Mountain Democrat. [volume] (Placerville, El Dorado Co., Cal.) 1854-1860, 1858-07-03
ADA ANDI; 0RHUGH wnToN'sLOvE.


Ada was just eighteen the day we graduated
at institution. l was four years her
senior, but up to this period we had shared
hopes, studies, loves and pleasures, as il there
was but one soul animatirg US, or, rather, as
If had been the echo Of Ada's soul. She
was beautiful. Other eyes than mine looked
apprOvingly 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 it
rendered me well nigh awkward at tunes, had
no such bright rays thrown in my way by
other hands; but | wOrshipped Ada, and felt
that she loved me better than any being on
earth, though it may be my diftidence 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.
Arthur, our only brother, eight years older
than ], was married and settled on the home
stead. In that large, old-fashioned country
house, and over the wide fields waving with
plenty, our childhood had flown away amid
all that makes the first stages Of life 50 beau
tiful but as VIC entered girlhood mother had
removed to the city, that we might have bet
ter advantages of education.
The day we graduated was one of mingled
sorrow and Joy. We were highly compliment
ted on our examination, and congratulated
upon our entering womanhoOd ~ well pre-
pared TO meet actual life; but there were
many sad partings for Ada that day, and some,
who for weeks had talked Of nothing but Sar-
atoga or Newport, said, regretfully, 81 shall
not half enjoy myself without you, Ada" and
the tears, kisses and affcctionate twining Of
arms showed how dearly she had been loved.
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 little
girl look" that most of them thought Inc
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 SchOOlmatcs from our first entering the
institute. Marion had graduated the year
previous, and now Louise and Grace had fin
ishcd TlIeir school life. With Jennie had
formed strong, but rather singular friend
ship. She was tall, elegantly formed, with a
face not regularly beautiful, but full Of power
and winning sweetness, and she singled me
from that large groupc Of girls to become her
friend. At first vas very reserved; but
when found she could read my heart, and
tell me my own thoughts and desires, yielded
to her stronger will and gave her that part Of
my heart which seemed useless to Ada, in
that she did not underestimate
After the partings were said, the last kisses
given. Ada and walked thoughtly homcward,
too much engaged with our thoughts 10 de-
sire conversation. At home we found visit
or, Aunt Whccdon, sister Of our fathers, n
wealthy widow lady, whose extreme regard
for fashion and lectures on my mothers want
Of taste, and poor way Of managing, made
the latter very nervous and uncomfortable
"Iou will never marry of your girls in the
world, Was her iavOritc exclamation but |
think mother believed there were many more
duties in life than marrying off her daughters.
Aunt WhcedOn had not seen Ada for two
years, and was, | think, little surprised ut
her beauty perhaps, also, her winning man.
ncr contributed no little to aunt's partially.
After day or two she proposed Ada should
accompany her to Saratoga, and mother COIL
Sented. Ada was in q perfect fever Of delight,
which rendered her more beautiful than ever,
and Aunt Whcedon herself was reused from
her habitual calmness, and took an active
part in the preparations.
1t was new thing for US TO 60 out shop
ping for silks, tissues, laccs and flowers, and
70 see the nOnchalancc with viii Ii Aunt Whee-
don cullcd them about, and chcapcned them
until they suited her. ! told Ada she had
finery enough to last her ten years, at which
she laughed gaily. 1t did me good to see her
SO entirely happy, and softcned the pang her
absence was likely to bring.
The evening before her departure she tried
her dresses and flowers, for Aunt W. ecdOn
wanted to see the effect by gasght. How
bewildcringly beautiful she looked in each
sometimes grand and stately, then simple and
tasteful, until Aunt WhcedOn declared herself
perfectly we'll satisfied with both Ada and the
dresses. After the trunks were packed, we
went to our room, and by a similar thought,
perhaps, seated ourselves by the same win
dow, in the moonlight. After ling silence,
she said:
MAY, life is changing with me; am a
child no longer, but woman, with wOman's s
heart and desires; and though want to sec
the werld and drink Of its cup Of enjoyment,
u strange fear rises up--a half hope"
THAT you will meet some one to under.
stand these longings, said, and then added,
slowly, You will love some day, and marry. y
Perhaps sO;" and the hand that held
mine trembled. "Oh, May" and she bent
her head down, twill I ever meet any one tC
love me as want to be loved, and who will
lot mc love him to the extent Of my hearth
1t will be no light love, May"
looked in her beautiful eyes and felt thai
she would. After little whilc she went or
in gayer tone.
How strange it will be, May, when you
and l are both married, and have homes o.
our own. >"
Her words stirred up something new with
in me. She was 30 sweet and lovely that ina
ny would consider her heart q prize to b.
earnestly sought after; but /, plain and rcti
ring, who would ever strive for my love? ?ye
felt could love as fervently as Ada, anC
make any of the great sacrifices that some
times fall to woman's lot, yet could fec
how it would be-others would think my
heart too slight . thing to fathOm, and flet
with sense Of loneliness, twined my arm
around her neck, saying:
mo, Ada, there will never be any on
to love me when you are gone-I shall be o.
alOnc!"
"YOu do yourself great injustice in think
ing 30, little May. know some day Shal
see you happy wife,"
! told her the presentment l had Of my owl
lonely life, in words whose strange earnestnes
| thrilled even NV own hpart and nreSgin