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HomeMy WebLinkAboutLucknow Sentinel, 1891-12-25, Page 6aha bad iteh.away hong home about two Onthe when ?the following letter from her mother awakened, with somewhat inauffi- , dent cause, an unconquerable„anxiety about .tire, dear writer's health, dud drove Helen to- irn. to Menton upon the very day after received the disquietin allusion. . ii SS2j.�"J � x^ .. t"'ff7.l.�r'k:. "S ,: �n�'inJ a. u , � A . IT.. TLTa.A'r,N'o`-5Y1F'u'eYi$.i ,t��',-�al".�a ,, a "z'1.....,.�L�v�i Si.1tY�•'��'ifi�ll`Us� -e' • "Mx Deuraerci literate—How cold it is. I hope that if you are tempted to wander about utiderthose draughty galleries at your Uncle's after dinner that you doo not forget to weara shawl. I am reminded of such dangers to your health by a tiresome a:0d in my head which I caught last eve ttering-alsogt garden with your dear ther, who is more careful to protect his fruit trees than his wife from the frost. I wrapped my head in flannel and drank several jugs of treacle posset before going to bed. I slept heavily, but awoke headachy and stupid, so this letter will be very short and flat, dear. I am rejoiced to hear how well you enjoyed the ball and how delight- fnl yew find your surroundings. Do not hurry home. I love to think of you ad- mired, happy, and making the most of your youth. I read your letters again and again, and you are never absent from my thoughts, my dearest:: Your loving mother, ” P. S.—By the by,HONORA your AuntTFoRDElizabeth has written at last ; your ,father received .the letter' some days ago. Betsey has been idk••-seriously ill—and her time has been „ fully occupied with the consequent sick nursing ; she is better now and downstairs again. Elizabeth seems very full of those •dreadful Jones people, who have gone .a frightful smash. The old man has been eating in the most reckless shock of ruin, upon all those good dinners way—the of whish we have heard, brought on apo- exy ; he is dead., If I• can find Elizabeth's ter, I will 'enclose it." But the letter had not been enclosed, and very soon after Helen's arrival at Menton she led the conversation to Noelcombe: "What was the matter with poor old Betsey," the girl asked. She stood before the fine with her arm round her mother's waist Mrs. Mitford could not take her era ;awayfrom the contemplation of 'her beautiful child. She had improved ; yes, if it: was possible, she was more loveable and loving than'before, and she had torn herself ' from a household of friends and cousins, had relinquished the prospect of a party, Acid hurried home to see with her own eyes aid hear with her own ears that the " tiresome . cold of which she had been told was of no deadly character. " 't" -A very"serious touch of influenza. Oh Nellie, I can't bear to think that you'have Ieft so much pleasure on myac- count. , :It was foolish of me to mention my cold, but I thought you knew I only sneeze for a day or two and put on an extra shawl, and then one of my colds goes. Why, I am quite well again today. The delight ofseeing you, my darling, is spoiled when I�remember what you have given up for me. " I have given up nothing, mother. I wanted to come home every single dicy I wile away. Of. course I was having great sun—lots going on—but I was a little mammeesic ; I always .am. How longwas Betsey ill ?" - " I don't remember exactly. Helen, did. yet meet with any vert' charming people ? " Oh, yes, most ofthem were awfully nice. Mother, you did not inclose auntie's fetter." " No, dearest, your father had gone out and must have taken it with him. I' k* uldn't find it. I asked him where it was st before you came, but he had . torn it up d thrown it into the waste -paper basket. vermind, she had nothing to say ; she write such dull letters, poor dear." kers that night when the Meriton house - ,had been long asleep a stealthy figure, ped ` in a red flannel dressing -gown, rown hair hanging straight and thick nets, and a beautiful, eager face, on e candle which she shaded with her toWentines, crept slowly and cautiously tains s and made her noiseless way stu,riit� �or' oh tad, fragment legible qr laborious a °old ; here were stiff a its were u fn her. Pieced refully Ito) got into y nd sleet' thb a mer that