THE RURAL NEW-YORKER. 
Lady Kolfe accepted his apology with a smile. 
That aBtute lady had explained the motives of 
her policy to Lavlnla. 
“I understand Sir Owen,”she said. “If any 
one opposes him he will lose his reason over the 
girl. Place no obstacle In the wav of his admira¬ 
tion, and he will soon tire of her. He cannot 
marry her. for she Is engaged to Felix Lonsdale.” 
SO, with great amiability, Lady Kolfe had ac¬ 
cepted Sir Owen’s invitation to act a3 hostess for 
three or four days. She had determined that she 
would give him every opportunity of being with 
violet, on the principle that the more he saw of 
her the sooner he would wire of her. sir Owen 
took her down to dinner, and sat by her side, vi¬ 
olet was dazed with wonder. She saw the su¬ 
perb gold and sliver plate, the magnificent eperg- 
nes, the rare flowers, the costly wines, the richly- 
cut glass. She felt half afraid of the well-trained 
hutler and his noiseless assistants—It was all a 
scene of splendor aud magnificence, that dazed 
and bewildered her. 
Sir Owen gave her little time to thluk, and ev¬ 
eryone took their cue from him—visitors and ser¬ 
vants. vmiet was queen or the evening. She 
concealed her trepidation, and carefully watching 
Lady Rolfe, she imitated her exactly. Then, 
when the ladles withdrew, she was the center of 
observation—her exquisite beauty, her dainty 
dress, the attention paid to her by Sir Owen, 
made her the most important person present. 
Sir Owen did not long delay in entering the 
t drawing-room; and then he selected a luxurious 
chair, and enthroned her. He found her a foot¬ 
stool ; he waited upon her as though she had 
been a princess and lie a page; he never left her; 
and she, looking at, the splendor which surround¬ 
ed her—iookiug at the wealth, the magnificence 
—wondered that she should play a part in such a 
scene. It was a night of triumph to her; but sue 
did not forget Felix; It would have been perfect 
had he beta by her side. 
The guests talked of the morrow's fete —they 
had music and cards. Sir Owen gave violet a 
lesson m beslque; and when the evening was 
over she went to her mother. 
“Mamma,” she said, "how delightful it has 
allbjenl I am so sorry that It Is over. I wish it 
would last forever.” 
Mrs. Haye smiled. 
“ It la more pleasant,, violet, than the strug¬ 
gle that falls to the lot of people with limited 
means.” 
It was pleasant. The dainty, luxury-loving 
nature found It wouderfully pleasant, violet 
smiled to herself as she sat In her room that 
night. Ajmeo was brushing the long, shining, 
golden hair. She was surrounded by every lux¬ 
ury—hangings of silk and lace, Dresden china, 
Bohemian glass; the room was a marvel in its 
way. Sho stntlod as she realized how dear lux¬ 
ury was to her already—how she admired soft 
velvet chairs and thick soft carpets—liked to eat 
from sliver plate aad drink from richly-cut glass 
—liked to be waited on by well-trained servants 
—to live in this atmosphere of splendor—to wear 
rich silks and costly lace, precious stones and 
gold. It was an entrancing life, and the other 
would never seem quite the Same again. After 
all, there was nothing like money. 
tike dismissed her maid, and would have slept, 
but Hat a ray of moonlight shone In through the 
wind : w. Ono part of the rose silk hangings had 
been left undrawn. She went to arrange It to 
shut out the moonlight, so that she could sleep, 
and. when she stood near the window and saw 
the ollvcr light on the trees and flowers, her 
thoughts went back to that lovely night when 
she had stood with him by the lllao-hushos. How 
beloved her! Ills face appeared so plainly be¬ 
fore her—the love-lit, earnest eyes and winning 
lips. 
After all, love was beat; wealth was very pleas¬ 
ant, but It was sweeter to be loved than to be 
rich. And she fell asleep with her lover’s name 
on her lips. 
CHAPTER XVI. 
Ths next morning was bright, and warm. 
There was a hurried breakfast—every one seem¬ 
ed to hive so much to do; from early dawn men 
had teen at work In the park. Sir Owen came 
down stairs radiant. 
“ Who will say a word against English weather 
after this?” he cried; then, when lie saw violet, 
he bowed low to her. “ The queen of the fete," 
he w hlspered, and she blushed as she heard him. 
The post-bag came as they sat at breakfast, 
and there was a note for her; she saw that It was 
from Felix, and put It aside until she should be 
alone. Looking up suddenly she saw sir Owen 
watculug her Intently, and again a hot Cush 
burn cl nor face. He did not leave her—every¬ 
thing was referred to her; her wishes, her tastes 
were continually consulted. 
