She speedily communicated the new turn of affairs to her daughter, with the additional intelligence that her father meant to marry her to some horrid person, not at all like Mr. Bathurst, which she opined was an excellent reason for hastening on the mar. riage, and thought it her duty to write to Charlie that very evening and confide her perplexities to him. That gentleman was quite equal to the occasion, and wrote by return, saying that a great danger required a great remedy; he, therefore, thought that, with her concurrence, it would be better to be married by special licence iustead of by banns; and, as this was Wednesday, he thought the following Tuesday would give them plenty of time to make the necessary preparations. The ceremony might take place at St. George's at nine in the morning, or as soon after breakfast as they could manage it, and he signed himself, "Your affectionate son, Charlie." Mrs. Bankes was enchanted. Here was a lover, if you please! Nothing daunted him, he deserved to be happy-what a genius he had and then so in love and deferential to her! She gave a warm assent to his plan, and scolded her daughter for looking grave about it, when she ought to be so happy. Things being so far arranged, Charlie wrote a mysteriously. worded epistle to his friend Maurice Grant, who was at this time living on board his yacht, the "Hilda," off Cowes. 'Hilda," off Cowes. He earnestly begged him to come up to town on the following Monday to do him a very great service,-such a one as he could never forget; and implored him to be with him on Monday night without fail. His next act was to secure Annie the promised bridesmaid. He set about this in a way peculiar to himself. He wrote to Miss Lascelles, requesting that she would see him alone the following day, as he had something very particular to say to her on which his whole happiness depended. He would tell her all, and knew that his confidence would not be misplaced; and that, even if she could not consent to what he wished, she would keep his secret. He begged for one line to say when he might comethat he was too happy to write coherently; and inadvertently signed himself, "Your devoted Charlie." Then, without even glancing at what he had written, he sealed and despatched the note at once. The receipt of this missive threw Miss Lascelles into a state of violent agitation, such as her highly-disciplined and well-regulated mind was unaccustomed to. She naturally fell into the error of supposing that Charlie was in love with herself. He had certainly beon there very often lately-she forgot that there was no one in town, and the time hung heavy on his hands when not with Annie. Then, had be not, in his old bantering way it was true, but still, he had certainly said, when questioned by her as to why he was still about when all his men friends had gone somewhere "Can't you guess, Miss Kate? are you not still here? am I ever far from where you are? don't I haunt your steps like your shadow?" She had laughed carelessly at the time; but now the words had a deeper meaning. She had loved him, and after all, he loved her. Why had he been so little lover-like hitherto. Again she read the note, it could have but one signification. She pondered over it all that day, and most part of the night also; still she was very calm and self-possessed when he made his appearance at the time she had appointed, between four and five the following after noon. "How tall, how handsome he was!" she thought, his manner, too, was slightly embarrassed—" and how happy he looked!" "Were you very much surprised, dear Miss Lascelles, at receiving my note? I wrote in such a hurry. I don't half know what I said; but I dare say you understood it-did you?" "I don't know," she answered, looking away from him as she spoke, and blushing ever so slightly: "perhaps I do." "Ah, I thought you had seen something of it," he went on; "the fact of the money being on the wrong side ought, perhaps, to have stalled me off; but when a fellow is very far gone, he doesn't trouble his head as to what the world will say about him. You will never think me mercenary, will you?" he said, with much warmth, taking her hand very kindly, and looking very affectionately at her. He was so brimming over with happiness and exuberant spirits just then that he felt quite brother-like towards this confidant of his. Poor Kate's heart was beating rapidly; it was come at last, this great happiness she had thought impossible. She pictured in one moment a life of perfect joy to be passed with him-to see him day by day, to hear his loved voice, and to feel that he was all her own. Her emotion was too great for words; he was still holding her hand. She laid her disengaged one fondly on his, pressing it gently. The next sentence that fell from those dear lips was to her as a death-knell, shattering for ever the bright fabric of hope she had so recently erected, making her heart even doubly desolate by reason of the intense happiness that had seemed within her grasp. "Annie and I are to be married next Tuesday. Old Bankes won't hear of it; but Mrs. B. is quite of our way of thinking, or, rather, mine-oh, she is such a darling, Kate," he continued, with bis face all aglow with bright anticipation. "I'm the luckiest fellow in the world-congratulate me, won't you? I've come to you a very great favour-will you be Annie's bridesmaid ?