The Atlantic Monthly, Volume 05, No. 31, May, 1860. Various

gentlemen standing together. It was Redmond; the other was his "ancient," Harry Lothrop. Leonora was arrested; I stood still, of course. Redmond had not seen my face, for I turned it from him; and his head was bent down to the task of disengaging his button.

      "'Each only as God wills

      Can work; God's puppets, best and worst,

      Are we; there is no last nor first,'"

      I thought, and turned my head. He instinctively took off his hat, and then planted it back on his head firmly, and looked over to Harry Lothrop, to whom I gave my hand. He knew me before I saw him, I am convinced; but his dramatic sense kept him silent,—perhaps a deeper feeling. There was an expression of pain in his face, which impelled me to take his arm.

      "Let us move on, Leonora," I said; "these are some summer friends of mine," and I introduced them to her.

      My chief feeling was embarrassment, which was shared by all the party; for Leonora felt that there was something unusual in the meeting. The door of the hotel seemed to come round at last, and as we were going in, Harry Lothrop asked me if he might see me the next morning.

      "Do come," I answered aloud.

      We all bowed, and they disappeared.

      "What an elegant Indian your tall friend is!" said Leonora.

      "Yes,—of the Camanche tribe."

      "But he would look better hanging from his horse's mane than he does in a long coat."

      "He is spoiled by civilization and white parents. But, Leonora, stay and dine with me, in my own room. John will not come home till it is time for the opera. You know we are going. You must make me splendid; you can torture me into style, I know."

      She consented, provided I would send a note to her mother, explaining that it was my invitation, and not her old John's, as she irreverently called him. I did so, and she was delighted to stay.

      "This is fast," she said; "can't we have Champagne and black coffee?"

      She fell to rummaging John's closets, and brought out a dusty, Chinese-looking affair, which she put on for a dressing-gown. She found some Chinese straw shoes, and tucked her little feet into them, and then braided her hair in a long tail, and declared she was ready for dinner. Her gayety was refreshing, and I did not wonder at John's admiration. My spirits rose, too, and I astonished Leonora at the table with my chat; she had never seen me except when quiet. I fell into one of those unselfish, unasking moods which are the glory of youth: I felt that the pure heaven of love was in the depths of my being; my soul shone like a star in its atmosphere; my heart throbbed, and I cried softly to it,—"Live! live! he is here!" I still chatted with Leonora and made her laugh, and the child for the first time thoroughly liked me. We were finishing our dessert, when we heard John's knock. We allowed him to come in for a moment, and gave him some almonds, which, he leisurely cracked and ate.

      "Somehow, Margaret," he said, "you remind me of those women who enjoy the Indian festival of the funeral pile. I have seen the thing done; you have something of the sort in your mind; be sure to immolate yourself handsomely. Women are the deuse."

      "Finish your almonds, John," I said, "and go away; we must dress."

      He put his hand on my arm, and whispered,—

      "Smother that light in your eyes, my girl; it is dangerous. And you have lived under your mother's eye all your life! You see what I have done,"—indicating Leonora with his eyebrows,—"taken a baby on my hands."

      "John, John!" I inwardly ejaculated, "you are an idiot."

      "She shall never suffer what you suffer; she shall have the benefit of the experience which other women have given me."

      "Very likely," I answered; "I know we often serve you as pioneers merely."

      He gave a sad nod, and I closed the door upon him.

      "Put these pins into my hair, Leonora, and tell me, how do you like my new dress?"