Ballou's Monthly Magazine, Vol. XXVII, No. 1 — page 59: what you’re looking at

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

Mrs. Dairymple’s Diplomacy. to Mrs. Dalrymple’s extreme satisfaction her son and her wealthy guest were straightway warm friends. : Only a few days after Frank’s appearance, Mrs. Dalrymple sprained her ankle. The ac- cident happened the day before a contem- plated excursion. On the following morning she asked, hesitatingly, when the master of the house came to inquire into her trouble: “ Cousin Whart, 1 wonder if you would do something to oblige me everso much? You see, though I am quite comfortable, I can’t stir from this sofa, and to-day there’s the ex- eursion. It is so awkward for three horse- back riders to keep together, and I’m loath to have the expedition spoiled. If you wouldn't be too much annoyed to accompany them—” “Bless your heart, Hortense, I'll go; don’t fret about that,” answered Cousin Whart, with more alacrity than Mrs. Dalrymple suspected. ‘ You are so good! It will just save every- thing from being spoiled,” answered she, gratefully. : And Cousin Whart rushed away, hunted up a riding-suit, and Mrs. Dalrymple, stretch- ing her neck from the sofa, had the felicity of watching the party cantering out the gate, Fvank and Miss Aubrey leading the way, her cousin and Lucia following. This move seemed to have broken the ice for the master of the house. In future he was one of the group wherever it might be found. He came out of the dreamy haze with which the abstracted scholar had sur- rounded himself, and proved a wonderfully gifted and entértaining companion. Mrs. Dalrymple watched serenely the growing earnestness upon her son’s face, and the rich crimson which gathered on Sibyl Aubrey’s cheek, and the starry splendor deepening in her beautiful eyes. The keen-witted widow read its meaning. “Ah ha, my lovely heiress! this summer holiday, which was to be so free from flirta- tion, is teaching you a better lesson. Only love itself lights such glintings in the eyes, and sends such rich overflow of crimson from the heart to the cheek. My spells are work- ing marvellously. It is so good of Cousin Whart to keep Lucia Gramont from med- dling!” And so Mrs. Dalrymple bore her temporary disability with admirable good-nature. She sent the young people away, if they sought to share her solitude, declaring she was never more comfortable in her life. 63 Poor Mrs. Green could not repeat that assertion from personal experience. It was a bewildering and vexatious time for her, especially since her master has entered into the gay doings of the guests, and she was not positive half the time, that she was veritably in possession of her right mind. Miss Sibyl Aubrey and young Frank Dal- rymple were really very warm friends. They held frequent and prolonged conversations in the garden, from which the gentleman always returned looking brightened and encouraged, and the lady smiling and gracious. Mrs. Dal- rymple watched them from her window one afternoon, and her heart beat high with assured hope. She looked up archly into Frank’s face, as he came to say good-night. “Well, Frank, have you nothing to say to me ?” “Why yes, mother; I said good-night.” “Ah yes; but is there nothing else—no piece of welcome information? I hoped to hear it to-night!” The significance of look and tone could not be mistaken. The young gentleman blushed to his very temples. “ Why, mother, have you guessed? do you know ?” he stammered. “As if, because a certain roguish little archer has blinded your eyes, mine must also be dull! Of course, any one with half an eye can see that you are in love, and that she is quite as deep in the grand passion.” “And you approve ?” he asked, hastily. “Of course I do, approve heartily. Why else do you think I got her here 2” Frank kissed both her hands in an unusual ardor of filial attachment, and went away to dream of his lady-love. Meantime, out in the arbor there was a still more refreshing scene. Miss Sibyl Aubrey was too restless to think of sleep, and leaving her friend in the chamber, she strolled off into the moon-lighted garden, and pres- ently ensconced herself into a seat in a rose- draperied arbor, watching the silvery clouds trooping across the deep-tinted sky, aul leaves, and the plaintive call of a night bird in the neighboring wood. A erunching step on the gravel, the aroma of a fine cigar, and then a heavy sigh, gare her warning that the master of the place was possessed of a like restlessness, and a similar desire to be soothed and calmed by ‘he wondrous spell of the night. He came into the arb@Ouill G20 Enq