ΟΝ THE COAST. 129
me tor a time; you know I am taking care of
the house during mamma's absence,” and she
disappeared, closing the door after her.
Blanche, without looking around, seated her self by a small buhl-table, laden with heliotropes and tuberoses, and bent over to inhale their sweetness. At a slight noise she glanced up, and Frank stood before her, Startled and confused, she tried to murmur some commonplace words of greeting; but when her eyes met is, the words died upon her lips.
“Blanche,” he cried, impetuously, “scorn me and reject me, but I still dare to love you. Do what I will, your face haunts me at all times; the mere wight of you is enough to overcome all my pride, and set me to dreaming mad, im- possible, heavenly dreams——”
“Frank!” interrupted a beseeching voice, and a little hand was stretched toward him. I do not know what he read in her face, but in a moment he was by her side. Catching her hand, he whispered,
“Blanche, dear Blanche! can it be that my earnest love is not in vain?”
The little hand was not withdrawn; and kneeling by her, be heard the words so sweet and dear to him.
So much there was of explanations, and murmured repetitions of the old, old story, that Lilian's very deliberate opening of the drawing- room door, was a sudden shock.
“Oh, Lilian!” cried Blanche, springing up, what have you been doing this long time?”
“Merely entertaining Jack,” replied the young lady, composedly. “Jack thought he heard you and Mr. Stuyvesant quarreling, and was afraid to enter—so I took him into the library, But L see very plainly that I have not been much missed; Mr. Stuyvesant looks as though he might spare me a little longer.”
Blanche laughed shyly, and elrove to keep back the tell-tale color that overspread her cheek.
“Never mind, Blanche, dear!” said Lilian, consolingly; “don't you suppose I am truly glad to be rid of the task of consoling a despairing lover? On the strength of being your cousin, I was supposed to know the secret and hidden motive of every word you spoke; and, after all, my painstaking interpretations were sure not to suit him,”
“Hush, Lilian!” cried Blanche, laughing.
“Yes; you may laugh, but it’s quite true; and one day, when Jack brought moe in a bunch of violets, somebody else fell into euch a gloomy meditation over them——"
“That you were forced to enter into a whispered conversation with your cousin to avoid disturbing it,” interrupted Frank—but Lilian was gone,
What a happy pair walked home beneath the gaslight that evening; so absorbed in one another, that, as Jack afterward remarked, they would not have stopped short of the Battery if he had not been near to suggest more moderate exercise.
ON THE COAST.
BY MRS. ELLEN M. MITCHELL.
Hush! Hear yo not the surging seat
The Storm King abouteth in mad glee.
The winds roar fierce, then moan and sigh;
A lurid glow lights up the sky.
Who is it on you rock-bound coast,
Her tangled tresses backward tossed?
Her will eyes peering with strange light,
Far out into the awful night?
Unmoved she stands, with dauntless form,
And braves alone the wrathful storm.
With fiercer cries the tempest raves,
Still higher rise the foam-capped waves.
Strange sounds are borne upon the wind,
Awl ruins of spray her vision blind.
White as a snaow-flake is her cheek;
Oh, God! what means that fearful shriek?
She rushes forward to the beach:
A wreck is drifting out of reach.
Revealed by yon red lightning’s blaze,
She watches it with straining gaze.
The billows juor with gusty mirth—
What care they for her all on earth?
Ah! see that form against the sky;
"L in be! 'Tin be! Oh! must he die?
He stretches forth imploring hands;
Transfixed with horror wild she stands.
There, tossed on dangers very brink,
She marks his frail barque rise and sink.
Until at last, all struggling o'er,
The wreck, engulfed, is seen no more.
The winds a dirge breathe soft and low,
As if to soothe her frautle woe.
A pause a shiver; then the sea
Has buried all her misery,
And surging floods roll on and hide
The forms of bridegroom and of bride.
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