A DIAMOND IN THE ROUGH.

BY MINNIE S. DAVIS.

As the morning was dull and rainy, it chanced that Mrs. Ordway and her daughters were all at home. Mrs. Ordway was sewing, Miss Cornelia trifling with her embroidery, and Miss Lucia practicing a new opera. The bell rang, and in a moment à servant entered with a card which she gave her mistress.

"Gerald Southgate," read the lady aloud, and she arose hastily, "show him in, Margaret;” she glanced in trepidation around the apartment; all was as it should be, and though not expecting visitors, the girls were becomingly dressed.

"Gerald Southgate !" repeated Lucia, springing from the music-stool, "O, Cornelia, mamma's much talked of cousin!" Cornelia's beautiful face sparkled all over with pleased anticipation, and straightening her fine form, she glanced smilingly into the mirror by her side.

way took the conversation herself, and the young man responded to her enquiries with a manly frankness which prepossessed her greatly in his favor. At the expiration of half an hour he took his leave, promising to call often during his stay in the city.

Many years before, two cousins of Mrs. Ordway established themselves in New Grenada. Shortly after one died, leaving an orphan son to the kind care of his brother, who adopted the child and brought him up with his own son. Gerald Southgate grew rich, every thing he touched seemed transmuted into gold, and in the excitement of business, he never thought of returning to his native land. However, he sent his boys, George and Gerald, to New England, to complete the college studies which they had commenced with a private tutor at home.

Now, Mrs. Ordway's eyes were completely dazzled by the glitter of gold, and she talked very much of her SouthAmerican cousin and his great possessions. She knew his son had been in Cambridge, and through the papers she was informed that the young man graduated with honor. She secretly hoped he would visit his New York friends before going home, and consequently was greatly delighted at seeing him in her own house. Well, girls," she said, "how were you pleased with Mr. Southgate?"

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Miss Cornelia pursed her lips and resumed her embroidery with an air of dignity, while Lucia, who had been dimpling with mirth, burst into a gush of

"O, mamma, I never could have believed it! that homely, awkward fellow, your cousin's son, the heir of I don't know how many millions!" "Lucia!"

"Don't scold me, for I must laugh, it was such a surprise. Cornelia, did you notice the cut of his coat? I dare say it was in the height of fashion seven or eight years ago, and his bow, ridiculous, wasn't it? Then, that blush-how absurd

or a man!"

"Lucia, stop, or I shall be seriously displeased with you; you must overcome this habit of making fun of personal peculiarities.'

Lucia hung her head at this reproof, and Cornelia looked up from her work with a smile.

"Of course, mother, it was very proper in Mr. Southgate to call, and all right for you to treat him kindly; but do you think it necessary to cultivate his acquaintance merely for relationship's sake?" Mrs. Ordway was quite vexed with her daughters, they were so obtuse, so unconscious of the honor done them! Had she not told them again and again of his father's great wealth and high position? what could they expect of a young man brought up almost without the society of ladies, and one devoted to study, too? They should be proud of the relationship between them, for he was like a diamond in the rough; a little mingling in society would correct his manners.

The gentle Cornelia was convinced and felt quite condemned that she had not entered into her mother's feelings at first, but Lucia was undaunted by the spirited lecture she had received, and with an arch smile, begged her mother to explain what she meant by his being like "a diamond in the rough;" did she mean his superior mind which needed the polish of polite life, or did she refer to his splendid fortune, so poorly represented by his shabby dress and uncouth manners?

"My child, you have doubtless heard the expression many times, and can guess at my meaning," said Mrs. Ordway, a little uneasily. Lucia was a sad trial to her mother; she was so clear-sighted, it was impossible to conceal a motive from

her, and it was not pleasant to have her know the truth, that the son of the rich man was welcomed so gladly because of his wealth and not on account of kinship or old-time memories.

Mrs. Ordway was a widow, and all her hopes and wishes rested with her children. To see them well established in life was her great aim. She lived expensively, far beyond her means, and as she knew her money would not last always, she felt it imperatively necessary that her daughters should marry advantageously; she used the word advantageously in the most worldly sense, though with wealth and position she included a reasonable share of brains and morals. After all, Mrs. Ordway was superior to the class of ladies known as "manoeuvring mammas;' beneath a thin crust of worldliness was a heart kind and true. Had she been poor instead of rich, she would have been a better, and not unlikely, a happier woman.

Cornelia at

Cornelia and Lucia were somewhat romantic in temperament, and love looked to them as enticing in a cottage as in a palace. In spite of their mother's teachings they were simple, unaffected girls, though truly accomplished. tracted much notice, and Mrs. Ordway thought it time to place the young girl upon her guard. She plainly told her that unless she shortly married a man of wealth, they must all retire to a much humbler sphere of life, and Cornelia, always used to luxury and ease, was quite startled at the possibility of coming poverty.