—she ask will think it so kind of you, and there will be no one else but dear old Maurice in the church. Please say you will do this for me, there's a dear girl!" She was enduring inexpressible torture - her heart almost stood still with agony, she felt faint and sick while he was speaking, the latter part of what he said she never heard. Her comprehension seemed dulled and stupified-was she the same Kate that had entered that room but half an hour ago?-it seemed as if years had passed since then-was it a dream ?" "What did you say?" she said, at length, speaking with difficulty, and looking vacantly at him. He was struck with the change in her voice and look. She was deadly white, her forehead was contracted as if in pain, she looked ten years older, and the hand she suddenly withdrew from his had turned icy cold. He looked at her with surprise and alarm-in one moment Annie's careless remark respecting Kate flashed through his mind, and, far from gratifying his vanity, smote his kind heart with a keen, sharp pain. If it were so, what a brute he had been! He rose, saying "Good Heavens, dear Miss Lascelles, how ill you look! it's all this horrid heat; why you will sit in this stifling room I can't conceive-I'll open a window, if you don't mind?" He talked rapidly and walked to the window, turning his back upon her, so as to give her time to regain her composure. He knew well her proud nature, and wished to spare her the humiliation of supposing that she had for one moment betrayed the state of her feelings to him. When she next spoke she was complete mistress of herself again. She was thankful he had attributed her sudden faintness to the wrong cause, and would rather have died than that he should have the slightest inkling of her foolish weakness-so she now termed it. As she raised her eyes to his kind face, she remembered that this would probably be the last time that they two would ever be alone together. They would drift wide asunder, -he in his wedded happiness, she in her lonely misery. She was just enough, though, to acquit him of all blame-the fault was wholly hers. She had willingly mistaken his open-hearted friendship for a warmer feeling; and this was her awakening. What a bitter one it was! "Thank you for letting in a little air!" she said; "it is very hot; the sea-breezes will be very refreshing. I think I told you Nina wants me to go to her on Friday; she says Cowes is quite delightful now. Mamma prefers Brighton, and is to join Aunt Harriet there when I leave her." "What a nice plan!" said he; "it will do you a world of good." Kate was nerving herself to broach the subject of his marriage again. It was with a great effort she said, as she reseated herself as far from the light as possible "You were asking for my congratulations just now, and what was it you wanted me to do?-tell me." "Oh, nothing," answered Charlie, feeling at a loss where to look and what to say. "You are going away, you see, and it doesn't matter in the least." He was only anxious to get himself well out of the room, and rose as if to say good-bye. But she felt as if it were, impossible to part with him yet; she must detain him, if only for a few minutes longer. "Don't be in a hurry," she said, "tell me a little about her. Has it been settled long?" "I suppose it has," he answered shortly. "Is Mrs. Grant with your cousin at Cowes ?" making an effort to change the conversation. "There is something about that woman I don't like; I am sorry she is so much with her." "She is not with Nina now, but has taken a house on the Parade. Did you say you were to be married on Tuesday?" she asked, ever recurring to the hated topic. "I believe so," he answered; "but now I really must go. Goodbye, dear Miss Lascelles," he added, holding out his hand. "Good-bye, Charlie," was the faltering rejoinder. It was the first and last time she would ever call him by his name-the dear name rose to her lips unbidden. "God grant you may be very, very happy! I do wish it so !" "You are too good," he murmured, pressed her hand warmly to his lips, and the next moment he was gone. As the door closed the unhappy girl felt that with him had gone. everything that made life worth having-a cold, numb feeling crept over her. She shivered as if with ague, this warm summer evening. She never knew how much she hoped that he might some day come to love her-not as she loved him, that never could be, but well enough to marry her, and let her share her wealth with him; and now, how could she bear it? how endure the long, cheerless existence that was spread before her? There was no hatred mingled with her thoughts of Annie; her heart was too stricken for such a feeling to find place in it. It was swallowed up in her great and overwhelming despair. With a cry of anguish she sank on her knees, and burying her face in the cushions of the chair she had just quitted, remained so for hours. THE CONTRAST. WHEN thou art away, love, All the world is sunshine, Love, when thou art near. When thou art away, love, Bud and leaf appear; All the world is Eden, Love, when thou art near. When thou art away, love, Echo rich and clear; Love, when thou art near. When thou art away, love, In thy sunny presence Let me ever move, W. J. STEWART. |