THE RURAL NEW-YORKER. 
A SISTER’S PLEA. 
Fab from the shelter of the town, 
A little lass and lad 
Towards the shore come stealing down. 
Why should a look so sad 
Touch his sweet face with pensive grace. 
And hers, which should be glad ? 
Among the rocks they rest anon 
In silence ; then the maid, 
" Now, ynu'U not be a sailor, John, 
And leave me t " softly said. 
The wistful gaze she did upraise 
More strong than language prayed. 
" I would have been a sailor, Nell, 
Had it not been for you. 
Our father toiled both long and well 
Upon the boundless blue ; 
And though he aleepB five fathoms deep, 
I’d be a sailor too 1 
" But mother told me as she lay 
Upon her dying hed, 
That I must keep by you alway, 
Aud work for you, she said, 
When she was gone, and we alone, 
And win your honest broad. 
" Aud so, my dear, I shall obey' 
Our mother's last command, 
For I shall keep by you alway, 
Yot have a helping hand 
Beady to lend that hapless friend. 
Whoso bark may get aHtraud.” 
-*♦«- 
HER MOTHER’S SECRET, 
CHAPTER V. 
[Continued from page28.] 
“ With you show me what you can do,” asked 
Edith, “that I may judge how to begin?” 
“ I know nothlDg,” the other cried, “and I don’t 
want to learn. I had bettor explain at once tUat 
I am too old to have a governess, and don’t mean 
to learn I” 
“ But, Miss Tresslder-” observed Edith. 
“ I am willing to be friends, but you must let 
me do as 1 like," the other went on, pettishly. 
“ You can play and sLng as much as you like; but 
I cannot, and will not, be treated as a school¬ 
girl !” 
“Them must resign my situation at once,” 
said Edith, In agrave tone; “ 1 cannot take money 
under false pretenses,” 
Blanche colored and bit her Up. She had thought 
to govern and mold this gentle girl at will. She 
found It would be no easy t ask. Yield she must, 
as her father had given this alternative, or a 
strict boarding-school for a year. 
“ 1 have been foolishly lenient hitherto,” he had 
said, “ and now something must be doue. You 
can never come out at all unless you receive 
some polish.” — 
“ I will try,"continued Blanche, arter some 
moments hesitation; and golug to the piano, 
she selected some easy music, which she 
began to play without much regard to time 
or tune. 
“ Allow me," said Edith; and slowly and 
correctly she played it for her. “Now, Miss 
Tresslder, try It again.” 
She did; and, after trials, found herself 
Improving at once. And so It was with every¬ 
thing. 
A little before two, Ml3s Tresslder retired 
to dress ror lunch. Her studies were to be , ' 
only during certain hours, and not Interfere K 
with her drives and mamma’s one particular 
visit. In which her daughter always aecom- 
panled. . ; 
Edith had made a slight chaDge In her toll- 
et, when a girl came to the door of her room 'JE 
—a very excellent one—and Invited her to Is 
follow, as lunch was waiting. 
Edith supposed this was another word for Ls! 
dinner with the housekeeper. Her astonish- ||P 
meat may be conceived, therefore, when she 
was ushered Into the room where lunch was fM 
laid lor the master of the house. 
ne was walking up and down in rather a 
perturbed way. Lady Tresslder was looking ’ 
very sullen and defiant; Blanche only sur- a. 
prised. 
“ Md’lleMarechale," said the Baronet, cour- ^ 
teously, " whenever you hear the bell ring 5? 
for meals, please to come down. You are one 
of the faintly." ^ 
“ Really, sir Arthur," she faltered, “ this Is ^ 
more than I deserve.” 
“ Tray be seated,” he answered, handing 
hertoaohalr. V 
And thus was Edith’s situation la the fam- L 
tly assured. The Baionet showed her chlv- \ 
alrlc respect, and every day evidenced more 
tenderness of manner. There was something v 
about the girl which had completely lascl- \ 
natedhtm. ||\ 
Lady Tresslder hated her with all the vlru- I i 
lent hatred of a low, vulgar, and vindictive Ij k 
nature. The restraint she had to put upon i jj) 
herself galled her to the Quick. Wjj 
“ How you can be commonly civil to that 0r 
two-faced, cunning doll!” she snappishly 
cried to her daughter, “ is more than I can 
Imagine.” ^ 
“Inthe first place,”said Blanche, laugh- J|| 
lng, “ i must obey papa's orders. You know 
that he will be obeyed. And then she takes 
great pains with me. I am Improving," 
“ And then the girl is so very beautiful. If lUg 
your father insists on her being present when 
the season begins—at all events, when we 
are down In the country—we shall have all the 
young men running after her," she continued. 
She is very beautiful,” sighed Blanche: “ and 
am I so very ugly?” 
“Ugly!" cried the mother, warmly; “no, my 
dear. But the men somehow rave about these 
bold beauties." 
“ I don’t know much about It,” said Blanche, 
and went to her lesson. 
