The national era. [volume] (Washington [D.C.]) 1847-1860, 1854-10-12
NO. 4O6.

hands, and yet from the shadow Of an oppor-
tunity shrunk away.
One day, when | sat sewing in an arbor of
the garden, Rose came tripping down the path
with silver saiver in one hand, to gather
grapes for dessert; and seeing me, che turned
aside, and asked me if thought Mr.. Richard:
would be at home presently. shook my head
to signify that | knew nothing of his inten.
tons; upon which che added
"What do you think he goes to town for, 80
often"
| didn't know, l said. supposed he had
affairs of his own to attend.
"Well," said Rose "Pll tell you what
think think he is counting by letter, end
that his principal business is with the post
oficen
felt that was stitching faster, in spite of
my efforts to be calm. The supposit;on seemed
to mo most preposterous; nevertheless, ore
word that initiated against my hopes, or the
strict honor of him in whom they were placed,
struck at my heart like deeth-chill 1 tried
to laugh, but it stuck in my throat, and Rose
continued, sitting close beside me, and speak
ing Low
the first place, he always writes the evening
before he goes to town and then, more than
twenty times, when have gone into the libra.
ry, after he came home, to call him to tea,
have found him reading letter, and it always
looked just the same, Or as if the Same person
wrote it."
Perhaps it was the same letter. said |,
anxious to avoid the shrewd guess of Rose " [
often rel read one letter dozen times"
Just wait moment" answered Rose 4" to-
day, while | was making his room tidy, |
CHANGED to zee one drawer Of his writing. desk
r,pI EoI- klak. e L
| went up close thinking may be It was a little
crack open; and when put my hand on it, it
seemed as if it just slid open itself And what
do you think | saw? J"
Letters and papers, doubtless"
"Letters, sure enOugh-fve hundred Of them
and all looking just like the one | saw him
read, and all had the same mark of the town
where they were writ on thom; and, more than
that, there YVES the picture Of lady amongst
themn
| asked if she were pretty, chiefly to cover
my confusion.
"No," replied Rose, she is IS sour as vine
gar; and if he marries the woman that is the
likeness Of, | dOn's envy him bis happiness,
that's all"
And to my great relief she turned away, and
fell to picking grapes right earnestly.
| knew that should reprOve her imperti-
hence, but so distasteful was the subject, that
said not word; bot in my heart attached
the sole blame to her, as if her vulgar curl
osity had made the facts. If Mr.. Richards
were writing letters of the nature inferred,
what moro probable than that he should, to
avoid village gossip, post them in the noighbor-
ing city? And | knew, too, that it was his
custom to write letters previously to going
thither; but sought rather to lessen the owl
dence already before me, than to increase it,
Was not wrOnging myself and my lover by
giving heed to the idle surmises of an ignorant
servant? Had he no sister, no mother, no
friend in the world, who YVES dear, and whose
pictures he would be likely to possess and to
prize? But, likeliest Of ALL they were the lot
ters and picture of his dead wife | would
not torment myself needlessly. Truth is love
is blind, and | would not see that which
would not
"There he comes" called Rose. al wonder
if he has got another letter from that beautiful
creatura?n
| made no reply, but followed her directly
to the house. Mr.. Richards was IN the libra
ry; and, to persuade myself that ! was not
afraid of the suspicious Of Rose, | went myself,
contrary to my custom, to say dinner was wait
ing. Not surprising it to be me, was at once
hidden to enter. My heart misgave me as
did 30, for he sat with an open letter before
him, which, seeing me, he crunpled together,
and hastily concealed. begged pardon; and
hearing my unsteady voice. probably, no called
me back, and unfolding the letter, read, or sp-
peGred to read it through, after which be drew
me to his knees and kissed me.