Cilnmij. 
THORNS AND ROSES. 
(Continued from page <<6.) 
CHAPTER XIX. 
FALLEN IDOLS. 
In one of our rides Edith and I encountered 
Edgar Dana, and w.* both drew rein to speak 
to him. How well I remember his flushed, 
eager face, the bright eyes lighted with the 
smile she alone could bring, and how calmly 
she looked down on him as a queen from her 
throne! 
“ What do you want, Edgar ? ” she asked, at 
which question he looked bewildered, then 
amused. 
“ May I come to see you, Edith ? ” 
“ Every visit of yours gets me a scolding 
from papa.” 
“ Am I never to see you ?—never to say a 
word-” 
“ Not to day, because I am in a hurry; but 
you may call. Let go my horse’s head now, 
please.” 
“ Are you angry with me, Edith ? Have I 
offended you (” he said, still looking wistfully 
at her. 
“ No, you silly fellow, you never offend me, 
if you only obey. Go now, won’t you, when 
I ask you ? ” 
She extended her gloved hand to him; he 
raised it to his lips, then fl obeyed” by walk¬ 
ing slowly away with a lingering step and 
many a backward glance. 
“ Kate,” said Edith, breaking the silence, 
“ do not tell him in my presence; I could not 
bear it I may be cruel and deceitful, but he 
will know soon enough.” 
“ If you loved him you would not act as you 
do, Edith.” 
“ If I loved him all would be different. You 
look surprised, but I never said that I loved 
him, and I don’t. When I was young and silly 
I was very, very fond of hii 1 , and flattered by 
the handsomest of the Danas belonging tome. 
And now I like hitn—I do like him very much. 
He is worth twenty thousand Nevil \ erners; 
and if he had been rich I should have married 
him and we would have been happy. 1 
like him, but I feel myself above him ; my 
nature is stronger than his, and I don’t believe 
any woman can love a man who is not firmer, 
stronger, deeper tha' herself. Like Ethel 
Newcorae, I feel myself taller than my lover. 
There’s only one on earth whom I could wor¬ 
ship.” 
“ And that, is?” I asked, as she paused. 
“ 1 will not tell you, Kate.” 
“ Is he wealthy, Edith f’ 
“ That means, why don't you marry him? 
Because he will rever ask me, and I can’t very 
well ask him. A man I bate loving me, a 
man I like loving me-we will leave a blank 
there, my cousin. Do you remember reading: 
“ ‘Ah, well for us all some sweet hope lies 
Deeply burled from human eyes, 
Aud In the hereafter, augels may 
Roll the stone from its grave away.’ ” 
What do those do for whom no angel comes?” 
So, in the Autumn, Edgar Dana had not 
been told of my cousin’s engagement; Winter, 
I supposed, would glide away in much the 
same routine. 
* # * * * + 
A frosty Winter afternoon, and I was walk¬ 
ing to and fro in the garden undisturbed for 
some time, when I heard a footstep quick and 
light on the frozen snow, and I turned, to my 
sorrow, seeing Edgar Dana, with extended 
hand and smiling face. I did not invite him 
to the house, and affected not to see his eager 
glances towards the windows, as though he 
were looking for some one, whilst he inquired 
about aunt and Edith. 
“ It is a long time since I spoke to you. Miss 
Lovel,” he said, “ and yet I have very little to 
tell you. I don’t know when my play will be 
produced. I had a letter from my friend,and 
he tells me that 1 must wait, the manager 
having obtained a new comedy, so mine is put 
aside—my ship has gone down.” 
“Not gone down; it will fiud the harbor 
some day.” 
“Someday is so long in coming 1 I am 
drifting away from Edith instead of drawing 
nearer, aud am doing very little good here. I 
should go abroad, only for Edith, and—other 
things.” 
“ What made you think of that?’’ I asked. 
“ Only a name in the paper; the name of 
some one I once knew, who has come out in 
America as a dramatic author ; we used to get 
on well together, and I believe he would help 
me for—for * the love of old loves, and lost 
times,’ isn’t it? But I can’t tear myself from 
Edith. I should be wretched if even the hope 
of seeing her were gone.” 
** Would you stay if the hope of winning 
her had gone?” 
“ I don’t know. How can I tell, when I 
believe that I shall win her? She is free yet, 
and-” 
I interrupted, “ She is free no longer.” 
“ I beg your pardon, Miss Lovel!” 
“ It pains me to have to say this, but Edith 
has asked me to tell you that she is engaged.” 
