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HomeMy WebLinkAboutThe Exeter Advocate, 1895-7-19, Page 6COMM' THRO' THE RYE. BY BELBN la MATHER% (CONTINUED.) "Yes; that, is to say, if you do not meet With Sciatebody whose waltzing you pin - ter to mite, "I have atm), wished I were a man," I say, as we turn baolt into the drawing - rooms, "but I never ivishea it as beartily as I do to -night. Evec . that siely-looking boy, propping himself up against the door yonder, is free to choose his partners while bare to emit until setae ono or other oondeseendiugly fetches me out, "But you oan alwitys say `No P " "Not tu the face of this halt -filled pro- gramme," I say, glancing down at it where it sprawls widely open across tete front of my dress. "It looks very like an advertisement, does it not?" "Shall I tell you something?" says Paul, looting down upon me with ball - pleased, half- exed eyes. "It is groat non- sense; but then you like nonsense, do you "Well, then, Iheard one man say to an- other a monaent ago; 'Does any one know who is that pretty little creature in the poppies?' And the other answered: 'No, but I'm deterndned to be introduced to her before I an half an hour older.' " "You are reeking it up I" Ise , quickly. "Did you think it would please anti?" "Nell," said Milly's voice behind me, "1 bave brought some gentlemen to intro- duce to you," end she goes threugh half a dozen introductions and sails away. My card is precluded; 'and duly written upon by them all, then they make their bows and retire. "I should not know one of them again if it were to save my life, so it is to be hoped that they will claim me all right," I say, with soma dismay as they vanish. "I don't think they will forget," says Pauareassuringly. "And now here comes St. John to fetch you; it was the third round you promised was it not?" "Our dance, I think, Miss Adair," says the little man, and I put nter hand under his arm and go away, with a rueful look at Paul. John Peel is ringing forth in glorious fashion as we enter the ballroom. Can anything be more maddening, I wonder, than good music and a bad partner? Lord. Sterohn does not wait for an opening, but gripping me round the waist, plunges wildly into the melee. On watching him I had been struck by the way in which he "Do you think any girl could love like appeared to run away from bis partner; that nowadays, Nell?" on careering with him, I find that—proud "Was she not very quick?" last, doubt - and happy as I should be to be left out of fully; "do you not think it was strange his gyrations altogether—there is no such she should have fallen in love with- him look, for he holds on to me like griin all at once like that?" , death, "without any regard. to my squalls "It is a poor love that is afraid to dis- or my kicks" (as a poet once wrote of a cover itself as soon as felt," he says, "and victim very little worse off than I), and that beats about the bush until it is Ger- that fast as he tears roundme I am forced. tain of the same being returned. I be - Lute very similar and indecently hasty ap- lieve that the strongest and most enduring pearance of likewise tearing round him. love is that which is sudden, or fallen in - "Stop 1" I cry, loudly, when we have to." upset our fourth couple, and only saved. "I am glad they both died," I say; "per - ourselves front rolling upon their prostrate haps if Romeo had. lived he would have forms by a succession of aerial bounds loved some one else and spoilt the whole that would not have done discredit to Tag- story." * lioni. "Stop!" And, being tired by his "Yes, I think he would have forgotten exertions, he looses nie, and 1 turnbleinto in time and loved again, as you say; why a chair, and go very near to weeping, should he not? Do you. believe that amen There is a smile on the countenance of the cannot care as much the second time as lookers-on, the very wall -flowers are grin- the first?" ning—nasty little wretches, who would, "I do not know about men," I answer - not object to be twirled round like raops„1 ed; "I only know that a woman could rather than not dance at all. Examining not. Juliet would have had no second into the exteut of my injuries, I find that , love; I am very sure." I have a lurap on my forehead that will "If you had been Juliet," he says, stoop. probably be black and blue to-naorrow, a ing his head to look into my face, "and partially -skinned emu, and a tolerably se- Romeo had died, what would you have vere out over ray left elbow, whIch I have done?" indeed been using as an active weapon of "I should not have killed myself, but offense and. defense, as is the wont of wo- should have loved him dead as