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pork business unto the third and fourth generation."

"I think she's done us all splendidly, Grizzle,-quite per-Raffelite, I tell her, which is so fashionable at present."

"And what style's that, pray, Mrs. Grizzle? You're gettin' quite a judge of such things, I s'pose, since you've visited so many galleries lately, and made friends with them Academy fellows."

"Well, I am allowed to have some taste, the artists have complimented me, often, on my discernment. The perRaffelite style, as nigh as I can make it out, is to paint things just as they be. I heard one artist to the Academy say he'd spent three days paintin' a brickbat, and wasn't satisfied with it yet. There was a beautiful hod, half full of mortar, by the same gentleman., I declare, if I'd been an Irishman I should a picked it up."

"Accordin' to that, Miss Bayles ought to have drawn me sittin' on a hogshead with a stye on my eye."

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'Nonsense, Grizzle! how you do go on. I'm talkin' about purchasing the hod-picture. Its ruther high-eight hundred dollars,—but they all say it's wuth it."

"I'm afraid it'll be considered his torical, my dear. I wouldn't like to have our friends see it on our walls and ask if it was our grandfather's."

"I never thought of that," said the lady, evidently declining in her enthusiasm for that particular work of art.

"Let's have something nice, when we do spend our money on such things, my love. I like pictures with lambs in 'em, and green trees, or a bit of water that looks as if there was trout in it."

"I don't care much what the pictures are, for my part; but I think the frames help furnish a room, and people think you're mean if you don't patronize

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"She'd better get me, then, to act as her deputy."

"You go 'long! How becomin' blue is to Miss Bulbous. She's stopping over to lawyer Cameron's, now, to invite their young ladies. There'll be quite a party. She and her pa are going down to the Fifth Avenue Hotel next week to board through the winter, and she's asking all the neighbors to a farewell party. Sho! If Sam ain't over there, too! He's gone to assist Camilla out of the carriage, and he's done it in good style, too. I never did see a boy improve as he has since we had Mr. Dassel in the family. It's an excellent thing to have a Baron handy to settle little matters of etiquette, when one's in doubt. I never should a got through that dinner, last week, as I did, if I hadn't got his advice as to seatin' the company and what orders to give the head-waiter. I do admire to see Sam around the girls."

The beaming face of the good-natured mother shone between the gorgeous amber of the satin curtains of the parlor side-window, like the sun between golden clouds, as she leaned forward to watch Sammy escort Miss Bulbous through the Cameron piazza into the hall. It was a cool, bright November morning, in the midst of the Indian summer,- —a fine day for morning visits; and Miss Bulbous was improving it, by inviting her friends to an evening gathering before their villa should be closed for the winter.

Mr. Bulbous had no residence in town. As his family consisted of himself and daughter, and a maiden-sister, it was as well for them to board during their three or four months of city-life. His daughter was not averse to rooms at the Fifth Avenue, while it was very convenient for Bulbous, père, who could there carry on, through the evening, the same business which engaged him dur ing the day.

The only time that Camilla's face showed animation was when there were young gentlemen about her; and then it was not sufficient to light her eyes or color her cheeks. Her father was large,

white, and fat; she, as we have said, was large, white, and waxy. Many people thought both very handsome. She did look well as she entered the parlor, escorted by Sam, and met Miss Elizabeth with that little kiss current among young ladies, bowed to Mr. Dassel, Miss Milla, and sank upon the sofa, which seat she chose as leaving a possibility open to Sam to sit beside her.

There was a bow of blue velvet at the throat of her white Marseilles morningdress; ribbons of the same rich blue mixed with the frizzes of her light hair, on top of which was perched a suggestion of a hat with a blue plume. Her carriage-cloak was lined with blue, and there were blue rosettes on her gaiters. "How pleasant it is to-day," said Elizabeth.

"Oh, its splendid!"

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music and dancing. Mrs. Grizzle has promised for herself and this young gentleman here. Give my compliments to your father and mother, Miss Cameron, and beg them, especially, to come; -she hesitated, and looked at Milla. "I saw you at Mrs. Grizzle's party,” she said, "so you cannot refuse to attend mine on the score that you're not in society. I shall expect you, too. Above all things, come early, for we are to have the German,—and that takes time. Mr. Dassel, with your permission, I shall expect you to lead the German. I saw you dance, a few evenings ago, and I set my heart on electing you to the leadership."