“Mr dear Lavlnla,” said Lady Rolfe, wltn up¬ 
raised hands, “It Is something Incredible—he 
treats her Just as though she were mistress of 
this house. It IS quite enough to turn any girl’s 
brain.” 
Though he spent his whole time with her, Sir 
Oweu did not forget her parents. Francis Haye 
declared that he was “ in clover;” his wliehad 
never been so happy ; they were waited upon 
and attended to before every one else—they had 
every luxury, every attention. 
The- guests arrived early. Everything was a 
success, but the crowning satisfaction of all was 
turn the weather was so line, violet found time 
to read her lover’s note; It said how disappointed 
he was that he could not come to Garswood, but 
to aiiend the fete oven for one hour was an im¬ 
possibility ror him. His father had had a very 
serious relapse, and he could not leave the office. 
She was sorry; yet she could not, understand how 
It was she experienced a certain feeling of relief 
—her present triumph was so great, and she en- 
joyoi it so thoroughly, it must all have ended 
when Felix came. It was like a play now; she 
was playing the part of mistress of a magnificent 
mansion—of queen that brilliant fete. She 
must have given up this role If Felix had come. 
She must have spent the time with him. 
" I shall never in my life have such a triumph 
again,” she said to herself—" never again. I may 
as welt enjoy this while it lasts, ” 
She looked superbly beautiful In the dress that 
had been sent to her for the/efe; and she walked 
through the grounds with Sir Owen by her side, 
she was the observed ol all observer. She 
felt.her triumph keenly —It was no small odo 
—yet 8b e had an uneasy sensation too that 
It was, after all, a false position. She was the 
promised wife of another man—she had no right, 
to be queen there, with sir Owen by her side. 
It was a brilliant fete— she had seen nothing 
like It In her life. The fete at the Vicarage, 
which had always seemed to her the very acme 
of aristocratic gaiety, dwindled into insignifi¬ 
cance. Tho sun had seldom shone on a more bril¬ 
liant scene; flags and banners waved from the 
tall trees; there were numerous evergreen 
arches, marquceB, and an Infinity of amusements. 
The music from the bands echoed through the 
park. 
“ II is very beautiful,” said Violet, as she stood 
with sir Owen, watching the various groups. 
“ If you are pleased, f am well repaid,” he said. 
“ Do you not know that I would give all I have to 
please you ? I would do all tbl3 over and over 
again to w la one smile from you." 
Suddenly, standing there, sho remembered her 
promise to Felix that she would tell Sir Owen 
she was to be his wife. How was she to do it ? 
She could not turn round to him abruptly and 
say, •• i am going to marry Felix Lonsdale.” She 
was tempted to do so, but it would be too 
brusque. “ I shall find an opportunity during 
the evening,” she thought—" 1 can easily make 
one, hut not at present. I will enjoy myself now.” 
Then Sir Owen conducted her through the 
grounds. It was a veritable triumph. Her ex¬ 
quisite beauty, her superb dress, her radiant face, 
the evident admiration of this wealthy baronet 
by her side, were the sole themes of conversa¬ 
tion. People bowed to her, who had never seemed 
to be aware that she existed before; ladles 
pleaded tor an Introduction who had passed her 
with haughty Insolence; men crowded round 
her, and none seemed content until he had won 
one smile from the sweet lips, one glance from 
the lovely eyes. 
They passed on, Sir Owen talking eagerly to 
her; but Bhe hardly heard what ho was saying, 
she was so engrossed in the brilliant scene. He 
led her past the front of the Hall, and through 
the superb gardens. It seemed to her that they 
passed acre after acre of glass-houses, then they 
came to a little hill. At Its foot was the river 
bank, and Its summit was crowned with a group 
of sliver larches. A seat had beeu placed under 
them, for irom the summit of that hill there was 
to be seen one of the loveliest pictures In Eng¬ 
land. 
“ Where are we going J” asked violet, as they 
left the Hall and the grounds. 
" I want to show you Larch Hill,” he replied. 
She did not quite like being there alone with 
him. Felix would not like It, yet how could she 
resist? 
“ Every ono who comes to Garswood sees Larch 
Hill," he continued. "It Is really the prettiest 
spot about here.” 
“But your guests will miss you,” she said 
“ 1 am with the queen of the fete," he returned, 
with a low bow; and she saw that he did not 
care In the least whether he was missed or not. 
He led her to the summit of the hill, to the rus¬ 
tic seat under the larches. 
