Bradford reporter. [volume] (Towanda, Pa.) 1844-1884, 1858-08-19


1t was not"
"And pray, what lady stands so high in
your estimation, that yoa will receive from her
tale like this, of one who has never given
you cause to doubt his word or honor ?"
Again | refused to crafty him, and he
contented himself with an explicit and indg
nant denial of the charge. From this moment
we were closer friends than ever. Often since
has my cheek crimsoned at the thought that,
on this occasion, [ fairly challenged declara-
ton but then | was too ignorant, as well as
happy, to thiII of it.
The winter passed, spring. summer and
the frost began to give signs of the decline of
the year 1t was the day preceding my birth
day and my ever-ndulgent parents had pro-
missed me fete upon that occasion. Night
had closed in and | sat alone in the parlor,
my father and mother having gone to see a
sick neighbor. | lay upon a lounge, my eyes
closed and my mind filled with bright antici-
pationS and rosy dreams \ knock at the door
made Inc start; it was a gentle tap but one
that | had emphatically learned by heart. |
stood in trembling expectation until u servant
ushered in the visiter My heart was n true
prophet. He sauted me with more cordiality
than usual, and tried to talk oflndilfereut sub
jects; yet | could see that his thoughts were
wandering. After an hour spent i'll this man
ner, he looked at his watch started mp, sat
down. then rising again, with desperate at
tempt at cOmpOSure, asked me for his favorite
song; it was the same song that | was singing
when | first met his eye, and he had told me
that the feeling manner in which | had exc
cuted it had attracted him to the piano. He
played finely on the flute, and was accustomed
to accompany me, but now declined. He
would rather hear my voice alone"
Thank you," he said signing, as | conclud-
ed. q shall never hear that song without
thinking of you and it is with deep sadness
that | reflect that this is the last time | shall
hear it from your lips for years-perhaps for
ever -
81 felt myself growing faint did not
speak; and he went on to explain that he had
been chosen 0ttache to a foreign embassy, had
that day heard of the appointment, and should
be forced to leave town early the next morn
ing.
" In all probability shall be absent four
years, possibly for a longer period. In some
respects this change will be highly advantage
ouS and agreeable to me; but have in my So
IOlii lOI NLlNiG l''tIllS
to break. | have not moment to spare this
evening; but | could not leave without thank
ing you for the kindness | have received under
this roof 1t has seemed not an abode Of stran-
gers but like my own dear home Believe me,
my dear Miss Ellen, whatever may be the
events and changes of my future life, | shall
ever cherish fondly the remembrance of the
happy hours | have spent with You. In the
beautiful words you have just sung
Let Fate do her worst there are relics of joy.
Bright CLEANS of the past which she cannot destroy
Bat which come in the nighttime of sorrow and care.
To bring back the features that joy rsed to wear"
" Scarcely knowing what did, accompa-
MED him to the door, murmuring Il few parting
words in answer to his atfectonate farewell
My hand lay for an instant in hs-Was res
pectfully raised to his lps-the next moment
was alone. | strained my eyes to watch his
figure through the thick darkness, and listened
to the echo of his hastv step upon the pave
ment until it died away in the distance
" And this was the end of my fairy dreams |!
Gone, gone, for ever rang III my ears as |
sank upon a seat in the piazza, and bowed my
head upon my hands. | did not weep was
TOO wretched. A Geld autumnal rain was fall
ing the drizzling mist lay heavily upon my hair
and dress | did not regard it even barred
my brow to the damped air, to cool its fever
iSh throbbing and as the night wind moaned
through the fading vines, | thought of the
church>yard and wished that that breeze rus,
tied the grass over my unconscious head. The
sound of voices aroused me they were these
of my parents at a distance. | hastily sought
my chamber, but not to sleep. The morning
found me calmer One thing was uppermoSt
in my mind none should know my disappont-
ment. | will not weary you with the details
of the IOng-wiShedfor festival the very thought
of which was now sickening to me- forced
myself to go through with it arrayed in my
gala attire, played the smiling hostess and
ligh' hearted girl even listened unhinchly to
Miss Noy!e'S lamentations over what she call
ed our mutual and irreparabe loss" Oae
circumstance relieved me in a measure, since it
showed that no one suspected my real senti-
mentS Lawton was known to have honored
me with parting call, and rumor said that one
great cause of his sudden departure was my re-
lection of his suit. Ny indifference, on being
rallied on the subject, confirmed the impress
sion. Necessity and pride taught me dis>mu
lation. | broOded over my grefS in silence
in the presence of Otherswas eXtraYagantly CAV
My health began to suffer from this unnatural
state of mind, and with secret delight | saw
each morning the change that day made il
my appearance {; my checks grew paer, and
eyes more dim. 1t would be a beautiful piece
of coEtancy to die for his sake ! pictured
when, at his return, he should learn that wa.
no more-his surprise, grief, and remorse. II
a secret drawer in my cabinet lay parcel di
rected to him, " not to be open until after my
death" 1t contained sundry notes, unimport
ant in themselves, but sacred in my eyes, to
gether with dried flowers, and one or two tri
fes presented by him. A farewell letter wa
TO be added and this was to be written in du'
| time
One day felt more languid than usual
and considered that had better begin this pre-