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SEPTEMBER 2, 1893.
THE NEW YORK LEDGER.
7
natural ones. Her own love affairs being
so definitely and delightfully fixed, why
should she not attend a little to the love
affairs of others? And as the circle of her
acquaintances in England was limited, she
thought at once of Louisa and then of Will
Carter, and she resolved to be an angel to
them.
It gave her some trouble. She had to
find out the whereabouts of James and his
bride and sister, and when this was done,
to look after Will. It was her plan to bring
all to Ambleside about the middle of
The beauty of the English lakes
in that month was excuse enough; and as
she was a positive and persistent corre-
spondent, she managed to get her way,
with such a slight variation as turned out
to be propitious to her intentions.
Texas party was on time, Will Carter
was behind it. But Louisa gladly accepted
Bessie’s invitation to remain with her, and
Jet James and Azalia pursue travel alone.
“ And I call your invitation a godsend,”
said Louisa, ‘‘for if there is a purgatory on
earth it is the constant society of the freshly
married. Azalia thinks the world was made
for James and herself, and she is astounded
if every one else does not also think so.
The way they ‘my loved’ and ‘my dar-
linged’ one another gave me a nausea. - I
hope I shall have a litle common decency
if I ever do take a wedding trip.”
“I noticed their ‘enwrapped’ condition,”
said Bessie, scornfully. ‘The creatures
are abnormal. No ordinary fools are quite
as much fools as James and Azalia are.”
“They are going to Switzerland first.”
“Let us hope the hotel bills and the
glaciers may turn their conversation from
‘I? and ‘we’ a little.”
never bought me any dresses or
fal-fals. I expected James to be selfish.
But Azalia was selfish also. However,
women have as much right to be selfish as
men have.”
“Certainly ; but a woman honors her
right most by waivin: That is what I
think, 1 had a letter from Will Carter this
afternoon. I am glad he did not com
while the bride and bridegroom occupied
all Windermere and the boats and the
beauties thereof. Will is not selfish. He
is real good every way.”
“T hope he is not handsome.
worn out with handsome men.”
* Will is not considered handsome.”
“Ts he tall?”
“No. Will is of medium height, but
he walks lightly. He is animated and
frankly American. His face does not take
shadows, and there is such a light in his
eyes that you never notice how he looks
nor yet how he is dressed.”
‘But I dare say he will notice how we
are dressed.”
“Indeed he will! He has been used to
living with well dressed women. I do no
mean with women ‘upholstered’ by their
modistes in satin or tweed in blue or green,
but women artistically and suitably robed.”
«* What time will he arrive ?”
** About nine this evening. So you can
make a fine evening toilet for a first ap-
pearance.”
“And I need not disappoint uncle,
promised to go on the lake with him this
afternoon.”
“Even if you do that, I would prepare
for the unexpected. Wear that pretty
boating-dress you had made in London for
Henley. Will might happen earlier. All
men have uncertainties.”
The provision turned out to be a wise
one. When Louisa returned to the little
pier, after two hours char-fishing, she saw
Bessie waiting there for her. By Bessie’s
side stood a slight young man, who, even
at a distance, impressed an observer with
the idea of gentlemanly good-nature. He
was holding Bessie’s parasol and talk-
ing merrily to her. s the boat came
close to land, the sound of their voices and
their low laughter rippled and mingled
with the ripple and plash of the water from
the dripping oars; and as soon as Will
saw there was a lady in the boat, his first
natural instinct was to assist her.
With a pleasant: ‘‘ Excuse me,” to Bes-
sie, he was at the boat-edge and holding
out his hand to Louisa, even while he was
greeting Mr..Madison. Louisa laid her
hand in Will’s hand;, their eyes met; then
Will’s fell to the slight gangway on which
Louisa’s feet were cautiously stepping.
They were lovely feet, exquisitely dressed
in silk stockings of gendarme blue, met by
dark-blue shoes with straps across the
instep.