“ I was thinking all last night,” he said, “ that 
I would bring you here to-day. I want you to 
look well around you. See how the sun shines on 
Garswood! Look at the Hall first.” 
It was a magnificent panorama that was spread 
out before her. Mot the least Important feature 
In It was the grand old Hall, with Its towers and 
turrets. He stood by her side. 
“ From here as far away as your eye cau reach,” 
he Bald, " Is mine. North, south, east and west— 
It is all mine. You see the river like a broad sli¬ 
ver line In the distance—the boats and the barges 
ou lc are mine. You see the villages nestling 
amongst the trees, the rich, well-cared-for farms, 
the quiet, pretty homesteads—they are mine—all 
mine,” 
“ It Is a noble property,” she said. 
“Yes; there is not a larger or better estate In 
England, and the beauty ot It Is that It lies all to¬ 
gether. You see the dark ma83 of woods over 
to the left; the trees In them are a magnificent 
fortune iu themselves, and they are all mine. 
You see that broad stretch of meadow-land where 
the cattle graze—it is all mine!” 
She made no reply; his words and his looks 
contused her. 
“I am lord ot the soil,” he said, “for many 
miles round. I know no other place so fine as 
Garswood. Violet ilaye, all this Is mine; and. If 
you will speak only one word, It shall all be 
yours.” 
Bhe turned to him with a startled glance. 
“I do not understand you, "she declared. “ How 
could It be mine? ’ 
“It can all be jours If you will marry me, vio¬ 
let,” he whispered. 
Her beautiful face grew pale as death. 
“ I cannot marry you,” she replied quickly. 
“ Why not, Violet? Tell mo why.” 
“Because I am engaged to marry Felix LonA 
dale.” 
“ Is that all ? W hat on oarth does that matter ? 
He ought to be ashamed of himself to presume to 
ask such a girl as you to marry him; he must be 
mad to think you would.” 
“ He loves me!” she said quietly. 
“So do 1—30 do many others. You must not 
marry him, Violet; he has no money, no lnilu- 
ence, no position; his rather is under a cloud 
which must darkeu the son’s future. You can¬ 
not marry him—It would be madness!” 
“1 urn engaged to him," she replied. 
“ As If that matter ! Engagements like yours 
are broken every day; It Is the commonest thing 
in the world—no one thinks anything of lt.’“ 
She seemed to see her lover’s race as he had 
looked Into hers that night, by the dew-laden lllac- 
busheB—she almost heard his voice. She looked 
up at Sir Owen, her face deathly pale. 
“ Do you know, sir Oven,” she said, “ that If I 
were false to Felix Lonsdale It would break his 
heart ?” 
Sir Owen laughed aloud. 
“My dear Miss Haye, lawyers have no heart— 
what could they do with such a commodity? He 
might lose bis temper; but men never break their 
hearts—a good cigar will cure the most desper¬ 
ate love-affair. You amuse me.” 
“I hope you are speaking falsely,” she said. 
“ I hope men are better than you paint them.” 
“ They are all very much alike, my dear violet,” 
he returned. “ It Is most refreshing to hear that 
you think any man capable of breaking jhli 
beart.” 
“Ah, but you do not know Felix Lonsdale, 
You do not know how he loves me.” 
“I never wish Loknow Felix Lonsdale,” he told 
her. “ l have no partiality for men under a 
cloud. I know how much 1 love you, and that is 
more to the polut.” 
She shrank from him with a pale, scared face. 
She did not like this discussion of her lover. 
“Let me tell you," Ue continued, “how much I 
love_you. l think you the most beautiful woman I 
have ever seen In my life. Your beauty gladdens 
my heart. To win It, and keep It always near 
me, 1 would give all that 1 have in this world. I 
love you well enough Lo lay all my wealth at your 
feet, to worship you all my life. I love you so 
well that neither your plighted word, the opinion 
of the world, nor any human power, shall come 
between us. I would break every tie, every bond, 
crush every love, to win you and make you mine. 
I will throw everythlug to the winds it you wUl 
only say the word.” 
The pale, beautiful girl shrank from him. 
“ I cannot,” she said—"you know that I can¬ 
not— l must marry Felix Lonsdale.” 
“I could kill him!” muttered Sir Owen under 
hts breath, with an oath. Aloud he said, “ You 
shall never marry him.” 
She Bhrank still farther from him, and cried 
aloud; and then he was full of remorse—he tried 
his best to comfort her. 
