The national era. [volume] (Washington [D.C.]) 1847-1860, 1857-08-27
could not arrange programme for stupidity

am placing an undue value on mine, but am
not only it is a relief to me to tell you that
respect you and esteem you entirely and tho
roughly. can read you better than you think
and know You are good, and true, and noble,
and infinitely superior to all those people put
together; and shall always respect myself the
more for having known you and appreciated
you" She spoke rapidly and eagerly. list
ened, bewildered. She had been looking me
full in the face. Then she lowered her eyes,
and began digging into the gravel with the toe
of her little slipper, as she went on in lower,
more hesitating voice.
And am sorry that vexed you, though
indeed | did not mean it. think you misun
derstood me. did not mean to reproach you,
not IN the slightest degree but l could not
bear to see you standing there, all alone, look.
ing 30 gloomy. l thought, if you would come
out with us, you would be gay and happy in a
moment"
Merle, Merle, don't talk 80, if you have any
pity. You were gentle, and kind, and every.
thing that no one but yourself could be. was
rude to you, and intolerable; but, Merle, was
so utterly miserable, and angry, and hateful. l
was sorry the moment after; and it was be-
cause wanted to show you that was, that all
the mischief happened. am sure you are too
good to remember it against me-"
against myself"
"You have nothing to reproach yourself
with, do assure you"
81 ought to have understood you better, to
have humored your mood, and softened and
coaxed you out of it, instead of leaving you to
its mercy. But we will forget that now. We
viii be friends again."
eyes"
"Just the same as ever"
Just the came"
Good bye, then. Don't stay here all night"
Merle, don't CO."
must. They will miss me-"
No matter, stay moment. You do not
know how every word You speak is jewel that
| shall treasure up and count over, in long,
lonely winter evenings. And am poor, very
poor. Stay q little longer They will not sus-
pect you of being here to give aid and comfort
to an outlaw"
-" don't care what they suspect" she said,
with the old proud defiance.
Sit here with me little while. Shall you
be coldf Let me bring you a warmer shawl"
"No, shall not be cold. am not tired; l
would rather stand"
So she stood, awaiting what had to say, pa
tiently.
What had to say indeed My very heart
stood still with an overpowering fear, a name
less terror. We stood side by side, leaning
over the balcony. looked straight out into
the distant darkness.
IS am going away tomorrow. Tomorrow
leave Mesham."
81 know it. am sorry"
You said we should be friends again, just
the same as ever. 1t can never be. 1 feel in
my heart that can never more be-"
She did not answer me. turned suddenly,
and saw that she trembled violently, and in the
dim light l fanced that her lip and cheek were
eE ayl ate IN my hand
Merle, only little while ago, it seemed to
me as if stood in a dark corner of the world,
all alone, cold, and desolate. Then star rose
in the horizon, very brilliant, but very far off.
1t did not shine upon me. 1t was star, and
could give me no warmth. 1t mounted up
wards to the zenith. 1t seems now to descend
toward me. 1t shines even upon me with divine
glory. Never a star was so soft, and bright,
and genial. It increases, it approaches, it IS
sun Already / can feel its beams. Already
l am warmed and strengthened, Merle!"
"Will you open your heart to its shining? ?"
~ will take it into my heart, and it shall
shine on there forever"
l made her turn her face towards me, that l
could look down upon it, and read its meaning.
"Merle, you do not understand me. 1t is
impossible. l mean you You did it. You
twined yourself round my heart, struggling and
reluctant. l resisted you, / fought against
you, but 1 am conquered. My whole heart,
aud soul, and life, and love, 90 out to meet you,
bow down before you. God forgive me, that
sometimes look at Him through you. Merle,
Merle, an hour ago could not have spoken thus.
thought never to speak thus. / thought
should part from you to night forever. locking
Al LII
Must thus go? You say you have given me
respect Is that all-al? Can you give me
nothing more. o Merle, it is not the passion
of An idle hour that offer you, but the pent up
tenderness of lopg, cold, dreary years. All the
strength and energy of my being are poured
into the love that shall fold you, and shield you,
and cherish you, through all your life; and in
Heaven you shall be the dearest spirit to kneel
with me before the throne of Godl"
For the last halfhour, pair of little feet
have been making cricket of my own conve-
niently expansive ones-resting so lightly that
l scarcely feel their weight. But, suddenly,
one of them makes its presence felt in very
Palpable kick. l look up from my paper to the
demure face opposite me.
"Come, Archie, stop writing. You have
been at work long enough"
eyes, dear, in o minute. I am almost
through"
And Merle came to me-came to me on that
summer evening, in all the freshness and puri-
ty and simplicity of her young life. There was
no afectation of surprise, no disingenuous hest.
tation-nothing but the culver Of deep emotion,
deeply stirred. From all the fullness and com.
pleteness of JOY, the thrill of unutterable hap
piness, the exquisite sense of relief from silent
H. p1rr fba III
and love, that made that summer night glori-
Gus, / may not lift the VEIL But Merle came
to me, to my soul, then-to my home after
wards; and with her came Beauty, and Grace,
and Poetry, and Sunshine, and Song, and Life
in all it's breadth and depth.
| Tenderly she has walked by my side. /
have brushed back the thorns from the path
which her delicate feet should tread. I have
borne her in my arms when she was faint from
the burden and heat of the day and I too
have received from her stay and support in my
hour of need. She has given me courage from
her brave heart-strength from her feeble hand.
Her mirth has chased away my gloom. Her
encouragement has nerved my arm. Her faith
in me has given me faith in myself. I am no
longer oppressed with dread in any presence,
since she, the fairest and best of all, has
throned me in the secret place where her soul
abideth, and | know that none but the truly
worthy can enter there.
Another kick, measurably more imperative
than the first.
Whew! woman, what are you doing
Kicking you to make you stop writing"
says the owner of the demonstrative foot. with.
out looking up from her work. Cool, isn't she ?
Now, what can man do in such q case
Knock under at once, say I.
"Yes, there, L am just done. Only tell me
how long ago it was, and shall have finished"
"How long ago what WASP"