Lily's Lovers

"Nj!" thundered a min's volco. Fretty Lily Boscobel lookod frightened. Sho was fragilo anti timid, with longlaslied bhio oyos and soft, curling, palobrown hair. Vevy much less of vehenient don al would have sufficed to drive tlio littlo croaturo discouvaged frorn hor fathcr's prosoncu; bnt so great was kis. angcr that even this explosivo monosylJable was not euougk to express his excite inont. "You will not go near tho Wyldes, if Kate Wyldo sends ior you every hour ia i the day. Not that I care lor them ; but j you moet Lannt Winslow there, and - I arul I have other plans for you. Don't : deny it!" eyeing shurply the wideblue J eyes, quicltly upraised. "Deny it, father? Why should I?" Peter Bosoobel frowned and stopped. Thcro was something in the fair childlike face whioh quieted his excitemontI did not say that you cared anything about kim, but I have hoard- .It ia enough that I say you cannot go !" abruptly. Lily silently leftthe room, a submissive little figure in a lilac dress, so delicate and frail a little figure, that the man's heart smole kim as he looked affer it. It was only two years since Lily'a mother had died, and she was exseedingly like her motber. "You can go any whero else, Lily," ho ealled more kmdly. Lily went back to the parlor, and tried bravely to continue her practicing; but af ter a few minutes, the small lingera faltered from their task, and the fair head drooped upon the folded arm, ■while the great tears, bravely kept back o long, splashed upon the piano keys. Peter Boscobel would have stoutly denied that iie did not love his daughter ; but since his love soemed never to temper his sternness, what did it mat. ter to that tender spirit that she was secretly his idol? Unfortunately, his was one ol those exceptional natures which do not know to liow love. His child, wko was his heiress and the oojeut r u: lUtf ambition, star ved and perished daily for a reahzation of affection. Never in her life, sho remembered, had her futher bestowed upon her a caress. No other want was left unBatlsfied; every accomplishmont was bestowed upon her. She lived in luxury; but, so exacting his nature, so stern his manner, this man had ever extended a slavery of force over the sole daughter of his house and heart. But that he was her father, and, apparently, the sole arbiter of her fate, she would never have spoken to him. So many, many times, when he did not dream of it, he had nearly broken her heart. It was not her disappointment he was crying over now - thongh, in her loneliness, she had longed for a visit to the pleasant Wyldes - but that she had been treated as a rebel, and her innocent request met with a harshness which slie feit had no cause. Bnt by and by her tears dried with a eecondai-y thouglit- Lannt Winslow. Why should lier father caro that she did moet kim there? He was Fute Wylde's cousin - had been brought up with her. He was Colonel Wylde's favorite nephew. He was a Kcntienian. She was sure, in girllsn piuaseoiogy, niui ne was uice." What gentle ways ho had! What mellow voice to sing with ! "What a responsivo thrill Kate's hearty delight that ho was not going to Florida for the winter had awakened in her heart. All at onoe her father's nieaning came to her. The searlet blood surged to her temples, and she caught her breath. Handsome Lannt Winslow choose her forasweetheart! Shehadnever dreamed oí snch a tliing. But now she started up nervously, and began wandering restlessly about the room, touching things absently and aimlessly, the young cheek flushing and paling by turna. Had she cared to go to the Wyldes because Launt Winslow was there ? She was fain to deny it, but the sudden voice of her heart held her spellbouud and in maklenly fear. Poor, lonely littleLily! This experienco had fotind hor out very early. She was but seventeen, and modesty itself. It was not in her to arrógate to herself any importance as Peter Bocobel's heiress; and she did not know how lovely she was with her forget-me-not eyes and simple sweetness. Launt Winslow was no youngster, bnt, nttwenty-seven, a man of the world and, nnconsciously, her hero. She did not drcam that he had openly eipressed hisadmiration for lier, and that it had reached her father's ears. But, to Launt Winlow justice, he did not care a fig for her father's nioney. Prctty little Lily was his ideal of what a wonion ought to be, and his pleasnre in lier was involuntary. Lily c.inio no more to