GODEY'S LADY'S BOOK
Philadelphia, January 1850

True love is at home on a carpet,
And mightily likes his ease; 
True love has an eye for a dinner,
And starves under shady trees.

Let me usher you, without ceremony, dear Indies, into No. 20, a commodious apartment on the first floor at' a wayside inn. It is undoubtedly the pleasantest room in the house, and, at this moment, is enlivened by the presence of two young and beautiful girls. There are huge traveling trunks and carpet-bags, yawning wide-mouthed; for the ladies are just completing the fatiguing process of packing. Thus far they have journeyed in company, but here their paths separate; and as they have been room-mates at school for two years, you can imagine there is much to be said on both sides.

"Clara," said the younger, a bright-eyed maiden "just seventeen," "isn't it time to dress? The stage leaves in an hour, I heard the waiter say. You do my hair, and then I'll braid yours. We shall not have a chance to play waiting-maid for each other very soon again."

"True; but don't forget your promise, that I am to be your bridesmaid," was the reply.

"Nonsense," said the other – blushing, nevertheless, as young girls will when the subject is thus brought home to them; "you will need my services first, Cora. You are older than I."

" But you are prettier than I, Ella."

"You flatterer!" and the curls Ella had gathered over her little white hands were suffered to fall caressingly about her friend's face.

"Besides," continued Clara Howard, "you are an heiress; and I" – her red lip curled scornfully – "I am dependent upon a stepfather for the very necessaries of existence."

"How can yon say ' dependent' so bitterly, when you I-now how kindly he speaks of you, and loves you, I am sure?"

"Yes, I know he loves me; but his own large family are to be provided for; and so, you see, puss, I lack one of the essential qualifications to the estate matrimonial. What were you telling me about Mr. Huntington? I was so busy then."

"Oh, only Frank says he will join our party (I can say our party this year) at the Mountain House; and, you I now, I have wanted to meet him so long. I wonder if he will like me?" she added, musingly.

"He is certain to do so, if he once sees you And, Ella, I declare, you are half in love with him already. Your sister evidently thinks him perfection."

"You know he was her husband's friend for years, Cara.; and – I wonder how he looks," the young girl said, abruptly. "Strange, Agnes has never described him to me."

" She wishes you to be surprised. I have no doubt he is a splendid fellow."

"Oh, he must be. Tall – yes, I am sure he is tall. I never could endure short men. Then, he has jet black whiskers and a moustache. And his hair must wave; not curl, but wave a little over his brow. He must have a beautiful mouth, too, or I am sure I could not like him. Clara, positively, I never could marry a man who was not tall and graceful, with dark eyes and whiskers, and a perfect mouth. Yes:., and an aristocratic name he must have, too, or I never could consent to change my own for his. ' Ella Kirkland' is far too pretty to be lost in Smith, or Jones, or Thompson. Let me think: Huntington – it's a beautiful name, isn't it?"

"Yes, Ella Huntington is not so bad. But I don't care a fig for a name, so a man is wealthy. I believe I would marry plain John Jones, if he was as ugly as poor Jackson with his red hair and weak eyes, provided plain John Jones had five thousand a year."

" Oh, Clara, don't talk in that way; I know you are only joking. But then –"

"No, I'm not joking," retorted the other, firmly, almost fiercely.

Poor girl! she is not the only woman of her age who considers wealth an essential to domestic happiness. She had been reared with luxurious tastes and habits; but the wealth that supplied the one and fostered the other, had not been her own; and the taunts of her mother's step-children had only created a desire for a fortune under her own control, that she might outshine those who were her superiors only in the wealth she so coveted. But Clara Howard is not our heroine, beautiful as she certainly was, and amiable as she might have been but for this plague-spot that burned upon her heart. We will bid her farewell, as did her late schoolmate, at the door of the splendid equipage long waiting for the "little heiress," a sobriquet Ella had borne through her residence at the seminary of Madame Simila.

Clara Howard's red lip curled once more, as a lumbering stage-coach soon after took its place. It was to bear her to the next large town, where her stepfather awaited her.

So we turn from Clara's scheming heart, that plans only how it may fetter itself with golden chains, to the bounding hopes and bright anticipations Ella Kirkland is now pouring into the ear of Frank Clinton, the husband of her only sister Agnes. She was talking of Mr. Huntington as they rode along. She should be so delighted to meet him! Was he tall?

"Yes."

"And fine looking?"

Ella was bidden to prepare for a disappointment. " Then he is ugly, after all!"