“Listen to me, violet,” he said; and once more 
she raised her beautiful face to bis. “ Forgive 
me—I am more accustomed to shouting at men 
than to pleading with ladles. Do not think I am 
so cruel—why should I kill him 7 Do not tremble 
so—1 shall never forgive myself.” 
She tried to conquer the fear that had mas¬ 
tered her; she stilled tue trembling of her hands 
tne wild heating of her heart. He spoke more 
gently to her. 
" 1 am more than half a savage," he said. " I 
am ashamed of myself. How different 1 should 
be If 1 had a gentle, beautiful girl like you near 
me! 1 should grow civilized. Now, violet, listen 
tome. You shall not give me your answer now 
—not yet for many days; but I do pray you to be 
my wife. Do not look at me and say you caunot 
—you can if you will, such promises as yours 
are broken every day. I will not let you give me 
an answer until you have thought the matter 
well over. Look around you once more, Violet- 
look at this stately homo, this broad domain— 
think of yourseir as Its mistress—mistress of 
Garswood Hall and forty thousand a year. As 
Lady Chevenlx—how well the name sounds!— 
as Lady Chevenlx, 1 say, you. would be queen 
of the whole country, you would he ono or the 
most popular and wealthy womon in England. 
You will have tne world at. your feet. I will 
buy you the most magnlflcont diamonds—Indeed 
everything that women like best. You shall 
be surrounded by every luxury that the world 
can give, lf,you will only say * yes.’ ” 
“1 cannot,” she murmured; but her voice was 
weaker and fainter this time, and he noticed 
the change. 
“I will not accept your answer yet,” he re¬ 
turned. “ But now look at the other side of the 
plciurp.^You many tills man wno is under a cloud, 
he takes you to some wretched little home, he 
works day and night, yet can hardly get money 
enough for hlH expenses: you spend the prime of 
your life, and lose tho glory of your beauty, In a 
helpless struggle to make both ends meet; and 
you die before your time, your beauty laded and 
gone, worn out—even in the prime of life. 1 say 
that It Is a crying shame for such a marriage to 
take place. You see the difference, violet ?” 
“ Yes, 1 see it, Sir Owen; but-" 
“Then,” he interrupted, "we will not talk 
about It to-day; you shall think It well over— 
you will be of ray opinion soon. Now, we will go 
back again—and you will not forget the view 
from Larch Hill ? Tho first moment I saw you, 
I meant to win you, violet, 1 swore to myself 
that you should be mine. You ha ve promised me 
the first dance to-night, remember." 
He talked to bor ou Indifferent matters as they 
descended the hill; then he said— 
"Violet—you soe that I cannot call you ‘Miss 
Haye’—try to drive that scared look from your 
face; my guests will thluk I have been frighten¬ 
ing you." 
She made a great effort to bring back the 
smiles and the brightness to her face, but she did 
not succeed very well; the world was all changed 
for her since sho had gone up Larch Hill, quite 
changed. There she had been calm, content, 
with Just a shadow ot longing for the grandeur 
around, yet happy in her lovor and her love. 
Now she had been through a scathing tempta¬ 
tion—one that had lert her heart burning and her 
brain whirling; there obhld*cover be calm con¬ 
tent tor her again, ah her eyes wandered over 
the various beauties of nature and art .surround¬ 
ing her, she thought to herself— 
“ All this might be mine—T might be Lady Che¬ 
venlx and give grand entertainments here—I 
might be mistress or all. 
Sir Oweu said no more to her, but he redoubled 
OE 44 
his attentions, and people began to make pretty 
free comments about the matter. 
“Felix Lonsdale will lose htsytoncee If he does 
not mind,” remarked Captain IIlll; “and I shall 
he sorry for It.” 
“I believe, Lavlnla," said Lady Rolfe with an 
atr or dismay, “Sir Owen Is so infatuated that he 
will marry the girl after all—he will Indeed.” 
Francis Haye and his wire looked on In seem¬ 
ingly calm unconcern. 
violet found herself the center of attraction to 
all the men; one wanted her as a partner at cro¬ 
quet, another wan*e 1 her for lawn-tents, a third 
craved permission to row bor across the lake. 
"I should like that best," she said, with a 
smile so sudden and so beautiful that the happy 
recipient, of It lost his presence of mind at once. 
violet wished to be alone; sbe wanted time to 
think, to still the thrilling of her nerves; but she 
was mistaken in Imagining that she would find 
solitude lo a boat with a solitary companion 
However, no maa was ever more completely de¬ 
ceived—violet sat listening to.hlm with a flush 
on her face and a smile on her Ups. He thought, 
that he was making a great Impression on her, 
whereas she was congratulating herself that she 
was not compelled to hear or to answer his com¬ 
pliments.— i rn be continued. 
