The weekly Butte record., 1863-01-31
CHAPTER II.
commenced !:

mans vanity, when | tell you that this face,
now so wrinkIed, was once fair; this white
hair once golden these sunken eyes once bril-
liant; that was the beauty and the pride of
the village through which you just now passed.
In that village my father was wealthy farmer,
and | was his only child. His gold, and my
fair face brought me many sutors. | chose
one whom, with woman's penetration in love,
| knew wooed me for myself alone but unfor-
tunately, my lover was the one of all others
that my father disapproved. Ny father was
proud of his wealth; prouder still of the anti
guilty of his family. He loved to boast that
the Flowers had for three generations held
the farm on which be was born, and it was
with rage and modification he learned that
Frank Stopford, the son of the gamekeeper at
the Hall, was the chosen lover of his daughter
Jessy.
The story of our love is brief-'tis but the
history of day. l, with many of my village
friends, had started in the morning to visit a
spot dear to every English heart, the birth
place of Shakespeare. We wandered through
the time-worn rooms, and spelt out many a
name upon the walls some lowly and unknown
Others noble and kingly. At length it was
proposed that we should separate and seek
amusement for ourselves Frank Stopford
begged permission to show me the churchyard
and the tomb of the great poet. We soon
reached the row of noble trees that overhang
the Avon under their shade we walked, while
Frank, with eloquent words, pictured to me
the life of England's noblest son, his wild youth
his love, his genius, his life in London, his end
so sad and so inglorious. Then he proceeded
to speak of himself, and to tell me that the
solicitor in Warwick, to whom he had been
articled through the Influence of the squire
had spoken favorably of his abilities and that
in two more days he would leave for London,
to try his fortune in the great city, where so
many hopes are bighted, and SO many hearts
crushed.
My quivering lips and startled tears en-
boldened him. 'Jessy,' he said, 90 without
fear if go armed with your love it will be
beacon to guide me in time of trial. TO cheer
me in moments Of despondency Tell me, dear
est, is it mine? l feel that shall some day
win q name worthy for you to share we are
both young tell me- Jessy, can you love and
wait? With a wildly throbbng heart but
clear, firm voice, l replied For you dear
Frank, will love and wait and hope Taking
my hand in his, with look from his fine blue
eyes that sank into my heart, he spoke to me
in faltering tones of his deep, Astounding love.
I could not reply. for my heart was too full.
There are moments into which the feelings of
a life seem compressed, and this was such to
me. l would have given worlds to have told
him how long, how passonately I had loved
him; but the words died upon my lips, and in
silence We lett the spot and rejoiued our com
panions.
During the bomeward ride. we conjured
IN bright visions Of our future life spoke
with hopeful confidence Of his talents and sue
cess. He, with lovers enthusiasm, declared
that possessing me, he was already rich. At
parting, he pressed upon my lips one long.
close kiss; and full of hope. sprung across the
fields to meet my father, aud acquaint him
with our mutual love. That night, as laid
my head upon the pillow, the world seemed to
me to overflow with joy, my path through life
to be strewn with roses.
The following morning, when my father
and were seated a breakiast-I should have
told you that my dear mother died when was
quite young-I noticed that cloud rested on
his brow Presently be said: Those Stop
fords are unbearably presumptuous. Yester-
day evening, that young upstart, lawyers
clerk asked me for you, Jessy, and when
fatty refused TO hear him. be dared to hint
that you loved him. l told him that my