n a� f�e re read the e v —I have not thee, that he has been reared in affluence, ongratt ' t he has never known an ungratified de- s Ore tie and condoled sit, and that under these circumstances, erosit�y sad death and he eluntarily ;relinquished a handsome in - °f the, of , your, late depadenco, we must find it impossible to 'fuer wonder at his tical ' events over apes, with adequate strength, our warm for during her visit a hmenimgle. I do adm love her tom , Hutson of the nobility of his conduct." this dead . • yrniece, Hen had taken upthe • piece of ern- lengthy m- g ysei encs,t be excels' Yoh ebeon illd bstitche from her laand had begun to Ian th occupied both ' with m, r an "unusually oblige ith some show of industry, she was quirements with p mo y g o bend low over her work, for the relit and ful&Ilio Vas much winter ternoon was drawing to a close, relinquished duties, g to her re- , and theooin was dusk. influenza' and was for some Seo necessarily " I ander what he will do," she said. condition she is now haycore or from �� He `.ill do well, mark my word Irri r she it was -set . patiently to e accomplishment of her bi- ting on the floor by the tide of er basket, she' pieced; con - •the severed and scattered' ss Elizabeth's letter n It was a difficult went. She was blue attered, and her fin f frozen ; bodly disc -, •for her heart was Iand again sho re nd then, . gatheri to she stole .back ui teal in her' cloaed and lay there cold, s until dawn ; then and ws th her han,;r -shiver' she re -11 letter, w Mr Vim written sine° with you and -extraordinary It re v-1 ich tears and •A] quith in favor of the creditors, "'ill7in consequence be fully Much admiration is express Conduct 'by the kindly die IS grievous to find how many something at which to cavil however noble. The nights ar I have to superintend the the conservatory. John ov one day last week, and ,3 . h .- zI� �tt� I tremble to think of whatithe alight have been.. Convey my to dear Honora, and believe me attached, - I!�EIZABETH The next day was Sunday, which enforced' idleness b thoughts." When the organ when the parson preaches, up wanderings does an ill -regulate engage, upon what diverse tree what' Ieagues of epee° does travel. If Helen's mind was proper control, her voice, for congregation were wont to lista which she led the village choir, in depth and newer, it rang el end rich, never faltering nor tir the chants and hymns. Her ey the sea, and very grave, were low contemplation of lite' look. Upon Monday morning the news of Miss Elizabeth Mitford's 'illness reached the Rectory, this time it was Betsey who wrote. Her style was not discursive, in three bold lines she announced that her mistress " was very bad with the influenza, and that the doctor came twice a day, but said nothing." Mr. Mitford received the letter at the breakfast -table and read it aloud to his companions. Both he and his wife,between the discussion of haul, eggs and coffee, were full of sympathy with the invalid. Helen did not join her condolences with theirs,but when the topic was at length discussed, she suddenly and unexpectedly recalled it by suggesting that she, herself, should go to Carnation Cottage and nurse "poor Aunt Elizabeth. She loved sick nursing, she loved Aunt Elizabeth, she should love to be with her, might she go ? "• The mild opposition of her mother gave her resolution strength, •she described the miseries, the sufferings, the ravages of the Russian pest with such tragic vehemence as to wring the listeners' tender hearts, till they swallowed all remembrance of the void 'the loss of the girl's presence would entail, and told her eagerly that she should go, she should go at once, that very day'. " You have inherited your father's good heart, Helen," said her mother, fondly. " You have learned unselfishness from your mother, Helen," aided her father, patting her head caressingly. These terms of approbation affected their daughter strangely, she colored up to the eyes, tried to speak, but . her quivering lips would not obey her, and then, with a mur- mur, of which the words "too good for me," alone were intelligible, got up and. left the _.wheseelaime discharged. ed for their d, though it will discover in an action, re very cold,• warming