Mr. Dassel bowed. He had flashed a look at Milla, answered by one from her.

"Do you consent?" cried Miss Bul

"Did you go down to the matinée, bous, rising to go. yesterday?"

"Oh, yes, it was splendid!"

"I meant to have heard it, but was kept at home. Have you secured your rooms at the Fifth Avenue?"

"Pa engaged them some time ago. They're perfectly splendid! I want to get into the city dreadfully; the country's stupid at this season. I wish you'd come and board at our Hotel, a few weeks, Mr. Grizzle: I should think you'd die, out here all winter. your father to allow you, won't you?— it will be splendid!"

Ask

"It will, indeed, Miss Bulbous. I'll be sure to ask him."

"We're going abroad next summer, Mr. Dassel. Shall we have the pleasure of meeting you there, or is America your permanent home?"

"I can hardly answer, mademoiselle. I shall not trust myself in those distempered countries so soon, I think."

"Ah! Mrs. Grizzle told me you were expatriated. But, I suppose they'll not trouble us Americans? You ought to go across in your yacht, Mr. Grizzle,— it would be splendid! But, I must make a very short call, as I have sixteen more on my list this morning. I only came to invite you all to our house next Monday evening, at 8 o'clock, to a little

"If you think me qualified, Miss Bulbous, I shall feel honored by such commands as you see fit to lay on me."

“Thank you, Mr. Dassel; the success of the dancing is assured. It will be moonlight,-splendid, for a party in the country. Oh, dear! I wish gas-lamps grew on trees, like apples. I don't fancy these country-roads. Now, all of you, be sure not to disappoint me," and Miss Bulbous said good-morning, and swept out, carrying off Sam, to accompany her to a far-away neighbor's with whom he was better acquainted than she.

"Will you go, Milla?" asked her sister, in the silence which followed. "If mamma will go."

"It is a lovely day," said Elizabeth, presently, as she stood by the window. "I feel the inclination for a solitary drive upon me, so I shall not ask either of you to accompany me," playfully, as she moved towards the door.

"We shall do very well at home: Mr. Dassel is going to play 'Faust' with me. He has brought Sam Grizzle's flute."

A sharp pain clutched so suddenly at the elder sister's heart as almost to make her cry out. Blind, hard-hearted little Milla! It was strange that

one herif so ike a sensitive-plant, should be so dull where the feelings of this devoted sister were concerned. Milla looked upon Lissa's regard for Mr. Dassel as a light and feeble tie which it had caused her hardly a pang to break, because she, in her own wayward impulsiveness, could not understand the proud reticence of the other. Already self-reproach had died out, and she enjoyed her strange, delicious abandon of happiness as openly before the eyes of Elizabeth as if she had been no usurper of her rights. Many of the sweetest hours of Lissa's life had been passed at the piano with Louis, he accompanying her playing with voice or flute.

"How cruel she is! how innocent! like the infant that bites its mother's breast," thought the poor girl, as she quickened her footsteps from the room. "Oh! that I could go away from here! I cannot endure it-indeed I would not, if I had not promised Robbie to remain. We ought to have a letter from him in a very few days now. Foolish boy! I imagine with what shame-facedness he will own to his unaccountable illusion. Yes! yes! yes! I will go out to drive -I will go alone," she murmured hastily, as already the first notes of the opera struck upon her ear, and a feverish light came into the dark eyes—the

"Sweetest eyes 'twere ever seen," as Louis had often, and truly, told her.

Martin, their only man-servant, was in the flower-garden taking up bulbs, when she went to ask him to get up their little one-horse carriage.

"Hadn't I better drive?-I'm not very busy to-day, Miss,—and r'ally, you don't look strong enough to manage Prince; he's quite spirited with being shut up so much lately."

"I wish he would run away with me!" burst forth the young lady with a laugh which quite startled Martin, it was so different from her usual pleasant seriousness. He looked at her doubt fully.

