The speaker was the lawyer's only daughter--a clever conversationalist and well read in all those branches of literature which elevate and enn.o.ble the mind, and if applied to the female character make woman more than a kind of being that can only talk about what she eats, drinks, and more than all, what she wears and what her neighbor wears; discuss the latest bit of scandal and take a superficial view of everything upon which she languidly condescends to pa.s.s judgment.

"Miss Verne is an out-and-out Conservative, I can a.s.sure you," said Mr. Metcalfe, who now came to the relief of his countrywoman with a feeling of pride. "She can advocate the National Policy in a manner that would gain over the most stubborn Grit."

"Ah! Mr. Metcalfe, please do not over-rate my abilities in that respect," said Marguerite in a manner which coolly implied that she did not wish to get up such an argument as she certainly must if confronted by the strong Grit views of her interesting and witty companion.

"Never mind, Marguerite, we will not measure weapons this time,"

cried the former, "But I must try to shake some of the Tory off before we have done with you. Remember I have made more than one staunch Liberal convert."

Marguerite laughed at the girl's spirit of enthusiasm and thought "what a power is woman when her energies are directed aright?" Then her thoughts took rapid flight to another and different subject. She was thinking if it were possible for woman to exert her influence in the manner she would like that the end would justify the means.

"Not that exactly," mused the maiden as she thought of--but, perhaps, it is better we do not unearth Marguerite Verne's thoughts at that moment. She is doubtless sensitive, let us act accordingly and turn to other subjects. There was a sweet simplicity in her attire on this evening. Her dress of pale-blue bunting was plain indeed, and save the silver bracelets upon her beautifully-rounded arms, there was no other attempt at ornament.

Her cheeks were pale, and a shade thinner than usual, and to this fact the girl may attribute her liberty or rather freedom from the giddy rounds of dissipation into which she was reluctantly forced from morn to dewy eve and from dewy eve to rising morn.

Mrs. Verne had to acknowledge that her daughter's health was getting impaired, and that nothing but rest would restore her former strength, therefore consented that Marguerite should spend a few days with the young lady whom she met and became on intimate terms during a short time spent on one of the steamers plying between Liverpool and Belfast.

Edith Stanhope, as we have hitherto intimated, was a bright, witty English girl, and her companionship was healthful and invigorating.

She admired the gentle, winning, child-like ways of the New Brunswick maiden, and together they formed a pretty picture.

Mr. Stanhope had been a widower for many years, his household affairs being managed by a maiden sister, whose affection for the child Edith increased as the latter grew to womanhood, and nowhere could be found a more peaceful, inviting and cosy little nest than that of the much esteemed and venerable lawyer--Charles Stanhope, of Cheapside.

Edith Stanhope had reached the age of twenty-one, and still "in maiden meditation fancy free." Her life was an undisturbed and peaceful dream--her days an enjoyable round of simple domestic pleasure, broken in upon now and then by a few of the young schoolmates or companions of her childhood.

How keenly Marguerite then felt the difference of their respective positions as she glanced up from the newspaper and saw the real happiness that shone so steadily upon the girl's countenance, while she, wearied with the gaieties of life, was yearning--oh! so longingly--for the real domestic happiness that she must never realize.

"Marguerite Verne, am I to attribute that gaze to fond admiration or pertinent curiosity?" cried Edith, going up to her friend and playfully shaking her by the shoulders.

"To neither, Edith," said Marguerite, almost sadly, "but to a worse trait in my character--to jealousy," and the short sigh fell faintly upon Edith's quick and acute ear.

"To jealousy, you minx," cried the latter, who had a habit of repeating the speaker's words, which, in many cases, gave more effect to her arguments.

"To jealousy, indeed. Is it because I have the audacity to address your countryman, 'whose way of life is fallen into the sere, and yellow leaf'," replied she, her eyes sparkling with animation and keen enjoyment.

"Thank you for the quotation, Edith," said Marguerite, running her small, delicate fingers through the meshes of her friend's golden-brown hair.

The reply was interrupted by an exclamation of the New Brunswicker.

"Miss Verne I presume you have read both editorials. Is it not amusing how each goes for the other."

"Yes, Mr. Metcalfe, but I must confess that I am somewhat like a lady whom I once heard say, 'Well, dear me, I think everything in the _Telegraph_ is all gospel until I take up the _Sun_ and it upsets every speck of belief as fast as it went up. Dear me, I wish I knew which side was genuine, for both cannot be truth.'"

