The New York Herald Newspaper, May 12, 1860, Page 12

12 LITBRATUHS. Rose eLmeca; oR, A DIVIDED HEART AND A DIVIDED LIFE. BY MRS. SOUTHWORTH. CHAPTER I. Ih was many and many « yoar 8g0, In 2 castle by the sea, ‘Thet a lady lived, with no other thought, Bat to love and be loved by thee. Evaar A. Pos. It was the first year of the present ceatury—ere yet steamships, railways, gaslight, insuraace com- panice, telegraphic wires, and detective polivemen had expelled nearly all possibility of vicissitade, peril, and adventure from civilized society. It was while clumsy sailing vessels were the only means of ocean travel, and heavy stage coaches umbered slowly along every public road in the country; it was while footpads still larked in the shadows of the city streets, to start forth apon the belated pedestrian, and highwaymen, under the veil of night, sprang out to commit their lawless depredations upon the unguarded traveller; while he spirit of romance hovered around old build- ge, and superstitution lingered ia secluded neighborhoods, that the strange events of our story Tanspired. It was early in the morning of a lovely day in June that a rather large group of idlers gathered ia front of the Etheridge Arms, @ qasint old tavern in the gucient little towa of Swinburne, sitasted ia one of the most picturesque and besutiful couaties in the West of England. They were standing within the arched gateway, or leaning against the solid masonry of the side walls, that looked strong enough and old enough to have been those of some ancient keep, and which im fact had done good service as defences, in the olden time, when might made mght, aud every man’s house wus indeed bis castle. By their looks and coaversation, it was evident that some event of unusual importance was ex- pested to come off. “The coach will be late; what wull be keeping her?” inquired Broding, the village smith, as he re- turned, pinted, from ove of these surveys. “What ae'ee teinkvwall the bridegroom be doon for ware ¢” he asked, turning to aa ostier, who had left the stable yard for the same purpose. “Wulil the young squoir be doon? Of course he wall! Dunnot he sevd down his groom to speak Tooms in the house, with orders to have fires kia- died? Why, mun, the young squoie wull never be late at such a time,” replied the ostler, ia coutemp- tuous toues. “A good job if un never coom at all. The loikes of yon cooming to warry our lady, and lordit over our castle. When were it ever kaown that @ Lord Etheridge, of Swinburne, married #1’ a cummuaer? But we've ay heard teil that a house is dove fur when it fails to the distaff,” said an old laborer, from Swipbarne Chase, “Tl tell’ee all what and about it. Old Hassings, the feyther o’ this young man, was his late ludshiy's friend, aud were le’t gardeen by his late ludship's will to this young lady. Well, old Hastings wasa knowing ‘up, and ade the match. There's where it is; and #0 they're to be married to-morrow.” “Boigh! Harken! Coome along wi’ 1; here's the coach,” suddenly iuterrupted the smith, starting from archway into the street, just as the hora was heard signalling the approch of Bristol coach, that preseotly rambled down the street, and drew es great noise before the tavern ga‘es. All servants of the house and yard rushed out to receive it, jostling against each other, chokisg up the avenues, and creating much annoying con- “Now, good people, room here, room! You are im the way!” excisimed the landlord, dispersing the idlers,and issaing forth ia person to receive the passengers. First came from the interior of the coach an elderly geutieman, whose tall, spare, and stoopia was clotbed io a suit of clericai black, aa whoee pale, thin, long face was sarrounded ty hair and whiskers prematurely gray. He was closely attended by a young man, whose Romaa teatures, olive complexion, jet black bair aud deep dark b or bespoke him of the Celtic race, while his plain dress aud subordinate position could oot dis- es the grace and dignity of his air and manner. this last he was such # contrast to his employer, that he might have been taken for a prioce of the biood, attended by an old —— in waiting. | *, Broding, you's old Hastings aud his secre- tary. I've seen an before dvon here,” said the old laborer, aodressing the saith, as these two tra- veilees ineued from the coach, aad passed befure the bowing end «mi kiog huet into the boase. Next came forth a young demao, whose handsome person aud haughty msaner at onec at- tracted general attention. His form was tall, aud finely proportioned, crowned by a heaghty head and » with bi acquiline featares, fair and fresh complexion it biae eyes, and very light, flaxen hair. pression of eountensace, ia stero alu rst to repellant severity. Gr