Widows Bewitched

Grand and gorgeous is the first Hiorning of spring. It is not the tapping of woodpecker in the hollow beech, nor yet tlie nutchat humming at liis breakfast, that soft rai-n-taji:t(i) one hears. It is only Mr. Ernest Black knocking out Lis pipe against the garden-seat. Happy mau ! to have such a charming nook wherein to smoke the early pipo. His confortable mansión of Shrublands, a cqzy, modern building, warm and roomy, with glass housea clustered about it, and its convenient offices at the rear, lies on the slope above. In front of liim stretches a pleasant lawn, and he looks over upon a sweet river valley, bounded by purpte hills, reaclies of water showing in silver streaks here and there. A warm, pleasant little dingle encompasses the grounds, sheltering the house from the north and east, and sloping down toward the south, and here the first breath of new-born spring is feit, and the first green leaf of the year is seen on that slender white birch, whose brown catkins are dying forloveof the earliest blossoms of the season. Ernest thonght that it was very good to be here, as he smoked his pipe on his garden-seat. But everything comes to an end, and, by the time hehad finished his pipe and knocked out the ashes, a cloud had come over the sun, the air was chilled, and the beauty of the morn tarnished. It was time, hefound, to start for his train. He went into the house to say "good-by" to his wife. for he heard the carriage-wheels grinding on the gravel as it carne round from the stables to the door. He seemod to be a happy fellow, too, in lus wife, who was a fair, pleasantfacert woman, of charming figure, and full spirit. " I didn't know yon were goiug away," she said, a slight shade of voxation coming over her face. " Didn't I teil you ? " said Ernest. " I intended to. I shall be home to dinner. I am only going to town to see the old masters. They close this week." "Ah! if you had told me in time I would have goue with you." To say the truth, Ernest did not muoh caro for conipany when he was going to look it pictures.' " Pity, eh V " he said, carelesisly putting his hand model lier chin and giving her a kiss. " Well, another day, perhaps, Tottie" - her name was Theresa, but lier pet name -vas Tottie - '" and then perhaps I can go shopping with you." " But I particularly wanted to see those pictures." " Why didn't you tliink of ifc before? " " You shouid have told me you were going." "Yes, it was stupid of me; however, there'a no help for it ; I have only just time to catcli the traiu. Good-by." And away he went. Theresa sat down once more to her book of household expenses, but the totals ran into each other, and the same row of figtirea wouldn't come to the same amount twicö running. It wasn't like Ernest, she thought, not to ask her to go with him. He had never gone ofl anywhere before without asking her to accompany him if it were practicable. Ilis manner, too, was so cold. AVhat could be the reason of it? She took up the newspaper to distract her mind. She rarely looked at the daily papers, but this morning she feit uneasy, and couldn't settle to anything. Suddenly she sprung to her feet. with a cry of distress. She had taken up the outside sheet of the paper, and tliereon she had read an advertisement : " Constance to Ernest. To-day, at Victoria, 12 noon." That was the reason, then, that Ernest had gohe ofl' to town so suddenly. Yes, she knew it ; she had been wronged and deceived. Could it be possible that sueh treachery, such betrayal of all the ties of friendship and sffection could bepermitted to exist? Theresa was, perhaps, of a soitewhat i ealpus disposition. Certainly Ernest had given her no cause for jeakrasy itherto, as far as she know, but she had always imagined it possible liat at some time or otlier he would; nd now it seemed to her as thougli aer forebodings had been justified. Constance Brown had been bfcr earnest friend, her schoolfellow, her on; ! dear companion, for whom her affectiox could never be dimmed. And this friendship Jiad continued unabated fori u whoie two years af ter her marriage to ; Ernest, during which it had been her hief delight to entertain Constanoc ai hor aew home. Now Ernest wasn't at the beginning, at any rate, at all fond of Constance. and uaed to think her visits rather a bore. Anything na better, however, than httving his v;ïic in the tnd n suck occasions hewould suggest : " Ask Constance to como and spend a few days." As time went on, however, little disagreements interposed between the two friends. Constance was of an adrptive nature, and fonder of masculine than feminine society. She professed great interest in Ernest's pursuits which were rather of a miscellaneou character. Altogether she grew in race and favor with the Imsband, and eclined in equal measure in the wiff's esteem. She was too keen-witted herfelf not to j perceive this, but the inerr-licable love of coquetry and mischief 'hat lurks in ; every female bosom forade her to j change her tactics. The end of it was a desenlie quarrel between Constance and Theresa, and Constance's hasty dépaittre from j lands in a great rage. On her part, Theresa vowed that se would never have that deceitful gil in her house again. "All right." Ernest had said; "if yon don't care about it I dm't." But Theresa's jealoisy, once aroused, was not to be