of verheated the .had notI r��eiger consequences tivarmest love ,your fondly MITFORD." a day on be " long plays and on what vast d attention is and over imagination not under which the n, and with had grown ear, sweet,- ing through es, deep as ered to the room. "Helen has grown so sensitive, Last night her eyes were full during your sermon, and really I thought it so affecting as usual." ` She is a very good girl, indee the rector, 'heartily; give me •the Bra 'Honore, 1 must look out her train an a telegram to Betsey." The next evening saw Helen one an inmate ' of • Carnation Cott warmth of her welcome was'overpo She found that Betsey bad not exag severity of Miss Mitford's illne Betsey herself was still too wee • ; t' to her mistress, so that Hel was' most opportune. For•so w' hardly left the sickroom, she waS-�fv•' , gentle, and skillful nurse. tJn.r` dexterous care Miss Mitford steadily -ground, and before a week had passe down stairs on the sofa, Though Carnation Cottage was at iita:best in the spring and summer, its 'winter "cam- forts were not to be despiser z; Davy per- tieres excluded draughts, t �� ; tory supplied an abundant s Owers log fires blazed in tfi Helen loved everynook an'. } ;' !•geates. r, every chair and table in the little drawing room, she sat on a tiny chair which she had drawn to the„sofa-side on Which her aunt, propped on down pillows and covered with a couvre pied, was reclining, and looked around her with a now far -away expression in her eyes which made them very sad and dreamy. Presently these two began to discuss a•sub- Go ead- a bare, hey haect which d talk tad alked over soo oftenrn r and and so minutely, that they had no new light, no itth I new thought, no new difficulty about the yrs • matter, but yet as soon as Miss Mitford had - I finished. her afternoon siesta and opened her t eyes, she naturally and inevitably returned to the familiar theme. - a sni 111 annulueeity abutJones suflicientfor her wanan ts” left her by her father ; of cowse it was praiseworthy of her to relinquish her claim the money, but when we remember young man has no mons , not a six - Henry. of tears hardly d," said dshgw, d send e more Cotta veering. ggerate SS ed, her gained d was y natural cal Helen. ,e has many friends, I hear. that Weakness, it seems—has eonsequ cent, a.lread h� but of • that attacked of '11,_ which as entered a I;ouso of business epee's. Helen wiperhaps,' it is unkind w ; te ro r is likely, thro{igh the favor of she sad ruin of our kind grieve 1i l iter, to succeed, if he proves with moo ev . himrielf intlf en and roliablo—such quail - thunderbolt news of kind friends the,T like .es we kno ° possesses. Don't sigh, my thunderbolt u the catastrophe foil stand from Mrs. us here, like a cames rats ane desert a sinkingshipthe rs. Majoribnks though • ander_ hef thee crew are the lat tleas thingaor mic sorts.was anticipated tth b tottersome- Toyed chose taanv"orthy, woman svhorn h© informed in y the of trouble, sh encu be him at the approach discovered that Loudon. It has sudden death poor Sir Adolphus, wlboso een °f�such vermins no better than a rat, and pu cove from a Sir td heralded d Perhaps it is wall rid. of colossal of and disaster, mkleswas the said 'Helen, p gas not quite' all her fault," pitbli r", had ar peculator. not drag e Ig ly ; " perhaps he would d©dined enterk buslnditiire was somewhat }Tishe ho liked into poverty. u, A , and his Perhaps she souk not help rt." ° sought expenditure eo reset 'i°egs of receipts.Se should h greatof risk and p himsbis his p ingit,"e madb a point of help- hlsued if it magnitude ; vitt venture .,e said Aunt Elizabeth, with suer. ks did.notaveh,olleeile rest^'.e =". oi;,tau �doos.rieixia rettily"6iit? urirk�a t iigiye. '�' """ " the +lirg4y�la%xi:'fy. : p riidersrion, rho bessmtc e�Vlien dem a man appreciate the fortunes of Lady Shindn and that an affectionate wife ? Why, Mason arc sectio ; Mrs. womanho ooh troths Ma sum was stalealso that a consider- worth eo a sure. - And any son, but thie she upon the and worths in the knowledgetandn e s it, n° y have decfdod idea to relit y of the name would have so woman/ a by his Bide as constant as' a compass and a '. ' hesive-as-a burr. - Sire t oui1a liii►ve `been