ity of person, with great dignity of manner, forms a combinativa very attractive to most young women, aud perhaps it Was this thet fascinated the young heiress of Swinburne Coste, for this was Albert Hastings, the bridegroom elect. He was folio ved iat the house Dy his valet. bearing his dressing case. Colonel Hastings was immediately shown into ~ private parlor, where he was soon jciaed by soa. The landlord stood bowing at the door, aad ‘waiting for orders. &“ Breakfast, immediately, and the post-chaise at the door in half an hour,” was the brief order of Colonel Hastings. on Yea, ++ een . What would your honor like “Anything that is at hand—only be quick.” “Black ten, toast, broiled Saks cal sous, oan “Yes, yes; and an: " else gh ovly let have it now,” replie guest, cu wt the bil of fare with « look Dont gomare which oo? transfix the garrulous host aad strike landlord bowed and soon succeeded the head came io and laid the cloth, and spread apun the board 4 yy Lay nd to whieh the haogry travel- Then inalscercely fiaished the meal before the post choise was anu The elder Hastings arose, saying— “albert, my boy, | am sorry that etiquette does J, and was notadmit of your wai your belle mai- tresse today, oe Sek ast meet her at the church. Bat au revoir antil to-morrow at Piva.) will, at eyed convey my vrefvanion to my fair , and my deepest rex she cannot rective me also )” aid Al ay, certainly; that is anderstood. Indeed, her ladyship would deign to be seen evea her old goardisn, were it not that certsia Felative to the transfer of my trust, re- quire her signature today. | hope you will ma to ogy Ts yp comfortable here for a day night. e Levere see that your room is wellwred Good-bye. Come, Cawinove.” And with this abrapt leave the elder , attended by his secretary, left the house, red the post-chaise to drive to Swinburne way lay through the principal greet of the 6, between long, kvegeier rows of aatiqaat some of them dating back maoy haa white here and there a smart modera ® highly ornate shop, hinted that the it had found out even Swid- ne. The secre | & denizen of tho city, gaae an feudal village ‘with marange “You seem to be ia a most contemplative frame morning, Cassinove, it i u & H z ‘f of mind, this said Colonel = thin! of the changes that centaries bave made in hein and dying world of man, while these works of bie hands, those senseless stones, remain forever the same,” the yoang man gravely. Pe] a oe bose chap; ieee eee. wi village the asf vassals of the lords of Swinbarne; w it Kirh wood, because, . the av that owns it will not sell it for any sam sane man would pay.” ‘They now torned the corner of the village strect, and came foli upon the beantifal country road that boucded Se inburne Chase on the south: = The low ston om their left hand did not quite shat oat the mf the charming scenery of the chase, wih ite sonny bills, shady groves, winding trea and grovps of failowdeer. Far as the eye preen bills and wooded dales, the land ite of Lady btheridge, of Swin- NEW YORK HERALD, SATURDAY, MAY 12, 1860.-TRIPLE SHEET. anh restoration Ble toate, b arch, el Gothic cite, coeval with the 1 teentaieen ge On Ongennore gased with “] upos, church, until Co- lonel : Tecalled we iention, by saying:— “ Come, » We have no time for aatiqui- ties, Our basiness is not with the past but with ane ai 4 ae ile al ey drove ly on for yet another mile along the boandary the chase, end suddealy came up Onathicket of trees, from the midst of which frowned the rains of the ancient keep, ita solid Masonry now covered thickly with ivy. Young Cassinove, who felt a deep interest in all these gcenee, would have paused to contemplate this venerable ruin, but again the impatience of his employer urgedthe pestilion to greater aveed, and they drove hurriedly past, A few yarda furtner on they reached the south gate of the park, guarded by the ancient porter s lodge. They passed under the at rig og and entered upon ihe beautifol grounds that lay more immedi- ately around the castle. Swinburve Castle was of later date than. the an- cint keep, the ruins of which they had just vasned, and from which it took its name. The nilding was a doube quadrangle, in the form of the fetter H, aud having towers at the four ex- tremities. Bebind the castle arose the thick, impenetrable woods bordering the open chase; before it lay a smiling landscape, diversilied by parterres of flow- ers, groves of beautifn! trees, and a small, clear lake, shaded by overhanging ows, and adoraed by a fleck of graceful waite swana. Ap exclamation of delight broke from the lips of Cassinove as his eyes fell upon this scene of ex- ceeowg beauty, now lighted up as it was by the gicrious sun of Jane. They drew up before the central