CHAPTER IX.

She

IN the course of time, Tom Farren became unfortunate. He had proposed six times to Louise, and exactly six times had he been rejected. He was anxious to marry, and to marry well. He thought Louise a most estimable, well bred young lady, who would show to decided advantage as Mrs. Farren. He particularly admired her hauteur, and reserve. could not have employed a more effectual method of binding young Farren's heart, than by indulging in her natural imperturbable dignity and hauteur. He did not think she was less kind to him than she was to others. He was quite sure Dashwood had never won more smiles than he had.. But Tom Farren could not fathom such a heart. He knew not the depth of the still waters. He knew not of the fairy palace reared beneath the polished surface, and of the gem-like hopes all shining there. What could he know of the gorgeous dream-land in which this placid beauty revelled?

Meantime Dashwood's beautiful book was insinuating its smoothly flowing sentiments into every heart. People were speaking of him as of a genius. Young ladies, of romantic temperaments, were inditing odorous epistles to him, and some leading men were determined to take him by the hand. Our attaché was on the wing, and sustaining himself beautifully, like a young eagle born to fly in the very eye of the sun.

Dashwood had written that he was coming home. Miss Ellen McGregor had written very many times, exulting in her nephew's success, thanking us for all our kindness to him, and predicting still more wonderful things, of this most gifted of mortals.

Mrs. Braxley, highly offended at her protegée's want of taste in refusing Tom Farren six times, made a will out of spite, and left me every dollar she had in the world. This sudden change in her temporal affairs alarmed me very much, inasmuch as Mr. Farren began to talk to me one evening, after dinner, about a model bee-hive. Grandma-when Mr. Farren took a chair, strode across the room, and planted himself upright in front of mewas visibly affected.

I, who knew that Aunt Braxley made half a dozen wills per annum, was very much shocked at this rash proceeding. Nobody enjoyed Mr. Farren's demonstrations more than Uncle Joe, whose vein of

fun was not yet exhausted. Grandma would have had me-the fastidious authoress the destined historian of the Feejees-the light of the nineteenth century-fairly to jump at such a proposal. She implored me not to be so foolishly blind to my own interests. She promised to keep Aunt Braxley to that last will and testament, but I could not consent to any such uncertainty. At last, Grandma gave over her persuasions, and bade me go and be an old maid, she did not care.

My

The subject now uppermost in our thoughts was Dashwood's return. brother was so impatient to see his friend, that he must needs go a hundred miles to meet him. Louise, with glittering eye and high lifted head, went on in the even tenor of her way-and on the very day she expected her lover, the daring girl managed to have an engagement to dine out. Her heart was certainly pitched an octave higher than other people's. She ordered the carriage and drove off about an hour before the ardent lover was expected. On her way, she met Tom Farren, who was doubtless coming over to see the meeting, and I need not say, she left that orderly, systematic young man, completely petrified on the highway.

Dashwood and Robert came, driven home triumphantly by Sap, and drawn by the ponies. As soon as Dashwood descended lightly from the open carriage, Grandma squeaked out in a high treble, "Oh, gracious! what a sweet, love of a fellow!"

Papa met him with a hearty welcome. Mamma brushed away a tear, and the noble fellow took both her hands in his own, and kissed her. He greeted Grandma with elaborate and chivalrous respect, and Mrs. Braxley with profound obedience. But Uncle Joe-kind-hearted, beaming Uncle Joe he took in his arms, whirled him around, and such a meeting as they had, somewhat opened Mrs. Braxley's eyes, and caused Grandma to guess there was a spy in the camp. Dashwood's eye now sought Louise, and there was a slight shade perceptible in his face.

Louise could not complain of demonstrations now, or fear an exposé. His hardiesse was quite equal to her own. He was as pleasant and entertaining as though her royal eye had been upon him. A malicious person would have said he was not so much in love after all. That he could, at least, exist without her. Late in the evening, the young lady, accompanied by Mr. Farren. arrived.