A general laugh followed and Edith Stanhope exclaimed, "I think that your friend must have been on the fence, Marguerite."

"Yes, and watching to see which side to jump on in the coming election," cried the old lawyer who had hitherto remained a listener.

A burst of merriment arose from the trio on the other side of the room and rang out in peals of laughter.

"Oh, papa, you naughty man to make such an unscrupulous remark about one of our s.e.x," cried Edith, a.s.suming an air of injured innocence and trying to look very severe.

"I take it all back my dear. Come let us have some music. It is too bad to be wasting so much time when one has an opportunity of having so much ability on hand."

"Do you allude to Marguerite or myself, papa," cried Edith gaily, while she arose and playfully led her companion, to the piano.

"It is dangerous to say much here unless one very carefully considers ere he speaks," said the fond father, casting a glance at his daughter that was worthy of the most ardent lover.

"Well, well, papa, you will go scot-free this time. Of course Marguerite will favor us."

The latter needed no coaxing. She played a selection of old-fashioned airs that were more appreciated than the most brilliant fantasia or cla.s.sic opera. Then followed a few of the songs she used to sing for her father and one which had caused the heart of Phillip Lawson to beat wildly as he stood listening to the voice he loved so well and bitterly thought of the world that lay between him and his buried love.

"Miss Verne, you have certainly much power of expression," said the New Brunswick gentleman as the last note had died away, and, Edith Stanhope sat silent as if fearing to break the spell.

"I seldom sing except to amuse my father, and the cla.s.s of music I practise is simple," was the quiet reply.

A young girl attended by a gentleman several years her senior, now entered the room. The former was Edith Stanhope's favorite cousin, and the latter was a distant relative, who was home on a vacation from a neighboring town, where he held a responsible position in a banking establishment.

"Ah, my fair cousin; and you have condescended to come at last,"

e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed Edith, embracing the latter, and then extending her hand to the gentleman, exclaimed, "and you, Frank, it is time that you presented yourself. Just think, you have been here nearly a week--"

"Not so hard, cousin Edith. Your humble servant arrived on Monday, and this, I believe, is Wednesday."

"That's right, my boy, defend yourself," said Mr. Stanhope, looking proudly upon the fair group around him.

As conversation set in lively and amus.e.m.e.nt was the order of the day, Mr. Stanhope and his friend quietly sat and looked on, occasionally answering to some of the sallies sent off at their expense.

A servant now entered with the evening mail, and a.s.sorting the pile Mr. Stanhope pa.s.sed to Mr. Metcalfe the two provincial dailies.

"The very information I was seeking," cried the latter in excited tones. "Just read that."

Mr. Stanhope glanced at the article in question and seemed lost in amazement; then hastily exclaimed: "It is wonderful how these fellows get things so soon. The matter has indeed gained publicity, and the young fellow need hesitate no longer."

"Miss Verne will no doubt be able to give you much information, as the young lawyer is quite popular in her native city. I may have known of him, but I'm inclined to think he has established himself since I left St. John."

Mr. Stanhope pa.s.sed the newspaper to Marguerite, who, for some unaccountable reason, felt more curiosity than she was willing to acknowledge.

As she silently read the paragraph a tremor pa.s.sed through her frame, and her heart began to throb wildly, but no emotion was visible.

"I am quite well acquainted with Mr. Lawson. He is a very great friend of my father's," were the words that rose to the girl's lips when she had gained courage to speak.

"That is splendid," exclaimed Edith, who now became interested in the matter; "I suppose he is young, and handsome beside," added she in a different tone.

"Keep that part of it to yourself, Miss Verne," said Mr. Metcalfe, in a tantalizing manner; "Miss Edith is not going to rob New Brunswick's daughters of what is theirs by right."

"But if the fortune be forthcoming here we should insist that the heir give some fair one here the benefit of it," cried Edith, who thought she had the best side of the argument.

"Don't quarrel over this matter, I pray," said the distant relative with a merry twinkle in his eye, "I am going to ship for St. John one of these days, and will, if possible, visit the McGregor heir and make him acquainted with the designs of my fair Saxon Edith."

"And you will exonerate Miss Verne from any complicity in the matter."

"Most certainly I do," said the relative, while Marguerite Verne hurried carelessly away to hide the tell-tale blushes which sooner or later would betray her.