transept that connected the two long wings of the castle. Two grooms in waiting without immediately came forward to attend Colonel Hastings, who alighted, tollowed by hie secretary. One of the rooms dismissed the postchaise, while the other Enocked at the door, which was immediately opened by a footman in the gray and white livery of Lady Etheridge of Swinburne. “Show me into the library, Williams, and let her ladyship know that | await her conveuience. Cas sinove, my good fellow, you can stay here, I sap- ¢d,” suid Colonel Hastings, t to admit the m, and then going ‘on, attended by the footman, to the library. How often we meet our fate without an instaut’s forewarning! The aparunent into which young Cassinove had been shown was a pleasant, cnr ertul morning room, simply but elegantly furnished. The great front window, reaching from ceiling to floor, and from side to side, commanded an extensive view of the lawn, with its groves ef trees, its shaded lake and its parterres of flowers. A rosery outside the win- dow adorned the frame, without obstructing the view of this grand picture. At the opposite end of this room was a spacious mirror, that filled up ail that part of the wall, and reflected the whole of the landscape commanded by the wiadow. Cassinove psased thoughtfully about this apart- ment, pausing sometimes at the window to gaze upon the beautiful scenery of the lawn, and stand- ing sometimes before the mirror to admire the poetic taste that had placed this glass just where it duplicated the world of beaaty without. While he stood before the muror, eajoying the Teflected glided a purple-~ landscape, saddeniy amon; ed female figure, that immedi- ately rivetied bi It was &@ womaa ia the earliest bioo f youch. She was not techni- cally pretty. She would not bave been considered 80 by any seperticial observer; but the faces that inspire deep and nning passions in great souls are vot those of wax dolls. As young Cassiaove gazed upon ber reflected image, as he never gazed upon ber, he felt as though a goddess had suddenty descended among the flowers. Her form was above the medium height, and well rounded; her head was finely formed, and covered with a profa- sion of jet black, gluttering hair, that was plainly parted over her broad, expansive forehead, and around the temples, acd wound iuto a rich massive knot at the back of the head. Her eyes were Jarge, luminoas, dark gray orbs, that seemed, whenever the lopg veil of lashes was lifted, te throw a ao herever they glanced. Her nose was straight and well formed, her lips rounded, aud, like the rest, fall of character. la preved her one of nature's queens. The impression made upou the enthusiastic heart of Ferdinand Crsewove was at once vivid, deep and strong—quick a8 suo painting, permanent as sculpture. He saw this goddess of the intellectual bre nd stately step open the window and ad- vance into the room, and as she approached bin be felt his whole frame thrill with a straage emo- tion of blended pain and delight. He dreaded to move, yet, as the needle turos to the magoet, he Jeit himself tarning from the reflected image to the face of the original. He stood before that queenly form, and met those large, luminous, dark eyes fixed upon him in royal graciousness, as she said — “You are Colonel Hastings’ secretary, I believe, sir, Pray sit down. You will find the Loudon papers on that table.” And, with a eful bow, ihe lady pas-ed him, and seated herself on a sofa at the extremity of the room, took up a portfolio, and was soon deeply engaged with its coptents. After the profouod bow with which he had re- turned her courtesy, Ferdinand Cassivove remsioed motionless where she had left him. But ten min- utes had elapsed «ince she had glided in among the flowers, and him like @ vision seea in some beavtifal dream. But ten minutes, aod life, the world, himself, were ail changed for Ferdinand Cas- tinove. He felt,from thet moment, that bis fate mast take its character fur good or evil from the ‘will of that royal looking woman. Infatuated youth! Could he have foreseen the long and terrible agooy which that like bad been ordained to suffer, whieh was being soon to beeen lan the ungove passion of bis wild, Italian oa- ture, have struck her dead at his feet, and gladly died for having saved her from sach vie woe. Who was she? What was she? He bad heard that Lady Etheridge had a young frien is Dornton, staying with her, to act | her tuendant at the Sorrcecsiag martes. This, then, was Miss Dornton. Aud who was Fer thoughts with Miss Dornton? A ol re origin, left to the benevolent guardianship ‘colonel Hastings, who had defrayed the ex- penses Of his education at school and college, and afterwards wken him into his family as his