Ballou's Monthly Magazine, Vol. XXVII, No. 1 — page 38: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

42 The Lady of Lindenwold. gladly go through a thousand fires, if I could save your precious young life!’ he said, with a wistful look on his tearful face. But no such sacrifice could be accepted, for while the grave, solemn words of prayer went up from the lips of the young rector, who sat by her bedside, with a smile still on her lips, and the seal of eternal peace on her stainless brow, the pure spirit of Alice Clair went noiselessly out with the waiting messenger, and only the beautiful clay remained. It was a small procession that followed the young English girl to her humble burial place—for Amy insisted on going as far as she could into the valley of shadows with her dead. Miss Livingston came in to the fu- neral, and very considerately called and took Mr. and Mrs. Vanstone, and Arthur St. Orme. Paul Russel went himself with Amy, who, poor child, chided herself for the faint glow of happiness that crept into her bleeding heart, as she leaned on his strong arm, and listened to his earnest words of faith and hope. And Paul Russel, forgetting for a time the blandishments and fascinations of Olive Livingston, felt his heart glow with a tender, protecting fondness for the lonely little orphan, and thought it would be very sweet to comfort her always, in all her sorrows, and have her lean as confidingly upon him as she did then. And Timmy Bryne, who was just behind them, thought, as he lifted his face for a moment from the damp folds of his red silk handkerchief, that the rector “desarved a good roasting in purgatory, that he did, if he left that sweet English violet for the haughty lady of Lindenwold!” For Timmy had very keen eyes, and saw what perhaps the parties themselves had never more than _ half suspected. But while this was transpiring in the city, a strange thing happened to Lindenwold. The servants were all away, save Asa, and he might as well have been, for he was sound asleep in the stable loft. Annie Wallace, who had taken to watch- ing Lindenwold almost constantly of late, saw from her chamber window, a man go round the north wing and enter the house by the side entrance. At first thought, she sup- posed it to be Arthur. He had been there several times of late, and somehow she fancied that he seemed annoyed when she had spoken of it. And so she called her pride to her aid, and grew cool and distant, and even went so far as to refuse to see him upon one or two occasions, when he had come out on purpose to see her. At first, Arthur had a dim sus- picion that it might be because of his visits at Lindenwold, and he would have explained to her, only she would not give him the chance; and beside, Miss Livingsten had once or twice intimated that Annie was really getting quite partial to young Randolph, the son of a neieh- boring farmer; but then, she added, “Annie was but a child yet, and probably didn’t know her own mind;” adding, with one of her peculiar glances, that “probably Ais interests were safe,as Annie would obey her mother, and everybody knew her mother’s prefer- ences.” Arthur knew that John Randolph had at one time been deeply in love with Annie, and the uncertainty of lis own success had given him more than one heartache. But that was a long time ago, and since the day when she had put her little hand in his, and declared that “she didn’t care for John Randolph one bit,” admitting at the same time, with many a shy blush and smile, that she did care for somebody else, he had never doubted her until since Miss Livingston came. And so a coolness grew up between them, and Miss Livingston, looking on, smiled quietly to her- self, and thought how very soon she should be able to defy Geoffry, his claims and his secrets. : The three months which ske had asked, were, indeed, only a clever little rnse to gain time, which Geoffry, shrewd as he was, did not suspect. It was this thought that gave the exultant flash to her eyes, as, glancing from her carriage window on her return from the burial of Alice Clair, she saw him walking leisurely down the street. That same night Arthur St. Orme had resolved to see Annie and have a full explanation. He had tried to put the thought out of his mind, but his love was of too long a growth to be thus easily eradicated, and he had resolved to see Annie, and if she no longer cared for him, to leave the old home and all its tender associations, for some place—he hardly knew or cared where—where everything did not so continu- ally remind him of the happy past. Some- how, as he thought it over, all his troubles dated from the arrival of Miss Livingston. It was not, therefore, with any very joyful feel- ings that, half way to Lindenwold, he met Miss Livingston, who, looking out with a pale, excited face, informed him that she was com-- ing to town expressly to see Mr. Vanstone, but that he would do equally as well; and bidding the driver turn dae ers soRaiass GoM