the Wyldes, and he was annoyed. And, having his litllo idiosyncrasies of character, and accidently learning that Peter Boscobel had said tb at his daughter "wasn'tfor a son of Jack Winslow's," he determined to see Lily, and let her know howmueu he thought of her. "Poor, pretty little thing! He doesn't use her half decently. She's as afraid of hún as if he wero a bear. I don't know him, but I've al ways heard from my father that Boscobel was alI ways a savage. Thcrc wan some promotion in military affairs when both werc in tho :irmy which made my father and hers rivals, and Boscobel would never give my father his title of captain, and hated him as long as he lived." This Launt Winslow confided to his cousin Kate. But Lily continued invisible. Meeting Captain Jack Winslow's son in the street one day, and taking covert cognizance of his ieet and inchea, Peter Boacobel's dislike to the handsome young man grew stronger than evor, and he went home and shortened Lily's chain by a link or two. "Whon you gish to go out, Lily, go in the oíu'iiage. I don't like to seo : young givls strolling about the city. " But Lily did not go out enough for her own good. When she did, she j went in the carriage, as her father inutructed ; and so it chanced that Ijaunt Winslow saw the sweet palé face once, twice, thrice, amoDgthe purple cushians of the Boscobel barouche, and from the sidewaik lifted his hat. Each time the oyes of the two met - the blue ones, etartled, sweet; the hazel ones, eloquent, üteady. Launt Winslow meant now, if it i cov.ld l.e dono, to win Lily Boscobel. Her fatbei did not guess the resolve in the heivt of the young man, but was planning ng.iinst ïiini none the less ' steadilv. He ciúl not want to part with Lily bmt bo liud a weakness for rank, and for the fiïtX timo in his life he dined with a noblenj&n . And L'éjrd Lu tb er Lawton Langley I }uid mí i "I havo flpeu your daughter. A lovely young lady, Mr. Bosoobel. Pray give mo an introduction." Plain Poter Bosoobel was ílattored as raany a more superficial man had been, and secretly began to make plans for Lily. She wa3 pretty and accomplished, and he was rich. Why should she not marry this nobloman, who was seeking for a wifo, people said? So he brought Lord Lnther home to diñe one day, and Lily was oxqni.site in a cl inner dress of wine dark velvet and still as a ñau, but none the less lovely for thftt. Lord Luther was honestly charmed; especially when, at lierfather's request, she played and sang for him. But Lily went toher ehamber after he had gone, and secretly whiapered to herself that he was liorrid. She didn't likO his watevy-blue eyos and broad smile; and his hot breath upon her clieek, when he turned her music, made her shudder. No, the truth was that Lord Luther was not so bad, as lords go, but her heart was all given' to her little dream of Launt Winslow, and she wanted nono of him. The less often she saw Launt, the more she thought of him, and the warmer and sweeter were her thoughts. Well, Lord Luther canie again and again, and y et again to the Boscobel mansion, and, it turned out, asked Peter's permission to pay his addresses to his daughter, for Lily's father said : "Lord Luther cornos this evening to see yon. If he asks you to marry him you will consent." Such a wild, white face aa the child turned upon him ! But Poter Boscobel was lighting a cigar, and did not see it again before it dropped again. "I san not! I can not I lean not!" cried Lily. It was already 6 o'olock then, and the short November day nearly done. Pretty soon a servant caine into tho drawing room to light the gas, and in five minutes more the bell rang. Then, hearing the dreaded voico asking for her, Lily started up and ran out of the house. Bare-headed, she ran aeross the broad flags of the yard, and then, chilled by the sharp night air, darted into the great carriago house, where were ranged the Boscobel coupe, the barouche in which she drove and her father's Stanhope, beside various other vehicles. In a twinkling she liad leaped into the barouche and cowered down in a corner upon the velvet cushion, pantingand listening. -foor ,aj . -. „ olln hadbehaved in a very pamc stneken anu unreasw ing manner, but it did not tako nrach reasoning to assure her that she did not want Lord Luther, with his fishy eyes and broad smile, to make love to her. Lily could bear a good deal but she could not bear that. So sho sat pantipg and listening, with