private seoretary. Yet ail of ltaly's genius, and try smouldered in the heart of the young secre- , and these were kindied into asadden by the electric spark of love. Mixe Dorpton! a lady of rank, and, perhaps, of fortune! Ob, if she were not already woved and won! Give bim time, sod, uoder the ‘ation of bis love for her, he would win wealth, distinctioa, & glorious name, aad lay them ali at her feet. In passion was sudden as it was ardent, remem- ber that Ferdinand Cassinove was of the Celtis race. Yes; he would win the world, and lay it at her feet! In the midst of the pleming pain of this love dieam the door opened, and the gray haired ser- vant whom Ferdinand had seen im the hail entered sofuy, aud ste, scross the room to where the lady set, and speaking ia the low, suddaed tone in which royal persous are addressed, sa:i— 'y lady, Colonel Hasting’s respects, and he wits your ladyship in the 7 4 ‘ery well, W : ao say to Colonel Hastings that I will attend him immediately,” answered the lady, ¥ This queesly woman, then, was Laura, Ba- roness ktheridge of Swinvarpe! Fur ever aad tor ever unattaioable him! Ob, desparr! His cay tle in the air tumbled all aboat him, aed buried ail bis hopes and tions in its fail. While still stapned by the discovery he had made, the old ser- vant approached him, and said — “You, aleo, sir, are wanted.” and left the room to precede his Indy to the library. ady Etheridge passed on with her stately step and gracious saule, and young Cassinove follow: eee mens oe at somnamovu- ney. They crossed the great hall to the Hhrary, which Wag eiiuated on the same floor, It was & great, antiqne apartment, riehty ished, and sto with fhe literature of all lands aod ages, and adorn- ed with the portraits of such of the old barons of Seinborne ae had been distinguished in the coun- coils or the bates of their nation. At a writing table near the centre sat Colonel Hastings, who pae with the stately coartesy of the oldea time, vet achair for his ward. Lad: , after ing ber guardian cor- dhaity rook the fetvonted seat ¢ old servant retired. Ferdinand Cassinove withdre® to a distant Go- thic window of «tained glass, and stood ap, stadying ite scriptural subjects, but realy, senses natare!: ot black, et exsmining a docament before him. ‘Lady Etheridge. the pa rata tebe so well became e carriage of her head and neck, and io her | tately footsteps, there was a certain pataral ma- | jesty that,even in & pearaot’s dress would have | e roses | ' 4 ber imperial head, he would, ia |. figure osite, with her carelocsly resting upon se tehior abd her fine face calned, an ex: ression of joy irradiating her countenance. Peat w Laura,” pea Hostage, com perple: 47, “this noble pooner poe in A very delicate position. Tom 5 your intended husband is my son, world already charges me with between my son and my wealthy ward. 7, Lady Etheri should” persist in your ¥ peat fo Hin execute the deed ‘of of this whole magnificent estate to your intended hus- , and be should accept it, wnat, then, would the world say?” “Just what it likes, my dear guardian. I am of age, and bave the right to do what I please with my own. I please to bestow it all, not only ia ef- fect, but In reality, opon my hasband,” she replied, with yrs smile. “But, Lady Etheridge, Ido not know that you, the last baroness of the ancient house of Swin- burne, have the right to transfer the Castle of Swinburne, with its vast dependence, to an alien.” “an alien! Do youcall my husband an alien?” “Be is not of your blood.” “He is more. “He is Ee heart, and soul, and spirit, as {am of his. Oh! Colonel Hastings! there cau be bo question of mine aud between me and albert. The deed of gi, that transfers all my osseseions to ny fature husband is made out; let it be executed. He shall then never be jealous of his wife’s riches, for she will come to him as poor as a cottage girl,” exclaimed Lady Etheridge, with a pup devotion of love flushing her cheek and Jighting her eyee, “But, I repeat, do not know that you have the right to transfer this estate, even to your husb sad,” demurred Colonel Hastings, who, however, did not seem really unwilling to accept the sacrifice. “and Irepeat I have the right. The estate is met tad Eh idge, 1 spok of ft “ Lady Etheridge, e not of legal but of mo- ral and social right. Bethink you; han @ vast and ancient estate, with a historical name and fame, transmitted to you by a Jong line of ancestors.” “I tell you, Colonel ings, that, aacient and vast as it is, with the historical celebrity that it boasts, handed down to me by a long liae of ilinstrions barons, a8 it has been, I, the ‘ast Baronees Ethe- ridge of Swinburne, value all this not one straw, except as I may bestow it upon my hasbaad,” re- piled