passionate- raankind in a ball -room skirmish. ly as I had loved him living; and no word "Poor little soul!" says Paul's voice be- of love from another should ever have shamed his mennea." "I ant, goiug to ask you a question, child; an impertinent one you will no doubt consider it, but I will have an an - John is not of a very friendly character. sever: Have you ever bad a lover?" "You should have taken better care of MY heart stands still as I lift ray eyes to Miss Adair," he says, sternly. "Do you him, standing there by my side. For a see how you have hurt her?" moment I hesitate; then, for speaking Poor 1 tile Lord St. John! He has no the truth has always come more natuarlly idea but that he has distinguished hlmself to me than to tell lies, I answer " xes.." in a very spirited and succeessful manner, He turns away. "They are all alike." and is mopping his forehead preparatory he mutters, half aloud, all alike! And to doing it all over again. he makes love to you, I suppose?" "Is she tired?" he asks, with genuine "Yes, indeed!" I say, with a rueful astonishment. "And we got on so well, sigh, given to the raemory of how bootless ton 1" that love -making has proved. "She is too tired to dance the rest of "And do you like him?" this galore" says Paul, impatiently. There is a confldenahalf-teasing ring in "Miss Lester is not dancing, I see. Why his voice as he asks the questione_euid I do you not ask her?" turn ray head away, rufffedeand hurt. Lord St, John is essentially docile, he Shall I talk over George's true, honest always does as he is bid: so he fetches the love? young lady, and starts off again with much zeal if little discretion. "I should like to thrash that little fool," says Paul, looking at my scratched arm, .and reeking a sudden movement toward it that he as quickly checks. "Dairyanaids and cooks should be his partners, not deli- cate little things like you." "I have one mercy to be thankful for," I say, sitting up and putting my hand to my head to see if my poppies still bloom there • "he did not let me down!" Tae me back to Minn please, before my tutner comes to fetch me." On our way Silvia passes us on Visoount Linley's arm. His sallow face is alight with admiration. "He seems to admire her Very much," I say, "lee loves every pretty woman he sees," says Paul, with a queer smile, "whether she be white, brown, or black. If the love of woman is teas, a 'liberal education,' then he reflects great disoredit on your sex, child; for the older he gets the worse he grows." ' tam namely by Milly's side when Sir William Aldous conies to claim me for the Lancers, and I find myself excellently weinaniused, for be turas out to be a fool of the finest quality and meet exquisite water. All through these sober, decorous old Lancers he amuses me charmingly; for fools may be divided into two Masses —those who know it, and those who do not. My partner is of the latter class; and therefore sinee his silly ternarke are always uttered with a perfect air of good faith, and are Wither recalled nor repent- ed of, he is boundlessly fresh, Inexhausti- bly amusing., as no wise man could be 'With solid reason, admirable logic, attd Weighty pro and. con. The dance over, we go into the hall,and so to the refreshment -room, whore he leaeres me in a cornfoetable chair, and do - parts in search of claret -cup. Close to me a group of nien are dismissing the therm of their late partnere, atih a freeatnm that should delight those laclies,if they 'mete by to hear. "Give yea iny word, of honor, Dale rymple," Soya one, "sho had an entirely neW set for this evening. Only had a vety few teeth left—rtemaining staters were tal e out yesterday—neve ed put itt this ve,—here to night i" failleve eav moetal evonian could it," says Another. "Then she's immortal', nte dear fellow," says the arst spettleer "For 1 know it to be a feet.. She's engaged, too. Rather awkward person to kiss -a -eh? Things may come to a (100(1 look," "Or loolajaw," "1 hope this is all right," says Su. Will., lain, appea ing before me, "I did not quite like tee thivoring, so I have been Showing tho butler how to improve it." So that aeconots for the disgusted ex- pression on Birkheades face., Evidently hedis not appreciate a fool as keouly as Id CHAPTER ee. Supper is over, and I have danced, a greet many' dances with partners, good, bad, and indifferent; have been startled, amused, pleased at the pretty speeches made to roe, and which I have tried hard to conoinoe myself are not meant in the very least, though in in' secret soul I do believe that a few of them were not spoken in jest but in earnest; and now we have stepped out of the crowded noisy rooms, Paul and