quieted by any such pretenses as these. It vas all very well of Ernest to say so, but his saying so didn't deceive her. Haviig onee thrown her influence over Erxest, Constance, she knew, would not bi satisfied to resign her power so easil. She didn't doubt but that Constance would, in some way or other, contrrye to see him, and this morning's paper iad given her a clew to the means she aiJopted. Very well. Taeresa, too, would be at Victoria at 12 neon. The carriage had jnst retnrned from i taking Ernest U the station ; it should also convey hür to the next train for i London. She would have STifficient time to reacJi the trysting place by noon. Victoria stition, however, is rather a wide, open place, not adapted for concealment. Eow should she so disguise herself that she might witness the meeting nnobsen-ed? Theashe remembered Ü that her A,nt Blake, who had been a ' widow for a couple of years, had lef t behind her a widow's cap, bonnet and veil, having taken the opportunity of a visit to her niece to resume the ordinary costume of -womankind. Bonnets are not formidable things now-a-days, and Theresa put her aunt's weeds, with a black crape shawl, into a traveling-bag. She put on a black dress with a white shawl over it, and her usual traveling bonnet, that she might not give rise to surmises at her sudden asswmi)tion of mourning, and then started off. The clock showed five minutes to 12 when she arrived at Victoria. She hurried off to the ladies' waiting-room, donned her bonnet, cap, shawl and veil, and carne out upon the platform a deHiure widow. Siare enough, Ernest was there, walking up and down. She gave a kind of guilty start as he passed her, and he looked rather hard at the young widow with the nice, trim figure. " So," she thought, " that is the way you look at young women when I am notby?" The next turn that she took she started as she saw approaching her from the opposite side of the platform the very doublé of herself. Black dress, black crape shawl, widow's cap, bonnet and everything! She thought, at the first moment, that there was a mirror opposite her, and that she saw her own reflected image. But it was not so. The lady threw up her veil and revealed the features of Constance Brown. It was nnW fnr n. rnrtTnpnt n.rul f.hpn fthfi drew her veil closely over her face, and, making a slight gesture, as it seemed, of caution, she made her way to the ing-offioe, went up to a porter, and asked, in a olear, loud voioe, wlien the train started for Brighton. Theresa glided into the office by the opposite door. The pretended widow was waiting her turn at the ticket-hatch. With tüe quickness of thought Theresa ran up to the barrier. A genial-looking oíd man was taking liis ticket. " Might I ask you, sir, to get me a 1 ticket ior Brighton ? " " Most certainly, madam," said the ; old gentleman. She grasped her ticket and hurried on to the departure platform, giving, as she went, the same signal with her hand that she had seen her doublé make just before. , Yes, he had recognized the signal and followed her. The train was just due to start, and she hastily jumped into a first-class carriage. A gentleman jumped in after her. 'Taithless fellow ! " she thought. "Constance," said a tremulous voice ] at herside - "dearest Constance." "You wretch!" cried Theresa, suddeuly unveiling. Buttne effect was not what she anticipated. It was not her husband at all; it was Capt. Potter, late of the Plungers. It is now necessary to revert to the proceedings of Mr. Black to account for nis presence on the scène. Emest had intended to take the newspaper up to town with him, having been interested in an article he had not had time to finish. But having, with bis customary carelessness, left it behind him, ha bought another at the station, and then the advcrtisement caught his eye - "Constance to Ernest." Yes, he knew what it meant. Ernest Black and Ernest Potter had been school-fellows and cronies in early days, but their friendship had longsince decayed. Potter was a reckless spendthrift, who had been obliged to leave the Plungers and sell his comniission, swamped with innumerable debts. He had been an old friend of the Browns, too, and Constance had formerly been iafatuated with him; but her father, who was a very violent, self-willod old fellow, swore that she should never marry sucli a scarnp. Oonstwice had a nice little fortune of hor own, and she liad fust come of age, so that, if she pcrsisted in throwing herself and her fortuno away, there was no help for it. Still Ernest thought it was his duty to step it, if he eould. He flattered hiinself that hé had somo influenoe over Constance; and, if he eouldn't put an end to the affair altogether, he might prevail upon her to havo all her money carefully tied up. The advertisement meant an elope ; ment, Ernest tbougbt - a e1 age, and the sacrifiee ol 'uUui: to a woithloss soamp. Ld be tliere, too, ad save her ú 1 nnd hiinself on the of Victoria station at noon. Al ! there was Capt. Potter, as he ! ' peted, stalking up and down, evidently f exjecting somebody. , Ernest didn't takje any notice of hini ; and Potter seened anxious, on his part, to avoid any reeognition. But there was no Constance. He kept, however, a sharp i look-out on the Captain, and, all of a j sudden, he notieed that his eyes lit up, j and, turning quickly