No; her brother did not say that; but she would not meet Mr. Huntington, at least this season. He had, "unfortunately, been obliged –" Ella did not wait to hear any more. " It was too bad, after all sister had written!" It was strange how soon Ella grew weary after this, though scarcely one-third of their way was passed. She did not tell Mr. Clinton all that she had been intending to; about their examination, and how her new songs had been so much admired; and that Clara Howard must be invited to pass the winter with them. However, that recalled their last conversation, and then she repeated it to – a part of it, at least; for she did not tell of her "trying on" Mr. Huntington's name, to her amused and patient listener.

" So, my little Ella would never, positively never, marry a man by the name of Smith. What would she think of Brown?"

" Oh, horrid! that was quite as bad. No; she was willing to repeat it: if a man was ever so rich," (though, to be sure, that made little difference,) "or ever so tall" (a much more important consideration in the eyes of the little lady), "or ever so handsome or intellectual,' those horrid names, Brown, or Smith, or Jones, would outweigh his attractions." She wondered how Clara could think so much of money. Wealth was nothing; but her future lord must have an aristocratic name.

How merrily Frank Clinton laughed; and then Ellen pouted; and at last he grew thoughtful, and she grew stupid; 'so, as if by mutual consent, they fell back on the soft cushions' and neither spoke for miles of that pleasant journey.

The parlors, both, are occupied,
And every other spot,
By couples who a-courting seem,
And yet perhaps they're not.– Miss Leslie.

Mrs. Clinton passed quietly through the larger room, and entered the little boudoir, which all who have visited this most delightful summer resort must recollect. Ah! how many flirtations has that mirror witnessed! How many a flushed cheek has been shaded by those light muslin curtains! How many a restless heart, filled with hope, mortification, ay, even despair, has throbbed against those soft lounges, that reveal no secrets! – fortunately for the peace of mind of some we wot of. Ella did not think of this as she entered the room; but she was a young lady entering society for the first time, unshackled by the thoughts of a return to school duties, and everything was novel and delightful. She looked around with eager interest, as Mrs. Clinton pointed out her acquaintances in the room beyond.

"There is Mrs. McClure," said Agnes, " the lady with the quiet, thoughtful face, and braided hair. You will like her, I know, She is still in mourning for her husband, who died several years since; and those little fairies bidding her good-night are her children. Mrs. Newland is at the other end of the sofa; she is her sister, a widow also; but her daughters are older, quite young ladies. There is one of them at the piano. She is ladylike, quiet, 'and self-possessed. A widow content to remain so, though in the prime of life. There is Mr. Dickson, an unassuming and gentlemanly man. Mrs. Orton, the poetess, is now in conversation with him. Is she not a graceful little creature ?"

Ella looked with admiration on one she had heard so much of, and whose writings she had loved from childhood.

"I will finish my catalogue to-morrow," continued Mrs. Clinton. "No, stop; there comes Bradbury; you must know him. One of the best fellows in the world; high-principled, warm-hearted, generous to a fault. Somewhat extravagant, I fear, and a little vain; but these are faults of youth which ho will have good sense enough to conquer as he grows older. And here is the greatest curiosity in the whole menagerie. Not a lion, exactly – a bear would answer better; that is, I am always tempted to think of Fredriks Bremer's 'Bear,' in her charming 'Neighbors,' whenever I see him; so, you see, the epithet is a compliment, after all. Did you not notice Frank rush down when the stage came in? Well, it was to meet that man who sits so contentedly gazing in at the window from the piazza; his feet perched up on the top of the railing a la Americane. Respectable feet they are, too, for a man of his size. He must be at least six feet in height. He is a great friend of Frank's; and a new-comer, as well as yourself. You would find his name on the register just below yours, as Walter Brown, or Arkansas. Is not that enough to startle one! Such a backwoodsman! Rut I will leave you to find out his "points and paces," as the sportsmen say, yourself. You will be sure to like him."

"Impossible!" said Ella, hastily. "I never could endure the name. Besides, he must be a perfect savage, coming from such a place. What can, Frank find to like in him? Such a name! Brown! I wonder if he will ever' find any one to marry him?"

" Report says that one lady has already been so rash – that he is a widower; but he denies it. Report adds that he is looking out for some one to fill, her place. He would probably deny that, too, if it came to his ears. A chance for you, Ella, if it is true."

"Horrid!" said Ella, scornfully. "I marry a man with the name of Brown!"

"Good evening, Mrs. Clinton," said a voice near them.

Ella started, as if a whole Fourth of July of fireworks had suddenly exploded at her feet. She had turned away while they were talking, and had not seen any one approaching them. There stood Mr. Brown, within a yard of the sofa on which she was lounging. Her face flushed in an instant. Had he overheard her remark? She hoped not; but she could not tell. He was quite self-possessed; and, after an introduction, seated himself near her, although he addressed his conversation to Mrs. Clinton.