A month passed, and preparations were made 
for the country. Parliament was up long ago, the 
season was well over, but Sir Arthur had some 
business In town which detained him. 
The second dinner-bell had rung, and Edith, 
more carefully dressed than usual, went down 
stairs quite happy. She was beginning to like 
Blanche. Sir Arthur was more kind every day, 
treating her more like a daughter than anything 
else; while Lady Tresslder Ignored her altogeth¬ 
er, which was about the beBt thing she could do. 
On this occasion, Edith, fancying herself late, 
entered the drawing-room hurriedly, but would 
have retreated ou seeing the tall figure of a gen¬ 
tleman, slightly turned from her, in conversation 
with Sir Arthur. 
“ Come In,” said the latter. “ This 13 my neph¬ 
ew.” 
" Heavens 1 ” cried the well-known voice of 
Royston Yorke; “ have I found you at last? ” 
Edith reeled, and would have fallen but for his 
supporting her. 
“ Pardon me, uncle,” said the nephew : “ this Is 
the young lady I was speaking of,” 
“ I really am ashamed of my emotion,” began 
Edith ; “ but 1 know this gentleman In happier 
day’s before my sad bereavement.” 
“ Perhaps Mademoiselle would like to retire,” 
began Lady Tresslder, white with rage. 
“ Nonsense !—only a surprise," said the Baron¬ 
et, pleasantly. “ Take my arm, and come In to 
dinner.” 
The Baronet thus put the girl at her ease, 
and the dinner passed off pretty well, though 
the lady of the house smiled slgnUleantly several 
times. 
After dinner the ladles retired ; Edith going to 
her own room, utterly bewildered at this amaz¬ 
ing discovery. Doubtless he loved her still, 
while his uncle had shown no displeasure at his 
familiarity. 
But what did all this avail to her, the almost 
nameless orphan ? 
While she was still thinking, she was summon¬ 
ed to Join the party In the drawing-room. 
CHAPTER VIII. 
A Declaration. 
“ Well, sir.” began Royston Yorke, as soon as 
the gentlemen were alone, “ what do you think 
of her ?’’ 
“ Charming !” replied the Baronet. “ And I am 
assured by Mr. Linton, who recommended her, 
of excellent family, though poor.” _ 
“ Her mother was a true lady. I am sorry to 
find she Is dead. It was this that caused my 
search to fall,” he answered. “Then If the 
young lady has not changed her opinions of me, 
sir, I am free to win her ? ” added Royston. 
“ Yes,” was the emphatic reply. •* I should re¬ 
joice to see so fair, so noble a girl, the future 
Lady Tresslder.” 
“ I am delighted you are pleased, sir." 
“ I suppose she does not know that though to 
please that old miser you took his name, you are 
still a Tresslder ? ” asked the Baronet. 
I told her nothing, except that I loved her, 
and must come up to town to consult my uncle,” 
said Royston. 
“ Well, you can tell her all now; and the Boon- 
er lhe better,” replied the Baronet, rising, and 
Joining the ladles In the drawing-room. 
Edith was at once sent for, and came Into the 
room, pale and thoughtful. 
Royston rose and took her to a seat, where she 
sipped her coffee, and Joined In the general and 
ordinary conversation. 
After coffee, Royston proposed a game of chess 
for which purpose he took her to the extreme end, 
of the room, quite out of hearing. 
“ I am very sorry," he said, kindly and tender¬ 
ly, •• that you have suffered so severe a loss since 
I saw you last." 
“ It. was a great loss to me,” she answered, her 
voice quivering a little; “ left, as I thought, with¬ 
out a friend In the world.” 
You have found many," he added. 
“ Many ; and I am thankful for It,” she an¬ 
swered, and making a move, seemed absorbed in 
chess. 
“ I dare say you believed me both fickle and 
false ? ” he asked, gently. 
“I thought you had changed your mind, as 
every man has a right to do,” she continued; 
“ and then my trouble came, and I had enough to 
think of. 
“ My dear MI 33 Marshall—my dear Edith, I will 
say—I was neither fickle nor false. On reaching 
town I found my uncle absent, and started a long 
journey In search of him. On the way I was 
taken very 111; my wound had been hastily and 
Imperfectly cured, so that I lay a long time be¬ 
tween life and death,” he said. 
“ I never suspected that,” she said, kindly. 
“ Of course not. As soon as I arrived I saw my 
uncle, obtained Ills consent,” he added signifi¬ 
cantly, “ and went off to find you. Your mother 
was dead, and none knew your address. I sus¬ 
pect the doctor did; but if so, he refused to satis¬ 
fy me. I sought you everywhere, and then re¬ 
turned home to find yeu In the most unlikely 
of all places.” 
“ It was strange," said Ethel, musing. 
“Not so much so as you think,” continued 
Royston, with a dry smile. “ Did you mention 
my name to Linton?” 
“ I told my mother all about you on her death¬ 
bed.” was the grave and pained reply, “ and at 
her request repeated everything to Mr, Linton.” 