Mr. Southgate called again and was so kindly received that he resolved to cultivate the acquaintance of the family. In a land of strangers it was pleasant to find friends and relatives; Mrs. Ordway he thought a perfect lady, and his young cousins the most amiable and entertaining girls he had ever known. Mr. Southgate improved upon acquaintance; he was social, and talked well of his travels, and his extensive mental acquirements were modestly displayed in his conversation. The royality of mind, of character, was stamped upon all he said and did; he was one of those men who unconsciously and without an effort commands the respect

of all who approach them. Now, much as young girls delight in pretty compliments, much as they prize courtly manners and elegant dress, they have an instinctive reverence for genius. The man of genius need not descend to the little trifles of etiquette; it matters nothing what kind of a hat covers his kingly head, and the cut of his coat is of no consideration.

Cornelia and Lucia voted cousin Gerald a genius; they were proud of his friendship, and Mrs. Ordway looked with great complaisance upon their growing intimacy. In June, the family retired to their summer cottage in the country, and Mr. Southgate promised to be with them in a few days. Lucia pouted with affected dissatisfaction.

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"Now, mamma, it is too bad! want to have a good time in the country, and this dignified, learned gentleman will spoil it all!"

"You will be lonesome in the country," said her mother, "and I fancy cousin Gerald's company will be very acceptable"

"No, it won't! he is too wise, he knows so much that I am afraid of him, I can't act myself!"

Mrs. Ordway and Cornelia laughed. "My poor little sister," said Cornelia, "you do seem painfully afraid of him with your wild pranks and gay nonsense!" "I am afraid of him, though," persisted Lucia, "though of course I don't show it; I believe I act worse on that account. When he smiles so gravely and looks at me with those great gray eyes of his, I know he is measuring me and thinking what a little simpleton I am, and that I am only a spoiled child," and as if to prove the truth of the gentleman's opinion, she caught up a pet kitten from the sofa and began tossing it in the air and dancing about like a very child.

The mother looked upon her and smiled; though almost seventeen, Lucia yet seemed a mere child to her, for her wilfulness and frolicsome ways contrasted strongly with Cornelia's lady-like dignity. Yet Lucia was more of a woman than her mother suspected, for she stood upon the line between the care-free, rosy land of girl

hood, and that mystery haunted realm, the womanhood before her. A woman and still a child, she thirsted for the love and honor which might be her's, yet like one held captive by innocent joys, she lingered along the secure paths she had been treading, to toy a little longer with those fair flowers whose sweetness would soon be but a memory.

Out in the country, with Nature in her loveliest mood, Lucia was perfectly happy, and in spite of her protestations, the coming of Cousin Gerald did'nt seem to cast much of a damper upon her spirits. Cornelia freely expressed her satisfaction in his society, and their conversation, which was so pleasant, was a benefit to both. Cornelia gained new interest in, and acquired a higher taste for literature, and Gerald daily improved in social tact. Lucia declared that he was getting decidedly foppish, for he appeared at Rose Cottage in an entirely new suit of clothes, and with his hair and beard trimmed in the most approved style.

One day Gerald received a letter from his cousin, George Southgate, announcing his intention of visiting his relatives a Rose Cottage. Gerald spoke warmly o George, describing him as a young man o sound principles and brilliant talents. Mrs. Ordway was quite willing to receive George Southgate as her guest, and with great magnanimity resolved to welcome him as cordially as she had his wealthy cousin.

George Southgate came, and soon was fairly domiciled in pretty Rose Cottage. He was a year or two younger than Gerald; and very unlike him in appearance; he was strikingly handsome, with a slight, elegant figure, and an easy, assured, graceful manner; and his dress was the perfection of taste. In an hour he was quite like an old friend, and took a privileged place in their midst.

Before, they were happy; now, they were merry. Mr. George possessed the finest, keenest wit; every sentence sparkled, and his face shone with the most pleasing animation. Cornelia and Lucia were ready with gay repartee, and Mr. Gerald's quaint humor was perfectly delightful.

Somehow, Mrs. Ordway did not enjoy the hilarity of the young people; she sat aloof with a troubled air, or wandered restlessly from room to room. A sudden thought, coming like a flash upon her mind, had greatly disturbed her equanimity.

Lucia was greatly interested in botany, and Gerald had constituted himself her teacher. When at sun-down she took her hat, saying she was going to gather wildflowers to analyze, it was the most natural thing for the young man to accompany her, and she seemed nothing loth to walk by his side.

There was a touch of truth in Lucia's assertion that she was afraid of Gerald Southgate, for she placed him upon such a lofty pedestal in her imagination, that she felt awed in looking up to him. She thought him the wisest and best of men, and felt strangely humble in his presence, yet none could have guessed it from her playful, saucy manner. Of late, how ever, her teasing ways had been exchanged for a gentle, confiding air, which had a wonderful charm for Gerald. She seemed less a child, and more a woman; and a very loveable, bewitching woman, the young man thought.

