said, when he had settled down in his stirrups, after the yell; “ I am a prairie wolf with steel thorns on my hide ; I was raised on mesquito beans boiled in mustang blood, and my first shirt was rawhide. My father was bom on a sanbar and sucked a cow-whale, and my mother was a Navajo squaw; I can, out-i - ide a monkey, out-swim a fish, out-jump a kangaroo, outcuss a bee-bitten parson, and I can shoot out the eye of a baby flea.” Having finished the foregoing oration, the cow-boy dug spurs inso his pony’s flanks and disappeared in the direction of the railway depot.