Her interruption of the tableau sounded oddly abrupt to ears used to

her pleasant accents.

"Come, young people! how long are you going to keep me waiting?

Breakfast is cooling fast!"

"I beg your pardon, Auntie! I did not notice that it had been

brought in," apologized Mabel, drawing back, that Frederic might

lift the loaded salver carefully to its place upon the board.

As they were closing about this, they were joined by Messrs.

Barksdale and Branch, Miss Tabb delaying her appearance until the

repast was nearly over, and meeting the raillery of the party upon

her late rising with the sweet, soft smile her cousin-betrothed

admired as the indication of unadulterated amiability. The

breakfast-hour, always pleasant, was to-day particularly merry. Rosa

led off in the laughing debates, the play of repartee, friendly

jest, and anecdote that incited all to mirth and speech and tempted

them to linger around the table long after the business of the meal

wag concluded.

"This is the perfection of country life!" said Frederic Chilton,

when, at last, there was a movement to end the sitting. "But it

spoils one fearfully for the everyday practicalities of the city--a

Northern city, especially."

"Better stay where you are, then, instead of deserting our ranks

to-morrow," suggested Rosa, gliding by his side out upon the long

portico at the end of the house. "What does your nature crave that

Ridgeley cannot supply?"

"Work, and a career!"

"You still feel the need of these?" significantly.

"Otherwise I were no man!"

"You are right!"

Her disdainful eyes wandered to the farther end of the portico,

where Alfred Branch, in his natty suit of white grasscloth, plucked

at his ebon whiskers with untanned fingers, and talked society

nothings with the ever-complaisant Imogene.

"Come what may, you, Mr. Chilton, have occupation for thought and

hands; are not tied down to a detestable routine of vapid pleasures

and common-place people!"

"You are--every independent woman and man--is as free in this

respect as myself, Miss Rosa. None need be a slave to

conventionality unless he choose."

She made a gesture that was like twisting a chain apon her wrist.

"You know you are not sincere in saying that. I wondered, moreover,

when you were railing at the practicalities of city life, if you

were learning, like the rest of the men, to accommodate your talk to

your audience. Where is the use of your trying to disguise the truth

that all women are slaves? I used to envy you when I was in

Philadelphia, last winter, when you pleaded business engagements as

an excuse for declining invitations to dinner-parties and balls.

Now, if a woman defies popular decrees by refusing to exhibit

herself for the popular entertainment, the horrible whisper is

forthwith circulated that she has been 'disappointed,' and is hiding

her green wound in her sewing-room or oratory. 'Disappointed,'

forsooth! That is what they say of every girl who is not married to

somebody by the time she is twenty-five. It matters not whether she

cares for him or not. Having but one object in existence, there can

be but one species of disappointment. Marry she must, or be PITIED!"

with a stinging emphasis on the last word.




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