COMING EVENTS. PART I. CHAPTER I. "Make me hear the wild pulsation that I heard before the strife, When I felt the days before me, and the tumult of my life; Yearning for the large excitement that the coming years should yield; Eager-hearted as a boy when first he leaves his father's field."-Tennyson. "Maiden, with the meek brown eyes, In whose orb a shadow lies Like the dusk in evening skies; Standing with reluctant feet Where the brook and river meet, Womanhood and childhood sweet." Longfellow. "HOLLOA there, I say, some of you girls mend this glove, will you? Here, Constance! VOL. I. B you take it," said Gerald Conyngham, a schoolboy of twelve, throwing a glove across the table to his sister, who sat reading on the other side. Very well, presently." "Oh, you and your presentlys! You'll forget it, sure as a gun." "No I wont, when do you want it?" "In half an hour; I shall kick up a great row if it isn't ready-you'd better do it now." "I can't now; you must wait till Max is dead," replied Constance, looking up from Schiller's Wallenstein, which she was busy reading. "Till who's dead?" "Max; don't you know Max? Thekla's Max, he's just dying." "Hang Max!" "Oh dear me no!" exclaimed Constance, looking scandalized. Gerald glanced at her a moment, gave a click with his tongue, and then turned to his youngest sister, Effie, who was copying music at the same table "Just like you women-look at that article there, head over ears in a novel.” "It isn't a novel," said Constance rather indignantly. 66 What is it then? There's a hero and a heroine in it, and if that doesn't make a novel, I don't know what does." "Oh you know nothing about it, Gerald - you're only a schoolboy!" said Effie, looking wise. "Gammon! I know as much about things as you, anyhow. See if I don't, that's all !" Why, you have never read a novel in your life!" "Pooh! I've read lots!-nasty, sickly, sentimental, whining things." "Much you know about it," returned Effie again. "Oh yes! of course you think it all very fine indeed. All women do-away they go |