Mountain Democrat. [volume] (Placerville, El Dorado Co., Cal.) 1854-1860, 1859-03-19

py spirit and perfect health. Now and then
the voice deepened and s0ftened, and deepen
ed, and knew that her face had lost its smile,
and that she was looking grave-perhaps sad.
So knew that she had suffered, and rs day
after day went on, and the voice grew famil
lar, judged that she had suffered deeply
There was something behind the natural gay
ETY., known only to herself and God, it may
be, and yet it threw gloom over her whole
life, and would always do so. And thought
l should like to see her, and judge if my sur
mises were correct.
] asked the landlord about the party. He
looked at the book. and read the names, "Rev.
Edward Williams and lady, Mrs. Arnold, New
York City.
=" They are Americans, then ?" I exclaimed.
so it seems. They came here three weeks
ago, by the packet, andare gong to Paris next
month. Very nice people they seem, but
they have queer ways. All Americans have,
am often told"
Yes, they seem odd to US, no doubt, said,
muSingly, scarcely Knowing what had att
swered And then went up to my room,
and wondered if Mrs. Arnold was widow, or
II her husband was still living If so, ] felt
strongly inclined to -strangle or shoot him,
without any delay. It is very ridiculous
yet also, quite sinccre-the feeling one man
has toward another who, (as he thinks) has
robbed him Of something which might have
beautified his own life. am snrc many a
married women would laugh heartily If she
knew the fancics that pass through the brain
Of one of her bachelor friends who admires
her, as he sees her with child in her arms.
or the sweet face locking over her husbands =
shoulder Stupid man y as he pores over dry
newspaper, quite unconscious of her pres.
cnce.
was not, by any means, the only dweller
in tho eyrie. People are coming and going
all the time, but scarcely ever saw them, or
heard their names. The Sittng.rOOm next
mine, on the second floor, would be tenanted,
one month, by a couple with an indefinite
number Of children; and the next, it may be,
by an old gentleman who made no noise, and
rarely spoke, except to tell his servant to bring
more wine then would come n travelling ar.
tist, with his Skctci-bo0k and his great New
fonndlnnd dog, and they would play at rough.
and-tumblc together, after he had done work,
till the Ii 'use shook, and the nervous lady
above ncarly went into fits and he would be
succeeded 10y musician, who would play all
day and part Of the night, till the same lady
declared she should be ready for BcdlaIn; but
she never was ready. and never wcnt-at least
to my knowledge. When the children were
there, and playing SO noiSily that could not
think, ! used to lay down my pen and won
der what their names were, and how they
looked. and if they were playing the same
games played in my boyhOod $50 many years
"gOO with my brothers and my cousins. The
great dog used often to meet me in the pas
sage and give me friendly wag Of the tail,
If pattrd his head. and after that his bark
was Music in my cars for defy any one.
who has n heart, tO make the acquaintance Of
dog "A Newfoundland cSpccially-and not
love him. And the composer, who played all
day the sweet creations Of his soul-God
knows what loving, tender fancies came to the
now and then, as the melody wove itself in
with what was writing, almost before | knew
1t. am happy fellow, naturally, and dis.
posed to make the best Of every thing; but
setting this entirely aside, l am sure was
better and kinder man for the neighbors
had.
While sat thinking thus Of Mr.. Arnold,
Mrs. Arnold, in the next room, began TO sing.
There was a good piano in No. 40, and I had
often heard her playing before But this eve
ming she only seemed recalling snatchcs of
sweet, Sad songs. and ] felt sure she was alone.
Her touch upon the keys was soft and dreamy;
sometimes she was playing with one hand, and
then would come long pause, though ] had
not heard her leave her seat | 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. Ihcard
her singing: Then you'll remember me-"
very softly, and then the music ceased. If
had sat by myself any moro, am sure should
have been mad enough to go into the next
room; SO, taking up my hat and gloves, went
out fol walk. The door of No. AZ stood
halfway open, and from my end of the pas.
sage | could see into the room plainly, for the
boy had just lit the gas and drawn the cur
tains She outstanding over the piano, dress.
ed in deep mourning, though a wedding.ring
and its heavy guard shOne on her left hand.
"Thank heaven the fellow is dead !" tho't.
and then the next moment laughed at my
absurdity. She had the evening paper in her
hand, yet. though her head was bent, could
see her face quite well. In only one thing was
she different from her counterpart in my brain
-shc was not beautiful, as had lancied she
must be. She was tall and straight, and rle-
giant in form and her face was one of those
which change and vary with every shade of
feeling; but only redeemed from plainness by
pair of decp-set and beautifully shaped eyes,
whose color, found, when she threw the m.
per aside, was that dark lovely blue one scarce.
ly ever sees except in the sky of q summer
night just the eyes had dreamed Of all nv
llic; and yet there was not the slightest chance
that they would ever look at me. MS they had
doubtless looked at Mr.. Arnold, deceased.
thousand times. She was girIish widow
yet there was something in her manner which
betrayed the married woman AN ease and
GpIOmb which rarely or never shows itself in
a young girl, especially il she has been reared
carefully by mothers hand.
might have stood in the passage all night,
cr:tcizing her, had she not entered it herself
suddenly, QOr her movements were all as quick
as flashes Of light,) and taken mo so by sur.
prise that am sure she would have seen me
staring in at her, had she not, luckily for me,
caught her foot in the mat as she crossed the
threshold. She stumbled, and would have
fallen. but sprang to her assistance and caught
her, and felt her heart beating quickly against
my arm. She painted with the sudden start It
had given her, but stood up in second, and
just glancing at me as stood beside her in
the dark passage, said quietly, "Thank you,
Charles. ! might have hurt myself very much
IT you had not saved me. And by the wav,
wish you would have that stupid thing taken
away. My uncle fell over it last night. and |
suppose it will be my aunt's turn next"
She ran lightly up the stairs to her sleeping.
room, laughing to herself "a she went. She
had mistaken me for the waitcrl But did
not care, (thOUgh | iancied there was some
difference in 0ur hiOht end -. .;-o. "a 81