"Dear me, how ugly he is!" she thought; for though his intonation was perfect and his voice was musical, no one could deny that it came from a large," very large, mouth. Then his forehead was sunburned; and his nose, though not badly shaped, had an undue tinge of " love's proper hue," from like exposure. Besides, as a tall man, he was certainly not strikingly graceful – at least in repose.

Ella rose to obey her brother's summons to the piano. She sang simple ballads, with much expression; and Frank was fond of ballad singing, particularly in contrast to the "opera gems" the city ladies were constantly strumming. Frank had little love for Bellini and Donizetti out of the opera-house. At any rate, not as performed by boarding - school misses.

Not once did Mr. Brown look up. Provoking Mr. Brown! Although Ella well knew, from his very face, that he could not have a particle of music in him. He sat quite still, apparently absorbed in admiration of the large filbert-shaped nails of his really tolerable hand. Every one else crowded around the piano, and thanked the fair musician; for, although Ella's voice was neither brilliant nor powerful, there was a peculiar freshness of style, and a freedom from affectation in voice and intonation that pleased those who could also admire and appreciate more elaborate execution.

So Ella sang on, urged by Mr. Bradbury and Mr. Dickson, who had been presented to her by Frank. And then they all went out upon the piazza together, and strolled up and down in the soft moonlight – all but Mr. Brown, who engaged Mrs. McClure in an animated conversation, and did not even glance up at the window as the group outside passed and re- passed. Ella was glad of this, for somehow she had taken an unaccountable dislike to Mr. Brown.

THOSE of our readers who have had the good fortune to watch a clear sunrise from the piazza or the Mountain House, will not wonder that our little heroine stood absorbed in the view before her.

She was quite alone, for Mrs. Clinton had become more fond of her morning nap than of watching a scene grown familiar. Her husband had fulfilled his promise of calling Ella in season; and he, too, loved morning dreams.

A group of new arrivals stood a few rods from the house, upon the dew-covered grass; but Frank had forbidden his charge to set foot beside them on pain of a heavy cold. So Ella stood there as pretty a picture as one could wish to see, with one arm twined about a pillar, and her light morning-dress fluttering in graceful drapery about her; but, rapt in quiet admiration of the slowly changing scene, she did not once dream of how she was looking, and wondered why the gentlemen of the aforesaid party turned so often toward the house.

Slowly the crimson rays stole to the heart of the dim clouds that rested on the crest of far-away Mount Washington. First, a faint rose-tinge trembled through the ragged edges; deeper, richer grew the radiance, until all glorious hues were blended in its inmost folds. A golden light played o'er the bending horizon; a mellow radiance that faded at last to faintest sapphire. So day came on, proudly, rejoicingly. The vapory masses that filled the valley below, trembled as the first sunbeams fell among them; and then fled, like a discomfited host pierced by the glittering lances of an enemy. Miles away the beautiful Hudson sparkled and dashed its mimic waves on sloping, wood-crowned banks; and near them the proud summits of the Catskills became more distinctly defined against a cloudless sky.

"Heavens! how beautiful!" murmured the young girl, as she gazed eagerly upward and around. There was such a freshness in the clear atmosphere, such a " subtle luxury" in its very breath! She did not know that it had deepened the rose tint on her cheeks, and given a clear brightness to her large dark eyes; and when a voice near her echoed "Beautiful, indeed!" she little dreamed that she was the object of such enthusiasm.

But it startled her, mellow as was the tone; and she turned hastily to see – Mr. Brown! standing near.

For an instant, she was vexed. If it had been Mr. Bradbury, now, such an interruption would have been far from disagreeable; or Mr. Dickson, even. Her heart was so full, that she longed to give vent to her rapture in words; but disagreeable Mr. Brown, of all people, to come between her and that glorious sunrise!

However, he came forward so frankly to bid her good morning, end spoke so charmingly of the different atmospheric effects about them; and, withal, displayed unconseiously so much artistic skill and taste, that Ella could not but be interested in the conversation; and so an hour passed quite swiftly, and she was surprised to hear-the dressing-bell ring so suddenly. As she bade Mr. Brown good morning, and turned to 'her own room, she came to the conclusion that he was a professional artist; but then the arts are not particularly cherished in Arkansas.