possible to refuse ; he did not at glad and proud to stay by him. I met him Muse it, he went. When she afternoon last week • T ,n„ in the road oleo _ and shook him by the hand—I coalda't speak—but be was just as usual, though a little graver . in his manner, and his face looked older ; twenty years older he had grown in three months. He came in here with me and had some to _ a• _ ho . stag d. ,� o . �. vtihi:t ' d, �- s. - �l o �-. Vie7;4d-17) ed"t4 stay. We talked of the summer, love, and of You,. and I told him of .the strange generosity of poor Mr. Flight, and then he went away ; but he •promised to come again if he was at Noelcombe, He should be to and fro till the business was settled and the house sold, he. said." "Did he 'say anything about that girl, auntie ? " " Which girl ? Oh, you mean Lady Lucy Freemantle. No, my • love, he talked of you ; men do not speak of matters upon which they feel deeply. He talked much of you. I showed him your new photo- graph ; ho did not think it at all good, not at all. It is a roost curious thing, Helen, I have mislaid that likeness ; from that day to this, I have never fowl,' it, though I have searched diligently. I must .have sent it back to the library in a book, I have lost many letters thus and some valuable packets of -flower seeds. The orchid which the,young man gave me is dead—it wanted more heat than I could give it here. Good gracious, love, that is the front door' bell, pull down the couvrepied over my feet and set my cap straight a the room is nearly dark. Will you light the candles on the mantel- piece.? What ? you prefer the dusk ? Very well. My love—Helen ! where are you going ? Don't leave the room. Stay, I want you to stay." But she had gone ; and while Miss Mit- ford was still imploring and commanding her to return, Mr. Jones was shown . into the room. CHAPTER .XII. Great let me'call him, for he conquered me. Rad I not loved thee, my sky had been clear ; Had I not loved thee,I had not been here, Weeping by thee. • Whether some recollection of her own girlhood, or whether the glimpse of her niece's , face as ' she . escaped, or whether the intuitive perception of a woman in the scenting -out of seek " small game " as a love affair, brought nascent suspicion upon Miss Elizabeth Mit- ford's hitherto obtuse mind, she could never afterward decide. But in the . flash of an eye, the suspicion grew to certainty ; she knew that'what " Thomas" had once been to her this handsome but poverty-stricken and recently -jilted ;visitor was to her dear niece. She had been parted from her Thomas and was wont to congratulate herself on that circumstance,) but to have escaped the tor- ture of that never -to -be -forgotten wrench, she would have endured' the. long unhappy wifehood of her;succerisful- rival, had the choice between • those two evils been left to. her decision. She -would --she would indeed. Memories ; and half.dead longings werh awakened by the' narisfent glimpse of Helen's, face, and she teas ready for the first tune in her life to'proclai;;n her weakness. She felt quite faint at her discovery, but this did not prevent her receiving the gen- tleman with great warmth and friendliness. He was, of course, totally unconscious and ut , ease. He eat down on the same tiny chair as before and asked with much ; interest about the in- fluenza. Her/ answers were absent and a little puzzling ; she' hardly knew what he said so'sick was she with the responsibility of immediate action. Should she casually mention her niece's presence and judge by his face whether the knowledge affected him in any way ? But the most expressive. feature—his mouth—was hidden by a mustache, and those dark eyes of bis defied scrutiny, especially in this dusky light. He went on talking ; the frank, youthfulness of his manner had changed ; he was no longer debonair and careless --he had grown earnest and grave, almost to sternness. Every now and then there was a weary note in his, voice which wrung the old lady's heart ; she grew each moment more con- fused and abstracted. He became aware of this, and, thinking that she was weak from recent illness and therefore unfit for conversation, he presently rose to take his. 1... e. " I am tiring you," he said, " so I will go. I have