GILLIAN. BY
MRS. ANN
S. STEPHENS.
[Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1850, by Mrs. Ann S. Stephens, In the Clerk’s Office of the District Court of the United States, for the Southern District of New York.]
CONTINUED FROM FAOI 805.
CHAPTER VI.
As Mrs. Ransom entered the room with young Hurst, a faint shudder passed oyer her as if it was repulsive to find herself again in his pre¬ sence.
Then her face softened as she looked toward him; some tender memory was evidently struggling at her heart, which, for a moment, asserted its supremacy over the displeasure which his appearance had at first caused her.
“Michael,” she said, softly.
He turned toward her, and she made a move¬ ment to lay her hand caressingly upon his shoulder; but, looking in his face, she met the same smile which had so irritated her when she saw the young girl blushing beneath it.
“Did you speak?” he asked.
“It is nothing,” she replied, abruptly; “I had forgotten that it was you.”
“What a charming little dove that was I frightened away,” he said. “I felt quite guilty at having startled her so.”
Again Mrs. Ransom’s face darkened with stern displeasure, and she replied coldly,
“I had given strict orders not to be disturbed, the young lady desired to see me alone.”
“A thousand apologies for the intrusion, dear madam,” he returned, with easy assurance, “but it never occurred to my mind that such a command could apply to me.”
“I should prefer to think that some urgent business made you so unceremonious,” said Mrs. Ransom, with severity. “Certainly the indulgence and kindness which I have shown you, would be a poor reason for presuming to disobey my wishes.”
Hurst bit his lip to keep back the angry retort which her words suggested. He knew her varying moods, and saw that she would permit neither trifling nor impertinence: and as he had a favor to ask, he could not venture to irritate her.
“Forgive me, dear lady,” he said, taking her hand respectfully and pressing it to his lips. “I believe I am a rather spoiled child, but you know well that for the world I would not offend you.”
Mrs. Ransom quietly withdrew her hand, and the displeasure in her countenance gave way to an expression of sad thoughtfulness. She motioned the young man to be seated, and sank back in her own easy-chair, leaning her head upon her hand, while her eyes fastened themselves on the picture over the mantle-piece, as earnestly as if she were asking counsel of the face that looked so kindly down upon her. She seemed to have forgotten the young man’s presence, and when he ventured at last to break the silence, looked wonderingly around as if surprised to find that she was not alone.
“Pray where did that little fairy spring from, Mrs. Ransom? I do not remember having seen her here before.”
“It is the first time she has ever visited me.”
“I hope, at least, it will not be the last, for certainly she is one of the loveliest creatures I ever saw.”
Mrs. Ransom looked annoyed; her foot began to tap the footstool impatiently, a habit she had when irritated or thoughtful.
“It is not probable that she will come again,” she said.
“Then you do not know her?”
“I do not. She came, as many young girls do, from a desire to see a literary woman.”
“But at least you know her name?”
^ “Really, Michael, your curiosity seems won- i derfully excited. Might I be envious in turn, ? and ask what brings you here, this morning?”
| “I had some business, I believe,” he replied, \ with a gay laugh; “but to tell you the truth, the $ sight of so much loveliness has quite driven it
I out of my head.”
“ Then you will not think me rude if I go on ^ writing, while you try to recall your errand?”
$ “I see you are determined not to gratify what $ you are pleased to style my curiosity concerning | your visitor.”
£ “I am quite unable to imagine how you can $ be in the slightest degree interested in a perfect $ stranger, Michael.”
s “Do you think any man would not be bewil- i dered by the sight of an angel?”
