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THE OLD STONE MANSION.

BY CHARLES J. PETERSON, AUTHOR Of ‘'THE VALLEY FARM,” ‘MABEL,” “KATE AYLESFORD,” AO.

[Entered, according to Act of Centre, in the year 1859, by Charles J. Peterson, in the Clerk’s Office of the District Uonrt of the United States, In and for the Eastern District of Pennsylvania.]

C0NTINUED FROM PAGE 122.

CHAPTER IX.

In this unhappy mood I remained for several days. Mr. Talbot had left, the evening after the dance, to be absent, as I heard Georgiana say, for nearly a week.

One day, I was sitting in my favorite alcove, above the sea, when Senator Clare approached. He and I had lately become quite friendly: at least, he often stopped to talk to me.- He began now ghyly,

“Poetizing beside the oceanr again, eh! Miss Gray?” For the senator would insist I was literary, and wrote poetry, in spite of my denials.

“It is unwritten poetry, then, I replied. I

“Perverse as ever,’ was his rejoinder. “Now if I was only the favored one, who was allowed a peep into that port-folio. At any rate,” he continued, observing I was annoyed at his pertinacity, “if you do not write poetry, I am sure you feel it. Your love for the sea is unaffected. Others talk of it twice as much as you do, but one sees they arc not in earnest.’

“Yes! I love the ocean,” I answered, abstractedly. “It seems to me like some great, beautiful monster, that fascinates me beyond words.” “Mrs. Clare and I were watching you, yesterday, when you were bathing. You entered into the sprit of it as no one else does. Are you not afraid to go out so far alone?”

It was the custom at this watering-place, as at most American ones, for ladies to be attended by a husband, brother, or male acquaintance, when in the breakers. As I had neither hue-? band, nor brother, and knew my uncle’s selfishness, I always bathed by myself, for l would not permit any other gentleman to assist me.

“Oh! no,” I replied. “Why should I fear? I am always careful to keep on safe ground. Besides, I swim.”

“We were observing you floating. I wish every lady had your courage. When I was younger I would sport, for hours, in the breakers; but I am getting too old now.”

“I think it is less strength than skill that is required. The surf is sometimes very heavy,

but I have never yet lost my footing. The knack comes by nature, perhaps.”

“You bathe, certainly, as if you were born to it. I can recognize you among a hundred. Mr. Talbot was saying the same, only the other morning, when he and I stood looking at you. It was the very day he left. The waves came racing in, like greyhounds coursing. You stood, your shoulder slightly inclined to the rollers, your hat disappearing and reappearing, as they rushed over you;  that famous hat,’ he cried,   it is like the plume of Henry of Navarre, always in front of the battle.' It was wonderful how you kept your ground. I said as much, but he told me of a certain sailing party,” and the Senator looked archly at me, “and answered that your courage was never temerity, though you had the mettle of a thorough-bred. The metaphor is mine, not his, and I beg your pardon: we old lovers of the turf are often jockeys even in our talk.”

It was not, however, at the comparison that I colored. My emotion arose from anything but anger. I remembered that all this had been said, by Mr. Talbot, after I had supposed I had offended him hopelessly. It was happiness that called the crimson to my cheek.

“But I declare,” said the Senator, rising, “if here isn’t Mr. Talbot himself. Talk of a certain personage, eh! Miss Gray. He is coming, just in time, for I know you have been dreadfully bored by an old fellow like me.”

I recognized the footstep, though still distant. But I did not dare to look up. I heard it approach and stop beside me. Still I gazed immovably before me. My heart was beating fast.

“And Miss Grey too,” said that rich, manly voice, thrilling through and through me, “ I hope she, also, is glad to see an old friend.”

I raised my eyes, and took his proffered hand, with what composure I could, stammering out something in reply. Every trace of resentment, if there ever had been any, had vanished from those frank eyes.

For a few minutes, during which Senator Clare