They rambled until they were tired, and then sat down on a mossy bank to talk over their flowers. Lucia thought Gerald had never seemed so kind before; she looked into his eyes, unabashed by their full, penetrating gaze, and wondered she had ever thought him homely and awk ward. He was the noblest specimen of manhood she had ever beheld; and O, how rich, how rich beyond compare, must be the happy woman he would some day love. Lucia was not thinking of those fleeting riches that can take wings and vanish away, but of his priceless treasures of mind and heart. She trembled at her thoughts, and the roses on her cheeks grew crimson as she cast her eyes down with a timid air. Then he forgot his flowers, and tried to analyze the meaning of that radiant, most becoming blush.

Cornelia had noticed her mother's evident uneasiness, and sought the first opportunity to speak with her in private. "Dear mother," she said,

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I see you

are troubled; have I said or done anything amiss?"

"No, nothing of the kind. I am vexed at my own dullness. We have made a great blunder, I am fully convinced. George, not Gerald, is the son of Gerald Southgate, the millionaire !"

"Mother, are you sure?"

"As sure as can be! It came over me like a flash of lightning. My cousins were very fond brothers, and naturally they named their sons for each other. I have an indistinct recollection that it was so. But what makes me see my mistake so surely, is the appearance of the young men themselves. Gerald dresses very plainly; makes no presents, which I have thought strange, seems to spend little money and every way has the modest appearance of one with small expectations. But George is a finished gentleman; his dress is elegant, though without vulgar display, and he has the air of one completely at ease with the world. You saw that present he brought me, the beautiful work-box inlaid with pearl? well, that little thing told me the whole story."

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But, mother, why should you care which is rich and which is poor? What matters it to us; they both seem worthy of our friendship, and relatives to be proud of."

song. "Mother, here's a beautiful spray of wild roses, prettier than all the garden roses in the world! What, Cornelia, you here, too; have you left our handsome cousin George all alone?"

"Come in, my dear, and shut the door; I have been telling your sister of the mistake we have made. George is my cousin Gerald's son, and this Gerald is his nephew."

"Is that it; then George is rich and Gerald poor, and your diamond in the rough' is not a diamond after all; 0,

mamma !"

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Lucia, how you will talk!"

"I am glad, though, ever so glad! for George is handsome and genteel and brilliant, and wealth belongs with such qualities; and Gerald is such a grand man he doesn't need to be rich! I shall like him a great deal better than before." Mrs. Ordway's apprehensions as to the result of her mistake very soon subsided, for George Southgate accepted her invitation to spend a month. From the first there was a mutual attraction between George and Cornelia; they seemed by nature fitted for each other, and all their tastes and opinions harmonized. Mrs. Ordway was content to watch and wait, and many a golden castle she built while the lovers talked and sang through the charmed hours of those summer days. It was indeed summer-time to them.

And what of little Lucia? Ah, she was such a child her mother hardly cast a thought upon her; so she worked and played at her own pleasure, and studied Botany with Gerald, or read wise books she could not understand, because he practised them. The mother did not notice how her frolicsome child had changed, she did not see the new light in her eye, nor the quiet gentleness of speech and action which invested her with the dignity of womanhood. Her mind was developing, too; the bud had suddenly blossomed, and none knew it save he whose love had warmed it into expansion. One July morning, the young men declared their intention of leaving Rose cottage on the morrow. Mrs. Ordway was profuse with well-bred expressions of regret, but the sisters were silent, while

their tell-tale faces betokened their sorrow. After breakfast George Southgate brought the carriage to the door, and Cornelia accompanied him on a woodland ride. The maiden's heart beat quickly; she knew by a thousand sweet signs she was beloved, and she felt that the confession trembled on the lips of her companion. It was so; his heart found language; he told her how he had lingered by her side, chained by silken, invisible cords, when duty really called him into the active scenes of life. But he could tarry no longer; and O, before he said "good-bye," would she not give him the assurance that his love was returned?

Cornelia placed her hand in his, and the smiles and tears blending in beautiful confusion upon her face was his answer. George was satisfied; he held the small fair hand tightly in his, and told of his gratitude and happiness. Cornelia, you have a true woman's heart; it is so blissful to know that I am loved for myself alone. I have my own way to make in the world, and now I have all hope and courage! My uncle Gerald has been most generous with me, but now my studies are completed, I feel that it would be unmanly in me to depend upon him longer. I shall enter upon the duties of my profession immediately, and soon, in a year or two at farthest, I shall claim you as my bride."

In the profound happiness of the moment, Cornelia hardly heard the words in reference to his uncle, and the necessity for his own exertion; but when seated in her own chamber, with the knowledge that her mother and lover were in conference below, they recurred to her mind with startling distinctness. After all, her mother's hopes were defeated, and her own palace would prove to be a cottage. She was half frightened at the sense of disappointment in her heart, and she sharply questioned its inmost feeling. Was her love a reality? Did it depend upon the prestige of wealth and its appointments? or could she wait in patience, and then cheerfully accept the humble home which must be her's as the wife of George Southgate?

Her mother's disappointment was up