THE LAST SCENE.

“Have you heard the news, Mr. Forrester?” exclaimed Mrs. Dale, as, two days after the confidential disclosure of the piazza, he entered the saloon; “Ah, I see by your look of innocent surprise, you are still in blissful ignorance.”

“What has happened?” asked Cecil carelessly, “any thing which serves to break the monotony of a seaside existence must be a blessing.”

“I do not know whether you will think it so,” said the lady laughing, “Miss Oriel has eloped with Mr. Beauchamp.”

“I am glad of it—from my very soul I rejoice at it,” exclaimed Cecil Forrester, while a dark, vindictive smile gave a most disagreeable expression to his usually fine face.

“Why, how strangely you look at me,” replied Mrs. Dale, “what is the matter?”

“Nothing—nothing—when did it all happen?”

“Did you not see her go out with him to ride last evening? Well, it seems Mr. Beauchamp’s servant had been privately despatched to the city with their baggage, and instead of returning the lovers rode directly to the next town and were married.”

“Why did they give themselves so much trouble? If Beauchamp had asked the old woman she would have dropped a curtsy and thanked him for the offer.”

“There is the mystery of the whole affair; Mrs. Oriel pretends to be very indignant, but it is easy to see she is secretly pleased. Miss Oriel has written a letter to Miss Grey in which she entreats her to ‘break the tidings tenderly to poor Mamma;’ excuses herself on the plea of irresistible affection; talks of Mr. Beauchamp’s ardor and her fear of maternal opposition, and finishes by requesting Ellen to ‘allow his favorite Mrs. Dale to acquaint Mr. Forrester with her regret at having been the cause of disappointment and sorrow to him.’ ”

“What the devil does she mean by that?”

“Why to make Ellen jealous of me and distrustful of you, and thus disappoint both your love and revenge,” said Mrs. Dale.

“She shall not attain her ends,” exclaimed Forrester impetuously, “I will tell Ellen the whole story. I am glad she is actually married to Beauchamp, and I know the reason he did not want to ask her mother; he was afraid of inconvenient inquiries.”

“What do you know about him?”

“Only this morning I met here a person who knows him well. His history is soon told. He was originally bred a tailor, but, having a soul above buttons, he cut the shop, and has since been hanging on the skirts of society in a manner very different from that intended by his honest old father. His bank stock and sugar plantation may exist in the regions of the moon, where all things which unaccountably disappear from earth are said to be collected, his negroes are still on the coast of Guinea, and he really lives by his wits. A run of luck at the gaming-table or a lucky bet on the race-course enables him every now and then to pay old debts, and live for a time like a gentleman until his funds are exhausted, when he again betakes himself to his vocation.”

“Can this be possible?”

“There is no doubt of it; he is a mere adventurer, and as Miss Oriel is something very similar, they are ‘matched as well as paired.’ ”

Cecil Forrester afforded another proof of the truth of the poet’s line,

“Full many a heart is caught in the rebound.”

The following winter saw him the happy husband of Ellen Grey; while all trace of Mr. and Mrs. Beauchamp was lost to their view. About two years later, when business had compelled Mr. Forrester to visit one of our southern cities, he strolled into the theatre to get rid of an idle evening, and as he gazed with listless curiosity on the gorgeous spectacle of Indian life which occupied the stage, he was suddenly struck with a familiar tone in the voice and a familiar expression in the countenance of the stately queen of the Zenana. He looked again, the resemblance seemed to grow upon him; he went round to the stage box, and in that near proximity to the actress all doubt vanished. He looked upon the still resplendent beauty of Laura Oriel.