I, on to the terrace, where couples are Walking up and down in the clear white light of the moonartaking love, or the semblance for it, Corydon to Plants, and sometimes—alas for the order of thingsi—Phillis to Corydon. The light is very lovely, more like an August one than September, tbe air is SA warm, mid the perfume of the flowering myrtle wanders abroad, so sweetly. Turn- ing the corner of the house, we 001110 to a stone parapet, that overlooks the flower - garden, dappled all over with flowers and molting imperaptibly into the woods, that la turn seem to merge theseives inta the sea. From the bed of mignonette be- low conies up to us a pure, fresh breath, that recommends itself morefavorably to me than any of the voluptuous heavy per- fumes of the hot -house flowers left in tho room behind us. " I wonder if Jul' et had a bed of mignon- ette?" I say, looking out at the silver streak of sea beyond the dusky woods. "I dare say. What made you think of her?" "This parapet and the flower -garden stretched out below. I can almost fancy I hear Romeo calling: "'Gall me but love, and I'll be new bap- tized; Henceforth I never will be Romeo; and Juliet calling back: " My bounty is as boundless as the sea, My love as deep; the more I give to thee The more I have, for both are infinite.' " side me, and, looking up with eyes that are filled partly with anger, partly with tears, I see that his face is dark with wrath, and that his glance at Lord St. "Nell !" he says, coming round to the other side, and looking into my averted feace "did you hear me?" isatees "Confess, now, that you do not care a straw for this—this Lubin?" "Do I not?" I answer, roused by his tone and the slighting allusion to my ab- sent lover, who is so leal to me, and to whom I—" There you are quite mistaken; I like him very much indeed: next to my own people I don't know any one whom 4 ateedalight," I say, wearily, as 1 reach my door. "Oh, I ani so sleepy!" "Good-aight," he st ye ; then preesing both my bends against bis lips, "good- night little CRAM?, n mnikovook I striking as I open my eyes, brightly, broadly awake and rested, Sleep is a cunning fellow ; he knows when Iii e subjects have bad enough of bine and when he strikes them vtt1,ibie feira weed, crying, "Awake!" they only are wise who leap up and begin their day; it is the fool- ish ones who do mat now what is good for them, that turn away treat the Itglit, heavily courting the slumber -allot Is not necessary, therefore will riot refresh thorn. Looking otit a the window i discover that the morning is peretet; never did Nature wear a fairer robe than she had put op to -day; and I long to be out, assist ing at her morning show, brushing the dew from her meadows with hurrying feet, smelling at her freshly -opened buds and flowers, ta big a long &aught of her beautiful, vigorous, health/ life. 1 hove some difficulty in getting my breakfastao which as added ono welcome and one un- welcome addition in the shape of a letter from .Tack and another from George. I read Jack's, the other willIteep. The dear boy is coming home for a few days the end of October; he is very busy, he says, and will be very glad' to see Me again. Down -stairs I meet nobody save sleepy servants, who look, poor wretches! as though they had not been to bed at all. As I open the glass door of the drawing -room, a cold, sweet breath of the sea comes faint- ly up to meet Ina and seems to die pleas- antly on this warmer air that creeps about the sunny terrace and south side of the house. On the upper terraces, and in the glades that the sun's eye cannot reach, since the sereen a leaves above is so thickly woven, the hour might be six o'clock in the morning,not ten, and there Is yet some of : "That same dew that sometimes on the buds Was wont to swell with round and orient pearl." And of the few scanty autumn flowers left I make myself 'a posey and fasten it in my belt. I wonder why one feels so much beisker, fresher, brighter, in time of autun3n than In time of spring, which is so infinitely lovelier and more grateful to us? Some- how these trees, whose leaves are dying in such splendid livery of gold and sepia, crimson and brown, strike no pang to our hearts; they do not suggest unpleasane thoughts of our decay; on the oontrarie we walk erect, and cheat ourselves with the vain belief that, though all things fade, yet do not we; or, at least, not now. How we cling to our little atom of life, that is o small and yet so huge, •and, placed directly before our eyes as it is, assumes grend proportions that block out the far- off and dimly seen plains of eternity— vary mistv, very vague, they look to our earthly, filmy eyes. Ihave