As soon as these pretty, hesitating feet
had set themselves safely upon dry land,
essie went to her cousin’s side and intro-
duced Will Carter to her. That ceremony
was all that was necessary. In another
moment, Wall was holding Louisa’s parasol
and talking to the lovely water-nymph};
for Louisa had the special charm of put-
ting men thoroughly at ease by simply
a
lam
allowing them to do all and say all there
was to do and say. . She gave herself up
to Will as it were—allowed him to wipe a
few drops of water from her blouse with his
silk kerchief, took the side of the road he
suggested, let him carry on the conversa-
tion, accepting all his opinions and en-
couraging him to give them with the
sweetest of smiles and the most kindly
glances from her dark eyes.
Will thought the walk from the pier to
the hotel an absurdly short one. This de-
lightful girl in a gendarme-blue Henley
suit, with its corn-colored blouse, charmed
im. Never before had he felt so much at
his ease with a stranger. Perhaps for the
first time in all his life he had a sense of
having done himself complete justice. The
calmness of Louisa had permitted him to
be calm, to keep his speech, his hands, his
feet, all well in control. He had said noth-
ing foolish ; he had done nothing he wished
lone.
“She is the most delightful girl I ever
met in my life,” he said, with a happy con-
fidence, to Bessie.
“*She has fine eyes,” answered Bessie.
“* She has divine eyes! So soft and ten-
der! It is a joy to look at them!”
** And that hat of blue drawn lisse, with
its flowers of shaded blue, is vastly becom-
ing above them. Louisa looks well in that
shade of blue.”
But when evening came, and Louisa
appeared at dinner in a gown of thin brown
canvas, worn over an amber-silk petticoat,
with sleeves of amber silk and plastrons to
match, and amber combs in her black hair,
Will suffered a fresh enchantment.
sat at the side of this goddess,. and she
charmed him anew every moment. If he
ate anything, he was not aware of the act.
His eyes and ears usurped his con-
sciousness. And yet Louisa spoke very
little, only enough to set Will talking.
Her vé/e was to listen and look interested.
She had only to smile and look in Will’s
face and lift her large, expressive eyes to
his small gray ones, and Will was both
praised for what he had said and encour-
aged to goon. At the end of the evening,
Louisa had said hardly anything; nods and
wreathed smiles and pretty interjections
represented her conversation; but Will
told Bessie he had ‘‘never met a more
sensible or entertaining woman.”
And yet Will had been intimate with the
brilliant Ambrosia and with the learned
Miss Radway. He had known many ladies
who wrote novels and others who wrote
social essays. He had visited the poetess
of the era and sat at the feet, figuratively,
of all who in any way interpreted the genius
and aspirations of the dying nineteenth
century. And with all these guides and
gauges of intellect to school his judgment,
Will Carter said, in very earnest, of Louisa
Madison: ‘She is the most sensible and
entertaining woman I ever met.”
For it is a fact that if girls would only
learn to ‘‘efface theinselves,” they would
find it an easy way to be sensible and en-
tertaining, and there would be fewer flirta-
tions and a great man: e marriages.
Louisa only did naturally what any self-
restraining girl can do artificially, She
really liked to dress herself beautifully,
and receive, without either mental or phy-
sical effort, the entertainment provided for
He was equally tired of the mental
gymnastics of intellectual women and the
tiresome games of physical-culture wom-
en. She was an inexpressible rest to
Will. He was glad to hear Louisa say
that, if she had to play lawn-tennis long, it
would give her a tennis “brain” as well as
the “elbow” and “knee” trouble it is ac-
countable for. She looked charming in
his eyes when she thought ‘a tennis-wo-
man a queer study of the nineteenth cen-
tury humanity;” when she could not ad-
mire ‘fwomen who do their athletics in
public;” when she was not sure that she
admired athletic young women at all;
when she disliked even the leather belts
girls now affected, ‘‘ because a ribbon belt
looks so much more feminine.” It pleased
him to hear her say she really could’ not
bear to buckle her waist in evil-smelling
leather. ‘‘ Odious!” How then could he
avoid looking again at the pretty slim
waist, girdled with a blue cestus, that
Venus herself might have worn
It must not be supposed that all these
views came at one time from Louisa. They
were a code of opinions, formed slowly in
her own mind and not wastefully enunci-
ated. They lasted her a long time, and
Will was amazed at the consistency of
Louisa’s. mind. . ‘She had some fixed
ideas,” he proudly told himself, and these
ideas, fortunately, all fitted into his own.
