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Extravagant Living CHAPTER 24.

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It was late on a pleasant afternoon in summertime, a few months after the Loftons had removed to their new and better home. Lucy Arden had called in to spend an hour or two, her frequent custom. Her attachment to Mrs. Lofton daily grew stronger. More and more, as the real character of the latter developed in her new position — its purity, strength, sweetness, and native dignity became apparent, and she was quietly gathering around her an appreciating few from the best social circles in the city; and these were drawing her forth as opportunities occurred, from her happy seclusion, so that she might be seen and known and justly valued.

The sentiment felt for Mrs. Lofton by Lucy Arden, was that of the purest affection; a day spent with her, always shone brightest in the calendar.

It was late n the afternoon as we have said, and Mrs. Lofton and Miss Arden sat engaged in such earnest conversation, that the rapid flight of time was unnoticed.

"Bless me!" suddenly exclaimed Lucy. "Who is that?"

The rattle of a latch-key was heard in the door, and a moment after, the voices and footsteps of Mr. Lofton and his partner were heard in the passage.

"I never dreamed it was so late!" said Lucy, a gentle flush giving a new beauty to her countenance. "I must be away in a twinkling."

"No — no," interrupted Mrs. Lofton, laying her hand upon the arm of Lucy. "You can't go now. Stay and take tea with us."

"O, dear, no! Not this evening. I must run away home. Mother is wondering now what is keeping me so late."

Lucy was rising with these words on her lips, when Mr. Lofton and Mr. Ackland entered the sitting-room.

"Miss Arden!" exclaimed the former, coming forward quickly and grasping her hand. "This is really an unexpected pleasure."

Mr. Ackland met the young lady with less freedom of speech and manner, but evidently with no less of real gratification. Lucy's face showed a still warmer hue as she took his offered hand, and her eyes fell softly to the floor beneath the gaze he fixed upon her.

"I was saying to Ellen only yesterday," remarked Mr. Lofton, "that I was fearful you were offended with me."

"Offended with you, Mr. Lofton! How could you think so?" returned the young lady.

"Do you imagine that I have forgotten the pleasant time we used to have around the tea table? No — no, Miss Arden. There's something the matter. But, are you not offended with me? Come, tell me an honest confession."

"Why, how strangely you talk, Mr. Lofton. Offended with you! What cause of offence have you given?"

"Just what I would like to know," said Lofton pleasantly. "But, come, be seated again."

"Thank you; I was just going, as you came in."

"Indeed, and you are not going at all until after tea!"

"O, but I must go," returned Lucy quickly. "They will expect me at home."

"Do they know where you are?"

"Yes."

"All right, then. They know you are in good hands, and will not be in the least uneasy at your absence. So you must stay. We — or at least I — have been so long deprived of your good company, that I must claim the pleasure of it for at least one evening."

To this, Mrs. Lofton and Mr. Ackland added their persuasions, and Lucy, unable to escape, consented to remain. In her heart, she was more pleased at being so detained, than she would have been, if allowed to depart.

It was a little remarkable that neither Lucy Arden nor Mr. Ackland were so much at their ease as usual. Both seemed under slight restraint; and yet both, it was evident, were pleased to be near each other. Oftener than he was, perhaps, himself aware, the eyes of Mr. Ackland sought the maiden's lovely countenance; and each time they rested thereon, every lineament of beauty seemed heightened.

For the first time, both Mr. and Mrs. Lofton became aware of the state of feeling existing between Lucy and Mr. Ackland; and they now understood many things which had before seemed to them a little strange. How were they affected by the discovery? We answer, pleasantly. None knew better than they, the high moral character of the one — or the loveliness, purity, and womanly virtue of the other. None knew so well how admirably they were suited for a happy union. Never, in the least particular, had Mr. or Mrs. Lofton sought to turn the thoughts of one upon the other. That was a responsibility they could not venture to take. But now that a mutual interest became all at once apparent to their eyes, the feeling of pleasure which it awakened was intense.

Ackland, whose thoughts had for months been gradually going forth towards Lucy Arden, had never, before this occasion, been able to see deep enough into the young lady's heart, to find even a dim reflection of his own image. The discovery now made, that it was really there, was as the breaking upon his life of a new morning. From that time he became a regular visitor at the house of Mr. Arden, and by no means an unwelcome one to any. Mr. Arden, the moment he saw that between the young man and his daughter existed a mutual interest, called upon Mr. Lofton, stated to him the fact, and asked, in strict confidence, his honest opinion of his partner's character, and his views of his fitness to make one like Lucy a wise and good husband. The answer was prompt, and all that he could desire.

In this case, at least, the poet to the contrary notwithstanding, the "current of true love did run smooth." There was not a ripple in its flow, which did not reflect the joyous sunlight — nor a widening of its surface beneath the shadow of overhanging trees, where hearts might not repose and dream of a happy future. We will not trace its peaceful current. Enough for the reader, that the good time came when heart leaped to heart with a passionate thrill, as the soft hand of the bride was laid in that of the bridegroom, and the voice of the minister floated on the air above the hushed assembly, in the impressive injunction, "What God has joined together — let not man put asunder."


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