LITERATURE.

Globe, Volume I, Issue 47, 24 July 1874, Page 3

LITERATURE.

DAISY’S SERGEANT.

[A Story by the late Fred VP. Luring.]

Continued.

In spite of the presence of General Bullington, poor Daisy felt a little frightened. She did not want to dance with a man whose pistol and howie-knife wore his most striking features. Just as she was silling there, perplexed and confused, hardly realising what the various men about her were In mg to say, the tones of a man's voice, which Bounded fresh, and pleasant, and manly, struck her ear. Now, when the feminine

ear is struck by the tones of a man’s v-i ■■■. Ihc feminine eye turns to look at the own -r of the voice. L'hc voice said “Why, Miss Gilbert, this is indeed a pleasant surprise. Don’t you remember me, Hairy Ourraii?” And Daisy looked, in aecor lance, with the law which we have just, enunciated, and recognis'd him. ill n she gave a little gasp, an,| looked at Mrs Buiiington, and saw that she did u it recognise him. “ M;,v I renew our acquaintance by a waltz, Miss Gilbert?” said Mr Harry Curran ; and Daisy said “ Vos and they left Mrs’Hulling!on, and in an instant his arm was around her supple waist, and oiE they went, all lire and grace and beauty, in spite of the mclodeon and trumpet, exciting admiration even in the stupid louts around them. Ho weli did Mr Harry Curran waltz that Daisy went once and a half around the room before she stopped, and Hum she said, “Of course 30a must explain your conduct, sergeant.” “ I owe it to you, I know,” said Mr Ourrau ; “ but 1 wish you could trust mo enough, and believe I am sufficiently a gentleman for you to forget my real position. I came over here without leave of absence ; and if I am discovered, I am disgraced. 1 saw that those men troubled you, and I hoped to help you out of your difficulty,”

“ What did you come over here for?” said Daisy. “ For the same reason that you did,” said the sergeant ; “ and yet that was not my only reason.” “ What was it, then,” said Daisy, imperiously.

“ Because you came,” said the sergeant, boldly ; and then lie colored. “You are no sergeant,” said Daisy. “At least, you talk to mo as 1 have heard other young gentlemen ; —no, I don’t mean that, but—who are you 1 ” “ Don’t ask me, please, Miss Gilbert,” said the sergeant. “My life has been a ruin and a waste ; my brilliant hopes and prospects have been worse than crushed ; and now I am simply Sergeant Butler—except to-night, when f try to forget what I am, and return to whut I was. The waltz is over; may 1 dance with you again 1 ” “But Mrs Bulliugtou will detect you, I am afraid,” said Daisy. “ Mot a bit,” said the sergeant, gaily; “ introduce me aud see.” And straightway Daisy did so. “ Let mo see,” said Mrs Bullington, re flectively. “ Curran, Curran. Your face seems familiar. Are you any relation of Mrs Joseph Curran, of Philadelphia—a charming woman, and a very dear friend of mine?’ “ I am her husband’s nephew,” said Mr Harry Curran with a bow. “ Dear mo!” said Mrs Bullington, “ I thought your face seemed familiar. How much he reminds one of Joseph Curran.” “Very,” said the general.

“ You must take good care of Daisy tonight,” said Mrs Bullington blandly. “ The child is passionately fond of dancing, and enjoys the picturesque element she finds among these people. Only the other day she quite went into raptures over such a common-place-looking sergeant at the camp said he was handsome; so ridiculous, you know.”

The child upon this blushed vividly, and hastily said it was time for (lie next dance; upon which Mr Curran checked the ilow of Mrs Bullington’s conversation by carrying Daisy off. “ Arc you really Mr Joseph Curran’s nephew?” asked Daisy. “ Certainly,” said Mr Curran. Daisy looked carefully at him. He seemed handsome; but she fancied his look had a little exultation in it.

“ Do you know who the handsome sergeant at the camp is !” she asked, and had the pleasure of seeing a shade of doubt appear in his expression. “ No, Ido not,” he said. “ Has he a moustache ?”

«Oh no!” replied Daisy; “a full beard, and taller aud darker than you are. And I only said he was handsome to tease Mrs Bullington.” “ Will you do me a favour ?” asked Mr Curran.