And then he compared her modest way of
suggesting her opinions and listening to
his opinions with the confident, airy satis-
faction of the average clever girl of New
e
5
York.
“Louisa has no self-consciousness,” he
thought, ‘and most of the brilliant women
Ihave met seem to talk before their look-
ing-glass. Bessie often gives me that im-
pression—so does Ambrosia—so does every
one but Louisa.”
In the presence of this unique and satis-
factory companion, a month went away
like a happy dream. The life led was regu-
lar and blissful. Mr. Madison went fishing
every possible day and came home in the
evening to his dinner, full of enthusiasin
about the people and the country. Bessie
had John’s apparently endless letters to
answer. She was a little vain of the quires
and quires of adoration she received. Al-
ready she regarded herself as a married
woman and put on those airs of severe re-
servation, common to neophytes in the
holy state of matrimony. She treated
Louisa and Will very much in a maternal
spirit. Her attitude was a satisfactory ‘‘ go
and be happy my children.” And Will
and Louisa took the tacit p ission with
joy and gratitude. They wandered among
the Jaurel walks and sailed upon the lakes
and set their dream of love in natural and
romantic beauties, that had no comparison
elsewhere.
One lovely night in early September,
they were in Grasmere, at the Prince of
Wales Hotel. After dinner was over, Mr.
Madison being very weary with a day’s
trout-fishing, fell asleep; and Bessie sat
down to read and answer the letters de-
layed and on time, which the mail had just
brought her. Then Will said to Louisa:
““Come, let us go to the famous Wish-
ing Gate.”
She rose with a smile. The moon was
at the full; the air was just chill enough to
ive an excuse for the white fleecy wraps,
in which she looked lovelier than ever ;
and Bessie smiled on their departure, with
the manner of one, who amid her own im-
portant interests, had still a watchful care
over theirs. Down the old Roman road
they went slowly, hand in hand, to the
Wishing Gate. Bessie had talked to Louisa
about the magic spot, and told her she
must be sure of her desire, because what-
ever she longed for on that spot would
certainly come to pass. Then Bessie, who
had a nice little imagination of her own,
though well in control, began to speculate
about the thousands and hundreds of thou-
sands who had stood upon the fair ground
and asked for their heart’s desire. And she
lifted the hotel ‘* Wordswortl
Louisa read how— :
“ Even the stranger from afar,
Reclining on the moss-grown bar,
ing and unknown
The infection of the ground partakes,
ging for his beloved; who makes
All happiness her own.”
So Louisa was well prepared for the mys-
tical glamour of the scene. nd, oh, how
fair it was! The moonlight invested every-
thing with an ineffable beauty. Will was
silent. Louisa had no desire to speak.
They leaned upon the bar and whispered
to the genius of the spot their wishes, and
felt all the charm which indulgent centuries
had woven thrill their hearts.
And so it happened that the genius was
propitious, for as they lingered by the bar,
Will put his wish to the test, and got it.
Then it transpired that Louisa had wished
as Will had wished; and that in granting
Will’s wish she also granted her own. .
Then Will had another wish. Why
should not the promise be made perfect
upon ground so auspicious? That very
day they had visited Grasmere Church and
sat amongits ‘¢ crowded pillars” and under
its ancient roof, upheld—
“ By naked rafters intricately crossed.”
They had read together the admonitory
textsinscribed upon its walls, and marveled a
little at the ‘‘ winged heads of rudely painted
cherubi And Will, whose soul was
and made
im.”
sweetest when it soared loftiest, had been
strangely touched and pleased to see Louisa,
as she entered the church, silently fall upon
her knees to keep the charge inscribed
above the portal:
“Whoever thou art that enterest this church,
leave it not
Without one prayer to God for thyself ; for those
Who minister and for those who worsbip here.”
And in the making of this one prayer Will
and Louisa came very closely and tenderly
together, kneeling side*by side at the oaken |.
bench in the nave.
So Will had taken a strange fancy for
the old church of St. Oswald. He felt that
marriage would be a very sweet and sacred
thing in it, and just as soon as he obtained
Louisa’s promise to be his wife, he asked :
‘“Why not, then, in Grasmere Church?”