finished all the businees down here. I go up to town to -morrow and get to work next week, so I must' wish you ce long good -by." ‘1 -'You must not go," with the authority of a general in action • " you must stay to tea. Kindly ring the'bell." He obeyed her and reseated himself. " I can never tear myself away, if you are so kind," he said. Sher nodded, she could not speak " His great grandfather," ;ffie was thinking, "wore three hats and dealt in second-hand ward- robes—he has not g.ot a sixpenee in the 'world—he has been Jilted," but when the bell was answered she spoke out her order clearly and with decision. " Will you tell Miss Helen that Mr. Jones is here, and ask her to come doWn and make tea." Miss Mitford was too agitated to take notes, so to speak, of the situation, but she could not avoid seeing him start or hearing the exelama tion— 'Helen ? Helen here, in this house ?" before his calmer reception of the news by the remark, "I had no idea Miss Mitford was with you," reached her. As the door opened she `watched him, wondering whether it was her fancy which made his face look so white, but the incomer was not Helen, but Betsey with the tea. " Miss Helen went out ten minutes ago, ma'em, she has gone to the post." • The news staggered her aunt, she stared blankly at her companion, a sudden flame leaped out of a kindled log and played on the fire of his eyes, Then for the first time in "all her guileless life, Miss Elizabeth created a, plot. Elden haer, am vexed with her wit r' rsaepritzt; garden gate slate a minute or t cried, plaintively " Dear, dear, I am a creature after all," grid she buried her hands and trembled. Still tr left -the sofa and rang the bell f Betsey," she snide " I :theeleal 'r 'II �,,i_ Berra o '' keep quite. 'fell Louisa to brin in here, she may put on the shades, she must make up a larg keep the muffins hot. Mr. Jone Mitford will be into tea before to " How long, ma'am Y" " WelI, indeed, I don't qu Betsey. Give me your arm, I m something, I feel so very shaky." A young girl, however cour seldom the hardihood necessary to face a'. difficult situation w possible• action she can escape Flight is the first and often the able tactic: To this refuge He resorted. She had put on her coa stamped and sealed her letter to ford, and, after mentioning car Betsey that she was going to the softly crept across the hall and out bythe front door. It was d leave the house, but to remain worse, she had escaped the meet unfortunately, she could not eseap She walked very quickly, it beneath the trees in the glen a branches- creaked, for the wind wa sharply. Down the steep, roug street she sped apace—how soon too soon she reached the .post -o fulfilled her errand 1 The sun had gone down, but a f was rising over the sea, the tide and the rough waves were bellows foot of the cliffs. They. lashed the rocks—they drew Helen toward t their loud wailing, was ,attune heart ; they were in sympathy mood. Their might, their strengt majesty overwhelmed her•. personal she could forget all things 'in%'he earth if she might stand beside them Below the village, to the right beach, was a broad ridge of rock wh been a haunt of hers in other •tiro descent thither was hazardous in light,, but she climbed down and a the 'wide ledge, with the wind against her and the salt apr ting her facer The silver pa spread from- her very feet pale moon, black western clouds we like mountains against the faint which a few stars glimmered. The. crested waves. broke with- a roa thunder on the crags, •the cream-lik looked soft and gentle, now and a drenching, large -dropped shower of fell upon the rock a few feet beyond " Unfathomable sea, whose waves are Ocean of time, whose waters of deep w Are brackish with the salt of human to ;,,, impulse, e in her aling she oetsey. e�. jlz room and , moo g p tri the lamps if not contempt." , new pink "Don't talk like that, I will not listen to e fire and you., .I pity any one who pities you. 1 s and Miss , never understood, I was puzzled, I wale ng• angry because I did not know what made me like you ; but I know now, I have, ite know, heard now, the whole world' knows w tc• ust lean on you have done." "+That's as I thought," he told her • ageous, has gravely ; " that is