fallen on sad thoughts this bright morning. Ant I not, indeed, becoming somewhat sentimental? -a state of mind fo • which I have a most hearty contempt. I will go to the kitchen -garden and search f r figs and pears. I have eaten three treacly -sweet figs, and am investigating the Marie Louise tiears, when.a voice be- hind me says, "Good -morning!" I turn round, and there stands Paul Vasher. Is he shod with the shoes of silence, or does be wear goloshes? for I never. heard him coming. "Good -morning 1" I say, holding one my hand. "I thought you were still in bed, or out shooting." "Luttrell is lazy this morning," he says, "and nobody would turn out. Have you breakfasted?" "An hour ago," I answer, looking. at my watch; It seemed a crime to stay in on such a morning as this, so I got out as quickly as I mind." "I hope you slept well?" "I always do; always, that is to say, when I have nothing on my mind." "Well, I did not sleep at all." "Why did you not?" "I began to think, and then it was all over." "About bills?" "No," he says, smiling; "what made you think of bills, of all things?" "Because they keep"—I am about to add, "mother awake," when I stop short. "Child," he says'looking down at nae, "what a merry, heart -whole laugh you have! Any (me could tell you had never lost yourself." "Lost myself?" I repeat; "what is that?" "Never been in love," he says, slowly, and. with an odd hesitation in his voice— odd brreason of his being usually so self- contained, proud and cold. I turn awayagy head that he may not see how the color goes out of my cheeks. lam glad he thinks me so safe and untouched. No woman should wear her heart upon her sleeve for every eye to look into. "Do people give up laughing when they fall in love?" I ask. "I should have thought it would be the reason why they should all be happi T. My sisters never wore long faces when they were engaged. do not think I ever saw any other lovers, unless indeed one can call Silvia and Sir George lovers." "And are they not?" "1 don't know." My thoughts go back to that moonlight night at Charteris four years ago, when a man and woman stood face to face and 'wished each other a bittealong farewell— a', iiiey'w13Fe lovers; and a hot sharp peep rashes through my; heart that Iknow well enough is jealousy, "Mr. Vasher," I say, stopping short, while the blood leaps into my face and mounts to my very brow, "I have some- thing to tell you—something I ought to have told you long ago." He does not answer beit I see him draw in his breath and set his lips hard,and in his eyes there is a look of strong, eager expectation. "That night, at Charteris, when you had an interview with Sylvia I Was hidden close to you, and saw and heard every- thing. " "Is that all?" he criee, with a quick gesture of relief, and yet a certain shame in bis face. "I thought you were going to" tell me— So you heard our farewells, abild I were you sorry, or did you laugh?" "It was nothlng to latigh at," I say, seriously; "but I have always wanted to tell you. I felt such a sneak; but it was not my fault, and I thought I should vex you so by walking out in the middle. I wish I had never been there." "Do you?" he says. "Why?" "Until then"' bed believed in love, and that it lasted. Now I knoVe better. and that, however hotly a man may worsip a woman to -clay, he forgets her to -nor - "Not if she le worthy, he says. "Would yet* hate him pour all his treasures into the seat A maxi m ust be true to hintsolt first, his love afterward." "And I °Minot enderstend this dietino• tion, I say, looking doeva at my flowers. "U 1 Over loved anyone, end afterwaid he "Next to your own ,people!" be says, with a queta sniulo. "Would you not put the man you loved before?" "Thatwould entirely depend on who he was. If he were a selfish person—" "If? Have you not made up your mind, then?" But I do not .ansiver time Islip frone his,side and run fleetly away, and reach Wee ball -room before he can overtake me: certainly it was a narrow escape at the time. "This is our waltz," he says. "Are you too tired to dance it?" "No." I put my band in his arm, and go back to the ball -room. . Faster and faster goes the music, quick- er and. quicker go the flying feet; all aro enjoying it with a zest that nothing, save the knowledge that it will be quickly over, could possibly giye. Into the feet of some of the middle-aged waiting folk the music gets, and partoore being forthcom- ing they essay a turn or two, at first with some shemoss, much as Mr. Amintulab Sleek mid .uady °roe nay did in "Home," then with vigor; . finally they revolve with much enjoyment, ported in the steps of thirty years ago. "Oh, this last dance! The light, the