Louisa was not able to find any reasons
worth considering against Will’s urgent
arguments for his own way. He had al-
ways disliked show weddings. He thought
marriage ought to be a sacred personal
matter. Nothing would delight him. so
much as a quiet eight-o’clock-in-the-morn-
ing ceremony, with the rector and clerk,
Mr. Madison and Bessie as its witnesses,
They could have a family breakfast at nine,
and take the ten o'clock train for London.
And at London they could decide upon
their future movements.
All this perfect plan had come in one
drift of thought to Will, after the Wishing
Gate had given him his wish. It is the
usual way—one favor, and then another to
bind it. Louisa had, however, few objec-
tions. If affairs took a conservative course,
she must either be married from Bessie’s
house in New York or from her father’s
house in Texas. Lessie would be the ruling
spirit in New York. Alphonse and Mar-
garet were in possession in Texas. In
either case there would be acertain amount
of dictation and deference. An informal
marriage would at once make her her own
mistress. No one could dictate to her
about wedding presents and dresses and
ddl. ii ble bridemaid:
g
These thoughts and kindred ones passed
rapidly through her mind as Will urged
his plan, and when he ceased his persuasive
arguments she was ready to answer:
“Dear Will, whatever pleases you most
pleases me most.”
Bessie, upon being taken into council,
screwed up her pretty face and looked at
first very dissenting. But as Will reiterated
his arguments, she was busy with some o
her own, which fitted very well into Will's.
It would rather detract from the ¢c/af of her
own wedding to have Louisa’s in New York.
Whether Louisa’s was before or after hers,
there would be comparisons. Then it
would be a little ‘‘stunner ” to Ambrosia
to find that her inseparable Will, her obe-
dient Will, had got married without even
aword of advice or permission from her.
No one could deny that Ambrosia had
acted as if she owned both her husband
and her husband’s brother. No one could
deny that Ambrosia was awfully patroniz-
ing. Will's sudden marriage would be a
little lesson for her. men have no
special ill-will in such thoughts. They
simply like to get ahead of one another.
Men do the same.
So the wedding took place, and was as
fortunate in all respects as the wooing had
been. It was such a day as September
sometimes gives, serene and bright. The
sunshine flooded the ancient altar and the
rector’s white vestments and the kneeling
bride and the bridegroom. The organ wel-
comed them with a joyful melody, and sent
them forth with a triumphant measure.
An atmosphere of chastened gladness per-
vaded every event, and the going-away was
only noticeable for its composure and for
the general disposition to say: ‘‘ What a
suitable ceremony! What a lovely bride!
How sure they are to be happy!”
At the very last moment, as Bessie was
kissing the bride good-bye, Will said:
‘Bessie, dear, do me one more favor:
Write to Ambrosia and tell her. I will
write as soon as we reach Paris.”
Bessie nodded an acceptance of the com-
mission, and then the train moved, and the
affairs of Will and Louisa were entirely in
their own hands.
(TO BE CONTINUED IN OUR NEXT~NO, 35.]
ONLY A WOMAN'S SHOE,
weet
BY MRS. M, A. KIDDER.
Only a woman's shoe,
A delicate number three ;
Worn, well worn, at the heel and toe,
And buttonless as you see,
'Tis a foolish thing, you say,
To treasure with so much care
This shoe and its mate, when hanging near,
Is a jaunty, stylish pair.
Astylish pair? Ah, true;
But dearer to me to-day
Are these that her own fair hands put off
‘The morn that she went away.
Only a woman’s shoe,
That has travelled through the house—
Upstairs and down, and in and out,
As quiet as any mouse,
Pilgrims on deeds of love—
Martyrs to mother care—
Were the little feet that wore these shoecs—
Brave little feet and fair.
Go ask the boys and girls
Thi ome now and sad,
And they'll telt you, with mother about,
ow merry they were and glad,
She’s been gone a month or more,
And with her the household light;
But this telegram read: “My husband,
dear,
Four wife will be home to-night.”
——___+ 0+ —____
—A little girl, walking with her father in
the Central Park, the other day, saw a little
white duck swimming near a majestic swan,
andexclaimed: ‘Oh, pa, look at that little
duck with its nurse!”