Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1859-01-07


Mrs. Arnold, in the next room, began 10 sino
There was good piano in No. AZ, and had
often heard her playing before But this eve
ning she only seemed recalling snatches of
sweet, sad songs, and felt sure she was alone
Her touch upon the keys was soft and dreamy;
s3metimes she was playing with one hand, and
then would come long pause, though had
not heard her leave her seat 1 would have
given worlds TO have been beside her, in that
hour Of twilight. But it faded. and the cold
wall Of my room was still between US. I heard
her singing Then you III remember me, "very
softly, and then the music ceased. If 1 had
sat by myself any more, L am sure I should
have been mad enough to 20 into the next
room; 30, taking up my hat and gloves, went
way open, and from my end Of the passage
could see into the room plainly, for the boy had
just Int the gas, aud drawn the curtains. She
was standing over the piano, dressed in deep
mourning, though wedding ring and its heavy
guard shone on her left hand Thank heaven,
the fellew is dead" thought; and then the
next moment laughed at my absurdity She
mad the evening paper in her hand, yet though
her head was beDt l could see her face quite
we'll. In only one thing was she different from
her counterpart in my brain-she was not beau
tIful, as had fancied she must be- She was
tall and straight, and elegant in form; and her
face was one of those which change and vary
with every shade of feeling; but only redeemed
from plainncss by pair of deep set and beau
titully shaped eyes, whose color, I found, when
she threw the paper aside, was that dark love-
y blue, one scarcely ever sees, except in the
SKY OF summer night. Just the eyes had
dreamed OF all my life-and yet, there was not
the slightest chance that they would ever look
Mt me, as they had oubtless looked at Mr..
Arnold Diseased, thousand times. She was
girish widow-yet there was some thing in
hAE ~ - l-k
man-an ease and nplonb, which rarely or
never shows itself in q young girl, especially if
she has been reared carefully by q mothers
hand.
L light have stood in the passage all night,
criticisiug her, had she not entered it herself,
suddenly (for her movements were all as quick
as flashes of light and taking me so by surprise,
that am sure she would have seen me staring
In at her, had she not luckily for me, caught
ber foot in the mat as she crossed the thresh-
old She stumbled, and would have fallen,
but sprang to her assistance and caught her.
aud felt her heart heating quickly against my
arm. She painted with the sudden start it had
gwen her, but stood up in a second, and just
giancing at me as stood beside her in the dark
passage, said quietly, Thank you, Charles.
1 might nave hurt myself very much, If you
mad not saved me. And by the way, 1 wish
You would have that stupid thing taken away
Ny uncle fell over it last night, and I suppose
1t will be my aunt's turn next"
She ran lightly up the stairs to her sleeping
reom, laughing to herself as she went She
had mistaken me for the waiter, But aid
not care Though fancied there was some diff
ference in our height and sirj since it had
given me the pleasure Of hearing my own
name, and spoken by her lips. declare SOL
EMMY, to this day, that when Mrs. Cathcart
(my wife) calls me Charles, an odd feeling
comes over me, and see the hall of the Spread
Eagle, and Mrs. Arnold running up the stairs,
while stand in state of maudlin admiration
below. 30 much for the power of association.
went to the Opera that evening. usually
spent my evenings there, or at the theatre,
because L had no acquaintsnces in the city,
and 1t was dull sitting in my room alone.
They played the Bohemian Girl +" remem-
Der, and the tenor sung Mrs. Arnold's song,
Then you remember me-" And the lights,
and the music, and the crowd seemed to pass
away, and leave me listening to her again,
touching the piano softly, and half singing,
half humming the words, as if she trusted her
self to utter them aloud, they would surely
bring tears with them. thought of her con-
stanty till the opera was over, and the house
empty; thought of her over my hot supper at
Serys; and thought of her as went homo
along the deserted streets. i looked up at her
window to see the light there, as l entered the
court yard. 1t was burning brightly enough,
and l entered the house, and sat down in the
coffee room few moments with the landlord,
who was great friend of mine, in his way
did not talk to him, nor he to me-we were
neither of US talking men, and seldom had
many words together. But be peered over the
morning paper steadily, intent upon political
news; and held mine upside down before me-
and felt with thrill of basbful satisfaction
that was no longer Indifferent to tho advice
Of Mr.. Weller, senior" Samivel! Samiveli
beware of the vidders," No: q widow had
changed me in the twinkling of an eye, and |
was in lore, as hopelessly, as unrsasouably,
aud as foollshiy as any sober man Of thirty
e)uld well be!
TO De CONTINUED