arorind, Ernest saw j a lady in deep mourning pass into the booking-office. Pottor now took up a position close to the wicket that opened to the depart■ure platform where the man stood who punched holes in the tickets. Present ly a lady in black brushed rapidly past. ' Ernest followed her a few paces to asi sure himself it was not Constance Brown. No ; the lady was of quite a different carriage and figure from Constance- more like his own wife, hesaid, ■ with a jealous pang that he laughed at ! himself next moment for feeling. Wkö; ever it was, she jumped into the riage, and the Captain alter lier. J.ne guard whistled off the train, and Ernest turned vrij, thinking that he had been rathèr a fooi for his pains. Then he saw another yonng widow gazing eagerly about her, and running liere and there, evidently looking for gome one she couldn't find. At last, apparently overcarae with emotion or fatigue, she flung heïself upon a bench and hastily threw up her veil, revealing the pretty, agitated face of Constance Brown. Ernest sprung toward her. "Constance," he whispered, "you here, and in this disguise ! what does it mean?" Constauce burst into tears, and sobbed out that she didn't know. "I know," he said, severely ; "you have an assignation with that infamous Potter." "Infamoua, indeed," said Constance; " and he has gone off with somebody else." At this moment, a man iit.Jivery 1 proached and tonchedhisbirt to Ernest. It was his own coachman, an old and faithful servant, who had boen j ' man to Ernêst's fathér, " Beg your pardon, Mr. Ernest, for coming up here without leave, but have you seen the mistress, sir?" "No. "What do you mean ?" " Well, sir, she drove to the station after you left, sir, and she seemed so wild-like and unaccountable, that I made bold to follow her for fear she might come to harm, and I f olio wed her here, sir, where she changed her dress for widow's weeds, and got into the Brighton train, sir, with Capt. Potter." Ernest turned pale and almost fainted. He recovered himself by a great effort. " I know," he cried. " I sent her to Brighton. and have just seen her off. How dare youfollovvyour mi-stress, sir?"' ïhe man turued away in blank dismay. "Ernest," said Oonstance, "we have ■ I both beeu deceived." , "Stuff! " said Ernest, "it was a trick ! ( we played you, tliat's all; we found out ! your plot, and we counter-plotted to save you." But still there was terrible doubt at his heart. What could it all mean? "Come into tlie waiting-room, Constanee," lie cried, "and let us talk. Ah, wh.it niisery ! " he muttered to himself. They turned into the waiting-room, and Ernest threw himself upon a seat, leaned his arm upon the table, and groaned. "What do you intend to do, Ernest," said Constance, clutching him by the arm. "It is all very well to teil your servant süch stories. I admire you for it, Ernest, but I know better. It is deliberately planaed. We are both deceived.'' "It is impossible," said Ernest. "How blind you are," said Oonstance. "I always mistrusted Theresa; shc was j my early fricnd, you remember, and I belicve that Potter used to come to our house on purpose to see her, using me j as a blind. Oh, Ernest, what shall we do?" "I shall liave a special train and f ] them," cried Ernest. " Then I will go with you," eried 'on stancp. Ernest rose and staggered to the ' i'orm once moro. "Ernest!" said a decisive, feminiue voice at his elbow. He turned, and beheld his wife and Gapt. Potter. " Hallo ! " cried Potter. " Ernest, my boy, how are yon ? Gad! I've got into a pretty mess with all this ambuscading ; ; wrong party after all, jolly row, pull the string, stop the train - Clapham Junction, guard in awful rage. Give us into custody, eb ? Ha, ha ! Hire we are again back first train. I say, old fellow, I'll change widows with you." " Come into the waiting-room," cried Black, " and teil me what it all means. Potter, I consider you an unprincipled fellow to inveigle this young lady into such a trap. You know you only want to waste her fortune as you've wasted your own." "Gently, old fellow," said Potter; "all a mistake. My uncle died last w eek and left me three thousand a year." " Then why do you make off in this clandestine way? " "It's all right, Black, I assure you. I've got a special license in my pocket, parson waiting at Brighton. We're both of age, you know." " Then why all this disguise ? " "Oh, that was my doing," sobbed Constance. " I was so dreadfully afraid of papa." " And how did you get the widow's things, Constance? " " F - from - your - Aunt Blake. It wasn't very wicked, was it?" " I think," said Theresa, who had recovered her equanimity and her usual aspect of proud st-renity, " I think, Oonetftnoe, you had better comeback to Skrñblands with me, and be married in a respetable, orderly way." And they settled that so it should be. Tlrey all went back to ShrubïandB, and Con'stnnce was married the next week, r.ot in the widow's weeds, but in full badal costume, with several bridesmuuls. " Ernest," said Theresa, affectionatoiy, wben it was all over, " I'll never be ealous again, but for all thal I'm glad that artful minx ia safely disposed of. She shall never enter my doors again, never.'' ter alwaya speáks of his oldfriend with affectionate eotmniseration, that the worst íive minutes pent in his life were mw in eonipany with aae I'heresa.