Wie lady, every feature of -her eloqnent tace eaniing with the truth and fervor of her words. att Etheridge, are you resolved upon this trans- “TImmutably.” “Then you most have your will. Cassinove, come bither, if you please. Your signature is want- ed as witness to a deed.” Young Cassinove started. He had heard all that had passed; thivking—feeling—Oh, heavens! how this woman can love—this woman whom I could worship, pay, whom I do and shall worship as the guides star of my life, so long as I shall live. Oh, at the map who is blessed with her love may be worthy of her! And ob, that | bad the only Pagan privilege of opening the gates ot life, and escaping its tortures! Be obeyed Colonel Hastings’ sum- mons, and went up,to the table, where he was presevted to Lady ridge, 28— “My secretary, Mr. Cassinove, your pe “I bave seen Mr. Cassinove before,” said the lady kindly, hviding out ber band. je ge pees the white hand as he bent be- fore her. His own tarned cold 82 ice. “Now, then, Lady Etheridge,” exclaimed Colo- nel Hastings, spreading out the docament before her. And the business of signing and witnessing the deed was completed. . Colonel Hastings and his secre! then took leave, and left the caste to retarn to Etheridge im whither we must precede them by a few vurs. CHAPTER 1L THE TRAITOR. Ber Jot is op you— women’s lot— SUN to wake i ols, and to Gnd them cisy, ABC weep Lat wasted worship—taerefore pray! Hemays. Colore! Hastings bad scarcely left the room ere Mr. Albert Hastings arose, stretched himself with a weary yawn, and began to pace thoughtfully up and down the floor, murmuring. “Men thik me a very fortunate and happy man; and, doubtless,an unusual number of good gifts have been bestowed upon me by the favor of the blind goddess— not the least among them would pe esteemed the hand of this wealthy young baroness, my bride expectant. Well, we cannot have every- thing we want in this world, else sweet Rose Ff mer only should be the wife of Albert Hastings. Poor girl! she httle dreams that the mea who has wooed ber, under the name of Wiiliam Lovel, is really Aibert Hastings, the envied bridegroom of the higb-born Lady Etheredge of Swinburne. It cannot be heiped. { canndt pause for lady's right, or maiden's honor. Here, then, for a divided life; my hand to the lady of Swiaburue—my heart to the lovely cottege girl ; only Ley Etheridge mus never know of Rose Elmer and William Lovel, nor must Rose Elmer know Lady Etheridge and Albert Hastings. And now to persuade Rose to go before me into Wales, where myself and my bride are to spend our boney moon.” And 0 seying, Albert —— took his hat, and alkiog in an oPRo- strolled out into the street. site direction to that taken by Colonel his drive t Swinburne Castle, Albert Hastings toon reached a cross country road, which he pur- tued for about two miles. en, turning to the left, be eutered a narrow, shady lane, that him to a small, secluded cottage, nearly hidden from sight amid climbing vines, clastering shrubs and sreeneeny trees. Taking a key from his ket he untoc! the little green wi gate; pase- ing between tall, flowering shrabs, he ste; under the vine-#shaded porch, and applying @ second key opened the cottage door, enteren at once 0 the only large room the cottage could boast. with white lace over pink damask. wood piano of exqnisite workmanship on one of the from bis youth up, in bei whole world, for his own nh ed, it was, at least, hiy carried o e—a thing that cannot often be T creeds, or even better men. ay masters ard lished mis 2s re nig, who hed been sont wn by Colonel Hastings to carry on her education, At I been that she should s in making the tour of the Continent, in company with her guardian and his son w: travels were dolagad Sr ite It iy few sy) before . wi e heart the heiress was elated with the prospect of | La pg oy that albert tings and manvers, made some im- pression upon ihe imagination of the secluded ye bay et ay their sabeequeat travels his well coltirated mind, tle Baroness Ethe: ot Swinburne and her vast Senge girl, oar Ce eally care for " “they retmrned bone te prepare for the mar at Swinbarne- Cerne Hastings fixed their residence at thelr town thonae bald Rp ageny sama tors to Swinburne, L| ant bis bride elect. oe It was during one of these visite to the neighbor- hood, while he was staying at the firet saw Rose Elmer. Levere, master’s linen to alaundress, and it bad been brought home by Rose. She was a fair and delicate beauty, small and ex- quisitely formed, With regular features, and a snowy complexion, faint): bloom upon the rounded c' lips, 6 protusion of and waved off in rippling of infantine whiteness and smoothaess. Unlike those of the girls of her class, her hands aud arms were