— . 
“ 8TANDING TREATS.” 
No American custom creates more genuine sur¬ 
prise and amusement among traveling foreigners 
than that which la known in our saloons as 
“ treating"—consisting in the entertainment ot 
two or more with refreshments, for which ono 
volunteers to pay. It la a pure Americanism. 
All over the Republic It Is as common as In Eu¬ 
rope It Is unknown. There la probably no minute 
In any day in the year whea two or three hun¬ 
dred citizens of Chicago are not guzzling some¬ 
thing stronger than water at somebody else’s ex¬ 
pense. 
The casual meeting of two men who have nev¬ 
er exchanged a word together Is a signal for 
both to at onco exclaim, “ Come let’s have some¬ 
thing,” and for both to dive down Into the near¬ 
est subterranean cavity below tho sidewalk. The 
one who spoke first, usually insists upon “ paying 
the shot”—the word “ shot” being a metaphorical 
reference to the deadly character of the contents 
taken Into the stomach. If two old friends meet, 
the regular tlilDg to say firstly, " Let’s drink to 
old times," and the resident must invariably 
‘“treat” the stranger. If a man be well ac¬ 
quainted, it is considered the princely thing to 
seize upon all his acquaintances as often as pos¬ 
sible, take them to asaloou, and give them a com¬ 
plicated drink at the bar. 
If there Is anything more absurd than this 
habit, we are unable to put our finger on It. Men 
do nor always “ treat ” one another to car-tickets 
because they happon to meet on the same seat. 
We never saw a man take out his pocket-book on 
encountering an acquaintance and say, “Ah 
Georgel Delighted to soe you! Do take a few 
postage stamps, It’s my treatl" Do men have a 
mania for paying each other’s hoard bill? And 
la drinking together more “social" than eating 
together or sleeping together ? 
A traveler may go all over the continent of 
Europe, of Asia, of Africa, without seeing any 
man except a Yankee offer to “ treat" and the 
Frenchmen are quite social enough, but when 
they turn Into a cafe to sip their wine or bran- 
died coffee together, each man pays for his own. 
When two Germans long separated meet, they 
will bo likely to embraco, and then turn Into an 
adjacent beer collar, sit down and eat pretzels 
and chat, but when they part again each man 
settles his own score Independently. So In Italy, 
The Italians are proverbially merry and gener¬ 
ous, but each man pays for his own wine, mac- 
caronl and cigars. They never go Into each oth¬ 
er’s pocket-book In tho sacred name of lrlendshlp. 
They would as soon think of transferring to each 
Other their washerwoman’s bill. 
This preposterous rashlon o: “ treating” is 
laigely responsible for .the terrible drunkenness 
la America. It is, take it all in all, the most pes¬ 
tilent custom that ever laid Its tyrannical hand 
on civilized human beings.—[C/ticat/o Post. 
■ ■■ - -»■» ♦ 
TACT. 
It was once Causeur's good fortune to spend 
a few days in the modest home of a friend of 
slender means, a home that was all that its 
owner could afford to make it, yet lacking many 
things that would havu made it. more comforta¬ 
ble and convenient. During Oauaeur’s stay two 
guests were entertained at tea, both of them 
men of means and wide acquaintance, accus¬ 
tomed to all the luxury that wealth can give. 
But they wore widely different In their behavior. 
The first dwelt upon the tact that tho house was 
an In an out-of-the-way spot, and that there 
were few or no neighbors. At tho table he told 
of tho delicious toa ho had drank at tho house 
of one friend, ot tho rich tea service that he had 
seen upon the table of another, of the rare old 
china that was used In Iris own household, and 
of the dainty rnuals he had eaten from it. In the 
cramped little sitting-room, after tea, he sat by 
the stove aud talked of the delights or an open 
wood-fire, of his enjoyment or ruro and costly 
books and pictures, anil of twenty oilier things 
that the host of whoso hospitality he had par¬ 
taken, did not amd could not possess. When he 
had gone It waff clear, although nothing was 
said, that his visit had caused pain, that It had 
made the wife fool her straightened clrsumstan- 
ces more keenly than over, aud cast a shadow 
over her husband’s 1 noughts. The next evening 
came the other visitor, lie brought a good cheer 
In hla very face. The room, lie said felt so warm 
and comfortable after his walk, which, he added 
wasjust the thing Is to give a man a good appe¬ 
tite for his supper. At table he spoke of every- 