Dashwood encountered her, purposely I dare say, before she expected it; and he had the satisfaction to see the pearly cheek flush in a moment, and the eye, with its jealous lash, glisten, as he took her hand. He had scarcely time to mark the tremor and the blush, ere Louise had recovered, and welcomed him in her clear silver tones. But my sister looked more beautiful that evening, than ever before. There was a tinge upon her cheek which was not always there, and a light in her magnificent eyes which was seldom seen. She smiled several times on Mr. Farren, but not once on Dashwood. like her, Dashwood said, to go off when she expected him. She did not wish to meet him in the portico, when all were clamoring a welcome. She was so exquisitely refined, that she dreaded the shock, and feared for her boasted self-possession.

It was so

"Now when we met," he said, after Mr. Farren had left, and he could summon the boldness to draw very near to Louise" now, dear Jenny, when we met, this young lady was almost tempted to scream."

"Indeed!" said Louise, for the first time raising her eyes to his.

"She wanted very much to faint," continued Dashwood, "and, with all her placidity, she has yet to conquer some very rebellious emotions."

Louise smiled, and Dashwood seemed to be never tired of looking at her. Robert hung about this beautiful pair. He seemed to exult in their happiness, and to watch their countenances with vivid delight.

Papa saw the change in Louise. He saw his beautiful child, as if by magic, looking her former self. He saw her lovely and serene, in the fulness of her happiness. He saw mamma too, as she unconsciously betrayed, in every action, her love for the poet. He saw us all clustering around him, listening to him, devouring him with our eyes, enjoying his anecdotes, electrified by his happy sallies, and forgetting every thing but the bliss of our reunion; and papa was almost conquered.

Even grandma was drawn within this magic circle, around which uncle Joe fluttered, like a man whose judgment could not always control the limbs of his body, even in a certain person's awful presence. Finally, after a long conversation with mamma, Robert, and myself, papa came into measures.

"To confess the truth," said papa to us, "when a man has such dutiful and respectful children, he can scarcely find it in his heart to deny them any thing. He must not allow his prejudices and preferences to interfere with their happiness.

There is something due from me to my children, as well as from them to me. It is my duty to be reasonable with so respectful and gentlemanly a fellow as my son Robert; and it also beomes me to yield a point to a young lady who has proved herself so noble as my daughter Louise. This I do proudly; because it is my duty and privilege thus to reward such respect and such obedience."

"Ha! ha!" cried Robert, "I knew how it would all end!"

"A very weak father, a vastly weak father," was Mrs. Barbara's comment, on learning the state of affairs.

"A man after my own heart, by Jove!" cried uncle Joe.

"My own dear papa!" cried Louise, rushing to his arms.

"Why, Dabney!" remarked Mrs. Braxley, with elevated brows.

God bless him!" interrupted uncle Joe, snapping his fingers under the very eyes of his sovereign mistress.

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Why, Joseph!" ejaculated the astonished lady.

Hearing that Miss Willianna was no longer in the market, and that there was no danger of his being caught by that cunning angler, while Robert was devoting himself to Therese, Dashwood consented to accompany Mr. Rushton, junior, to see his lady love. My brother was himself again with Dashwood. He forgot all trouble and care in his gay presence. Never were two gallants so perfectly congenial; Robert was always piquant and original to Dashwood, and Dashwood was always gloriously brilliant to Robert. Louise became really merry in their society. Fairy Hill acknowledged the presence of its master spirit in Dashwood. Papa, too, yielded to the irresistible charm of his manner, and grew excessively fond of his society. Dashwood had many adventures to relate, and talked of every thing but his book. His success, his few laurels so recently won, his increasing popularity, his high standing among men of letters-all this was a sealed volume with him. He was ever the unselfish and elegant gentleman, pleasing all, but never vaunting himself. Never boasting in word, or look, but wearing his new honors with a modest grace. But what was new to us was not so to him. It was nothing new to him that he could write charminglythat he was master of all the intricacies of the language-that poetry flowed spontaneously from his pen, and that he had the material within him of which great men are formed. He must have felt a consciousness of this from boyhood. He must have known this amid all his vagaries, and therefore he was not unduly

exalted when the world acknowledged it. He was a thorough artist, humbled at his own success, and evading any allusion which might lead to the subject of his honors.