tinted with a roseate ks and plump re le golden hair, from a forehead tifally formed, and her feet were small aod elegantly tarned. A simple straw bonnet shaded her sweet face, a piain dress of cheap blue gipgham fitted perfectly her faultless figure, and a white muslin mantle was worn with simple grace. Her voice was soft and low, ber mapper quiet and eelf- appearance, despite her hamble garb and menial office, was feuldesely ladylike. Ber beauty fascinated ll Altogether, ber bert Hastings. He se- cretly discovered her dwelling—a poor cottage in a natrew unsightly street of the village —an: made ap excuse to call he there and setve his lana- dress’ bill. This was the commencement of their acquaintance. Afterwards he contrived belies d to meet Rose in her daily errends through the vil- Jage, and when no eye was-near to spy his motions, be would join her in her whiks. le found her mind as lovely as her person, and in the course of afew days be, the affianced husband of the high- born deeply, Dg oy in love Elmer, ughter of the ly Etheridge, of Swinburne, found himself with the humble Rose village laundress, He even sometimes dreained of the possibility of foregoing bis ess 7 ambition was too stro; Elmer his wife; usyal with men, he decei tive, and said that a sense of honor from breaking ry. ugh, that sense of honor did not hia- seeking the love of # poor village Se somict for the Sweet strangely en: der him from: Pompe : one grew. our his poeeeed bride was devoted with Lad: ids ae splendid alliance with the heir- burne Castle, and of makia; but the spirit o! withia him. As himself as to his mo- revented him Etheridge, though, spent in the society of to her. At last, fearing discovery, Do leas for himself than for the len, whom is false love imperilled, he cast meer for some means of meeting her in secresy and rye Throngh the help of a confidential servantand a city agent, he hired and furnished that obscure cot- tage in the wood, and one day, meeting Rose, he invited her fora walk,and conducted ber to the cottage, to fects. As ES her # surprise, and to watch its ef- @ uehered Rose into the fitted up with all the elegance of a |: retty room, y's boudoir, she made an exclamation of intense astonishment and pleasure. The rural cottage in its thicket of roses, flowering shrubs and trees, and the room with its gems of art and literature, retty ated ber with many delightful emotions. The novelty yond her unaccustomed e: er poetic soul; and the been prepared by William tonched her heart with peopresd ny 9 e turning her innocent joy lear eyes, beaming with face. “and this is your home,’ es; the beanty charm: ought that all this had and for her, titude. , Upon his “This is my home, sweet Rose, and yours, when you copsent to share it with me,” he answered, with @ grave tenderness that was natural to him hen speaking to her. “Mine! mine! Oh, itis too mach! What s beaa- tifal place! Wherever the eye roves through the room it lights upon some look ont of any window I see trees, and shrubs, and roses—every where roses!” she exclaimed, with delight. “It ia the bower of roses wely object, and if I love, and you are the loveliest rose’of all. I shall call this cottage after you. the tears that were Mr. Lovel. avd Ido your very The maiden suddenly put up her hands to hide her e “Why does my darlin; ?” faquired her |: %, Ee pr dy ig weep?” Laq her lover, " if because are so mach too good to me, to me deadfully.” “But why should that be, “1 do not know, unless it not know hnog how it is, but depresses my sprita mine own?” is that I am solowly, and of such little worth, and so helpless that [ do nothing or you." ee Pee “Bweet Rose, you can make me the happiest of men. vently. You, and you ouly, can do this,” he said fer- “I, Mr. Lovel! how can I make you py?” she Kee as tremulous voice, and with a deeply chee! “By sbering my home, my fortune, and m, heart” be w A bendin rer % “4 the bowed ber head until her chin rested upon her bosom, and her fair hair fell forward aad vailed her blushing cheeks and moist ¢ “Answer me, sweet Rose. Will you be mine?” be asked, seeing that she continued silent. “Mr. Lovel, lam wo lowly bora, too hamble, and too ignorant to be your wife. Wouid it were other- wise, aod I were more worthy of the station that ou offer me,” she murmured, in an almost inaudi- A i 3.2872 Hh H Be suddenly :f 4 5% ? : 2* no. Mr. Lovel; bat 8 5 a ww yy LM oy homer, with overs that shoald be the castle this evening, for to-morrow come off. bow after Poor mother work.” this was « particular know. There are visitors staying at pation ¢" the wedding to mor- than the leandrymaids of linen was You are not of our what a to us. Our laay, Lady Evhe- of Bwinburne, is about to be Ho. married to