Ethelyn's Mistake

"They might as well make a sure thing of it," he said, in his off-hand

way. "If she liked him and he liked her, they would clinch the bargain

at once, even if they were so young." And so, when they went down the

hill back to the shadow of the elm trees, where Mrs. Dr. Van Buren sat

cooling herself and reading "Vanity Fair," there was a tiny ring on

Ethelyn's finger, and she had pledged herself to be Frank's wife some

day in the future.

Frank had promised to tell his mother, for Ethelyn would have no

concealment; and so, holding up her hand and pointing to the ring, he

said, more in jest than earnest: "Look, mother, Ethie and I are engaged. If you have any objections,

state them now, or ever after hold your peace."

He did not think proper to explain either to his mother or Ethie that

this was his second serious entanglement, and that the ring had been

bought before for a pretty milliner girl, at least six years his senior,

whose acquaintance he had made at Nahant the summer previous, and whom

he had forgotten when he learned that to her taste his mother was

indebted for the stylish bonnet she sported every season. Frank

generally had some love affair in hand--it was a part of his nature; and

as he was not always careful in his choice, the mother had occasionally

felt a twinge of fear lest, after all her care, some terrible

mésalliance should be thrust upon her by her susceptible son. So she

listened graciously to the news of his betrothal--nay, she was pleased

with it, as for the time being it would divert his mind and keep him out

of mischief. That he would eventually marry Ethelyn was impossible, for

his bride must be rich; but Ethelyn answered the purpose now, and could

easily be disposed of when other and better game appeared. So the

scheming woman smiled, and said "it was not well for cousins to marry

and even if it were, they were both too young to know their minds, and

would do well to keep their engagement a secret for a time," and then

returned to Becky Sharp, while Frank went to sleep upon the lounge, and

Ethelyn stole off upstairs to dream over her happiness, which was as

real to her as such a thing could well be to an impulsive, womanly girl

of fifteen summers. She, at least, was in earnest, and as time passed on

Frank seemed to be in earnest, too, devoting himself wholly to his

cousin, whose influence over him was so great that he was fast becoming

what Aunt Barbara called a man, while his mother began again to have

visions of a seat in Congress, and brilliant speeches, which would find

their way to Boston and be read and admired in the circles in which

she moved.