The two friends went off together to see Therese. She ran out, and greeted them before they reached the steps. Dashwood said some gentle words to her, and pressed his lips upon her hand; and she bravely conquered all her emotion, and put her arm in Robert's, in her trusting, childlike way, and looked up to her handsome lover with sweet and winning pride. She showed them into a cosy morning room, where the happy Willianna was sitting sewing. Dashwood said the dear little woman was so changed. All her bewildering little coquetries were gone; her pleasant wiles and pretty, artless fascinations completely subdued. She was tearful, but brave. She kept close to Robert. She felt the need of some one to cling to; and he was proud of the delicate, trusting creature at his side.

Dashwood said it was the most beautiful tableau he ever saw-Therese and Robert. And while he rattled away to Miss Blanton, he had yet an eye for them. Robert, so manly and tender, and Therese, so chastened and purified, turning her soft eye upon him with coy confidingness; and then forgetting herself, and betraying unconsciously her deep devotion, and her woman's pride in him she had chosen. It was beautiful, most refreshingly beautiful, said Dashwood, with an "ah!" as he related all this to Louise, in the vain hope of softening his obdurate fair one.

"I wonder," he continued, half soliloquizing, "if Louise will ever lay her hand upon my shoulder, and say, Frank, or, indeed, any thing else; I would give all Í have to hear."

Uncle Joe accidentally overheard this remark, and he immediately hobbled up to the desponding lover, to inform him, that he might depend upon it Louise could say enough when she chose.

"I have heard her dear me! You don't know Louise. I think she's rash at times; indeed I do."

Dashwood turned to Louise, and she was blushing beautifully.

My sister, with all her composure, was excessively diffident-too diffident, in fact, to let people know what she really was; and Dashwood would not have had her otherwise. He was a most jealous lover, and could not have borne what poor Robert endured at the Black Mountain Springs.

It was very well for the lives of all her lovers that Louise was thus chary of her

smiles. Had she been one shade less prudish and disdainful, I should have had some heartrending murders and bloody duels to relate. These dull pages would have been garnished with exploits on Mr. Dashwood's part almost exceeding belief. Othello would have been an angel to my hero. Happily for me-for I have no talent for such gloomy details-my sister gave him no cause for jealousy. Her rigid propriety and uncompromising fidelity were the anchor of his life. Loving so intensely, it was fortunate that she was so firm. Had she rejected him once, or wavered in the least, this intrepid fellow, after doing serious damage, would have cut his own throat.

The Dandy scheme was now about to be consummated. Miss Blanton was soon to be led to the Hymeneal altar by her Black Mountain Captive. Weddings were rare in the Blanton family; and this was to be a prodigious affair. The note of preparation was sounded months before the happy day. Mrs. Braxley was invited over to the Grove to matronize the fair Willianna, and to act as generalissimo of the Blanton forces. Mrs. Braxley, proud of her reputation, and delighting in power, took possession of the Grove. She very unceremoniously turned the house out of the windows and the astonished Blanton and menagerie out of doors, and commenced operations on an alarming and Phoebean scale. Sappingwood, who was occasionally sent over with messages and injunctions from Mrs. Barbara to her daughter, reported that Mrs. Braxley was turning up Jack at the Grove, and making the Blanton servants "hop linky."

The lovely Willianna, in "maiden meditation fancy free," while the house was apparently being pulled down over her ears, awaited the auspicious day. The wedding day arrived; and beaux and belles, and old and young, were congregated together at the Grove to witness the ceremony, and partake of the good cheer so lavishly provided. The amount of jewelry worn by Miss Blanton on this interesting occasion had better not be specified. My readers would not believe me if I were to tell them. Poor Dandy was terribly scared, and shockingly dressed. I should say he was happy the evening Blanton encountered him in the badlyventilated corner, compared to what he was on the evening of his marriage. He took Willianna upon the wrong arm, and could scarcely be made to understand that the wedding ring was not intended for that lovely creature's thumb. Even after the ceremony, when one would naturally expect to see him somewhat composed, this Black Mountain Captive seemed in