You are only jesting,” he said, smiling, 
“ or trying my faith; but nothing can shake 
my trust in Edith.” 
I would not jest with you on this subject, 
and I know your faith too well to doubt it. 
Do you think I could say this if it were not 
true? Did you never foresee it?” 
“ Then to whom is she engaged ?” 
“ To Nevil Verner.” 
“ 1 thougbtyou were,”hesaid, wonderingly. 
“ That is over, because he loved Edith. Mr. 
Hawdon lias consented to the marriage taking 
place in spring.” 
“ Had it happened that day I met her rid¬ 
ing?” 
“ Yes,” I replied, and for a moment be was 
silent. 
“ Oh, Heaven! it is for this I have toiled and 
hoped so long.” 
It was not a cry; he said those words in a 
tone that scarcely reached ray ears, and turned 
his head aside. I pitied him very much; I 
understood his sorrow better than he could 
suppose, for it was like to what mine had been, 
and there was a bidden link between us two. 
I stood silent, and when he looked around bis 
face was perfectly colorless, yet he smiled. 
“ I don’t know,” he said, as though answer¬ 
ing a question. “ I feel as if something had 
gone out of me, and left all things hi auk. 1 
thought she would have been true to me; I 
thought she loved me. She was always bound 
up in my existence; my life seems only two 
w ords. and these are—* For her.’ ” 
He was speaking more to himself than to 
me, in a strange, quiet way, yet something told 
me that these still waters did run deep, and 
beneath this quiet surface was pain too keen 
for tempest. 
“ You would uot say this if it were false 
Does she love him ? He broke with you for 
her sake. 1 am very sorry, if you cared for 
him.” 
“Edgar, it is well to know when we have 
been deceiving ourselves with false hopes. 
You will begin life afresh, coming out of this 
ordeal pure gold. You have much left: youth 
and strength, the wish for fame.” 
“No! there’s no rainbowof promise in my 
sky. A man must have something to work for, 
and now she is gone, I have nothing ” 
“ Yes; eternity. What, when that is ours, 
will be these trials and disappointments ? The 
world’s praise, fame, earthly’ love, will then 
have melted away, and what if we have 
nothing else, if we stand before the throne 
with empty hands ?” 
He sighed heavily, covering his eyes a mo¬ 
ment, and we were again silent. Then I saw 
slowly gathering shadows on his face, and 
darker passions clouding his youthful beauty. 
“Nevil Verner!”he repeated, “Nevil Ver 
ner! Sneers, insults, and disdain were the 
bitter portions he gave me; but he may look 
to himself now! He has robbed me of Edith, 
for he knew I loved her. I was a foolish boy, 
she used to say; all is not ended yet, and I will 
show her, and her lever-” 
“ Yes,the day may come when you can show 
them—not that you were revengeful, but that 
the boy had the heart of a generous and he 
roic man.” 
“It is only in fiction that men heap coals of 
fire on an enemy’s head. What did she say of 
me ?” 
“ She does not wish to see you.” 
“ Did she think I would reproach her She 
might have known me better!” 
We stood by the law n, spreading white and 
nooth before us, and I found myself idly 
wondering why that bird had walked across, 
javing tiny’ traces on the soft surface, until, 
aising my eyes, I saw Edgar Dana's face 
onvulsed with passion, his hand clenched, 
is eyes flashing; aud following his glance, I 
aw Nevil Verner going towards the house 
whilst Edith, in a wonderfully amiable 
lumor, had come out to meet him, and we 
wo were unseen witnesses. Edgar needed no 
>roof after that; he broke into a bitter 
augh. 
“I can’t stay here and see that. England 
s place for me! 1 will abroad.” 
“ Others have lost, and you are losing, but 
victory will follow. Some day you will say. 
It was better so, for He doeth all things 
veil.’” 
“You ha e been good to me,” he said, half 
sobbing, “and you send away all my evil 
thoughts. What shall I do ? I could not re¬ 
main here, and America seems holding out 
tier hand to me.” 
“I may see you soon again,” I said, as he 
began to walk slowly towards the gate. “ I 
may meet you, and you will tell me your 
plans, won’t you?” 
“Yes. If she asks what I said, if she ex¬ 
pects any message, there is only this—I for¬ 
give her! Good-bye!” 
He turned away, and mist rose between me 
and the quiet, solitary figure. Hot tears filled 
my eyes. His life had had much sadness, and 
■would the future bring him i*eace? 
