THE RURAL NEW-YORKER 
“ 8He la quite equal,” said Cecil, smiling. “ Per. 
liaps Dr. Lawrence thinks that he has had suffi¬ 
cient trouble with me already,” she added, gaily, 
as she put her hand through the doctor's arm. 
“ Nevertheless, he shall, as you say, Mr. Edgar, 
have the honor of taking me In to dinner. Do you 
object?” 
He only answered her by one glance of the gray 
eyes—but under that glance her own eyes fell! 
She had been too well accustomed to admiration 
both expressed and understood, not to read it at a 
glance, and generally she heeded It but 11 cue; but 
there was that in his eyes which told her that his 
admiration was not merely the ordinary feeling 
her beauty seldom failed to exact, but something 
far deeper, something which might strengthen 
into love! 
sir Edgar’s dinner-party was a brilliant one; 
the guests were numerous and well selected; the 
dinner, of course, perfection; the host himself 
was In the highest spirits, while his eyes so fre¬ 
quently sought Mattie's face with an eager glance, 
that it was no secret to any of the guests what 
his feeling towards her was. 
To Cecil Lester, and to the man seated beside 
her, the dinner was evidently a pleasant one. She 
was pleased to be charmingly gracious, more 
gracious than anyone present could remember 
having seen her before—and Dr. Lawrence had no 
power to resist such witchery as hers. It may be 
that once or twice, as his eyes fell on her match- 
and even those on which Cecil spoke lightly and 
brilliantly, with half disdain, half satire, he 
touched upon earnestly, as If In all things to him 
there could be no half measures, and Cecil thought 
she read a frank, loyal nature, which had nothing 
to conceal. 
“ I may see you again, perhaps,” he said, as she 
gave him her hand In farewelL 
“ I hope so." 
He stood bareheaded as the drag drove away; 
and even for some minutes after It had dlsap^ 
peared he remained there loo king lu Its direction, 
lost In thought. And as he drove away in his 
brougham he was haunted by the perfect loveli¬ 
ness of Cecil Lester’s face. 
“How do you like my friend the doctor. Miss 
Cecil ?” said Mr. Edgar, as they drove back to 
town. 
“He is very pleasant,” said Cecil, languidly, 
although there came a faint rose-flush In her face 
as she spoke. 
“ Pleasant,! he Is one of the best fellows out,” 
said Mr. Edgar warmly. “ The finest fellow I 
know la Lawrence Carewe, whatever his past life 
may have been ” 
There was a moment’s silence, then Cecil said, 
calmly: 
“ What name did you say, Mr. Edgar ? I fancied 
his name was Lawrence. 
“So it Is,” replied Mr. Edgar; Lawrence Ca¬ 
rewe.” 
to a sudden passion, strong as It was in 
mad as It waa Irresistible. 
“ Shall i go or shall I not go?" he mi: 
himself, as he paced up and down the st 
as my readers will readily surmise, the i 
his question was in the affirmative, 
Carewe went out of his house, entered hi 
am and drove to Mr. Daton’s. 
The ball was at Its hlght as he entered 
ous as had been the Invitations 
cBpted, the house of the 
ample accomodation for l 
magnificent fete ; 
spared to make It a_ 
lavishly had done what L 
Everything possible to add 
the guests had been y—■ 
were enjoying themselves _ ... 
possible for those belonging to 
THE MINISTER’S DAUGHTER 
JOHN OREENLEAF WHITTIER, 
In the minister’s moruiug’ sermon 
He hacl told of the primal fall, 
And how thenceforth the wrath of God 
Bested on each and all. 
And how,of His will and pleasuro, 
All souls, save a chosen few, 
■Were doomed to the quenchless burning, 
And held In the way thereto. 
Yet never by faith’s unreason 
A saintlier soul was tried, 
And never the harsh old lesson 
A tenderer.heart belied; 
And, after the painful service 
On that pleasant Sabbath day, 
He walked with his little daughter 
Thro’ the apple-bloom of May. 
Sweet in tho fresh green meadows 
Sparrow and blackbird sung; 
Above him their tinted petals 
The blossoming orchards hung. 
Around on the wonderful glory 
The miulatur looked and smiled; 
“ How good Is the Lord who gives us 
These girta from His hand, my child, 
“ Behold In tho bloom of apples 
And the violets In the sward 
A hint of the old, lost beauty 
Of the garden of tho Lord 1” 
Then up spakethe little maiden, 
Treading on snow and pink: 
“ Oh Father! these pretty blossoms 
Are very wicked, 1 think 
“ Had there been no Garden of Eden 
There never had been a fall; 
And if never a tree had blossomed 
God would have loved us all.” 