what I feared. Yea to• lead her have got hold of some exaggerated tale hen by any ;about this business—such as women love— the ordeal. :and have made a saint •out of a sinner, & only -avail ;hero out of an honest tradesman. And nowt len had you fancy things, in your generosity yen t and bat, would sayanything. Before, when nothing Mrs. Mit- stood betvireelp us, you would not look at elessly to me." ,s' post, she "-Wouldn t, - You only tried me• let herself once, and t rt ay u went away, and— readful to• :and -1" ' there was "• " Hush, hush 1 don't talk like this now: ing, but, 'It is too late." e herself. The pained agitation of his manner was was dark her best consolation. - nd' their . " I am not going to make love to you any- • a blowing more," she staid, with an imitation of her h village former •vivagity, the effect of which the , how far break in her i "lice, destroyed., If you won't, ell moon " You file and have me wheijy '•throw myself at your head,. it is very disagl able and rude of you." t d what was high. " Excuse n�me, ti I understand ou per-, ng. at the fectly." broken " I have nothing ; I Besse to begin. work , hem, for as an unpaid clerk •in a to irchant's office ;, with her my mother will live with iia ` It will be with her uphill work for years_ and y, ,s, even. if I h, their -am most fortunate." trouble• ; " Yes," she said, "aid you. arab man• of bee tempt to re -1 '" id mean that when you°left me,. When' heard the vow eserted me, 1 bre.:; wt' hew* » wo later, she Do -you know what you are saying? The you know that this is cruel ?—that your pity makes you mad." "Pity 1 I tell you it is not pity. Whores: should I pity ?" ,AK stl ruined, jilts obscure eta i and expensive tastes, y r have used I '• iea as • . necessities. - Pov �y will be ter .hard.. of the on you get bad-tempeice j;� a - ich had will want Went for your anger—have' eek: ; the They had emerged from the shadow o the faint the glen and reached the garden door,. and toed on, through the dim twilight her brave eyes,. beating wet with tears, smiled at him. Hisscru:- i►y wet- pies were vanishinginto air, he had much to . thway do to keep cool. ith his hand upon the to , the handle of the gate he pausedand questioned re piled -her-- sky on "Tell me, what has changed you,,Helen" heavy " I have not chatiged."-- • -- • r like " Not changed Y Five months ago yew e foam refused to marry me." gain a "You had everything, then, you didn't spray want me, at least, not much. I was blind her. and vain ; and a fool..I may be a fool now, roars, but I. am no longer blind I have seen oe clearly enough since July.. I have learned ars." • a great deal." , . `_` You know so little of me." • " That is true. "I have, told myself 'so & -hundred thousand times."'- " Helen, you are torturing tie, yoa, tempt me beyond endurance." . " Then open the door, if you please, and let me go." " No; no 1 lean never let you go now.' " I must have tea, you forget the time," getting nervous over. the .crisis which she herself had brought about. e . s. res-..--- •^' _ and as m bodi It the beau calm "go h whos drown move Less, "1 lowed comin a squa She deride had to ing of 44,1 Alas read 'h °erre° not m I came I had o took it " W (I NO mind: w� the last membe togethe "I a after a have s Come, She t He led village ; followed afraid o but on t yet whose sound is a tonic to our spirits uch as. its breath is a tonic for our was long before she turned away from wonder of the waves, away from the ter and grandeur of the skye she was ed and strengthened, she was ready to ome." Close behind her stood 4 figure e approach the roar of the water had ed and who had oeither spoken, nor d, but who had been standing, motion - watching her. heard where you had gone and fol. you," he Bald. " The tide is still g in ; the waves lick over this rock in 11; it isn't a safe place for you." was angry with the raging waters for ning the full sound of his voice. She lift, up .her head to catch the ean- his words. was sent to fetch you home." ,ef , he had been sent 1 He had,qaWays er thoughts, he did so now,elaut not iss Mitford sent me—I hope you do ind—she was anxious about you, so ; it was," slowly, " the only chance f seeing you, so, right or wrong, I e must go," she