Cleveland morning leader. [volume] (Cleveland [Ohio]) 1854-1865, 1859-10-26

listen TO hla KIND words.
Mr. Everett had never spoken of leaving the
city after our fret meeting. j wondered often
why he did not 90 and Join his aunt and cousins
10 their tour, but was ga he did ot-Some.
times he would have me 20 out in the garden
with him. and pace up and down the narrow
p ith. Hc said | needed the fresh air TO bring
the roses back TO my white checks. ] was, In
deed, sadly white and thin when he first saw
me- but from some cause whico / did not care
90 inquire into, the color iroshcncd ia my cheeks
and new luslro came TO my eyes. l was really
growing pretty, thought, but without shade
ofvanity
AT lehg h the travellers returned, and heard
frOm Mrs Barnes that DR. Everett came at once
to pay his icspccls to them They had attach.
cd foroign count with a long, high sonnding
name TO their prey, aud Julia, the ell lest Of the
family, was the chief object el his attentions.
had also heard that Mrs EtheSngo had 50.
lected her nephew, yeats ago, for Maria, and
although did not believe ho would make such
a choice, still | thought it est u discontinue
my visits to the school room l began to fear
that had allowed my fancy to get the better Of
my reason; and although | knew he came every
day for week, and waited there for me, /
was firm in my resolution TO meet him no more.
One evening" as | sat in the solitude Of my
own apartment, was not little surprised 10
receive m ,ssago from Mrs. Ethoridge, request
ing me to come TO the drawing room, TO play
for little dance.
Without glance at the company, glided
TO my seat and commenced the music they wish
cd Tor, but my cheek was burning and my fin
gers trembed as they shot over the white keys
the mirror that hung over the piano showed
me the dancers-they wcro gay, rich, happy; |,
sad poor, miserable! l saw Ernest Everett
gliding through the graceful mazss Of Che Span.
ish dance with Maria; she looking radiantly
beautiful in her light robes, and listening to ov-
cry word he spoke with delighted attention,
while Ms. Etherdgc looked on with matronly
pride aud satisfaction.
They were tired, at last and done with me;
but led on by an impulse | could not resist, !
| played one Of my own pieces, the music Of
| which senced even the giddy triHers who stood
| in graceful groups about the room. saw tho
eye brows Of Mrs Etheridge rise in ill-couceal.
cd displeasure, and saw with triumph Ernest
| Everett leave the seat he had taken beside Ma
! ria, and draw near the piano, where he stood
| spell bound, until just as finished Then he
whispered, eagerly
Dora, dear Dora, meet me once more in the
school.room tomorrow l must see you"
! | smiled, but made no answer, and while the
other guests were making their comments on
my performance, l left the room, with those
earnest words still sounding in my ear
1t was not my intention to do as he request
ed, but when the morning came found myself
opening the door, and seating myself in my old
| place.
Mrs. Etherdge, from hor apartment just bo.
low, heard my first touch of the keys and cimo
mp stairs, her usually passoncss face ruflled and
| frowning. She did not sit down, but, as rose
| from my seat, said, bitterly
"Miss Deane, forbid the use of the piano to
you for the future. have supported you for
more than yo,T, interfering in no way with
| your plans, and now you como into my paror TO
make display Of the talent ou poI, ess, for the
| pleasure OF creating sensation | have heard
from the servants something about your anus
ing my nephew while we were away from home
| with your music; but you may rest assured that
! your schemes viii be of no avail. Ernest Everett
is too wealthy and too proud to choose poor
dependent for his wife"
Oh, how my brain rreel, as these cruel words
struck like singing serpents upon it! | don't
know what ! answered. ! only know that
I fled from the room, down the stone steps into
the garden, along the path, almost blind with
passion. had dno thought whittier was go-
ing-only to get away from that cruel voice.
And thus, in my anger, Ernest Everett met
me. lie saw MY quiVering lips, my fiery eyes,
and with one word stopped my fight
"Doral"
That calm, crave voice, the penetrating glance,
the grasping of my cold hands in his, whcie
they We're held 80 firmly that ! conld not
wrench them away, quoted INV passion. l lost
my fierce strength, aud trembling in every limb,
burst into a flood of tears. / knew that was
drawn TO low aTbOr seat, my hands still held
-ana knew that my poor aching head found
rest against some sure ind suppoh--hut not
one word was spoken, until qnte worn out aud
exhausted, sOhbed like tmd child. Then
came the voice of my friend again, in words
which cannot repeat, although every one Is
written my heart
II is enough to say that he loved me, and
asked To give mo the protection might claim
as his wife, and this was kind and noble | felt
il wOul be the Comf,rt and Joy of my lonely
heart to lean upon his strength, and yet was
afraid lest the words had been drawn from him
because of my distress.
| loved him far too well TO take advantage OF
his kindness, and 80 / told him frankly, said
| would go back to tho home of my childhood,
and for one year he was neither To see nor write
to me; but at the close of the year. il his wish
was still the same, would be his wife. In this
resolution was firm notwithstanding the argu
ments be used to convince me it was foolish aud
| wrong,
Mrs Etheridge and her daughters were heart
y glad when made known to them my plans
for the future, as il was my duty to do. / had
never been a welcome guest, aud believe Mrs
| Etheridge was ashamed of her violence. left
the house that afternoon, and the next morning
was among the quiet scenes Of my girlhood,-
The good people were ready with open hearts
Co welcome back the daughter Of their old pas
tor, and took up my abode formy year of trial
in the family OF the village doctor.
Very soon had scholars to give me oom.
Portable support, and the days and weeks glided
fast away. Sometimes longed to hear from
my friend, and was always aagry-such was
my incons stency- that he did not write, not
wthstandng my request that he should not.
One morning--the year was almost gODo--I
ohanced 10 glance ever the marriages in
New York paper, when my eye fell upon the fol-
lowing:
ain Grace Church. by Rev. d -, Il. e.
Everett, Esq, to Maria, daughter OF tho late
John G.. EtheTidge, all Of this city"
"What do you find so interesting DoTal"
asked DR.. Bush. "You are red as a Toss."
"The marriage Of Maria Etheridge and her
cousin, replied quietly laying down the paper
and taking my seat at the breakfast table.
1.-TWO fools" cried the doctor with energy
"Couldnt she get husband without marrying
her cousinl"
Aud then, much to my relief, tho worthy man
went of into a long dissertations on the subject,
which lasted until breakfast was over, and ]
could escape to my own room. / was some.
what stunned by this sudden blow, but my work
was before me and must be done Besides,
only was at fault; Ernest was not bound by any
engag gement to mo. II left him free, and accord
ing to my own theory, / ought 70 be glad that
he had availed himself Of his freedom. IL
would have been infinitely worse had become
his wife, to find, when too late, that he did moi
love me.
Tho warm. beautiful September days came al