Ballou's Monthly Magazine, Vol. XXVII, No. 1 — page 57: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

Mrs. Dalrymple’s Diplomacy. G1 Sibyl] Aubrey caught the low, passionate words, “O my darling, O my saint!” as with one strong shudder he put her down, and she rap. hastily back, frightened at the white anzuish on his face. A few moments of agitation and confusion, and all the danger was over. No one was in- jured, and only the burnt carpet and Sibyl's light drapery gave token of the eatastrophe. “What a fortunate escape!” Dalrymple, again and again. should repeated Mrs. © O Sibyl, what we have done. if you had been injured 2?” The young lady shuddered, and scarecly glanced at the fair arm disfigured by a cruel blister. “As IT might have been, but for the gentle- man And I never thanked hin, Bat it was your cousin, [ suppose, and he did not wish it. ILlow strangely he looked, and how deadly pale he was!” “Poor Whart! I suppose it brought every- thing back to him. No wender he was so overcome.” “Brought what back?” Aubrey, * Poor Marcia’s death. avery sweet girl. demanded Miss Ile was engaged to One can searcely believe if wow, but when he was a young gentleman he was very gay. He was to take her to a party one night. She was all dressed, the Wraps lying on the chair beside her, when his carriage was announced. I don't know ex- actly how it happened, but she approached the mantel for her bouquet or something, and her lace skirt fluttered into the open grate. Of course she was instantly in one light blaze. She ran shrieking past the servants, down the steps, and Whart caught her, but only to see her head fall back, and her limbs drop help- Jessly. She died in terrible agony that night, and Wharton Berne left all the old scenes, and came here, and became what he js.” “ Poor man! hapless creature!’ ejaculated Lucia Gramont, pityingly. But Sibyl Aubrey, with grave eye fixed on her burnt arm, said never a word. That night. just before midnight. as Whar- ton Berne unelosed the library door to leave the scientifie book with which he had tried to quiet his unusual agitation, and seek siumber, he met a graceful figure on the stairs, carelessly wrapped in dressing-cown and shawl The fair, young face was pale, the lips feverishly bright, and the large, dark eves had a strange glitter in them. “I beg your pardon,” said she, stepping back to give him passage. “T hope you wont take me for a house-breaker, but I lave be- come possessed to obtain a piece of ice from that great pitcher on the sideboard. It seems as if that would cure the pain in my arm; and as I didn’t wish to disturb anybody, I came on an exploring expedition myself.” He turned back promptly, just glancing to- ward the arm whose sleeve, turned back, showed the cruel blister. “Come with me, and I will get you a dish of ice. All the rest are asleep. They are used, to me, and don't mind my prowling around at uncanny hours.” Ife led her into the dining-room and put her into an arm-chair, while he went further, after discovering that the pitcher was empty. She sat quictly, hearing him rattling around the refrigerator in the adjoining room, until he came back in triumph, a huge square of ice on the tray in his hand. “QO, that is refreshing!” cried Siby] Aubrey. “Give me a piece, I pray you, to ease this torture.” Ife saw the swollen yeins beneath the slender wrist, and bent carefully to examine the burn. “ Dear child!” exclaimed he, in a voice full of tenderest compassion, “you must not have ice there, or you will have a worse in- flammation to-morrow. I will wet a cool bandage, and relieve the torment a little, while I am preparing something to remove the fire. Why didn’t you rouse up the whole house, rather than suffer so?” “QO, LT hoped it would soon stop, but it grew worse, and then I thought of the ice,’ she answered, trustfully submitting her arm to his careful fingers. In a little while he had made some sort of poultice and bound it around her arm, “ Now come into the library and sit awhile. You wont sleep, I am sure, for an hour or two yet, but in half an hour you will find ease, I promise you. Till that time let me help you fight the pain.” And he gave her the easiest chair in the library, brought cushions for her feet, and hunted up an old book of engravings, and showing them to her, one by one, told stories concerning each. And presently the little lines in the forehead smoothed away, and the scarlet lips relinquished their stern com- pressure, and the soft splender in the dark eye was that of pleased content, instead of feverish excitement; and looking up suddenly she exclaimed: connicloooks, corn