Preble County Democrat. [volume] (Eaton, Ohio) 1857-1859, 1857-08-27

were simple, unmeaning words, but the
tone was not to be mistaken.
eyes, 1 will remember it"
"And not forget?"
"No, no. Trust me thus much for
ever, Clare"
And then just before me I saw two
persons, and in the dim darkness [ saw
one draw the other close down to her
and lift up her head, and-it was a long,
a very long kiss they exchanged; l won
dered people could kiss so long. 1 had
never been kissed so; aad yet l thopght
it seemed an 3. .he<srern forredz r
and that she had him fn her clasp longer
than he liked.
I paused. It was so strange. Clare
had never told me of this. Clare had a
lover and 1 did not know it! Who
could he be? [ will not deny that for
an instant one wild thought of who it
might be we'll nigh killed me; but the
next moment the impossibility of that
was so manifest that [ forgot it, only
the start had so weakened me that [ sat
down on the ground, and they passed
on.
l walked back homeward. It hurt
me that Glare had kept this secret, and
l would not go to see her that night;
but the next morning l went over and
told her frankly all had seen and
heard, and she listened calmly, and told
me when I was through that she was
unable then to explain it, but would
some time-and l was content with that,
1 trusted Glare so fully then. But the
time never came, and l have not known,
and do not to this day know, who it
was that walked in the wood with Glare
that August evening; only-but wait a
little.
I was married in October and went
abroad. For four years | wandered
with my husband. He was the kind
est, best of men. l had no wish un-
gratifcd. Everything that luxury could
invent or wealth purchase, for we were
very wealthy. My father had died lcav
ing me great fortune, and my husband
was already rich.
Our child was born in Florence, and
died in Rome, Alas the day when little
Clare's eyes closed on tho sunshine that
came pouring its morning light over the
Pincian Hill We buried her little
way from Shelley's grave. You know
where that is, close to the upper wall
of the cemetery. Her name, too, was
written in water, in many tears, on her
little tombstone.
Clare-Clare in heaven! knowest
thou thy mothers pain and sorrow
here?
We came home in the spring after
that, and IN August we were at Sarato
ga. Clare Glen had married an old
man, and was Glare Gay. She might
have reversed it and called herself gay
Glare, for she was queen of the sum-
mers gayeties in Congress Hall. Her
husband was an invalid, and cared little
how his wife amused herself, and she
made the days and weeks go merrily. 1t
was so pleasant, so inspiring to see her.
[ was too weak and feeble to do more
than look at her; but when he helped
me out to the drawing-room in the
evening, [ would sit in wondermcnt and
admiration as she queened it so grandly
among men whose names were we'll
known the country over.
lie never left my side, my kind and
faithful husband, but stood al my chair
all the evenings through, and talked to
me, telling me the names of all the peo-
pie, and little stories about them, that
whiled the time away dcliciously. Some
times | would look up at him while he
talked, and see him looking across the
room at her, and his eyes would fill
with that smile [ so loved as he looked
down at me and caught my look. Once
L saw on his face a look of pain, as Glare
waltzcd with stranger, and said to
him, "Clare is imprudcnt, is she not?1
and he replied, with a strange emphasis,
"W orse, worse, l fear-much worse"
1t frightened me, for [ loved Clare as
my sister; but passing fit of pain call
ed off my attention, and 1 forgot it
then.
My rooms were on the first floor
The windows opened on the broad We
randall. We had always adopted the
European custom of sleeping in separate
rooms. [ would have it so, for [ was
very restless, and every motion would
disturb him. had learned, too, to
suppress means of pain, for an unnatu-
raj breath would bring him into my
room in an instant.
One night [ awoke after midnight,
and heard a voice on the piazza. 1t
reminded me of that night in the old
woods, for it was the same voice.
E [ will not, Clare
You will not ?"
$50 help me God, never! Remem-
Der your promises to me, your VOWS to
him.
"You dare-yeu dare
[ heard her voice choking with pas
sion, quick step along the veranda,
and all was still.
It started me, and [ spoke aloud. He
was in the room before my voice had
ceased to sound, and at my side. His
hand soothcd my aching head. 1t never
was so cool on my forehead before, and
fell asleep with smile on my face.
A few days after that Glare Gays
husband died. He was very old, and
disease had worn him out. They buried
him at Saratoga, my husband taking
charge of all the arrangements. By
his will Glare was left very rich. She
went home with uS op1 IUa vvora ocro;p