Mrs. Clinton was confined to her room that morning by a slight indisposition. Frank sat beside her, as a kind husband should do, reading aloud from a new romance. Ella had hurried through it the week before; so, as all the rest of the household seemed to have gone to the falls or to their rooms, she stole off to the drawing-room, resolved to have what school-girls call "a good practice." Fortunately, it was empty; and, unrestrained by listeners, Ella gave full scope to her bird-like voice, singing anything she chanced to remember – among other simple strains, the sweet ballad of "Bonnie Annie Lowrie." As she finished the refrain, Mr. Brown came slowly forward from the little boudoir we have before spoken of. ' -

Ella blushed – vexed at having had a listener to her wild cadenzas – half rose from the music-stool, and then eat down again, turning over nervously a song of Jenny Lind's that was open before her. " There is one consolation," thought she; "he is no Musician, and will not know whether I have been singing false or not."

Sadly mistaken was Ella Kirkland; and so she found, when Mr. Brown spoke of "Annie Lowrie," and begged her to sing it once more. Then they chatted of Scotch and Irish songs, of Moore's melodies, and Mrs. Norton's delightful ballads. It was very strange he liked all her old favorites; and, at last, as she was playing "Fairy Bells," her astonishment reached its climax as he joined her carelessly with a most agreeable tenor. Then he suggested some little alterations in her style and tone; and so they sang and chatted a long time – Ella was surprised to find how long, as she looked at her watch on her way to Mrs. Clinton's room.

Yet she was vexed at her sister's railiery when recounting the adventures of the morning, and wondered how she could dream of teasing her about any one named Brown, and with no mustache either! Mr. Brown had net even whiskers! Then such a mouth! No; Ella declared that, until the legislature had done something for his name, and surgical science had found a method for improving ugly mouths, her heart was in no danger. So she changed the topic of conversation, by inquiring how long they were going to stay among the mountains, and why Mr. Huntington did not join them. It was too provoking! Mr. Huntington seemed to elude her, as if he had been Peter Schlemihl himself! No sooner did she expect to meet him, than, presto! something must happen to disturb their plans. Her sister smiled, probably at her pettish tone; but pettishness was not an unpleasant expression on Ella's face; her eyes seemed always to grow brighter, and her red lips pouted so kissably – at least, so Frank always said.

Thus interrogated, Mrs. Clinton replied that their stay would be four weeks at least; for she certainly found it the coolest place they had visited that season; and the house was well kept, the company decidedly recherche. As to Mr. Huntington, all was doubtful; he might not make his appearance at all, or, if he came, it would probably be the very last week of their stay. Then she went on to praise Mr. Huntington, his fine intellect, taste, and address. Moreover, his firm principles and great moral excellence had been well tested in their long and intimate friendship. Mrs. Clinton did not say, but she hinted how happy it would make them all to see Ellen the wife of such a man; and her listener's heart beat fast; for – shall we let you into Ella's secrets? – she had long loved an ideal Mr. Hunting-ton. For two years past, her sister's letters had spoken of their friend in no measured terms of praise; and, unconsciously to herself, he had become " her thought by day, her dream by night."

"Very improper!" whispers some prudish maiden. But, lady, woman's heart craves an object for its affection; and better let it be wasted upon a noble ideal than a worthless, characterless reality, as "first lovers" ofttimes prove.

This will explain Ella's sore disappointment at not meeting Mr. Huntington, and why she listened with so much pleasure to her sister's praise.

As she stood before her mirror that afternoon, braiding her heavy hair, she caught a glimpse of her face shaded by its wealth of tresses, and wondered if Mr. Huntington would think her pretty. Then she recollected that Mrs. Clinton had not yet described him, and she resolved to ask a portrait that very evening. "But, of course," thought Ella, " he has magnificent dark eyes; and such a noble forehead! I do hope he is tall!" for Ella, like most ladies of medium height, had rather a peculiar admiration for tall gentlemen.

When they all re-assembled at the dinner-table, Ella found the seat next her assigned to Mr. Brown. At first, it made her a little uncomfortable; but his sparkling conversation soon put her at ease; and, at last, the large mouth grew more tolerable in consideration of the sweet, voice and witty sayings. That evening, too, she found herself turning away from Mr. Dickson's quiet sarcasm, and Mr. Bradbury's good-natured comments on the assembled crowd, to listen again while Mr. Brown spoke of foreign lands in contrast with our own. He had already traveled much, and his descriptions were absolutely word-paintings. Besides, he seemed to have a wonderful knowledge of the world in its social aspect. This was betrayed quite naturally in the course of conversation with Frank Clinton. There was no ostentation of knowledge or pursuit, his friend knew well how to .guide the current of conversation, and Mr. Brown seemed quite unconscious that he was so led. He rarely addressed Ella, but now and then he would turn suddenly toward her for sympathy with some noble sentiment, or approval of some graphic sketch; and, without knowing how well pleased she was, our heroine sat in a quiet, happy mood, wondering at his extensive information, and smiling at his lively sallies.

