Wylder's Hand

r Party a

xertion towards what is termed keeping up a conversation; at all events she did not, and after a while the present one got into a decidedly sinking condition. An acquiescence, a faint expression of surprise, a fainter smile — she contributed little more, after the first few questions of courtesy had been asked, in her low silve

tinct honours beauty. It is so difficult to believe it either dull or base. In virtue of some mysterious harmonies it is ‘the image of God,’ and must, we feel, enclose the God-l

d, always natural and pleasant, and quite unconscious of his peerage — he was above it, I think — and chatted away merrily with that handsome animated blonde — who on earth, could she be? — and did not seem the least chilled in the stiff and frosted presence of his

was sure of that — connected with the Brandon family; and was, with the usual fatality, a bit of a mauvais sujet. He had made away with his children’s money, or squandered

Lake, and I think her ver

but remembered just in time, that that line of eulogy would hardly have involved a compliment to Miss Br

pointed with an unknown accent, between a note of

hat moment the bland tones of Larcom, the solemn butler, ann

but his earnest, sweet smile was there still. Slight, gentle, with something of a pale and studious refinement in his face. The same gentle voice, with that slight, occasional hesitation, which somehow I liked. There is always a little shock after an absence of some years before identities adjust them

threadbare cuff — and who looked round with that anticipation of pleasure, and that simple confidence in a real welcome, which are so likely to insure it? Was she an helpmeet for a black-letter man, who talked with the Fathers in his daily walks, could extemporise Latin hexameters, and dream in Greek. Was she very wise, or at all learned? I think

, little Miss Dorothy Chubley, whom nobody was supposed to be looking after, and the town had, somehow, set down from the first as a natural-born old maid — the

his wife from the period of his boyhood; and yet so grudging was Fate, had to undergo an engagement of nigh thirty years before Hymen rewarded their constancy; being at

otted them and one pledge — poor Miss Dorothy — was left alone, when little more than nineteen years old. This good old couple, having loved early and waited long, and lived together with

e wife, though she went first. She made raisin-wine,

miability) of the good doctor and Mrs. Chubley, so curiously blended in her loving face. And last comes in old Major Jackson, smiling largely, squaring himself, and doin

eir meal, and perform the actual process of deglutition with silent attention, and only such suckings, lappings, and crunchings, as illustrate their industry and content. It is the distinctive privilege of man to exert his voice during his repast, and to indulge also in those specially human cachinnations which no lower creature, except that

but at an ordinary symposium, when the garrulous and diffident make merry together, and people break into twos or threes and talk across the t

in the middle of a somewhat prolix, though humorous story, commenced in an uproar for the sole recreation of my pretty ne

g overheard by mortal. You may plan with young Caesar Borgia, on your left, the poisoning of your host; or ask pretty Mrs. Fusible, on your right, to elope with you from her grinning and gabbling lord, whose bald head flashes red with champag

handsome blonde would have been as well pleased if he had been anywhere but where he was. There was no look of liking, though some faint glimmerings both of annoyance and embarrassment in her face.

Lake?’ he said, with a rather pensive glance of enquiry i

, Mr. Wylder, and thinks very li

perceive the soup?on of sarcasm that modulated her answe

d without fortune, who finds himself, without any deservings of his own, on a sudden, possessed of an estat

d, Miss Lake,’ said Mr. Wylder, showi

nce, Mr. Wylder. One’s judgment matures, and we are har

ty, where’s the good of money? I don’t know how I got into it, but I can’t get away now; and the lawyer fellows, and trustees, and all that sort of prudent people, get about one, and persuade, and exhort, and they bully you,

r a little bit of fricandeau on his plate with his fork, d

y. ‘That ballad, you know, expresses it very prettily:—“O

n as old a son

nd seemed to speak in good faith; and being somewhat t

erence — a girl is supposed to speak there; but men suffer that wa

aid Miss Lake, who

lack hair; I’m taken by conversation — and all that. There are some men that can onl

plaintive as he could without exciting t

was making just the interesting impression he meditated. He was a good deal surprised, then, when Miss Lake said, and

ee discreditable to you and offensive to me, and should you ven

nd she led him again into action, and acquired during the next ten minutes a great deal of curious lore about Spanish muleteers an