AGNES' HERO. 191
for, but I am like——” ‘A flower wasting its sweetness upon the desert air,” interrupted Martha. ‘Yes, I waste my genius upon the three kittens and the flowers, and alas! the flowers are all withering, and the ungrateful kittens fust growing into big, lazy cats. I wish there were Protestant convents—I would enter one.” ‘*What would be the practical advan- tage of that movement? You would not content yourself there two hours.” ‘Yes, I would like to be under discipline like that to see if it would not sober me down into somebody—a good, patient soul like you, that thinks of others more than of itself. I have half a mind to become Catholic, and choose some good father-confessor to rule my conscience, and make me a saint in spite of myself” ‘Rule yourself, my dear girl,” said Martha; ‘or better still, marry a good husband and learn to love, honor and obey him.” ‘Oh, but how to get him!” ‘Firstly, then, don’t flirt” ‘Yes, I must, and I will flirt—in my way, that is. What is there wrong about it? Did anybody ever let concealment, &c., prey on his cheek for love of me? Does Capt. Harvey, or Wallace Hall, or good John Ashly, care a straw for me? They all have reason to be infinitely grateful to me for throwing away precious time in listening to their conceited nothings. Last evening, Wallace entertained me at first with those stale college jokes of his, which he evidently thinks to be the essence of wit. At last I told him that I was tired of them, and thought such boyish tricks below the dignity of a gentleman, whereupon he got fairly beyond his depths in attempting large displays of erudition ” ‘Why did you waste your time in talking to him? You ought to be above such men, Agnes.” ‘Well, my dear, I hope I am, infinitely,” and she rose, drawing her little figure to its utmost height, saving. ‘‘don’t you see how much above Capt. Harvey I am?” Martha laughed at the contrast between the six feet of the captain, and the slender form that now stood before her, prised gracefully on tip-toe. ‘‘But seriously, cousin Martha, what shall I do?” You must marry, that is the best advice I can give you. With a husband to watch over you and keep your unruly feet in straight ways, you might make a useful woman after all.” ‘Oh, if I could find my hero, the good, true, noble one of my dreams. Yes, when he comes, IJ will give over flirting, will say yes as soon as he offers, and live in quietness and good-will all the rest of my days like a perfect Griselda.” ‘Heroes ere very rare,” said Martha. ‘But it would not make me better, you kaow, to marry a fop like Capt. Harvey. I want some one better and stronger than I am, with a soul large enough contain twenty like mine. But let us give over talking such tiresome things. I will not think any more to-day, but will bring in the kittens for you to pass judgment upon, and then you shall tell me the news.” So the maiden vanished for a moment, and returned with the objects of her care scampering by her side. ‘Come, kittens,” said she, ‘‘and see your aunt Martha and pull her tiresome old sewing straight out of her fingers.” ‘Oh, Agnes, will you never be a woman?’? said Martha, in a half serious, half comic tone. ‘No, we will never be women, will we, kittens? What should we be womer for to plague our poor little brains about horrid things that we don’t care for? No, we won't,” and Agnes petted one after the other, till a spirited scratch made her desist. ‘‘Now—any news?” ‘Yes, Frank is coming home next week for a few days.” ‘That is good; it is long enough since we have seen Frank. We rmoust have rides and drives and rambles to cele- brate the occasion.” ‘He wrote us,’’ continued Martha, ‘‘that he had recently become acquainted with a nephew of Dr. Henry’s, who is soon coming to Winfield to become a partner of his uncle’s.”” ‘‘Ah, that is newsa—now what of the man—is he old or young—good, bad er indifferent? A new-comer is too rare here not to be an object of the deepest interest.” ‘‘ Frank was greatly pleased with him. He must be young, for it is only a year since he finished his studies. He will probably come about the same time with Frank.” ‘‘Now, Martha, what an addition to Winfield society, and what an opportunity for a flirtation!’’ ‘Be good for once, Aggie. If you commence a flirtation, may it bo your last. Who knows, indeed, but he will prove to be your hero?” ‘‘If it be he, he shall have a warm welcome, but he has been so long invisible that I regard him as a myth, a new figment of the imagination, as Parson Lane would say. Remember, my hero is gallant and handsome, good and true. So if it be my last flirtation, let it be a merry one.”’ Cousin Martha had gone, and the sober mood came over Agnes again. The deep, blue eyes were clouded with a shade of sadness. She sat on the low stool by the window, holding her chin in her hand, won- dering with child-like wonder what future lay before her, and whether in all the great world there was a heart which would ever beat deep and true with love for her.
A violent storm had kept Agnes within doors for two daye, during which she had been too busy to be restless, or to think much of the past