“ And he, kind, good, generous friend,” the 
other went on, “knowing I was Sir Arthur’s 
nephew, sent you here. He knew first that you 
must win my uncle’s heart, and that sooner or 
later, we must meet.” 
“ if that was his motive,” said Ethel, bitterly, 
“ It was a very unwise act. Better we had never 
met again than that we. should so soon part again. 
I must leave here 1” 
“ Why?” was hts amazed question. 
“1 maybe respectable, good enough for a hired 
menial of a superior grade, but not to be daugh¬ 
ter of the house !” was her firm reply. “ I am 
not a lady, that I know of. My parentage Is 
doubtful.” she added; “ but I am not called upon 
to reveal family woes and sorrows.” 
" Let us speak no more now” said Royston, 
gravely. “My uncle Is satisfied—unequivocally 
satisfied. But you are agitated. Will you play 
music Instead or talking ?” . 
“ Yes,” answered Edith, glad to get from the 
room, and be a little more alone. 
Blanche had gone to sleep on a couch, weary 
for want of gossip. 
“ On what footlug will that young person be 
placed In my house In future?” asked the lady of 
her husband. 
“ Of the future Lady Tresslder—future mistress 
of Longmead, which I have so long abandoned 
through your prej udices, but to which, in three 
weeks, we go,” was the reply. 
“ Then In future,” the other went on, “ she will 
be placed on a fooling of equality with my 
daughter ?” 
“No,” said the Baronet, gravely; “above 
your daughter, as the wife of my future heir. 
They will be married as soon as her time of 
mourning Is up.” 
The Lady Tresslder sat. choked with rage as 
he coolly said these words. 
“ 'I’hat vulgar chit placed above my child ?” she 
cried. “ Never!” 
“She Is a perfect lady, which Is more than 
ever could be, or will be, said of yourself or 
daughter,” he remarked, himself white with 
rage, he knew not why, 
But It galled him to hear her Insulted—the 
child whom he loved as his own flesh and blood. 
Hence his departure from his usual earnest 
courtesy. 
He said no more, but went from the room to 
look on at the happy lovers, listen to the music, 
and dream. 
Lady Tresslder remained behind, to battle with 
her anger. She knew her husband well, aud that 
he never departed from his given word. Besides, 
he possessed a power over the lady whom he 
called hla wife, which the world little suspected. 
Waking her daughter suddenly, this young 
person sat up. and stared wildly about. 
" What Is the matter ?” she asked. 
“ The matter, sUly fool! That this girl has 
already stolen away your sweetheart i But for 
her, you would have been Lady Tresslder, owner 
of Longmead, and a rich heiress,” cried 
—^» her mother. 
“ And now ?" the other asked again. 
“ You will probably remain Miss Tres¬ 
slder to the end of the chapter. You wlU be 
neither a lady nor chatelaine of a grand 
house, nor wlU you have much of a fortune 
to attract a husband—just my fortune and 
what your father chooses to give you.” 
i Blanche was up in arms now, and white 
with rage. She had passion, after all. 
“And this white-faced girl has done all 
this ?" she said, in a low tone. 
“ She has. Your father has just told me 
that in future she will stand higher than 
you in the household, as the future wife of 
the future Sir Royston Yorke Tresslder.” 
*** “I will kill her!” said Blanch, now com- 
Bbi pletely roused. “ I hate her!” 
H “ You had belter not let your father hear 
you say so, or you will be sent to schooL” 
Blanche leapt from her chair, 
jpp, “ w lmt la to be done ?" she said, hoarsely. 
“Bide our time! Heaven knows what 
>0^ may happen !” was the cold reply. 
R No more was said; and after some little 
time, the others returning, a tray was 
Wfj l3rou &kt In, and then all went to bed. 
CHAPTER IX. 
Explanations. 
After brekafast that day, Edith asked per¬ 
mission to pay a visit to her friend, Mr. Lin¬ 
ton. 
“ My dear,"said the Baronet, warmly, “in 
future you are my guest. A carriage is al¬ 
ways at your orders, and you will only Join 
Blanche in her studies when you are so in¬ 
clined.” 
“ That will be never, if I am asked,’ ’ was 
Blanche's Incautious reply. 
“You know the alternative," said the Bar¬ 
onet, coldly—he never made any show of ten¬ 
derness to this girl; “ and unless you show 
proper respect to Miss Marshall, my adopted 
daughter-’’ 
How the blood rushed to Edith's cheeks! 
•• 1 must find a school-mlstress who will be 
a strict disciplinarian, and who, whUe she 
Informs you In accomplishments, will also 
teach you to behave like a lady.” 
Blanche quivered, bit her lip and was about 
to make an answer that would have sealed 
her fate, but that she caught her mother’s 
warning eye. 
“ I am really sorry to encroach on your 
kindness,” said Edith, quite humbly, and con. 
fused at causing any quarrel or dissension. 
“ I really do not deserve-” 
“ I should think not!” muttered my lady. 