music, the parttime of the flowers, the long harmonious movement, they are Woven into ono exquisite eousation that blooms for a little space and dies. And now all too soon, the waltz ceases, and delivers over the girls to the custody of their mothers, and they go away torn, spoiled, draggled, with all the carefully boilt-up linerf of a bee hours ago in rain. It is always wretched work seeing the last of everything—the light put Out, the day- light an weary eaces, and the winding up, .elo at the 1 oot of the stairs I say geed- iglit to Patti. But be does not OS oma mod,. and AS 1 tura awitO he walks along by my side. proved unworthy, I should not let that tUrri me back, I should go pneleretne eget the same," e "Because you have a sweet and unselfish nature, widle 1 am sottish through and through," he says, slowly. "It is a OQW- ardly thing, is it not, to be so oareful to assure one's self against Is t But I have always felt that ou the woman I married depended the mating or marring of roy life, and—still -in my o sZi interests, of eourse—watched natures as narrowly and carefully as a man would, lookto the joints of his armor, before going Ina> a battiss, on the issue of whicb Ids life depended. Do you blame me that twill not sacrifice my life—I have only one, remem ber !— simply to gratify a woman's minim? Can you show ute a greater misery than to be bound to a person ono can neither trust nor respect? With net worth' ranks before beauty." "I cannot argue," I say, slowly; "I can only feel; and it seems to the that lovers once, wbo love oath other, should be lovers always; nothing but death ought to come be tween." "Then Silvia and I should be lovers nova" "If you bave loved ber really, I think you would be loving her still, faults and all." "Faults?" he repeats. "You don't understand. What if I give you the key to the puzzle? What if I tell you Silvia's beauty moves me not a jot? Why it is AS impossible tO inc to have any love for her as to breathe life into dry -as -dust bone? Shall I tell you a story? You may suppose it to be my own, or that of any one else, just as you please." We have omue to a gnarled old garden - seat; that is set where the eye can ylew the garden and woods with a glimpse of .the sea below, and we sit down. "Once," he says, leaning toward me and watching my face, a an wandered am over the world, searching in cultured gar- dens and wayside roads, -at the gates of palaces and the doors of the poor, for a certain spotless, delicate flower. He saw many very like the particular blossom he was seeking, but therawas always soine trifling flaw, or speck, or stain, and he passed thorn all by, for he said toe himsele, I know that this 'flower exists, for other men have found it, and why should not I? And at last to him also came the happy hour, and he found it. Long and carefully he watt:lied it, lest after all it should be no moraperfeot an, faultless than the met; but at last he put out his hand, and, with a great rejoicing in his heart, pluck- ed it. It was but freshly in his hand, he had scarcely tasted of its sweetness, hardly felt his soul filled with its exceeding beau- ty, its petals had not withered with ne- glect or been scorched by the hot breath of passion, when a chance blow struck it; and, lot the dazzling whiteness fell from it like a veil, and there it lay, robbed of its deceitful mantle, lovely still, but speckled, tainted, soiled. No one but God knows what that man felt then. He had sought for it so long.exulted in it so deep- ly; he could have laid his life on its per- fect purity andesoillessness, and now,brok- en and shamed as it was, he loved it still, though he knew he could never lay it on his breast, never wear it throagh life as his glory and pride; and therefore,though it nearly 'cleft his heart in twain to leave It, he cast it from him, and went his way alone. (TO BE CONTINUED.) DID IT ONCE. TIE CAPTAIN OF THE CONDUCTA. By HENRY S. BROOKS, Author of "Doaa Paula's Treasure," Etc. COpyright 18. The little town of Todos Santos, or as we would call it, All Saints, is situated cat the coast, about two or three leagues from the groat' Real," or mining dietrld, of San Bernabe. which sends a weekly "Conclude" te the capital. A. Conducta oonsists of the train of pack mules which Carry the silver, and the guard which accompanies it. Young Geronitno Sanchez was the eaptein of the San Ber- nabe Conducte, the youngest captain ever intrusted with so responsible a position; but his father had been captain before him, and young Geronimo had ridden with the train from the time when he could first sit a horse without being hold in the saddle. He was only eighteen when his