Cleveland morning leader. [volume] (Cleveland [Ohio]) 1854-1865, 1862-07-12
From the London Post.
CONFESSIONS OF A COQUETTE.


From tho London Post
CONFESSIONS OF A COQUETTE.
by MYRA vANE.
Why is it that I love only dark, fierce
beauty, and hate azure eyes, and rosebud
lips, and sunny hair2 Years ago learned
this; for pair of blue eyes stole the light
Of my life away, and q mass Of golden
eurls huttered between me and happiness.
II is an old grave, shut up and sodded
over but viii 60 back and open it to-
night; for I am lonely. My head is giddy
with the sound Of music and the glare Of
gas, and my heart is sick with gay words
spoken by those whose eyes were wild with
sorrow and gayer laughs through which
like the fall Of clods on a coffin, struggles
up the ring Of death. How many broken
hearts are there here tonight, wrapped up
and hidden beneath satin robes and blaz-
ing jewels and beWildering smiles There
is one, know; feel it beating. Shall
tell you its story7 I viii leave the giddy
dance and the unholy mirth, and shut my
self up in this tiny room, at the door of
which lay of my jewels and smiles.
fancy, comes a memory Of walking about
in great mansion, nestled down among
the hills, ike sOng-bird in the forest, for
every beauty Of its surroundings. All the
day long l used to chase the butterflies
down the dancing stresm, or gather great
clusters Of snow-White lilies, to wreathe
over the high, stiff parlor mantle; or sit
in the little elematis arbor, and dream of a
sky that was biuer than that unrolled
above me, and a love that was brighter
than any that ever was found within those
cold stone walls.
had no father or mother. Far back as
could remember, there came no vision of
q meek, gentle face, or moist loving eyes,
or warm earess Of love; and when asked
my aunt how long it had been since they
died, she would only say, in an absent
kind Of way, Oh, long time ago" And
with a little smothered sigh, would 90
back TO the dream, or chase the butterflies
over the sweetest flowers.
And the days went out, and the days came
IN, as ever they come and go
winter snow"
I must go to school, they said; and
when I was dozen years old, there was
great trunk filed with I didn't know
what, and was put into a coach, wonder
ing why the tears Welled up into my
aunfs eyes; for didn't cry then. 1 !
learned that at school, where I learned
many other things-some wen enough in
their way, and some it had been better for /
me had never known.
There were strange looks and covert |
smiles at the old-fashiOned dresses, that I |
didn't understand then. The old-fashion- /
ed dresses we're worn out after awhile
but the friendships that were not offered
when wore them, we're not accepted when
I wore others Of more modern style and
] saw the end Of my days Of boarding
school life, without having sought or won
q single friend. Ny uncle came for me
then; he came with a bowed form and
Grape on his-hat, and took my hand in his
very tremblingiy, as the tears, one after
another, trickled down his furrowed face.
She is gone, Myra-gone; and we are
slone-an alone"
"Who, uncle ?"
@Four aunt Up yonder, Myra."
And he pointed where white, ghostly
clouds were sailing over the far-off sky.
Dead, uncle aunt dead p
No, not dead, Myra-not dead; only
gone with the pale boatman over the
bridgeless river; only gone to a land Of
fairer skies and purer love than this; to
land where the flowers never close and the
summer is forever"
That was the land Of my dreams. Was
It true that should not see the land Of
nv longing with these earthly eyes Was
Il only in heaven that peace and sunshine
SVer fingered?
ave will 20 TO Brighton Myra; can't
stay in the old house when she isn't there
She was my first love, Myra--the one love
Of my life; and feel now that, in our de-
7otion to each other, we were hardly just
10 you. We have loved you, Myra; but
somehow, feel that your little joys and
sorrows were not as they should have been
"A part Of our care had not felt, until
now, how hard it was to be alone"
I took his hand in both Of mine, and
Fept, hardly knew why. 1 had never
loved my aunt; had never loved any one
for no one had ever asked me to; but the {
low words Of sorrow we're so much the echo
Of my own soul, in its long quest for sym
pafhy, that the tears would come. Poor
Uucle Warren His heart was much wider
and more tender than l had thought it;
hat I had never crept within il, for never
knew there was any room for me. But
might not now2 Might not almost I'll
he place that aunt Warren had flled2 Il
night have been So had he been left with
ur; but when the city spires were all that
rose against the arehing sky, again came
he bostman pale, and took him away
through the unseen waters.
I had yet an aunt-the last Of my
zindred-snd to her care was left. Gay !
quests were ever in the rooms, for my
1unt was wealthy, and my cousins we're q
andI used TO sit all alone in the
lhadow Of the curtains wishing for just
me 10 love me. As the unfolding Of a
heavenly flower, comes the memory Of
Tune day when q handsome man knelt at :
NJ feet and called me beautiful-knelt
md asked me to love him.
What answer should make him did
lot know; but ] babe him go away then
md come again on tomorrow. And when !
he last echo Of his footsteps had died away,
ran up to my little room, locked out ev-
rvthing but the sunshine, and sat down :
Q think.
And be had stopped to call me beautiful :
-be. the noble, the gifted And l stood .
~ he mirror, and put back the ourls OF
1i5nipht hair, and gazed long and search
1gIv Al tbe face that met me. There was n
nair Of dark, flashing eyes; white 8
ace that no winds could fan into rose
ue; lips a little too full 70 be naughty
nd mass Of black hair, that might nave
cen braided into diadem- was II oeau- h.
mi Hs had said 50 Did 1 love nm Il
be piercing eyes that saw, sottened, ana
pressed my hands close over my near, y