THE PRIVATE MARRIAGE.

Constance Hudson saw her father moving along the pavement as she came into the street, and followed him quickly, eager to make atonement for the unfeeling words with which she had wounded him so cruelly, but he was walking faster than usual, and she had some difficulty in coming up with him. She had almost overtaken him, when a female came out from the shadow of a sunken doorway, and took hold of his arm.

Constance saw her father bend his head as if listening to something this strange person was saying, and instantly a whirl of jealous suspicions swept away all her good resolutions. Who was this person whom her father came into the street to meet?

At first Constance was tempted to rush up and confront the person who seemed on such familiar terms with her own father; but something arrested her as she came close up to them, and, while she hesitated, the two persons moved on. Constance followed them, breathless with hot indignation; but they walked rapidly and turned down a cross street crowded with wretched buildings, and more wretched people, in which she lost sight of them. They had entered a low basement kitchen, and seemed to have dropped through the earth, while the excited girl was pursuing them. Constance became frightened then, for throngs of strange looking people were passing and repassing the place where she stood, groups of squalid women and miserable children sat on the door steps chatting, scolding and sometimes laughing with boisterous merriment. Compared to this place her own home was a paradise. Sickened, terrified and angry, the girl turned and attempted to find her way back, but she became bewildered in this strange neighborhood and went astray, wandering farther from home each moment.

At length, a coarse slatternly woman, around whom a brood of children were gathered, called out to her from an open door-way. Constance had no idea what she said, but her bright increased to absolute terror, and starting to a swift run, she fled down the street, turned corners at random, and at last came into a thoroughfare through which more respectable people seemed to be passing.

Constance did not heed this change, in her terror, but sped on at a swift pace, which drew the general attention upon her, and the passers-by paused, hesitated and turned to look after her in general astonishment.

No wonder! a more beautiful face than that which the filmy little bonnet revealed, seldom exhibited itself on any thoroughfare. With her cheeks ablaze with excitement, her eyes flashing like stars, and her superb hair floating back as she ran, the girl threaded the moving current of people with the swiftness and grace of a wild bird.

"Constance! Great Heavens! Constance Hudson, what has brought you here?"

The girl paused, caught her breath with a gasp, and reaching out both hands, burst into tears.

"Oh Mr. Sterling, Mr. Sterling! is it you—really, really you, take me home—do take me home. I have lost myself, I have been in such dreadful places."

The young man drew her trembling hand through his arm and held it tenderly as he strove to reassure her.

"Be quiet. Do strive to tranquilize yourself. It seems so strange to find you here; get your breath, girl, and tell me what it all means—put down your veil."

Constance lifted her hand and felt eagerly for her veil, but she found only the flossy hair, from which it had dropped in her fright.

"I have lost it, and these people stare so," she said in keen distress.

"Never mind, we shall soon be home. But tell me how it all happened," said the young man, whose presence was fast inspiring the girl with courage. "I cannot understand it."

"It was all his fault. He came into the room when I was so disappointed about going to the theatre. Mr. Weeks brought me an order and I sent for you; but Rhoda could not find you, then I hoped that he might go with me; but he did not offer, and we had hard words. He went off in the midst of them. I had the last of it, and was sorry he looked so grieved as he closed the door. I got my bonnet at once and ran after him, just in time to see him meet some woman in the street and start off I followed them into such a terrible place, and lost them all at once; then in trying to find the way back I came on you."

"You saw this; there can be no mistake about your father?"

"Mistake, no. I heard him speak to her, I saw his face as he stooped down to look in hers. I never lost sight of them once till they seemed to drop into the earth, before my eyes."

The young man was greatly disturbed; his heart was filled with profound sympathy for the girl, and burning indignation against the father.

"Does this thing happen often? Is he really so neglectful?"

"Often! he is never at home evenings, and sometimes stays away till late at night. If he takes out money, there is not a cent when he comes back. Sometimes I sit up till daylight waiting for him, afraid that some dreadful thing has happened. You have often asked me what made my eyes so heavy, and I would not tell you; but it is this! it is this."

"My poor girl!"

"I know that these wanderings do him harm," sobbed the girl, in her impetuous grief, "for he comes home so worn out and haggard, that my heart aches for him; but pleading, scolding or crying, does no good. Sick or well—rain or shine—he leaves me alone, thinking that I do not really care."

By this time, the young couple had reached the house in which Constance lived. Young Sterling went up stairs with her, filled with bitter indignation against a father who would neglect a creature so young and beautiful as Constance, at a time when she most needed counsel and protection. Never had he seen Constance so beautiful. The anger had died out from her face, leaving it pale as death; a mist of tears still floated in her eyes; fatigue and terror had made her sweetly feminine.

The heart of that young man turned traitor to his judgment; a wild, noble impulse seized upon him. He drew Constance toward him, held both her hands firmly in his, and bent his fine eyes to her face.

"Constance, do you love me?"

She looked at him in wild astonishment, then a glow of delight crept up to her face, and she bent her head murmuring:

"Yes."

"Come with me then, Constance."

"Where? what for?" faltered the girl.

"To a minister. I will make you my wife, Constance. It may be a rash step, but I cannot see you exposed to scenes like this; if your father cannot protect you, I will."

Constance turned white as death, but directly her eyes kindled.

"But just now you asked me if I loved you," she said.

"And you answered 'Yes,' like a brave, honest girl"

"What if I ask the same question, now. I am a poor girl, William, and lonesome enough at times, but you must not attempt to marry me from pity; I won't stand that."

"No honest man asks any girl to love him, if he has nothing to give in return, Constance. How could any man help loving you?"

Constance brightened like a rose.

"You mean this?"

"Yes, darling; now go smooth that hair a little, get another veil, and let us go."

The girl went into her little bed-room and came out again, half tearful, half smiling.

"I am ready," she said, throwing the veil over her little bonnet."

An hour after this, the young couple entered the room again, quietly and in silence. The hour of their destiny had passed, and they came into the solitude of the room, saddened and serious. The momentous step they had taken, silenced the wild excitement which had urged it on. Perhaps no two persons that ever lived, were less prepared to enter the hard struggle of life, than this newly married couple. Constance flung aside her veil, and took off her bonnet. The thoughtfulness of her bridegroom made her timid.

"I wonder what father will say," she whispered, drawing close to him as he stood by the window.

"We must not tell him yet," answered the young man. drawing her to his side and pressing his lips to hers. "It is due my mother that she should be the first informed."

"But what will she say?"

The young man stepped back a pace, and held the beautiful creature he had married at arm's length as he examined her blushing face with eyes full of tender admiration.

"She must say that you are beautiful, Constance, as for the rest——"

"Well, what of the rest, William?"

"It will go hard if you cannot make her love you; but for the present, Constance, you must keep our secret. Give me a little time for thought."

"But you love me, William?"

"Indeed I do."

"Then I do not care for the rest."

Thus these two young persons entered upon their secret and unsanctioned marriage.