burning cheeks and a beating heart, when she heard a step which made her heart leap out of her mouth. Sho held her breath, hoping, after an instant, that it might be Jerry coming to lock up the coach house. But it was not for the voice said : "Miss Boscobel Lily will you allow me one moment?" A little changed with agitation, evidently, but Lily knew Launt Winslow's voice. Then she saw him step in at the open door. "Oh !" she cried, covering her face with lier hands. "What is tho matter? Are you frightaned? Have I frightened you?" he asked gently. "No, no ; not yon !" said Lily. He carne to the side of the barouche, and stood there, with his hat in his hand and his foot upon tho step. "ï'uraon me, out i nave not spoken to you for so long. I have learned a bad liabit of lingering near here lately," with a faint smile. "From the street I have seen the light shine out from you cLamber every night for a week." He paused. To Lily his voice was sweetest music. Between thinking of this and wondering what he would think of her situation there, she was nearly distracted. But Launt Winslow went on quietly talking. "I saw you come out to-night and come in here. You are cold !" abruptly, for Lily was shivering. In a moment he had pulled off his f ur lined coat and wrapped it around her carefully, in spite of her protests. Indeed, she was not so cold in her blue velvet dress as she was agitated. "I fear you are afraid of me. Dear child, why should you be ? I love you Lily," he said tenderly. Then Lily began to cry. "Poor little thing ! I meant to make yon happy," he said, standing there quietly. Bat from Lily's sobbing breath he certainly could not guess how very happy his mere presence made her ; and the reason he evinced no surprise at the very singular fact of a young lady sitting alone in a lonesome coach house, in her father's carriage, on a cold November evening, wasbecauso he had observed Lord Luther's goings and comings - and when he saw the little figure flying out of the house, directly after that gentleman'sadmittance, he gucssed somewhat at the truth, and determined to strike while the iron was hot. If Lily would nút listen to Lord Lnther, perhaps she would lieten to him. "Your father dislikes me Lily, but I don't know why. A mere matter of a star or button, I think, in my father's day. Suroly I am not to blame. I am an honest man. I havo something of wealth and position, and I love you dearlv. Surely you do not disliko me, Lily." A little white hand stole out from under the overcoat and was reccived in his ; and then Launt Winslow went on more hopefnlly with his love making. And theclock struck cight, and nino, and ten, while they talked, exchanging mutual confldences so sweetly that the moments flew, Lily's silvery syllables, and even musical laugh, at last mingling with his own eager and earnest utterances. The time flew with them ; but not so with Peter Boscobel. He carne in directly after Lord Luther, and found the latter alone. Then the search for Lily commenced. All through the rich rooms, at the next door, over tho way. Lily could not be found in the neighborhood. Long before, Lord Luther had departed much offended. As the time passed, Peter Boscobel grew distractod. Lily's absence spoke as never her presenoe had done. He had been cruel ; he had driven his child a way. It was past 11 - it waa nearly midnight - whon he was walking the floor of the long drawing-room like a crazy man. Meanwhile, Launt Winslow had just said: "Isuppose that swell has gone, Lily. I should be happy to pace here, like a sentinal, all night, and watch over your slumbers, if you wish to sleepon thoso cushions under my overcoat; but I am afraid you will take cold ; and you will have to face your father some time." "You will take cold. How selnsh I am!" said Liiy, descending from tho barouche and trying to restore the garment to him. But the result was that she only got olasped to his bre.it for on weet instant Theii he tucked her little hand undei hisarm, and marched in to hor father. I have brought Lily back. We are ongaged to be married. And I shall not allow you to scold her too much for runniug away from Lord Luther Lawson Langley, " lie said boldly. The man of iron, who had nevvr bent, was brok en. "Don't run away from your father agnin, Lily," he Eaid. You may marry whom you please. " Tliat was five yeara ago. Lily ridea in that carriage to-clay, with her husband and two darliug childrep.