Al- be!” heir of Col. Haatiigs, Req. son and tia, is this county, Ah, how happy Baroness must be ery happy to bring so vast au Confidential servant to hie presence. And Rose her do know, dear full of ee Hove: that, Men ee cuviable postion for s | le 6 to ber nent Joy, taraed dean the sirens Pe Ee hy rural he Vaney. Yisle plsent, lor ‘was zo pat pps gratefal for the benefit; oa | about it. The ite ‘a sear Plotareeaae beauty contrary, they are often, even while enj side, and the few sick); hry By ipg the fortune of the heiress, secretly incen: in the wisheed vole coverebaale ne, pared sgainst the woman wae Das pinged an eer dust that breath of wind, and hard, beavy pecuniary obligation; for men cannot en- | Vehicle, raised in clouds. Over? Phesiog dure to de ‘upon women. It is not our nature. ‘About half way down the of this Amen of fortune, who loves a penailess woman, | stood a row of iow stone seat Spree Nas eres the more deeply that she depends | everything else, wih ry vd on everything. dust weer error ote of allen, raf | Seprnig than he ok fee erage ot » er , D i uaa bright ight of joy broke over her face a3 SS dake Mima ty ay oy id “Then will love me very dearly, for I shall put ‘the of alarm and anxiety that had troubled the face of Albert Hastings atthe men- tion of her mother’s custom from the castle laundry had not left it. What if, through that chaanel of comwunication, Rose Elmer should leara his real name and ? With some hesitation he touched the subject. “The custom of the castle will bea great help to your good mother. But I hope, dear Rose, you donot go on errands to and from the castle. It is Buch too far for you.” “Oh, no; I have never even seen the castle or the chase, although Ihave so much desired to do 80.’ “Indeed; but you have not lost much, dear. An old Norman je, and the ruins of an old Saxon keep, have few attractions for youth,” said Albert Hastings, with # view of discouraging her wish to see it, “Ob, but for me it has the strongest attractions. 1 do not know the reason, but I have al felt the very deepest veneration for ancieot and old families, and most especially for this old feudal castle, and the noble race that bave owned it for s0 many centuries.. And for this young baronexs, the last of a long, long line of ancestors, the last and sole representative of the ancient barony, I feel almost @ superstitions veneration.” “Then you have geen the baroness?” inquired Hastings, uneasily. * “Ob, no; no more than I have seen the castle. It is very strange, but my mother seems to have a erfect horror of the castle and all connected with it. Ske never can bear to hear the family men- tioned. She never would permit me to walk in that direction. And when the young baroness assed through Swinburne on her way to Bristol, to embark for the Continent, and all the village turned out to see her, my mother puiled me into the house, shut the door, and fell into a chair, pale as ashes, and trembling fo every limb.” “It was something else that had affected her, Pay “No; it was the sight of the {% baroness, I amsnre. It was the same when jady Etheridge re- turned from the Continent. She shat up te house, and would not see her pass by; and she took me in her arms, and cried over me as though her heart would break.” " “A strange eccentricity at most, dear love—a symptom perhaps. Do not let it disturb you. Besides, it must be leaving her, siace now she takes work from the castle.” “Oh, but she did not know it was from the castle. A footman out of brought the bas- ket, and asked if the work could be done by Tues- day night, and said that he would call for it then. It was only in counting the linen that mother found it out. She did the work, sir, but she has been ill ever sinc. She cannot bear to hear a word about the approaching wedding. » ‘think that her reed andl heaven of the castle peo- le is getting to be a monomania. Can you =om, cause of such @ strange mental y “ No, sweet, I cannot. Itisa mere whim of old age or illness,” replied Albert Hastings, cheerfai- ly; for he cared very little for the cause of the laundry-woman's monomania, so long as it served his purpose of effectually keeping Rose Elmer from ‘the perilous neighborhood of the castle and ehase. tnd pote ‘Bit panne protected nota the dwellers. Apy in’ c keepin; from the street into the houwee. It was before ove of the most forlorn of these cottage, that Rose Elmer paused, the Jatch, and enjgred at once upon a | fortiess looking room, whose , COM scanty furniture had been already covered, with dust in her ab sence. A coarse carpet covered the floor—a cheap muslin voiled the only window. A tent bodiateed, wis pay Sopowne swod in ag er corner. Pposite stood & mangle. corper was filled up with a