Cincinnati daily press. [volume] (Cincinnati [Ohio]) 1860-1862, 1862-02-01
! AND WINNING.
WRITTEN by HERSELF.
TcoNT1NUED.1

It was late in the night when sat down
alone before the sittingro room fire, aud pre-
pared to write letter to Andrew Lincoln,
which Mrs. Niles was TO give him at his
next visit. This was the hardest task Of
all, and vet in writing to him for the first
and last time there was troubled joy. |
confessed TO him that even as he had loved
me so had loved him-loving better only
God and the right. At the same time | bade
him an eternal farewell. With love in
our hearts which it would be deadly sin not
10 conquer l showed him that it would be
worse than madness for us to meet There
was no safety but in parting forever.
told him how impossible it was that should
accept from him any pecuniary assistance,
and assured him that | was going to be so
circumstanced as not to need it. Then
bade him good-by, thanking God that
when he read the words he would never
know the pang they had cost me. sup
pressed the anguished cry which would fain,
through that dumb sheet, have made itself
heard. If my tears fell took good care
that they did not drop upon the paper. l
signed my name firmly, and directed it on
the outside to Andrew Lincoln, and then
Il was lovely afternoon when l stepped
from the cars at my place of destination.
The Virginian spring, earlier than ours,
had already clothed the earth with verdure.
| could hear birds singing in the near
woods, and the air was full Of subtle odor,
betokening that it had fingered above beds
of violets and the pale anemone. Just after
the train stopped handsome carriage
drew up before the little depot, and an old
gentlemen, with silver hair and KIND, be-
nevolent face, alighted.
7 o1pa1pIn " hn cnin
daily extending his hand. "My name is
Wentworth"
His appearance impressed me very pleas
antly, yet it surprised me. had pictured
the Richard Wentworth, whose name had
been signed to the letter received by Mr..
Emerson, as young man, the father of the
children in whose behalf my services were
required. They must he his grandchildren,
orphans, perhaps, and already l felt my
heart yearning over them-I knew what it
was to be an orphan.
"Here are your pupils" said Mr.. Went
worth, as be handed me into the carriage
"Andrew, Bella, this is Miss Hamilton"
The little girl was shy. She retreated
to the farthest corner, and hid her curly
head behind her grandfathers arm. The
boy, however, gave me his hand, with O
frank, boyish welcome. As he lifted his
blue eyes to my face thrill struck to my
heart They looked to me like Andrew
Lincoln's own.
"What nonsense" said to myself "Has
that name Andrew such hold on your i'm.
agination that you can not hear a child
called by it without indulging yourself in
fancies of an impossible likeness?"
The drive to Hazlewood was short and
pleasant one. was not in q mood for en-
,ioyment, and yet was conscious of an in
voluntary sense of admiration at the sigh
of my future home. 1t was hospitable look
ing and somewhat quaint with its old
fashioned gables, and the piazza surround
ing it on all sides. Mr.. Wentworth alighted
handed me from the carriage, and led mt
into the house with ceremonious politeness
He drew open the drawing-room door, anC
begged me to be seated while he found hi
daughter.
"Mamma is in the arbor-I see her dress,
heard one of the children say, and tn
three went out of sight.
"They are not orphans, then, after al,
said as l threw myself back upon tn
sofa. dared not trust myself to think
Night was coming, loneliness and silence
Till then remanded my thoughts, l bad
my heart be still. l took up, with som
hope OF distracting my attention, booI
which was lying beside me on the sofa.
TO BE CONTINUED.