Nashville patriot. [volume] (Nashville, Tenn.) 1858-1860, 1858-05-14
ADA AND Il;
HUGH wILToN,s love.


| if had been the echo of Ada's soul She was
beautiful. Other eyes than mine looked APP
provingly on her sweet face; other lips had
| spoken her praises tenderly; other hearts felt
the magic of her warm. sunny spirit; and /,
who was plain. and so painfully shy that il
rendered me well nigh awkward at times, had
no such bright rays thrown in my way by 9th
er hands; but worshipped Ada, and felt that
she loved me better than any being on earth.
though it may be my diffidence and childish
figure gave her sense of protecting power,
and called forth her affection more than if we
had been equals.
Our father had been dead many years. Ar
thur, our only brother, eight years older than
/, was married and settled on the homestead.
In that large, old-fashioned country house,
and over the wide fields waving with plenty.
cur childhood had flown away amid all that
makes the first stages of life so beautiful; but
as we entered girlhood mother had removed
to the city, that we might have better advan-
tages of education.
The day we graduated was one of mingled
sorrow and Joy. We were highly compli-
mented on our examination, and con gratulat-
ed upon our entering wOnanhood so well pre-
pared tG meet actual life; but there were many
sad partings for Ada that day. and some who
for weeks had talked of nothing but Saratoga
or Newport, said, respectfully, " shall not
has enjoy myself without you, Ada" and the
| tears, kisself and affec Tomato twining of arms
showed how dearly she had been loved
l had no part nor lot in the matter. The
| girls had been kind enough to me, but my
baby-looking face, surrounded by rings, too
short to be called curls, gave me such :. lit
| tie girl look" that most of them thought me
younger than Ada, and hardly their equal.
There was one parting for me, however; the
| only love held beside my sisters was that
day to have the seal of parting placed upon
it.
Marion, Jennie and Grace Wilde had been
our schoolmates from our first entering the in
stitute. Marion had graduated the year pre-
/ viOds, and now Louise and Grace had finished
their school life. With Jennie had formed
strong, but rather singular friendship. She
was tall, elegantly formed, with face not
| regularly beautiful, but full of power and
| winning sweetness, and she singled me from
that large group of girls to become her friend.
AT first | was very reserved; but when fonnd
she could read my heart, and tell me my own
thoughts and desires, i yielded to her stronger
will and gave her that part of my heart
which seemed useless TO Ada, in that she did
not understand it.
After the partinGs were said, the last kisses
! given, Ada and walked thOughtfully home
| ward, too much engaged with our thoughts to
| desire conversation. At home we found a
visitor, Aunt Wheedon, a sister of our ia
| theirs, a wealthy widow lady, whose extreme
regard for fashion and lectures on my moth
er's want of taste, and poor way of managing,
made the latter very nervous and I'M
! comfortable You will never marry off
your girls in the world was her favorite ex-
| clamation; bat think mother believed there
were many more duties in life than marrying
of her daughters.
Aunt Wheedon had not seen Ada for two
years, and was, L think, a little surprised at
her beauty; perhaps, also, her winning manner
contributed no little To aunt's partially. AZ
ter day or two she proposed Ada should ac-
company her to Saratoga, and mother con-
scented. Ada was in perfect fever of delight,
which rendered her more beautiful than ever
and Aunt Wheedon herself was reused from
her habitual calmness, and took an active
part in the preparations.
1t was a new thing for us to go out shopping
for silks, tissues, laces und flowers, and to see
the nonchalance with which Aunt Wheedon
culled them about, and cheapened them until
they suited her. | told Ada she had fnery
enough to last her ten years, at which she
laughed gaily. 1t did me good to see her so
entirely happy, and sOftened the pang her alb
sence was likely to bring.
The evening before her departure she tried
her dresses and flowers, for Aunt Wheedon
wanted TO see the effect by gas-light. How
bewilderingly beautiful she looked in each !;
tasteful, until Aunt Wheedon declared herself
perfectly well satisfied with both Ada and
the dresses. After the trunks were packed,
we went to our room. and by similar thought,
perhaps, seated ourselves by the same window,
in the moonlight. After long silence, she
said:
''May, life is changing with me; am a
child no longer, but woman, with wo-
mans heart and desires; and though | want
10 tba Il Of e,
joyment, strange fear rises up-a hall
hope"
That you will meet some one to under
stand these longings," | said, and then,
added, slowly, ''YOu will love some day, and
marry"
Perhaps so;" and the hand that held mine
trembled. ''Oh, May" aud she bent her head
down, will | ever meet any one to love me
as ! want to be loved, and who will let me
love him to the extent of my heart 1t will
be no light love, May"
looked in her beautiful eyes and felt that
she would. After little while she went on
in gayer tone.
How, strange it will be, May, when You
and | are both married, and have homes of
our own"
Her words stirred up something new within
me. She was so sweet and lovely that many
would consider her heart a prize to be earn
who would ever strive for my love? yet | felt
| could love rs fcryently as Ada, and make
any of the great sacrifices that sometimes fall
| to woman's lot, yet / could feel how it
would be-others would think my heart too
| slight thing TO fathom, and filed with new
sense of loneliness, twined my arms around
her neck, saying,
"No, Ada, there will never be any one to
| love me when you are gone-I shall be all
J alonew
You do yourself great injustice in think
ing so, little May. know some day shall
see you happy wife"
| l told her the presentiment / had of my
own lonely life, in words whose strange earn
estness thrilled even my own heart; and,
pressing me to her bosom, said tenderly,
"If it should be 50, my darling, my home
shall be yours, and you shall be little pet
| sister to the one | marry. Together we will
make your way all sunshine, until you long
| for no other love"
| could not explain why the promise should
comfort me SO greatly, but it seemed gold
| en- bridge laid over the stream of life so that |
needed not to walk in darkness; and as we
sat there, weaving bright plans of the future,
again and again she kissed my forehead, paus-
| ing TO say,
''You are unselfish, May; sometimes fear
| can never be as good and worthy OF love as
you are.n
Dear child il was the goodness of her
own sweet heart, instead of any virtue in
mine.
The next morning she went away with
Aunt Whecdon. Mother was 10 visit Arthur;
| was to spend few weeks with Jennie Wilde,
and rejoin her there, then return home in time
TO receive Ada and Aunt Wheedon We soon
made our preparations, and had hardly time
10 think ere Jennie's warm welcome fell pleas
antly ON my heart. All the girls rcjoiced 10
see me, and giieved that Ada had not come,
for there was so much gossipping to do. Ma
rion and Jennie were to be married the ensu-
ing winter; Grace had lover, who accord