“ Perhaps,” said Daisy. “ What is it ?” “ When Mrs Bullington is ready to leave, delay her a little,” said Mr Harry Curran, until we can start ahead of them, aud get back to the camp in time.” Now at this moment the wrath of Mrs General Bullington was aroused. She sat aud looked upon the throng, but mingled not with them. Now, beside the ‘caller,’ who stood mounted on a platform behind the melodeon, and by the side of the trumpet, was a bottle and a tumbler; aud in the bottle was the national beverage, whisky. Agreeably exhilarated by the national beverage. the natural wit and humor of the caller of "figures began to find vent. Accordingly ho varied his calls from the dull aud stereotyped routine. Instead of “lady forward, and swing opposite gentleman, aud balance to fourth°gentleman,” he cried, “lady forward and swing the handsomest man in the loom, and then balance to the one she loves best.” This filled the bosom of Mrs General Bullington with disgust; aud when Daisy and Mr Curran returned, she announced her intention of leaving this disgraceful scene. But Daisy teased for just one dance more, and Mi Cm ran seconded her; and she went ( hii, for the Virginia reel. Mrs Bullington tin; figures of ungainly men anil calicodressed belles go spinning about, aud grow thoroughly glad that Mrs Crcatlo was not present to exult in her discomfiture, \ cry long indeed the dance seemed to her, and very much astonished she was when Daisy appeared alone beside her. “ Why, where is Mr Curran?” she asked; and Daisy explained that be had been called away Then Mrs Bullington rose to go; but Daisy was snob along time getting ready that Vue «tcw quite impatient, and the general quite sleepy. And then when they were seated in the ambulance. Daisy found she 'had forgotten her fan, and it was absolutely necessary to go back and get it. But at last they reached the camp, ami Daisy broke the silence which had oppressed them with the words — ‘■Quite safe? Oh, I am so glad! a Qf course we arc quite safe, you foolish child,” said Mrs General Bullington. “ You had better go straight to bed. You have been dancing too much to-night.” And Daisy thought that perhaps she had, though she uid not say anything, but went slowly, very slowly to sleep; “To-morrow morning,” she thought, “ when he comes, as he probably will, to the gen ial’s collage with some tu.-ssage, he will

not, li’nl me there, and that will disappoint him. And when he does see mo, he will smile from under his moustache—his rnoustae.hu is certainly very becoming—and I shall look very blank. How disappointed he will be.” And so Daisy began to dream.

The next day found Daisy very fretful and discontented. Cause—her plans had been frustrated. In die first place, he did not come down in the morning; in the second place, when he did come, in the afternoon, he did not smile from under his moustache, partly because his moustache was shaved off, and partly because, having flirted occasionally in iii.s life before, he was prepared for a feminine reaction on the part of Daisy, from the graciousuess of her behaviour on the preceding night

Hut the next day General Buiiington, who had made a pet in every way of Daisy, blindly became an instrument in the hands of Providence.

“ My dear,” said he. ‘ I have found a horse in the camp that will just suit you. Horseback riding will do you good.” “Oh! it will be lovely!” cried Daisy, joyously ; and then, as an afterthought, added, “but I can’t go alone, general.” “ That is true,” said the general. “ I have told Sergeant Butler to act as your escort. He is a good, honest sort of fellow, —very trustworthy ; and while he rides behind you, you can fed quite safe.” “I should feel safe, I know, general,” said Daisy, demurely ; “ but would it be

proper 1 ” “ Proper 1 Oh, confound it ! ” said the general; “I forgot all about that ; I’ll ask Matilda.

Matilda, on being asked, and on hearing casually that Mrs Orestlc had said it would be improper, immediately expressed her opinion that Mrs Orestlc was a fool.

“ IE it wore with a lieutenant,” said Mrs Genera! Bullington, decisively, “objections could be raised. But what is a sergeant ? The idea is absurd.”

So it was settled; and one pleasant morning in May, Daisy and Sergeant Butler started together on the mountains. The scenery was barren, the folliago mostly sagebrush; yet Daisy felt that she was going to enjoy her ride. She glanced furtively at the sergeant, who looked rigidly proper. He did not sneak; he was attentive, obedient, energetic; but be did not open the conversation; so Daisy herself finally made a remark.

“ I suppose General Bullington told you that you were to ride out with me whenever I wanted to go ?” “Yes, miss,” said the sergeant. “Now, don’t talk in that stiff way,” said Daisy. “ When you know I know better. Please don’t he a sergeant, Mr Curran. “Very well, then,” said Mr Curran, becoming elastic suddenly, “if you are so kind as to let me be my old self.” “ Why, of course,” said Daisy. “ Sergeants arc not interesting.” “ Thanks for the implied compliment.” “Don’t suppose that I imply anything,” said Daisy. “ Only please tell me your story.” “ 1 have none to tell,” said Mr Curran. “Oli, very well then!” said Daisy, and pouted. She could pout, “ Well, really, Miss Gilbert,” said Mr Curran, “ there is very little to say; I was born at an early ago,” “ You can skip that,” said Daisy. “Well, then,” continued Mr Curran, “I was engaged to be married by my uncle, who has taken care of me since my parents died, and whose fortune I was lo inherit. Now, it is a good thing to be engaged. My uncle and myself were agreed on that point; but we differed on another.”

To he continued.