fetidr was killed in the memorable attack upon the Concludes, at the Rincon de lac Promenciadoe. When his father fell Geronimo, undismayed, continueci to fight the bandits. He killed the leader with his own hand, and brought the treasure off safe, though over half his men were simn, For this service the condo, or court, of San Ber- nab° presented him with a celebrated 'black riding horse, with equipments com- i plete saddle bridle and superb saddle •cieth, 'all richly eneunted :with silver, and* also namedhim •Captain °lathe Con- au.ota, to succeed his father. Geronimo was born at Vides Santos, but since' his promotion he lived at San Bernabe. It was his inmate:hie custom, He Was a Man Who Never Made the Name Mistake Twice. The glove was a small glace kid of a delicate tan color. It lay just outside the entrance to one of the big State street stores and both the men saw it at the same time. "It's &pretty little trifle, isn't it?" said one of Munn, turning it over with his walk- ing stick and looking at it critically. "Are you a married man? If you are you had better take it home to your wife; she might be able to find a mate to it." "Say," he said, with a sickly smile, "you don't happen to be in a state of double blessedness yourself, do you?" "No," replied the first speaker, half re- gretfully. "I thought not," went on his compan- ion, compassionately, "or you wouldn't suggest any such -move as that. You see, I am Married and know how it would work. You pick up the glove and keep it yourself if you want to and then step aside here and I will tell you something that you can store away in your memory and perhaps use to good advantage some tinie. I once found a glove like that and, think- ingias you do, that my wife might be able to make use of it,I stuck it in my pocket and took it home. That was pretty soon after I was married, You will observe that I refrain from doing so now." "Well?" queried his ohanoe acquaint- ance, "what happened?" "Yes," pursued the married man, "that's it; what happened? By the time I got home I had clean forgotten all about that glove. Chicago temperature was giv- ing an exhibit on of some of its most dar- ing acrobatic feats at that time, and the light coat 1 wore when I found the glove was as ineffectual as a piece of gossamer would be in keeping out the cold which followed close on the heels of that blister- ing day. So I hung the garment up in a closet, and when I next remembered its existence it was under very distressing cir- cumstances. It was about a wee i later. I had bought theatre tickets and hurried home filled with pleasurable expectations of an evening's -enjoyment. When I reach- ed our hotel door I found that my wife had gone and neithet the ptopridor nor the olerk nor anybodyelse connected:with the establishment could give D30 the slightest information as to where she ltd gone or when she was corning back. Now, that might helan every -day performance for some women, but during all the tbne we had been married xny Wife had never be- fore gone away without leaving an ex- planation of her absence, and it warded me not a little. "I ate my dinner, then weitt up to our rooms again and commenced to ransack the place for a message from het. In a very short time I found what would not have escaped my notice at first had not My wits been dwallowod rip in surprise. On one corner of the table was my light coat, and lying close beside it was that everlast- ing glove and a note from my wife telling inc that in looking over my clothes sho had found a telt-tale glove wheat telearly explained everything to her. Her life was blighted, sho said, and she was going home to her mother. The old bilks liae down at Streator and' I followed her on the next train. If you would believe me, so firmly was the idea imbedded in her brain that that little yellove affair was a memento given me by some other woman that I had to plead like a lawyer foe a month before I could got her to (some home with me, Sometimes I faroy that to this clay she bolicees I was deeelving her, At tato rate, I woula lust as lief sem would keep that piece of finery youreelt." The teem tirrted mon :smoothed ODD tile d alley tame, houghtleilly tolded it mid put in It his. , ooket," TN FRONT OP THEIR HOUSE. however, to visit his native place, mount- ed on bis magnificent black horse :the day before his departure with the Con- duota to ask a blessing of his old mother and to pray before the image of the Virg- in which had brought him such wonder - full success in life. The worthy citizens of Todos Santos were very proud of hina and when the celebrated black horse ap- peared clothed in his glittering trappings and Geronimo