ismi 



THE AMKlifOAN BEE-KEEPER. 



195 



years to learn that there was not and 

 never can be anything in dissipation, 

 that alcoholieallv- stimularcd spirits and 

 the purchased aifections of women are 

 the bitterest mockeries on God's earth. 

 They are hell's best counterfeits, but 

 rank counteri'eits they are, and only the 

 so called keen eyes of youth are de- 

 cei^^ed by tlieni. 



"All this has a bearing on my story 

 of Amy, because, thank Gcd. after a 

 while my eyes were opened and I saw 

 the folly of my life. And, as when a 

 man has thrown the bloom and flower 

 of his youtii in the gutters of dissipation 

 he takes the faded remnants back to the 

 highway, so I, seeing I had beeu giving 

 much for nothing, bethoiight myself that 

 perhaps the ways of decent people were 

 wiser and I sought to tread them. So- 

 ciety does not condemn the male sinner, 

 tiis social position is thrown like a cloak 

 over his life and virtuous mothers who 

 know from worldly husbands the story 

 of his escapades are glad to show him 

 their jewels in the way of marriageable 

 daughters — that is, if he may be eligible. 



"Well, I was rich and eligible. I eas- 

 ily worked my ^Yay back into the society 

 ,1 had quit for what is styled Bohemia. 

 I saw young women far more sweet and 

 attractive than tho.se who shine at pub- 

 lic balls, late suppers and fancy resorts. 

 And among them shone conspicuous my 

 cousin Amy. 1 had never entirely given 

 up her society, but of late years I had 

 seen less and less of her. It seemed to 

 me her manner had changed. She was 

 now a woman of the world, with her 

 three crowded seasons behind l^?r. New 

 York, Newport, London and the Riviera 

 had beeu her stamping grounds, and 

 even her infinite sweetness — pai'dou the 

 repetition of the word, but it fitted her 

 — was partially covered though not ef- 

 faced by the manner of the womaii of 

 22 years. I had not noticed this, or at 

 any rate dwelt upon it, in our few 

 meetings in the meantime. 



"Amy was .still and had never ceased 

 to bo tend of me as an old friend and 

 playmate, for in the far away old days 

 we had even plas'ed together as children 

 will. But I could never regain my exact 

 old lootiu.?:. After a while she did let 

 me get a little clo.ser, and then later I 

 thought I noticed sometimes a return of 

 someihins like the old camaradarie 

 Was I tulling.iu love with Amy? I did 



aot say so. Then one day I heard some- 

 thing and the next day she told me 

 something herself. 



"I knew the fellow and liked him. 

 He was all that a man should be, and if 

 any man could claim such a standing 

 he was worthy of Amy. Still, for a mo- 

 ment I hated him, and could I have 

 heard of his disgrace I would have re- 

 joiced ; I hardly knew why, but I felt 

 why. But Amy was very happy, so 

 happy that I forgave him, and she soft- 

 ened more toward me. 



"This is all of my story. Its enough 

 for it's a story of what wafi missed and 

 of fortune turned away from the door 

 at the first and last call. How do I 

 know? I will tell you. Amy was to be 

 married after Easter. During Lent I 

 passed a few days at her father's place 

 on the Hudson. She was so happy and 

 grateful to this old world for her happi- 

 ness that she opened all her heart to me 

 and told me her hopes and plans. So 

 selfish is entire happiness. If she had 

 confined herself to her future I might 

 still have been' fairly happy even in her 

 and his happiness. But in the fullness of 

 her spirits Amy lapsed into reminis 

 cence. 



"During one of our close and cordial 

 conversations I noticed a look on her 

 expressive face, a look half quizzical, 

 half amused, and then she turned to me 

 and smiled. Blushed? No. But when 

 she told me this story I left her for a 

 moment saying I tliought I would smoke 

 a cigar, tliough I fprgot to light it when 

 I gol oil the veranda i 



"I had spoken of her happiness, and 

 without thinking what I was saying I 

 asked her familiarly : 



" 'Amy, is that lucky fellow the first 

 or are you giving him only the rem- 

 nants of afiection a pretty girl has left 

 after three years of society?' She 

 laughed gayly and without embarrass- 

 ment. 'Yes and no,' she answered. 'I 

 have met no man in society I consider 

 his equal in any way, and he has all 

 the atfection I possess, but I must make 

 a coufessiou to you, and I can do so 

 safely now. I was in love once before, 

 and oh, Jiow in love I was. It was a 

 fooli.sh afrair, ' she said smiling, 'but at 

 the time I was terribly in earnest. I 

 have quite recovered, so I can tell you 

 all about it. Do you remember some 

 years ago vvheu you were still quite re- 