“ Hush, child 1” the father answered, 
By his decree waa fell; 
His ways are in clouda and darkness, 
And Hedoeth all tilings well. 
“ And whethor by His ordaining 
To us cometh good or III, 
Joy or pain, or light or shadow, 
Wo must fear and love Him still." 
“ Oh, I fear Him P’sald the daughter, 
“ And I try to love Him, too; 
But 1 wish he wns good and gentle, 
Kind and loving as you.” 
Tho minister groaned in spirit 
As tho tremulous lipe of pain. 
And wide, wet eyes uplifted 
Questioned his own iu vain. 
Bowing his head, he pondered 
The words of the little one; 
Had ho erred in his life-long teachings ? 
Had ho wrong to his Master done ? 
To what grim and dreadful idol 
Had he lent the holiest name ? 
Did his own heart, loving and human, 
The God of his worship shame ? 
And lo! from the bloom and greenness 
From the tender Hkies above, 
And tho face of his little daughter, 
He read a lesson of love. 
No more as tho cloudy terror 
Of Sinui’H mount of law, 
But as OhriHt iu the Syrian lilies 
The vision of God ho saw. 
And as when iu tho Clefts of Horeb 
Of old was His presence known, 
The dread Ineffable Glory 
Was infinite Goodness alone. 
Thereafter his hoarers noted 
In his prayers a tenderer strain, 
And never the gospel of hatred 
Burned on his lips ugain. 
And tho scoffing tongue was prayerful, 
And the blinded eyes found sight, 
And hearts as flint aforetime, 
Grew soft in bis wuriuth and light. 
numer- 
lssued and ac- 
merchant prince had 
his guests, it was a 
no pains or money had been 
success, and the gold spent so 
had been asked of It. 
—1 to the enjoyment of 
procured, and the guests 
1 -J as much as It Is ever 
„„„„ . I „ the oreme-de-la 
creme of society to do. 
One object the ball certainly succeeded In If it 
had been meant to do so, the betrothal of Mr. Edgar 
and Miss Lester wns made publicly known there¬ 
by, for Cecil had been correct In her assertion that 
, ,!°, lUnoncl was an hkcellent place for that kind 
or thing.” When on that evening Sir Edgar had 
spoken of his love to Mattie, she had not repulsed 
him; and Mr. Daton's consent to their engagement 
had been cordially given. 
Mattie was discharging her duties as hostess 
very gracefully, bnt a little languidly, for she was 
tired; and having lately caught a troublesome 
cold, which had ended In her cough, was not quite 
In her usual health, although she seemed very 
happy in the society of her happy ./lance. 
Around Cecil, as was usual on such occasions 
clustered a little court of admirers, more eager 
more sedulous, more devoted than around any 
Other; and the young girl herself was queening 
It with all her usual grace and haughtiness. Dr. 
Carewe watched her from where he stood and 
marked her great beauty with eager, longing eyes, 
wondering how he had ever dared to hnnA nr 
an interest in my late appearance,” he said, trying 
to speak with Indifference, but with a tremor in 
his rich, deep rones. 
“Show me that you appreciate the honor by 
giving my question an answer,” said Cecil, smiling, 
and letting her glance dwell upon him for a mo¬ 
ment. the lustrous eyes meeting calmly—almost 
mockingly, it would seem, the passion In his own, 
as they looked down at her. 
“I was undecided whether to come or stay 
away,” he said, hurriedly, “it would have been 
prudent to have done the latter, but_ » 
“But, what?” 
“ButI did not, you see!” he rejoined, with a 
little bitter laugh; “although Heaven knows It 
would have been wiser to do so I” 
“Why would It have been wiser?” she said, look¬ 
ing at him through her lor g lashes. 
For a moment he did not answer—perhaps he 
was afraid that U he spoke the burning love he 
felt towards her would have found utterance • then 
he said, half lightly: 
“ What has a musty old doctor In common with 
such a scene as this ? He would feel more at home 
by a death-bed 1’’ 
*• Even If It were through his fault that one lay 
there!”she said, without looking at him, with a 
tone in her voice which was new to him. 
He looked at her In some surprise, and for a 
moment answered nothing; then she rose from 
her seat, and moving across the balcony, leaped 
over the side, toying with the flowers. 
In a moment he joined her. 
“ Do you think death the most cruel thing 
that oould happen to one we loved ?” she said, 
abruptly. 
“No," he answered, musingly, “I can Imagine 
worse even than death.” 
