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��LOUISA'S DELUSION.
��flushing crimson, for his tone implied, "of course you do not." "I studied it at Hilton Academy and a German neighbor helped me about the pronunciation."
'•Read something here," he said, hand- ing her Heine's "Buch der Lieder."
Louisa opened the book and read the
little poem, —
"Mein Herz, mein Herz ist traurig, Doch lustig leuchtet der Mai;"—
She appreciated the tender description and read with expression.but at the clos- ing line, "Ich wollt',erschusseraich todt," her voice trembled and her eyes filled with tears, the words expressed so aptly her own hopelessness.
Mrs. Endicott looked searchingly at her, and her son said, u you understand what you read, I can see that, but your accent might be improved. I suppose your neighbor spoke Piatt Deutsch?"
"I think not, Mr. Bauer was from Ham- burg, I believe," she answered inno- cently.
' 'Probably, he was a Bauer by birth as well as in name," said Mr. Endicott sar- castically, "but you can teach Alice to read and correct your pronunciation in the Fatherland if you stay with us."
He then told her that in a few weeks they were to sail for Europe to remain three years, and he offered her a liberal salary to go with them. Mrs. Endicott was not strong, and she would be ex- pected to take entire charge of Alice, teaching her the English branches, and superintending her education generally.
Louisa's head was in a whirl. Go to Europe, see strange countries and beau- tiful sights, study French, German, Ital- ian perhaps, in the countries where they were spoken, maybe learn music from the great masters, it was a glimpse of Heaven! But she tried to conceal her joy and excitement and told them she would soon let them know her decision and then hurried off to shed happy, thankful tears and to say her prayers.
"Well, what do you think of it, moth- er?" asked Mr. Endicott.
"I think you have been very business- like," said his mother, with a quiet sar- casm, "you did find out her name."
"Upon my word, I never thought of a "character," but her face is enough. She
��looks as fresh and innocent as one of the daisies on her father's farm."
"Yes, but I fancy from the way she read Heine, that she has known more of sorrow than her charming face implies."
"I do hope she has some fun in her," said Alice. "Miss Hawkes always walked so stiff and talked so slow and solemn, that it made me feel lonesome just to look at her."
Louisa had received a piteous appeal from her parents since she had been at the beach. They implored her to beg pardon of John for her fickleness, and not bring sorrow on them by throwing away the best chance she would ever have.
This letter had driven her into a de- spairing mood for a time. It seemed they would force her into this wretched marriage in spite of all she coidd do, but now she was going far away, far from the temptation to yield for the sake of ending the struggle. It was like a bright, sweet day after a long, weary sleepless night.
She wrote to her mother, telling her of the situation she could have, and dwell- ing with emphasis on the salary — "more than they pay the minister at Andrews' Mills," she reminded her. She knew the logic of this argument would be unan- swerable, and she asked their consent to her going. "The Endicotts are well known here, they live at a beautiful place on the Hudson River, and they are wealthy and respected. So you see I have been prudent in finding out about them."
Then Louisa did a strange thing. She wrote a long, friendly letter to John Andrews, telling him her plans and beg- ging him not to spend the time of her ab- sence at home. "Go to California and earn lots of money," she wrote, "some- thing tells me we shall be happy together yet. Rouse up and make yourself wor- thy of me," she concluded with superb egotism, and signed herself "Yours as ever."
She received, as she expected, a favor- able answer from home. Her father and mother were apparently elated at her promotion from waitress to governess. "Emily Jones says you always looke
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