""Twouldn't be no joke to be tumbled down the bank on to the railroadtrack or inter the river."

VOL. II.-3

"That's true, Martin. But, I think you may trust me. Prince and I are good friends; and if he only feels as much like going as I do, to-day, we both shall be well suited. Bring him around as quickly as possible, for I want to get up an appetite for lunch.”

"Where are you going?" asked Mrs. Cameron, as she met her daughter in the hall, driving-gloves in hand. She herself had just come in from the greenhouse, where she had been looking after her flowers. "See what an exquisite moss-rose this is. Put it in your hair, Lissa."

"Give it to Milla, mother. It looks just like her, now that she has more color. She is in the parlor, with Louis. I am going out for a long, lonesome drive; I sha'n't even ask you, mamma, to go with me."

"And I shouldn't if you did," said Mrs. Cameron, kissing her; "the fresh air will do you good. I'm going to take my sewing and sit with Milla. Too much music is not good for her."

A few moments later Elizabeth was flying along the beautiful road at the highest speed of which Prince was capable. She was in one of those moods which require some safety-valve of outward excitement to be opened in order to render them safe. She had longed, ever since that strange conversation with Milla which preceded the breaking of her engagement, to go away from home. Under the circumstances, it was cruel that she should remain there. Indeed, her mother had encouraged her to go, and had written to a relative at Newburgh, who had been asking for one of the girls to spend a season with her, that Lissa would like, now, to make the promised visit.

At first, she had remained to help Robbie off; then she had delayed in asking her mother to write, until they should hear from him; for the boy had exacted a promise of her. The memory of that interview with him, in the summer-house, was like the memory of a nightmare. It had, really, no deeper influence than some fearful dream often leaves; we are oppressed by it, haunted

-yet, when we seek for the cause of our terror or melancholy, we remember that it is but a dream. If Lissa had not loved Robbie so well she must have been mortally angry with him. But, she forgave him, wondering what could have so distempered his frank and generous nature towards a man who had wrought her much suffering, but who was one of earth's chosen and choicest.

As it was nearly time to expect a letter from Robbie, the friends in Newburgh had been written to, and Lissa had promised to be with them before Thanksgiving. That home-sickness which is heaven-sickness, was upon the young girl's heart, as she found herself alone on the country-road. She had been so desolate. Robbie gone, Milla estranged by the singular barrier which had arisen between them, her father careworn and preoccupied, if it had not been for the sweetness of her mother's friendship, what 'would have become of her in those wretched days? To-day, in the culmination of her desolate mood, she fled even from her mother's love. Every thing was unsatisfactory. She shrank from the idea of going into a strange house, of leaving her own dear friends; yet, remain with them she could not. In the unhappiness of her situation she yearned for heaven as the child first banished from it yearns for home-with a wild, wailing cry, as if it could not be forbidden.

It was the balmiest of Indian-summer days. The slight chill of the morning had melted into an atmosphere of purple and amber, perfumed with fallen leaves, whose gorgeous fragments were scattered everywhere along her path. An amethystine haze hung above and around the Highlands, casting a thin veil over the deep blue of the Hudson. The fields were brown, the forests lay like patches of gold and carmine on the hillsides; no artist could hope to transcribe that melancholy splendor of coloring and tone; no heart, not in harmony with nature's and touched by sorrow, to feel the full influence of this pathetic beauty of blighted summer.

Elizabeth felt it. The universal sad. ness and mystery of the soulless creation impressed her with a power to soothe the rebellion of her mood. As her horse grew tired of his tearing pace, she allowed him to drop into a more reasonable gait; the feverish gleam of her eyes was dimmed in tears-she felt more like praying and less like suicide.

It must have been past the usual luncheon-hour when Elizabeth was startled from her reverie by merry voices, and looking about her, saw that she was four or five miles from home, and that Miss Bulbous's carriage had just driven in from a cross-road and come up abreast of hers.

"Can't you take this young gentleman along with you?" cried Miss Bulbous. "It will be a pleasure to you, I've no doubt, and save us ten miles' driving. I'm hungry, and I want to get home."