•• Yes,” she said, suddenly, “ disgrace and 
shame 1" 
There was a hitter Intonation In her tone which 
struck him; he glanced at her with some painful 
feeling in his gaze. 
“ A y <” 110 answered, “ and the unworthiness of 
one we love.” 
“ Even so,” she said, with strancm inrensii-.v 
INMATES or LESTER HAL T,, 
(Contlmiod from page 078.) 
CHAPTER X. 
“Not handsome 7” had been Cecil’s mental ver¬ 
dict at her first glance ftl Dr. Lawrence, but now 
she was Inclined to alter it, for there waa some¬ 
thing peculiarly attractive In his appearance—In 
the proud turn of the head, the tall, strong form, 
the keen gray eyes; and the mouth, shaded though 
It was by his heavy moustache, was a beautiful 
one, linn and resolute, yet tender and mined. 
There was something, too, in his manner which 
Cecil liked, although it piqued her not a little to 
see that he seemed quite Indifferent to her pres¬ 
ence—something strong, yet tender-imperative, 
yet gentle-ttud some feeling rose in the heart of 
the young girl that she would like to have such a 
man at her feet; that such a conquest would be a 
greater victory than any other she had yet 
achieved. Certainly no other man had appeared 
bo heedless or hor beauty as this big, unimpres¬ 
sionable doctor. 
“How la your patient, Lawrence?” said Mr. 
Edgars voice at this Juncture, at the half-open 
door, and the doctor turned from the window and 
looked at Cecil with a smile, which was partly In 
his eyes and partly lu his mouth, and which was 
a singularly pleasant one. 
“ She 1 b better. You may come In, Edgar,” he 
said. And Mr. Edgar came In, and began ex¬ 
pressing ills regret at the accident. 
“ I never was so vexed at anything,” he said, 
eagerly. “ I have been abusing those Idiotic 
grooms by way of relieving my feelings ; but it has 
not done much good. Lawrence, if Miss Cecil Is 
equal to coming la to dinner, you shall have the 
honor of taking care of her,” 
IMPLEMENTS FOR CURING TEA. 
less loveliness, he thought of the madness It 
would be to lovo her—he, a physician, not un¬ 
known perhaps, but as yet with uttio wealth or 
fame, but he forgot all prudence m the magic of 
her society, and all his reserve melted as Ice be¬ 
fore the sunshine; and although ho kept his quiet, 
reserved manner, his eyes spoke all that his lips 
left unsaid. 
When dinner was over, and they were saunter¬ 
ing up and down the terraces and gardens, he 
lingered still by her side, intoxicated by her 
wondrous beauty and grace, heedless of his danger, 
feeling only that he was happter than he had ever 
been In hla Ute, and without pausing to analyze 
his happiness. And indeed Cecil herself was 
almost irresistible that night. There 
CHAPTER XL 
TEMPTATION. 
“ I believe the wisest thing for me to do would 
be never to see her again.” 
Dr. Carewe was standing In his study, holding 
the Invitation to Mr. ratonb ball between his An¬ 
gers as he made the above remark, debating with 
himself whether he should go to this entertain¬ 
ment, although he was dressed and the carriage 
was waiting to convey him to It. He had accepted 
the invitation without hesitation at the time or 
its arrival, but In the week which has elapsed he 
has repented that acceptance. 
On three several occasions he had met Cecil 
Lester since his Introduction to her at Mr. Edgar’s 
Richmond dinner, and the wonderful charm she 
had exercised over him on t heir first acquaintance 
had deepened and grown stronger. The quiet, 
even tenor of his Ufe was completely disturbed; 
he was restless, unhappy and absent. He could 
no longer take pleasure In the pursuit of his pro¬ 
fession, which had been his greatest joy; his 
studies palled upon him; he, hitherto the most 
practical of men, had become dreamy, living two 
lives, heeding little how time wont or what he did. 
He, who hitherto had no time to fall m love, as he 
had said carelessly In tho past, now fell a captive 
. waa on her 
an infinite gentleness, a gracious sweetness, which 
had a wondrous charm. AJ1 her haughty coquetry 
seemed to have fallen away from her. 
There waa that old-world deference and venera¬ 
tion In the Doctor’s manner, which brought out 
Cecil’s better nature, and drove away all her pride 
and indifference. Ho talked wcll-hls conversa¬ 
tion waa not that vapid, empty, even if sometimes 
brilliant, society small talk, lie spoke of life as it 
is, real and earnest; he gavo her, quite uncon¬ 
sciously, glimpses of uis own lire, brave, self-deny¬ 
ing, and laborious. Ho spoke on many topics; 