So passed the first day at the Mountain House; and so passed the next, and the next; varied now and then with a walk, a ride, a visit to the falls, or a merry bowling party. Ella had never been so happy before. She had almost ceased to wish for Mr. Huntington's presence, and actually reproached herself at the indifference with which she listened to Frank's wonders at the cause of his long detention.

There is no place in which one grows well acquainted with character so soon as at the Mountain House. There is no other family to associate with; you do not care always to join in the society of the house; and so one's party become thoroughly well known to each other – far better known than by months of fashionable city visiting. Mr. Brown had attached himself to Frank Clinton's party; and in all excursions where escort was needed, Ella fell to his care. What at first was accident, became a matter of course. Quiet Mrs. McClure yielded her place next Ella, at his approach; Mr. Dickson and Mr. Bradbury tacitly assented to the tete-a-tete arrangement in rides and rambles; Frank Clinton and his wife smiled at the growing intimacy, but did not attempt to discountenance it. Mrs. Clinton well knew that her sister was in love with an ideal; she seemed to have no fear of so plain a reality as Mr. Brown.

And Ella? – she began to expect his approach whenever he entered the room. She illy concealed her disappointment if their practice hour was broken in upon; she did not dream that she was deeply interested-only Mr. Brown had grown endurable. He was not so very ugly, after all. So she thought the morning of which I speak, as they stood there in animated conversation.

"This will be our last practice for some time," . said Mr. Brown, at length.

"And why?" asked Ella, hastily.

" I leave this afternoon," was the reply, "and my return is uncertain."

"Must you go?" said Ella, poutingly, beseechingly.

There was more in these few words, and in the tone in which they were spoken, than Ella herself was aware of; but they thrilled on the ear of the listener.

"I have an only sister," said Mr. Brown, speaking in a low voice; " I have not seen her for more than a year, and she has just arrived in the Caledonia. I must go to New York to meet her."

" Is she young ? Is she beautiful? How you must love her!" murmured Ella, rather thinking than speaking.

"She is both young and beautiful; not a day older than yourself, I imagine. Yes, I am very, very fond of her. She is the idol of our home circle. Rough as I am, even I have a pet name for her. We were speaking of pet names yesterday, you recollect."

Yes, Ella recollected it distinctly. She had been repeating to him Mrs. Osgood's sweet little song, "Call me Pet Names, dearest."

" What dainty diminutive, think you, my huge mouth can fashion for our household fairy ?"

Ella did not look up, but said she could not guess.

" 'Darling,' said Mr. Brown, softly; " I always call my sister darling .' Do you like the word?"

Now, if Ella had one fancy over another, it was to be called "darling" by those who loved her. She did not like any one to call her so but those of whom she was very fond. She had never heard it so sweetly cadenced before. We have said that Mr. Brown's voice was peculiarly musical, and now there was so much of heart thrown into the lingering echo of that little word "darling!"

" I should think you would like it," said he, again speaking, when he found Ella neither looked up nor replied. "Forgive me, but you seem born to be petted."

And then Ella looked up, but her eyes speedily fell beneath the respectful yet earnest gaze that sent the blood crowding from her heart to cheek and lip, leaving the poor heart so faint that it could do nothing but flutter.

"We probably shall not meet alone again," said that same low voice, "so I will bid you goodby now. I hope we may see each other at some future period."

He extended his hand as he spoke, and Ella hesitatingly placed her own within its gentle clasp. " May God bless you, Miss Kirkland!" and she was standing alone.

She gained her own room, fastened the door instinctively, and then threw herself upon a low seat and buried her face in her hands, Now that tone, that look returned again and again. "Darling! If I could but hear him speak it to me!" she murmured, at length. And then she blushed, though quite alone with her own heart. What had she wished? The love of a stranger; that dearest of pet names from so ugly a mouth! Poor child! she had made a sad discovery; she loved unsought – and worse than all, one who bore so unaristocratic a name as Brown! A man with a smooth lip and a low brow! Where were those essential mustaches? the perfect mouth that should have smiled upon her? After all, Mr. Brown's mouth had a very sweet expression, and his smile disclosed teeth of almost dazzling whiteness. His forehead was not high, but it was very pure; and his eyes, though blue –. Again the flush rose to her very brow. Was her love 'unsought, after all? He had not told her that she was dear to him, in words; but now, as she reviewed their daily intercourse of the past few weeks, she tried to persuade herself that he was not indifferent to her. But then he had left her so suddenly, without a word of explanation; and again all was chaos.