dressed in his short riding atoketabaed with silver buttons, panta- loons slashed at the leg, also with double rows of silver buttons,a scarlet sash rich- ly wrought, and sombrero heavily em- broidered with gold bullion, they all fio3ked to their doorways to hail and wel- come hien. He was a proud man, or she a proud woman, when Geronimo rode up and, planting the feet of the noble anim- al in their doorway, deigned to gossip with the occupant, while some of them caressed El Negro, as they called him, who was as gentle as a fawn, though so swift and strong. Paulita Nunez lived with her parents near the southern limit of the town. She was a pretty, shy, modest giri of about fifteen, a great admirer of the brilliant Don Geronbno, who used generally to turn his horse in frontof their house, and if he saw Paulita looking admiringly towards bit, be would reward her by dolling his sombrero and bowing with consummate grace. Sometiines even he would put El Negro upon his metal and display his own superb horsemanship. One morning after Don Geronimo had tbus been pacing the town Paulita was rirprised by Chona, the old housekeeper, kneeling devoatly in front of the little plaster image of the Virgin, when she ought, no doubt, to have been assisting Chona in her household duties, for it was long past the hour of matins, and Paulita being an exceptionally good girl, Chops knew that she had no penitence to perform. "What art thou doing thereat this time of day? Didst thou forget thy prayers this morning, or what ails thee?" "I am praying to the santissima to send me a novel) (a betrothed) as beautful as Don Geronimo," said the girl 'simply, rising from her knees, and looking placidly at Chow,. "Ha! hal ha!" laughed the old crone. "What a modest request to make. How simple are thy desires! Dost thou think that bit of plaster can send thee a cabal- lero mounted like an emperor, and glit- tering in silver and gold? If thou couidst pray to the Virgin in the Cathedral of San' Bernal* ;as I have," she might grant thee anything. if the thoughteit worth while to listen to thee, but, pobrecita, thou bast never journeyed to San Ber- nabe, I was thrice thy age when I first went there. But hurry to thy duties, or there will be no dinner when thy father arrives." It was the great grief and humiliation of the good people of 'Socket Santos that they had no church. To be dedicated to all the saints and have no Maur& Think et ita The little church of San Juan WAS in.ruins. It was situated on a knoll about a quarter of a mile smith of the town. How or Why it bad fallen to decay no one exactly knew, but there was some superstition connected with it which paralyzed any attempt at repair. The sacred vessels had been stolen, some said misappropriated by the priestg irt former days. There was a curse upon it, and an interdict that it shottld never be repaired until rebuilt by a novia (a young virgin betrithed). Ne one professed to under- stand fully the origin or ineanitig of this, uot evert the learned Bishop of San Ber- bat so it Was, and thos the ruin remained. Plaints was of a very devout turn of mind, and being so near the old reined ohurch, she hod often visitea it, and Was familiar with its interior and all ttel see- roundings. She had notieed in the sada sale duritig one of those visits at life-sized picture of the eladouria, beautifully paint- ed, with a faett the most adorable mid benignaot she luta over beheld, surneattd- ed oaa halo Of Stets; and the ittfant Jesus Was is child so lovely that It WM difficult to withdraw 0130'S gaZ0, Tb0 piOtUr0 had beep an Altar piece originals ly, no doubt, and had been removed to the eaeristia for safe keeping, the veretti being in a better state of preservation than the main building, which had long been destitute of doors, so that even the cattle frequently entered it to protect them form the noontide heat and to lick the etaintinae Whittle hung loose on the .walls, partly frameless, probably for the elite of the salt which the canvas absorbed from the moist sea air. She had never prayed before this painting ct the Madonna. Surely, even the Cathedral of San Bar- miest could have nothing more beautiful, one reit !Euro that her prayer wouli be granted if she should pray before this august queen of heaven, and she tesolved to do so without delay. : The morning was heavy with gray, we mist, It WAS SOATOOly dawn of day when she left the house, wrapped from head to foot in. a thick, gray shawl, which rend- ered her alined invisible in the dense al- . • mosphere. No one was yet stirring in the house as she crept cautiously out. and, anximes to get back before Chona arose, the tan . like a deer over