"Oh, Miss Bulbous," expostulated Sam, blushing very red, "you promised to take me home, but I can walk; perhaps Miss Cameron don't wish company. She might think it wouldn'twouldn't look well-to be seen-with only me."

"She'll be delighted, I know; and, as for looking, who'll see you ?—I think it will look delicious," and the coachman was down and had the carriagedoor open before Miss Cameron, annoyed, but too kind to show it, could force herself to say,

"Certainly, there is a seat to spare; you are welcome to occupy it, Mr. Grizzle."

The next moment the young man was by her side, and the carriages had parted company. Sam felt as if he had been struck in the face by a rainbow. His ears tingled, and the earth and air looked all colors. It was the first time he ever had been entirely alone with Miss Cameron. He had worshipped his idol at a distance, and it appeared a superlative lift of fortune which had enthroned him beside her. For a few rods nothing was said. Elizabeth had been startled out of her solemn, tearful

reflections too suddenly to assume at once that gayety of manner which she usually adopted towards her neighbor; while he was quite overpowered by the mingled delight and embarrassment of his position. Gradually the rainbow. which had smitten the young man scattered; he could make out the road, the river, the trees, the loud throbbing of his own heart, and even gained presence of mind to ask if he should drive. Miss Cameron declined.

Again there was silence for a few moments. Sam stole a furtive look at the face beside him; he could not be mistaken in the paleness of the smooth cheek, nor in the traces of tears on the fair eyelids. All his soul melted down in his breast at this sight, like a bar of lead at the touch of fire, and lay there in a quivering, solid pool in his bosom, reflecting Miss Cameron from every side and at every angle. The sight of her sadness filled him with a courage of which he never before had the slightest intimation that he was capable. Since she wept, she must be mortal; if mortal, why should he not aspire? Some would assume that gentle and generous compassion moved the lover; I choose to believe that he thought it a favorable moment to urge his selfish claims to that of which he had an instinct he was not worthy.

At all events, the first thing the booby did, who must be audacious or nothing, was to get hold of Elizabeth's disengaged hand and squeeze it. The air with which she withdrew it, and said, “Go on, Prince," was rather discouraging, but he managed to say,

"You've been crying, haven't you? I'd give a thousand dollars to know the reason why. Don't drive so fast, Miss Cameron," seductively.

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Grizzle. You must not. I give you fair warning. Go along, Prince!"

"Oh, Lord, I can't stop, now I've got a-going, no more'n that horse can, going down-hill. I'm desperate, and I'd just as lief you'd give me the mitten right out as to be kept in this suspense."

"Then I give it to you now. Pray, change the subject."

“I will, in a minute. I just want to say that, if you think I've ever had a fancy for Miss Bulbous, you're mistaken. I've never liked a girl since I saw you. Miss Bulbous is rich, and sweet on me; but, I'd rather have you for my wife than twenty like her. Oh, do say you'll have me, Miss Cameron! Pa'll give you all the money you want, and ma's 80 fond of you. You'll have a nice time in our house. Your horse goes like thunder; check him up, can't you?" "Your mother is very good to me, Samuel; but, I'm sorry you spoke. You must know that I do not love you; and you should not have compelled me to say it."

"I knew it. I hadn't ought, that's So. But, I've been full and running over so long! Oh, Miss Cameron, are you engaged to any body else? Perhaps you're going to marry Mr. Dassel!" the sweat breaking out on his forehead, and his hands trembling.

"I shall never marry Mr. Dassel,nor any one else. Now, Mr. Grizzle, will you please not annoy me any more?"

She spoke this last in a passionate voice, sharply; but, because Sam was afraid he had offended her, because he therefore was in despair, and Rose Villa was almost in sight, and Prince fairly racing, he cried out again, taking hold of her hands and the reins:

"I can't take 'no' for an answer. Oh, I know I can't. I shall go and drown myself. I'll try and be a good husband to you; you shall do just as you like. There sha'n't be a thing you ask for that I won't get for you. Ma'll feel so disappointed if you don't have Say you will; do say you will, Miss Cameron, that's a good girl! Come, now there's the house. You

me.

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