The Potter journal. [volume] (Coudersport, Pa.) 1857-1872, 1858-09-02

expect too much OF my romance, and you
shall hear it.
II said [ found it in a glove. 1t was
by no means remarkable glove-middle-
sized, straw coored, and neat fit for
this hand in which now hold your very
excellent cigar. Of course, there was
young lady in the case; let me see-I
don't believe l can tell you the story"
said Westwood, "after all?"
| gently urged him to proceed.
"Pshaw!" said he, after kindleing his
cigar with few vigorous wh1fs, "what's
the use of being foolish? My aunt was
never diffident about telling her story,
and why should | hesitate to tell mine
The young lady's name-we'll call her
simply Margaret. She was blonde, with
hazel eyes and dark hair. Perhaps you
never heard of a blonde with hazel eyes
and dark hair? She was the only one |
ever saw; and there was the finest con-
trast imaginable between her fair, fresh
complexion and her superb tresses and
delicatel y traced eyebrows. She was GER
tainly lovely, if not handsome; and
such eyes. 1t was an event in ones life
sir, just to look through those luminous
windows into her soul. That could not
happen every day, to be sure! Some
times for weeks she kept them turned
from me, the ivory shutters half closed
or the mystic curtains Of reserve drawn
within; then again, wien [ was tortured
with unsatisfed yearnings, and almost
ready to despair, she would suddenly turn
them upon me, the shutters thrown wide,
the curtains away, and food Of radiance
streaming forth, that filed me SO full of
light and gladness, that [ had no shad-
owy nook left IN ME for doubt to hide
in. She must have been conscious of
this power Of expression. She used 1t so
sparin9ly, and it seemed to me so artfully !!
But J. always forgave her when she did
use it, and cherished resentment only
when she did not
Margaret was shy and proud I could
never completely win her confidence but
| knew, | knew well at last that her heart
Was mine. And a deep, tender woman's
heart 1t was too, despite her reserve
Without many words, we understood each
other, and so--Pshaw!" said West
wood, "my cigar is out!"
"On with the story!"
"We!l, we had our lovers quarrels, of
course. Singular, what foolish children
love makes Of us.-rendering US sensi-
tive, jealous, exacting, in the superlative
degree. | am sure we were both amiable
and forbeariDg towards all the world be-
sides; but, for the powerful reason that
we loved, we were bound to misinterpret
words, looks and actions and wound each
other on every convenient occasion. |
was panied by her attentions to others, or
perhaps by an apparent preference of a
book or bouquet to me. Retaliation on
my part aud quiet persistence on hers
continued to estrange US, until gener-
ally ended by conceding everything, and
pleading for one word of kindness, to end
my misery
was wrong-too quick to resent, too
ready to concede. No doubt it was to
her secret qualification to exercise her
power over me ; and at last | was convinc-
ed that she wounded me purposely, in
order to provoke temporary estrange-
ment, and enjoy repetition of her
triumph.
1t was at party; the thing she did
was to waltz with a man whom she knew
[ detested, whom l knew size could not
respect, and whose half-embrace, as he
whirled her in the dance almost put mur-
der into my thoughts. Margaret | said,
'one last word! If you care for me,
beware!'
That was foolish speech, perhaps. 1t
was certainly Intellectual She persisted,
looking so calm and composed, that "a
great weight fell upon my heart | walk
ed away; wandered about the saloons :;
l tried to gossip and be gay; but the
wound was too deep.
I accompanied her home, late in the
evening. We scarcely spoke by the way
At the door, she looked me sadly in the
face-she gave me her hand; l thought
il trembled.
Good night she said, in low voice
"Good bye" l answered coldly, and
hurried from the house.
1t was some consolation to hear her
close the door after [ had reached the
corner Of the street, and to know that she
had been listening to my footsteps. But
| was very angry | made, stern resolu-
tions; vowed to myself, that I would
wiring her heart, and never swerve from
my purpose until | had wrung out of it
abundant drops Of sorrow and contrition
How [ succeeded you shall hear.
had previously engaged her to attend
a series of concerts with me; an arrange
ment which [ did not now regret. and for