said. t yet, not yet. Wait ; you won't time—the only time—don't • you re - r we used to want to watch a sterm m glad you came here," he \ said, long, long silence ; "I am glad we we must go." tuned docilely and followed him. the way up the difficult path to the he did. not offer to help her, she chase at -his heels. Efe seemed f another silence and, talked fast, he surface of thin,gs • she aoswered onosyllables. Th.ey'had passed the and were entering the shadows of ; how the time rushed by—those eet moments *Fah, the bend in once passed, would be at end for- er.heart was throbbing fast with was so calm, so self-contained, could not command her trembling s to answer him. Once she had had e, once she might have had all for e no* pined, -but she had flung it He that will not when he may—when e shall have 'nay." How was she hat his calmness was born of some - despair ?—that of all his troubles Ent by far had been caused by her? was realizing that these moments st over ; he, too, had a pain like his breast. Suddenly, on an ina broke out with a fragment of a e was by nature frank and unre- nd the darkness, *through which ed, Made confession easy. • to think I was such a lucky the heartache in mylife till—till Helee. Then my luck changed ; ark now, you know—at least, have heard—how badly things wditnhotna's'ele the quivering face ehe ay from him, but he heard a sob. .11 you," sheanswered, desperately, don't want pity, I want love ; you may mistake the one for the other ; you probably do." " Did I pity you last Bummer," she an,. swered impatiently. " And when you left n3e in a momeet, and went away to that other woman, do you think the pain I had was pity. It isn't like you, it isn't kind of you to make ine say all this. You have said nothing. don't know why I should think you care for me. Let me go." " Never," he said ; and he took her into his arms and kissed her. Every one said that the beautiful Mims Mitford and her fifteen thousand pounds were being thrown away upon Mr. Jones—of the city. Mf. Jones himself was wont to say so, and to predict great miseries in store for her. She often acquiesced in these prophe- cies ; for she, _except on one momentous occasion, was chary a feeding the vanity or lavislaing tender words on the lover of her choice. At flint Mr. and Mrs. Mitford had been slightly shocked by their departure's de- parture. Why Helen should have engaged herself to the ruined son of "those dreaaul Joneses " wits incomprehensible to them ;. but when their mild remonstr nces were met by e. passionate and venem t confes- sion of her great love for %ire desirable person, they instantly became mpathetie and congratulatory. . Helen had always been right, she was probably right now. In the following june, upon the day pee - ceding Helen's wedding, the Rectory was the scene of great, though subdued excite- ment. Bridesmaids, uncles, aunts, stray men and country, neighbors thronged house and garden, 1 he presents, the trousseau. the flowere, and the bride -elect were on. view. It was to be a gay welding (as the saying is), every possible token of rejoicing Was to be manifest, eveey possible honor was to be heaped on bridean,d bridegroom. " Though Miss. Mitford was making such a. bad match," the girls said, " she seemed very proud of it." And eo she was, she thought herself tlia Most fortunate woman in the world. Eves when her Aunt Elizabeth, ie., 11 was direct- ing the labels for the % *4* boxeh, sighed" and said, pointing with Su unappreciative; finger at,— "Mrs. Albert Jones," " I can't make it look nice, my love." Helen answered quickly. " What's in a name, auntie," and then added aelittle after a pause, "it is better thaieHogg, at any tato." " Bettie is the inost charming fellow he the world," Mrs. Mitford put in, kissing the bride -elect's fair eheek tenderly. " Whatever his name was, if he had no name at all, I should he glad for Nellie to be called by it." ". I don't know what all the women see in Om," said the rector rather distealle& "Fortunately he is getting on fairly well nt Tire fairo----Garied "him with you, and I want to help '4-era-harder—storms." She return of her Jamaica 1 of floor sp ment is th Exposition f aegoasPeliao ItpaM. square feet, 30057 o.1 the Jam, a30.40‘1. 0.