The Union and eastern journal. [volume] (Biddeford [Me.]) 1854-1858, 1856-02-29
Mistrlllntuns.
MY FIRST AND LAST LOVE.


broken down his English reserve far NOR
completely than my deeper shade Of Scottish
sobriety could be broken. lie did not in
terfcre with my established place and posi-
ton. He took up, indeed, quite different
one, nor ever came in my way; but very
short residence among US gave him a great
popularity. His name was Merton, and
understood he came Of an old English fami-
ly in one Of the Border counties-geutry oI
long establishment and comfortable means,
Himself was his fathers heir; and Greta
heard now of an English chateau something
different from the dream castle her own fan
cy had builded, on the site Of my humble
AiliefOrd.
He was handsome, young, gay, rich and
had all the freedom and unconscious self
possession which |, who wanted itcomplete-
ly, attributed to the station he had been
born in, and his own entire exemption from
the subduing cares of common life. Per
haps temper and disposition gave still NOR
easy solution to the problem; but with all
his superior advantages, was not Jealous
ofmy compatriot, never saw myself thrust
aside to make room for him-nevcr discover
ell that his presence was more sought than
mine, or that Madame Kleine found a place
for me less frequently by Greta's side. l do
not believe she did; do not think Greta
herself gave ear to my stories whit les
kindly-and my eyes were never opened to
the clear sight of envy. IHw young Ar
thur came and so about my treasurehouse,
without pang or fear.
The autumn came again with its harvest
flush, its brilliant colOrs; the slow gape
ripened ON the Steinburg; the yellow win,
leaves Huttercd down the streets of the quiet
city; red glow came to The slanting sun
beams as they streamed upon the quiet
evening roads, the PEASANTS journey home.
The little arbor in Madame Klrine's gar
den was covered with flush of glossy scar
let leaves, a spot Of rich color among the
surroundinggrccn. The Maine was ripping
close at hand. the slopes Of the Steinburr
rose softly before me, rich with their files OF
regimented vines. Leaves upon the garden
ways and flowers in its trim enclosures hut-
tered before the wind, and all the bright
ness of the sunset poured along the path,
streaming past the arbor door, with her
and there a broken ray frctting the scb3s,
line, as if the light would fain break its own
glorious laws to turn aside and SEQ my lady
in her enchanted bower.
Greta sat alone within, leaning her head
upon her hand, and looking forward with
an air Of soft abstraction into the yerdure
and the light without. Her arm was under
the long, beautiful curls, and CLEANED thro'
their sunny network; and.as she looked up
hastily to meet me, the prcssurs of her fin
gers had left a tint on her cheek, thought
as if some rosc-leayes had been blown upon
it by favor Of the merry wind.
l took my place beside her upon low,
rustic seat, and Greta looked down upon
me with halc.yeiled eyes why they were 50
shy of lifting those pale lids to look atme-
why the fair young head itself bent further
forward ever and anon with little start
and blush, as if some secret cause of embar-
rasSment returned again and again upon the
heart-I could not tell. We were very ST.
lent for little time, and Greta told me fal-
teringly, that they were all gone upon
some little expedition up the river. l did
not ask 'who they all were, or why she
alone was left behind. was but too glad
to have monopoly of her company, if only
for an hour.
And began to tell her ofmy home let
ter, and its sad intelligence shade came
over her hce-she gave Inc pity, sweet, gen.
tie, half expressed, the sympathy | loved
and then a slight tremble camcupon Greta,
and she asked me of Sybil-would Sybil be
alone, quite alone, in the strange country II
her husband died?
Quite alone-Only God and her little
helpless child to fortify her woman's heart !;
and Grcta looked away again, away from
me into the outer air, and said to herself
how sad il was-how very sad.
Thcn-she did not look at me, but going
ON as though in unconscious self-commu-
MON. Greta asked me again, who Sybil SSd
at home. Father, mothcr--all the tender
friends whom her own girls heart clung to
50 dcarly-did she leave them all for her
husbands sake. this sad young Scottish
wife?
No, Sybil, had no family-no friends
she was an orphan and a stranger l said
in answer. and had none in the world but
those she carried with her-her hushandand
her child
Ah!-that was why she vent away,
said Grcta, sighing family into the quiet
air; and first burning blush and then a
palcness came over her moving face.
Her thoughts were far away from me-
away from my sad story and personal heavi-
ncss ,wanderiss after some fancies Other own
| myself grew chill, knew not why, and
felt myself shut out under the shadow OF
those leaves rs from some light longed for,
perhaps it was because | was looking out
vacantly and in no reverie, upon the sun
shine streaming full over the garden path.
No frisnds-no home-no mother, said
Grcta a: last, in her low musing tone, what
wonder, then 2-that was why she went
away
Nay, my child aid the voice of Mad
- Yiuape, suddenly coming upon us out o.
NAY, Greta. my child-but be
was his wife, and the good God