She scarcely looked up until Frank tapped at her door on his way to the dinner-table. She had heard the dressing-bell ring, and then she relapsed into the vague revery which had before absorbed her; so she was still in her morning-dress.

" I have a headache; I do not wish any dinner," said she, without opening the door; and Frank, finding all expostulation vain, passed on.

Mrs. Clinton wondered what had made Ella so irritable that afternoon, and told her that Mr. Brown had been suddenly obliged to leave for the city. " Will you not go down to the drawing-room and bid him goodby?" she asked. No; Ella was obstinate, and Mrs. Clinton went alone. Ella stood, sheltered by the green blind of her window, and watched the passengers, one by one, as they bestowed themselves in the capacious stage-coach. Last of all, came a well-known form. Frank was with him. He gazed earnestly up at the window one moment; then, as if disappointed, sprang to his seat, and the carriage rattled away over its stony path.

Mrs. Clinton wondered still more at Ella's petulance, when she found how long it lasted. From being a gay, brilliant girl, the life of their pleasant evenings, she had become almost sullen in her reserve, and passed hours quite alone in her own room. Even the announcement of Mr. Huntington's expected arrival, at the end of the week, failed to rouse her. She reproached herself for it, but she could not help it. It was plain that the ideal had given place to the real.

"I. suppose we shall leave for New York by Tuesday next," said Mrs. Clinton, one day, as they stood watching the stage, as it wound slowly toward the house. The coachman's bugle had roused the mountain echoes; and, as usual, all the loungers strolled to the back porch to criticise the new arrivals. " Shall we?" said Ella, fairly roused to something like animation. " I'm very glad of it."

" I declare, Ella, you are a perfect enigma. Only a week ago – the very day before Mr. Brown left – you said this was a perfect paradise; that New York would be very stupid."

"I have a lady's privilege to change my mind," said Ella, somewhat tartly.

And then she uttered a half-smothered exclamation; for, as the stage drew up at the door, she saw Mr. Brown leap eagerly from it, glancing up at the window as he did so.

Mrs. Clinton did not notice her sister's confusion. "Why, there is our friend," said she; and away she hurried to find Frank and go to meet him.

Ella delayed going down until the bell had sounded for the evening meal; and then she was comparatively collected, as she returned the formal greeting of the returned traveler.

" I found that my sister had already left the city for our southern home; and, as I shall be detained in New York a week later by business I cannot avoid, I ran up again to pay you a call."

Ella felt chilled and disappointed – she knew not why – so she grew silent and sad; not speaking, save when addressed, through all that long evening. She had gone out upon the piazza as it drew to a dose,– gone out alone, prompted by that undefined feeling of unrest that so often draws us away from the gayest scenes. She stood there, wondering why she was so unhappy; for tears came to her eyes as the pleasant laughter of the saloon floated out to her. Then she saw the subject of her thoughts, step quietly through one of the long windows; and when she would have avoided him, his hand detained her while he hurriedly whispered, "Will you not grant me one request? I have a fancy that I should like to have one more walk with you before we go. I have Mrs. Clinton's permission that you should accompany me, if you choose. Will you go early, quite early tomorrow?"

Ella dared not look up, lest the secret of her heart should be unconsciously revealed. But she gave the promise, and glided away to her room.

It was very strange! What could he mean'? But she had assented; and her sister reminded her of it as she called at the door to bid her good night. Little did Ella sleep. Busy conjectures and undefined anticipations, half sad, half hopeful, came by turns; and it was long after midnight before the young girl was at rest.

She sprang up wildly from a strange, incoherent ' dream, just as the first ray of light crept in at the' window. A hasty toilet was soon completed; for she stopped not to braid her luxuriant hair, confining it but by a single comb. She looked very sweetly, however, despite the want of ornament, as she tied on a light straw hat, and stole out upon the piazza; at least so thought our hero, who already waited for her. But he did not say so, though he looked his admiration, as he thanked her for her promptness. There was no eye to see them, as they left the house in the dim gray light; even the sunrise seekers were not astir.

I do not believe either of them knew what direction they were taking; but on they went, through lane and field, in the bypath to the falls. Neither spoke, save in monosyllables for miles. Yes; for before they knew it, both were' amazed to find they were near that place of resort.

At this early hour, the falls were not visible; for, be it known, most curious reader, that the stream once dashing wildly down the rocky amphitheatre, is now "made to turn a mill," and its tide is restrained until a sufficient number of visitors have arrived to make the exhibition profitable. Then, for the space of fifteen minutes, and for the consideration of a York shilling apiece, you may enjoy the magnificent scene. So much for the age we live in!

