Page:Peterson Magazine 1869B.pdf/112

 THE STORY OF A BLUE VEIL.

BY HELEN MAXWELL, AUTHOR OF "PERFIDIOUS PLANCHETTE," ETC.

ONCE upon a time-to commence my story in the good old way, and what other way could be half so pleasant? -once upon a time, then, I was seated, book in hand, on the Cliffs at Newport, enjoying the damp, exhilarating air, watching the graceful ships, some gleaming white, others gray and shadowy, gliding calmly through the blue sea, trying to count the little dots of sailboats that looked like flocks of sea- gulls, and listening to the surf as it broke with a soft splash against the rocks, or ran swiftly, curling and frothing, over the sands. I was alone, and rejoicing in my mimic isolation within sight of home. There was no one near to whom I must make myself agreeable, or be have prettily. I could clamber down the rocks, if I chose, take off my shoes and stockings and dabble my bare feet in the water ; or I could read my novel, and gaze out at sea and indulge in pleasant, dreamy fancies. In short, I could do as I liked, and I was happy.

It was a great thing to escape from the gay c party of which I was a most appreciative mem- ber. They were all busily engaged in the race of fashion- receptions, balls, and drives on the Avenue ; flirtations, hops at the Ocean House, and an occasional tea-party to the Glen. Some- times I ran away from it all, and declared my determination to have a day to myself. So, despite the formidable list of unpaid visits my  aunt held before me, or the entreaties of my cousin Redwood (a very nice boy!) to go with  him to a croquet-party, I put on my hat, and with The Initials" in my hand, walked quickly over the lawn to the Cliffs.

I hunted out a favorite nook of mine in the rocks, and there I sat down and plunged into my book. What with my interest in the quar- rels of Hildegarde and Hamilton, and in the en- joyment and self- congratulations before alluded to, several hours passed quickly away.

I was just becoming disagreeably conscious of the fact that it was near time for luncheon, and I should be favored with a gentle scolding from my aunt if I was late, when I was startled by the shrill barking of a dog close to me. I turned hastily, and caught a little "black-and- tan" in the act of running off with my blue veil! He was "worrying" it as he ran, dashing at it, giving it a shake and toss, bounding on a few steps, then rushing back, seizing it and scampering off in a perfect ecstasy of play. A few moments more and there would have been no- thing left of my poor veil. I tried coaxing, but with no effect; so, at last, I started off in full chase. The little fellow flew ahead of me, the  veil streaming behind him. Every now and then he would stop, panting, drop his prize,   and watch me till I was within a few feet of   him, then seize it again, and on we would go. Before I knew it I found myself on the well- kept lawn at the back of a pretty cottage. There lay my veil on the steps, and the little thief was already lying down in the sun, with  his eyes drowsily half-shut, looking as innocent  and unconscious as if he had not given me such  a tiresome race.

The cottage was the very picture of comfort; a wide veranda ran entirely around it, and the  long, open, lace-shaped windows gave glimpses  of charming rooms. The veranda was scattered with books and papers, and a large reclining-chair of bamboo stood temptingly placed at the   corner of the house where the view of the sea   was the best. At the other end a hammock was  hung; and though I had at first thought there  was no one within sight, as soon as I looked at  the hammock I found I was mistaken. A pair  of legs, clad in very immaculate white duck  trousers, hung over the edge; and a wide, straw   hat, with a black ribbon around it, was placed in such a position that I knew it must cover the   face of the same person to whom the legs appertained.

I was in doubt as to whether that individual was asleep, or only lazy, and, therefore, hesitated somewhat before I ventured to approach  near enough to recapture my veil. At last I crept forward a pas de loup, but scarcely had  reached the steps, when the legs, after a pre-   monitory flourish in the air, came down with a  stamp, and a tall, fair, broad-shouldered man stood before me. It was too late to retreat, and  I commenced some hurried apology for my intrusion.

‘Allow me,” he said, picking up my veil. That mischievous little dog has been giving  ion some trouble, I see. Naughty Pug!”

Pug half-opened his eyes, and responded by a feeble thumping of his tail on the steps. He showed no contrition.

“What a tramp he must have led you con-