Marguerite Verne | Page 5

return to the drawing-room.
The children have been dismissed to their homes, and Charlie
consigned to the limits of his own apartments. A slight bustle is heard
in the hall, and presently two visitors are duly announced by a servant
in waiting. A smile of satisfaction beamed on the countenance of the
anxious Mrs. Lister as she eyed the two young gentlemen on their
being introduced to her three daughters, and in less time than it would
be possible to conceive, she was consummating two brilliant matches
for the ancient-looking Clio and the celestial Urania.
Be it said for this lady's benefit, and by way of explanation, she had
consigned three of the muses to "dear papa," and kept the three most
eligible under the shadow of her wing.
While the devoted parent is weaving all manner of bright visions, she
resolves that practice be not sacrificed to theory, and commences by a
skilful contrivance to expatiate upon the ability and goodness of her
offspring.
Montague Arnold is indeed an expert in all that concerns society
through its labyrinthine phases. Not a look or tone but he has
thoroughly studied, and ere he is many moments in an individual's
society can accommodate his pliable nature to every demand. His
physique is striking, his face handsome, his manner engaging, and he is
reputed to be wealthy. His family connections are desirable, and he has
education, accomplishment, and the benefit of a lengthened tour on the
continent.
What then is to debar such an one from entry into the best social circle
the city affords?
Will we overstep the bounds of charity and describe a scene in which
Montague Arnold and his companion, Hubert Tracy, played a
conspicuous part a few hours previous? Ah, no! "Tell it not in Gath!"
Let them be happy while they may.

Of Hubert Tracy we might have a more favorable opinion. There is still
upon his broad, fair forehead a trace of manliness and honor, but there
is about the lower part of his youthful looking face a lack of
determination that threatens to mark him as a victim for the wary and
dissipated man of the world.
Conversation had now become general, while music and games filled
up the intervals.
Evelyn Verne was indeed the object upon whom Mr. Arnold lavished
his attentions--a fact not overlooked by Mrs. Lister. Hubert Tracy was
devoting himself to the Muses, and occasionally venturing a glance at
Marguerite, who took much interest in the younger members of the
circle, and seemed happy in her devotedness to brother Fred, and his
chum, silently engaged over a game of chess. Mrs. Verne smiled,
chatted and listened to each as opportunity served, and looked with
fond delight upon the imperious Evelyn, who, by a series of coquettish
manoeuvres, held her admirer in chains apparently ready to be put to
any test for her sake.
"This new beau of Eve's is in earnest, and there is no chance for my
dear Urania. Well, well! men do not appreciate a girl of such heavenly
ideas as my celestial-minded daughter, and they throw themselves
away upon a pretty face without an ounce of brains." Poor Mrs. Lister
had murmured these sentences after the events of the evening had
transpired and she was enjoying the privacy of her own room. She
always expressed her thoughts to herself, as she judged best never to let
her dear girls know that she felt anxious for their settlement in life.
A few mornings later while the family lingered over the late breakfast
in the handsomely-furnished morning-room, with its delicate tints of
mauve and gold, the conversation turned upon the gossip of the
preceding days. Miss Verne had not sufficiently recruited from the
dissipation attendant upon a large assemblage, given by a lady friend in
honor of some relative who had arrived from Ottawa. She was inclined
to be resentful and petulant, and found fault with everything, from the
delicious hot coffee and tempting rolls to the generous sunbeam that
danced in at the opposite window, and it increased her anger so that she

could scarcely restrain herself in the presence of her guests.
"You are somewhat uncharitable this morning, my dear," was the only
reproof of Mrs. Verne, while she sought to cover her annoyance in a
marked attention towards the others at the table.
"Indeed, Miss Marguerite; it will be a long time before I shall tell as
many lies for you again. I was really ashamed, for they all knew that
they were broad falsehoods," exclaimed Miss Verne, casting an angry
glance at her sister, who sat between her mother and Mrs. Lister,
looking the very picture of contentment and good nature.
"I am sorry, Eve, that you committed any grievous sins on my account,
for it was a