staircase, having a closet under it; and fourth corner was adorned with a cupboard, through the glass doors of whioh ‘# little store of earthenwere shone, |, smouldering fire in the grate, and beside this in an old arm chair;sat @ woman whom no would have passed was & woman of commanding was tall, and must once have but fnow it was worn > alt skeleton peer Fe features were nobly on ge t once have been grandly. beautiful, but now os gh sunken and emaciated as those of death, “Under her broad and prominent fore- head and heavy black eyebrows shone a Leg of large dark gray eyes, that burned fiercely with the firea of fever or of frenzy. Her jet black heir, slightly streaked with silver, was halt covered with ared handkerchief, tied beneath her chin, aud partly fallen in elf locks down one side of her face. ‘ rusty osnad nih and shawl completed her you now, mot hope you feel in better spirits?” said Rose, laying off hor bonnet, aud coming to the woman's aide. “Better. Where have you bees? I have wagted ou. “T have been taking a walk through the woods, desr mother; and see, here are some wild etrae- berries I picked igh on my return. Will you eat them?” said Rose, ‘ing her little basket. “No; I want none of them, You care little for me.” “ Mother, don’t say that. You do not know how much I love you.” “ Hush, girl, you have little cause—oh !” And the woman tuddeply struck her hand upon ber et chs Cor eg upon her breast, acd seewed cov d by some great agony. Her fea- tores worked htfaily, red. “ Mother! ! “what is the matter?” ex- claimed Rose, throwing her arms around the womaa in great “It is—past,” gasped the woman, breathing with great difficulty. “ rye was 7“ apa “ A spasm, one.” + Oh, mother, wilh it return ?”’ “ Let me run for a neighbor, or the dector.” wr tide, Lady Miberidge of Ueineburne weds row, Laura, we at y Albert Hantage, of Howings Hall. “Surely, dear mother, the wedding, and talks of children have been em But the tfor which he had requested this | flowers to decorate the charch, and to strew interview, was not yet accom; ed, was uot yet | in the path of the bride as she comes—they love srnabebaestegrg erpeeed fac | "Eu SY wo ih an moi ot ret wasn iy per] even a , yet sweet his diplomatic powers. On the morrow he was to Cho gg be Se Come lead the Lady idge ef Swinburne to the altar, | keel down before me, so that F mag and, alter the ceremony, he was to depart | me. land beerese tay Randal’ geld pho yepeiaa, with bis bride to spend the honeytuoon at his seat | ore strange in her talk. in Wales—a newly purchased property. Bat the | obeyed, and her own t of ing, even for so short & time, with | stern, dark face, shut that of the girl between ber the sol of his heart, was insupportable. The fear | gazed upon it y, critically, mar- that in his absence some accident 6f fortane might | m = deprive him of her, was intoerabie. He knew, oP complexion pure as by a thonsand tests of character, that this lovely would never become his own, unless she was made to believe herself his wife. His ob- feocoee was to silence her scruples, aod secare er to himself by a false marriage, in which hia confidential servant should ate the officiating mao, and which was to be kepta secret from all, if he could only persuade her to take the step. It was not without @ severe mental straggle that Albert Hastings bad gained his own consent to this act of deception; nor was it without great hesita- tion that he broached the subject. Atlength, when he found courage to speak, he seated himself beside her, took ber hand, looked into her sweet face with pad enn might have beguiled aa angel, an — “Dear Rore, you have known me now intimately for some months. Have I ever in word,look or act a7 rien t” she plied, in sarprise. “No no, never! re} 5 le “In all this time, dear Rose, porn ovee seenia ae gendeman’” sh She turned her sr Se “Mine own!” exclaimed Albert with love and hand ia Hastings, sealing full of rate i i 4! fF F Fe i E f i iH 35 : ; g : j f 3 Es 33 I a i i E Be. el J > = i 3 : j : i i He | | iu : i eli i i Py Es a ; | red; hair like fine eyes | Clear as those of infancy; hands small and te, | po as poverty spoil your beaaty, have |, my “ No, dear mother, — kindness mere | likely spotl me,” said Rove ta simple woader at hor w that I onght to been roughened helping me in the e " “ No, mother; though ‘they ought to have bees.” “Not have your sweet eyu been opebedhy a0e- a3tes tH Hy i ; oti : A te If 2 5 g z t if PEE i zu t if He mit 38 $ att ¢ g f 3k “Ob! indeed I fear her wita is not safe to leave her alone!” TRose, will you obey “Mother, 3 7” one to “Do aa i H i 3 | Rebat att, publisher, yw, New Ye | Ttie the hasdsomest family paver ia | country, elegantly diustrated, and | @ high ‘mora tone,