Bow heartily they laughed when they found how far they had come in that silent ramble, and at their own stupidity. That laugh seemed to destroy the reserve that had arisen between them; and when Mr. Brawn proposed that, now they were 'there, they should descend to the bed of the stream – they would be rewarded by a bouquet of wild flowers, at least – Ellen gayly assented, in spite of the heavy dew – careless child! – and bade Mr. Brown lead the way. By this time, it was fairly day upon the hills, although a deep shadow slept in the valley below them. In vain did Mr. Brown proffer his assistance in descending; the giddy girl refused to accept it; and, half vexed at the repeated refusals, he hurried down the steep declivity. He reached the end of the path in safety, and turned to look at the light form swinging so airily above him. As he did so, he saw one little foot placed upon a stone loosely embedded in the gravelly soil; and before he could utter a cry of warning, the young girl fell. He saw a cloud of white drapery sweeping through the green foliage that obstructed the direct pathway; he already felt the shock it was impossible to avert. There was a crash of the young branches near him, and Ella was lying almost at his feet. Her face was pale as the dead, while a small crimson stream ran slowly from the temple that rested on the sharp and rugged rock, against which she had fallen.

One bound, and she was in, his arms, while he dashed the clear water of a neighboring pool over that poor, pale face. Could it be death? so calmly, so rigidly she was lying upon his arm. Must she die ? So young; so well-beloved! And he had killed her.

The rocks above them sent back his wild cry for help; but no other answer was returned. The hour and the place rendered aid impossible. He prayed her to speak, but to unclose her eyes one instant; and while no sound came to break the deathlike stillness, it seemed as if hours were passing. At last there was a faint quiver of the white lips, a long, tremulous sigh, and he knew there was yet hope.

As consciousness slowly returned, Ella was conscious of a strange clasping; then, above the ringing whirl that dizzied her brain, she heard a well-known voice say, "Darling! darling!" and there was almost agony in the tone., She could not remember whet had happened; and she thought she was dreaming. But it was a blessed dream! And she laid perfectly still, unable to break the strange spell that bound her, and listening to that voice as once more it wildly said, "Darling!"

Then she unclosed her eyes; and as they smiled upwards, an unresisted kiss closed them again. But with returning strength, came fears and doubts; and with a strange agitation, Ella disengaged herself from the clasping arm of her companion, and said, faintly, "My sister,– Frank,– what will they say of this?"

"They know all, dear. one; they have sanctioned my love long ere its acknowledgment. Tell me that you do not disdain me; say that, rude as I am – there is much more of the camp than the court about me, I confess – you will yet confide your happiness to my keeping. Tell me that you love me, Ella, even as I love you."

What think you was Ella Kirkland's reply? She laid back her head upon the heart. of the speaker, and he felt no words were needed.

But the silence was broken when they began to talk of their return. How should they accomplish that steep ascent? the long walk that would then be before them? More than all, how enter the house in the sorry plight our heroine was obliged to confess to? Her lover ., thought she had never looked more charmingly than at present, despite the dew-stained dress to which the damp earth still clung, and the wild disorder of her loosened hair. The richly laced handkerchief bound about her bruised brow, was not an ungraceful head-dress. And how they both laughed at the awkward attempts Mr. Brown – no, Walter, for so he begged her to call him – made to assist Ella in binding up the wealth of tresses that flowed from beneath it.

But we must not linger on their return, short and pleasant as it seemed to both. Ella leaned helplessly and confidingly on the arm that was henceforth to shield her from life's ills. Fortunately, all were too deeply engaged at the breakfast-table to notice their entrance; and Ella saw no one until her sister ran hastily into the room ten minutes after.

"Mercy, Ella," she exclaimed, "can I believe the evidence of my own senses? Here I am told, in the same breath, that you have been carried over the falls, broken your neck, and then came to life again the pledged wife of a Mr., Brown! Brown, Ella. 'Horrid name.' And such a mouth, too! He never will be able to kiss your little face – never!"

"Where is the future Mrs. Brown, of Arkansas?" claimed Frank, opening the door. "Oh! Ella, such an unaristocratic name!"

Poor Ella! It was useless to expostulate; useless to stamp her tiny foot. Frank would not cease until his wife, in pity for Ella's blushes, sent him out of the room, and then listened kindly while the young girl told her all. Rut even yet she could no' speak his name without faltering in tone; and though she was obliged to acknowledge it was foolish, she felt it a slight drawback on her present happiness. With Juliet, she was ready to exclaim, "Oh, Romeo, Romeo; wherefore art thou, Romeo?" convinced that, by "any other name," she should like him quite as well.