I returned to the house, and in the parlor 
found Nevil and Edith seated beside the win¬ 
dow. Therefore they must have seen Edgar; 
and my cousin looked at me questioningly. 
but as I said nothing she spoke with some im¬ 
patience. 
“You entertained your visitor in uew style, 
Kate. Isn’t the garden rather a cold recep¬ 
tion-room?” 
Mr. Dana would not come in," I said; and 
she rose to stir the fire, murmuring as she 
passed me: 
“ 1 do wish Nevil would go!” 
Mr. Verner himself looked at me with a 
slightly scornful expression in his lips, and 
eyes, and raised brows. I suppose he thought 
—but it did not matter what he thought. He 
evidently intended to remain, and it was not 
in Edith’s nature to wait for anything; so, 
having escaped to my room, I was not sur¬ 
prised that she followed me. 
“Tell me quickly, Kate,” he said, sinking 
into the easiest fa uteuil. “I have left Nevil 
to aunt’s tender mercies. Did you tell Edgar ? 
Did he care? Oh ! Edith !” 
“What a reproachful tone! Poor boy, I 
suppose lie did care ; but it can’t be helped, 
and I am glad he knows !’’ 
“He spoke of going to friends in America. 
“Best he could do, ouly I don’t know how 
he is to get there, nor what he would do there, 
because it is useless to depend on friends 
wheu one hasn’t money. He can’t have much, 
for his salary as secretary will not be very 
high,and he must dress well out of it, the Gen¬ 
eral being in that matter as particular as a 
lady. Imagine that delicate, simple creature 
penniless iu a strange country ! He was never 
made for 1 roughing it;’ yet I wish he’d go ! I 
rather dread a meeting between him and 
Nevil. Of course that is through reading 
that stupid book where one rival shoots the 
other. Do such things ever happen in real 
life ?” 
Don’t Edith !’’ I said with a recollection 
of Edgar’s face. 
She stood looking out at the darkening sky, 
perhaps thinking of the “sorrowful splendid 
past” of which she had once told me ; and 
though she did not love him, the thought that 
she had ceased to be his “fair ideal” must 
have pained her. 
“ You did not say why 1 had taken Nevil.” 
“ No, I did not,” I replied, briefly. 
“That is right. Let Edgar believe that I 
love my fiancee, for I have a little pride yet, 
and would not be cast very low iu the eyes of 
one who made an idol of ine. His ideas are 
Quixotic, and he’d despise me if he knew I 
was selling myself. Keep that a secret from 
Edgar, and from—from everyone !” 
Edgar told me that all he would say was 
that he forgave you. He did not say one 
harsh word of you.” 
“ Oh, Kate, if he goes to ruin, I shall be an¬ 
swerable for it. If he stays here there will 
be a collision between him and Nevil, for my 
dear lover always insulted him underbandedly. 
But why should I trouble? I shall take 
t hings as they come.’’ 
With these words she left me to continue 
the reverie she had interrupted, the subject of 
which was, could not I in some way help 
Edgar Daua? I had suspected that the chief 
impediment to his going abroad was pecuni¬ 
ary, though iu his pride he would not say so, 
nor could I speak of it. If only there were 
someone to act as counsellor to him, someone 
wiser and better than myself, who could 
touch on the subject without hurting sensi¬ 
bility or offending pride—but w’ho was there? 
Like an answer to my mental question, I 
heard the voice of my own dear counsellor 
Brandon. If I could bring these two to¬ 
gether, I might not only help Edgar, but 
might clear my kinsman in bis eyes; the 
mystery of Clarence Level’s death would be 
explained, and Edgar would see tlfe beauty 
of that true and tender heart. 
Outside, the gray shadows of a wintry even¬ 
ing were closing in, but the parlor with its 
red fire looked bright and cheerful. Edith, 
leaning on Brandon's chair, was laughing 
merrily over some drawings she was display¬ 
ing, whilst Mr. Verner looked on with an ex¬ 
pression the reverse of amiable. I had entered 
unobserved, I thought, and seated myself on 
the couch, in the softened glow of the fire; 
but the sketches exhausted, and Edith haviug 
gone to the table with them, Brandon rose, 
and crossing the room, seated himself beside 
me. *, 
“ Quiet as ever, Kate. Do you wish to sit 
here by yourself ?” 
“No, Ididn f twishtobe ‘remote, unfriended, 
solitary, slow; but I never am alone when 
you’re here, Brandon,” I replied, and Brandon 
smiled. 
“ That remark has a flavor of Erin in it,” 
he said. 