the intervening distance, reaching the ruin breathless and, panting. The door of the Saoristia yielded to her touch, and without is moment's delay she fell ou ber knees before the picture, and Whispered her simple prayee. As she arose she felt a strange assurance that her petition would be granted, for the eyes of tbo Madonna seemed to follow her as she moved. She had reached the door and was about to cross the threshold, when she thought she heard the sound of voices in the body of the church, Greatly alartned, but, Inspired by curiosity, sae crept to the dilapidated door whittle cons- municated with the interior, and, peep- ing through a crack, beheld a number of mon lying on the floor wrapped in their "zarapos t" a smoldering wood fire had just been replenished, and by the awken- ing flame she could see that they were armed to the teeth. As the lire kindled, several of them arose and presently one said: "The coxoomb will reach the Rincop is little before sunset. It is :the richest Conduota that has ever left San Bernabe. We will pay him to -night, amigos, for the death of 'El Lobo.' (The Wolf, the nick- name of the bandit chief killed by Gero- nimo) Up then, Pedro, hunt the horses and lead them to the spring thou knowest, in the thicket of canes ;.we will meet thee there. Put on the coffee, and briog out the loaves before thou good. Comrades all, up and be stirring; it is the break of day." Brigands! The "coxcomb" was Gera- nimo 1 and the Rincnn the scene of the former tragedy I Geronimo was to leave San Bernabe at dawn. There was not a moment to lose. Stealing out with the utmost caution, again she fled like a deer. No one was yet stirring at the house. She ran down to the pasture, seized one of the horses picketed in the field, and, sad- dling bit hastily, put him on the road to San Bernabe at his best speed. The people were abroad when she reached the city, and, inquiring her way to the house of the oura (parisli priest,) she met him on his doorstep. Then she told her story so clearly and well that the priest, not doubting her story for a moment, took her to the palace of the bishop, and the bishop, after some little fuss and delay, took her to the conde, who lost not a moment in equipping a mounted 1OrC8, With orders to reach the Rincon by a somehwat circuitous route, by vebioh they could enter the densely wooded point from the opposite direction and ambush the brigands. A messenger, mounted on a swift horse was sent forward by the main road to overtake and warn Greroni- "DOST THOU ACCEPT HER FOR THY novae?" loo. Plaint% being afraid of her parents' displeasure, was sent home, accompanied by a servant of the condo, with a note, but not nntil she had visited the beauti- ful cathedral of San Bernabe and prayed for Geronimo at its most sacred shrine. Everything succeeded to perfection. The bandits were ambushed and destroy- ed, and the Count, in gratitude for to signal an interposition of Providence, re- solved to rebuild the little church of Sart Juan de Todos Santos. The people were delighted, yet, at first terrified. It Was only to be rebuilt by a girl, they said—a novia. How could is girl rebuild it? "Paulita shall rebuild it," said the cum "She shall lay the cornerstone with her own bands, "'yes," cried, tbe people, 'but she ' must also be is 'novia," "The Madonna who warned her will, perhaps, find her a novia," said the ours, signifi- cantly. A few dayelater the condi) and the tura wrote for Paulita. The condo sent her a pretty white pacing horse. Geronimo, In all his finery escorted her. They stop- leed at the house of the cura, where they found the condo, the cum, alcalde, the bishop, and, in fact, all the great people of the town. Paulita began to be fright- ened, but Geronimo encouraged her. Presently the bishop himself advanced, and gave her his benediction. As she sank to ber knees, be said: "Daughter, why didst thou go to pray tb tbe virign ill the sacristia of the ohurch of San Juan? Speak boldly. Say the truth and Lear not." Paulita cast down her eyes, and, blush- ing so that the color could be seen behied her pretty little eats, answered "Bias- trisima 1 wont to oraa that the IVIadoinia would send nae a eabellero as beautiful as Don Geronime." At a sigma from the Bishop Germ:limo sank on his knees beside her, awl when the bishop asked hate "Dost thou accept bet for thy novia, Gel:online?" he answer- ed "With thy graelous permission, Mus- t risi Leo eobor. ' Anti, Most wonderful to relate, %hen they dug to lay the new cornerstone of the Church of bail JUSitlf the sacred ves- esa se long lost were discovered. 'limy had been buried by the pada" to protect them front sacrilegious haods.