Mrs. Clinton said no word when the recital ended; but after sitting in deep thought while Ella completed her toilet, she started suddenly, exclaiming –" You have driven all things from my mind. I have some news for you. Mr. Huntington has at last actually arrived. He asked for you at once. His curiosity is nearly equal to your own. Come, shall we go down?"

One month before, and Ella's heart would have throbbed at this announcement; but so perverse is human nature' that she now listened to it with positive pain; and though she could not refuse her sister, her step had lost the lightness that had before distinguished it.

"I will come as soon as I have had some coffee," she whispered, as they reached the dining-room door; and then she turned to Mrs. Clinton's parlor in search of Frank to accompany her. Oh, joy! her lover was there leaning against the window, and seemingly absorbed in soma deeply interesting revery. Ella sprang forward with a glad cry, and, ere she was aware that she had done so, stood folded to his heart. As he smoothed back the soft curls from her brow, he saw that her cheek was Hushed, and felt how rapidly that little heart was beating. Was it not natural to ask the cause of this unusual excitement? Ella told him her dread of meeting Mr. Huntington; how she had escaped almost from his presence; and then she hid her face on his shoulder, and fairly cried from nervous vexation; for – would you believe it? – Walter but smiled instead of attempting to console her; and he. even said, "Is this Mr. Huntington so very disagreeable to you'."

"I hope I shall never see him. I am resolved I never will. I shall hate his very name, presently, if you take his part."

Walter seemed to be of Frank's opinion with regard to Ella in a pout. He half stooped to kiss her red lips ere he spoke again.

" Ella," said he, at last, as though he had quite forgotten Mr. Huntington, "is my name unpleasant to you? Tell me truly."

Ella hesitated; but she could not tell an untruth; so she said, softly, "Walter is very beautiful."

"No, Ella; your shrinking from pronouncing my unfortunate name, tells me all I wished to know. Tell me one thing more. Would it please you to find that it had been assumed, after all – that my own was quite different? How would you like it to be Huntington, for instance?"

Ella glanced upwards, half bewildered at his words; and then a suspicion of the truth flashed upon her. She was not deceived. It was Mr. Huntington himself who detained her at his side while he asked forgiveness, and explained Frank's little plot; At first, it was to be explained very soon; he had begged Frank to do so again and again, but Mr. Clinton was inexorable until Ella's fancies had been fully thwarted. She understood now why Frank had rushed so hastily to meet his friend the night of his unexpected arrival, and the long colloquies they had so often held.

Ellen was at first heartily vexed, and would have escaped from the room; but Frank Clinton barred all egress, and she was compelled to listen to his teazing, which Mr. Huntington in vain tried to prevent. Then Agnes came, and gave glad congratulations to the tearful girl, who was at last compelled to smile at her own folly, and the success of the plot against her school-girl romance.

One more scene in Ella Kirkland's life, and thou and I, dear reader, part for a season.

Just a year from the commencement of our sketch, that young lady sat reading a letter, a very full letter, crossed and recrossed, which Walter had just brought to her. The ci-devant Mr. Brown had improved vastly in that period. The sunburnt flush of prairie travel had faded from his fine face, and his eyes were radiant with the light of happiness as he stood gazing on the graceful creature so soon to be his wife. But at last he grew impatient of the long epistle which seemed to interest Ellen so deeply, and he insisted on sharing its contents with her. As Ella made no strong objections to his so doing, we may conclude that we also have the right of perusal, particularly as it is from an old acquaintance, Clara Howard.

" Willingly would I comply with your request, dear Ella, but I was just on the point of claiming your promise for myself. My own bridal is fixed for the next month. I, too, have found one who loves me devotedly. ' Is he wealthy?' will be your first question, if you remember our last conversation.

" 'Yes,' I can answer unhesitatingly. Not as the world receives the term; not in houses or lands; but, Ella, the wealth my Arthur offers for the acceptance of his bride, is far more imperishable than these – a noble, affectionate heart; a cultivated intellect; a firm purpose of right. He has taught me (not in words, for I should be pained to have him know my once boasted craving for riches), that our happiness in this life depends upon ourselves rather than our surroundings; upon intellectual culture, and a heart at peace with the world and our MAKER. In fine, that content is the only true treasure of the soul,' turning, Midas-like, ail that its radiance rests upon, to gold. This is our chief portion; but this we, in truth, possess. The future is fair before us, for Arthur's talents will raise him to the station ho might boldly claim among earth's noblest sons. For the present, we may need to struggle with many difficulties; but our purposes are fairly wedded, and we shall aid each other.

" May God bless you, my friend, as a wife; and may you both be as happy as we are hoping to he."

This Godey's Lady's Book is brought to you by

Your Comments Welcomed! Copyright © 1995 EHP