I touched his arm, as his glance wandered 
off to Nevil and Edith, disagreeing about 
music. 
“Yes, Kate. Something you wish to tell 
me?” 
“ Something I to ask you—a favor.” 
“ Granted; only tell me what to do, say, or 
suffer.” 
“ I want you to be a friend to Edgar Dana. 
A transient look of surprise crossed his face. 
“lie seemed anything but desirous of my 
friendship,” said Brandon, musingl}’, and I 
continued ; 
“I want you, for my sake. You know he 
loved Edith ; to day I told him of her engage¬ 
ment to Nevil Verner. You sympathize with 
everyone, you understand everything, and 
you will see that this is a crisis in Edgar’s 
life. A friend could help him, but he has 
none.” 
“I see what you mean. And I will be his 
friend.” 
“ He h is been strange towards you, he has 
seemed to avoid you r but-” I stopped, 
conscious of the utter impossibility’ of explain¬ 
ing ; bur. Brandon, though he must have done 
so, spoke as if he did not see any confusion. 
“Yes, be avoided me. Perhaps I know 
why, perhaps I do not. However, I may 
overcome his dislike.” 
“Aunt Dorothy would say there never 
lived a Lovel who could not charm, Brandon. 
When I told Edgar of Edith’s engagement, he 
seemed determined not to stay in England, 
but to go to America. How is he to get there ? 
and if he finds no friends there, to be penniless 
iu a strange city. You know/ can’t speak about 
money to him, but I know from Edith how 
he is situated. You could speak to him with¬ 
out wounding or offendiug him. I am not 
asking too much ?” 
“ Asking too much 1 You have pointed out 
a duty, not asked a favor.” 
“ Scarcely’ a duty. But it is a kindness 
for which you alone are fitted, because all you 
do is right.” 
“ In your eyes !” he said, rising. 
‘•In the eyes of all. You won’t listen to 
praise but—there's no one on earth like my 
brother. ” 
I mused that night when, alone, on Bran¬ 
don’s words, “ Perhaps I know,” and won¬ 
dered if I should ever have courage to tell 
him of the doubts that had assailed me—if I 
should ever d «ro. 
Had some hand raised the curtain hanging 
over the future, to let me see what followed 
my confession, I wonder what would have 
been my thought—whether I should have 
doubted or believed the vision ? 
CHAPTER XX. 
“ FEST UND TREU.” 
Though it was now winter, and her wed¬ 
ding was to be in Spring, my cousin gave her¬ 
self very little concern about that impo-tant 
event, aud would, 1 thought, not unwillingly 
defer it. She would be married from her 
father’s house, but as yet scarcely any’thiug 
was definitely arranged. Mr. Hawdon had 
written to ask when bis daughter would re¬ 
turn, to which she had replied rather vaguely, 
“ before long.” 
“ I haven’t made up my mind yet,” she said, 
one day, discussing the subject with me; 
“ Nevil says spring; but if you had to jump 
down a precipice, I am sure you would stop a 
moment on the edge, and that is what 1 am 
doing. Only I must soon decide, or all the 
allied powers of Verner and Hawdon will bear 
down on me, I'll decide, fly off home, get 
everything bought and made, and scramble 
through it, so that I shan’t have time to think, 
until I am fighting my first battle with Nevil 
as we go off for the honeymoon. Then we 
must have a house to live in.” 
“Nevil Cottage,” I suggested. 
“ Nevil Cottage ! I’m not goiug to bury 
myself here. I shall have a new house near 
Hawdon or anywhere where there’s plenty of 
society, besides a house in the city for the sea. 
son. Nevil seems to regard it ns a paradise; 
but wait until we are married, and you’ll see 
that flue family mausion to be let or sold.” 
“ It is possible Mr. Verner may decline to 
leave. ” 
To be Continued 
Domestic Ccowmwj 
CONDUCTED BV EMILY MAPLE. 
POTATOES IN A DIVERSITY OF WAYS. 
ANNIE L. JACK. 
Take a brush and clean eveiy particle of 
dirt from your potato skins, and bake. This 
is an economical, and useful way of serving 
when the potatoes are rather small. 
Potato Puffs. 
Stir two cupfuls of mashed potatoes, two 
tablespooufuls of melted butter aud a little 
salt to a fine light condition ; add two eggs 
well beaten and six tablespoonfuls of cream. 
Beat well together, pile in a rocky form on a 
dish aud bake in a quick oven. 
Cold Potatoes Warmed Over. 
Slice a pound of cold potatoes, put into 
