The Weekly Perrysburg journal. [volume] (Perrysburg, O. [Ohio]) 1861-1???, 1864-07-13


face. But we'll knew thOt under that
cloak Benjamin Bitterworth flung the gaunt.
let of defiance at my feot. We said no more
but went on toward the stage, he treading
softly along the road on the tips Of HE pol.
shed boots, his thin lips pressed sanctimo
niously together. his black gloved hands
folded bohind his back, while J, warm and
angry, put strong restraint upon myself
to walk beside him decorously.
After this day we met only under Deacon
0lmsteads roof, but we met there often. |
went thither to see Rose, ] made no dis
guise OF the fact lie. Benjamin Bitter.
worth, sat aloof, talking to her father, as a
general thing, aud only now aud then inter.
posing between us, and then only as Il
seemed to prove his power. In whatever
he did in this way he was aided aud abet
ted by old Deacon 0lmstead, could see
that plainly, But also saw that Rose be-
gan to like me very much, In that trusted,
for though u etern parent, Deacon 0lmstead
seemed to love Rose.
Summer faded, and the roses in my dar-
ling's garden died with it. But there were
scarlet dahlias and Queen Margarots, and
marigolds blooming yet aud the naples
about the house grew red in the autumn
sunset in which walked beside her, and
golden haze lay upon all things, and
through it looked at Rose and at the
future. At last spoke TO her, saying some.
thing like this
II love you Rose, | think lo'e you
more than man ever loved woman. Can
you love me we'll enough to be my wife o.
And the golden curls sunk low upon my
shoulder, and gathered my darling up
against my heart We were in the garden
then, beside great elm, older than the
house itself, and sheltered by it we stood
together, supporting her, she leaning on
my breast; and we saw nothing save each
others faces heard nothing save each
others voices, and took the little hand
in mine, and slipped a tiny ring upon the
taper fingers, one that had been my moth
er's betrothal ring, and which, upon her
deathbed, she had given me, bidding me
give it to the girl loved upon the day
she promised to marry me.
And so the sun went down, and tho elm
trees shadow lay long and dark across the
path, and mingled with it fell another
shadow-that of Rose 0lmstead's father.
He came upon US suddenly and found us
standing together, RGe would have
shrunk from me, but would not let her
go.
"She has promised to be my wife, sir"
said. Give us your blessing 1t is all
we need to make us happy. You will give
her to me will you notY love her very
dearly ?"
The deacou's face was like stone,
could not read its import; but he drew his
daughter toward him and stood between
us.
"You have done wrong, Mr.. Dove" he
said, " very wrong. She is young and has
but little judgement. will speak to her
alone. l should have spoken to her be-
tore, but thought one of your profession
could be trusted Good evening. Come
Rose.
And he passed into the house, taking
her with him and as ! left tho garden |
saw Benjamin Bitterworth, with his stately
step and folded hands, making his way
along the road.
The next day boy came to my study
with note. 1t was from Deacon 0lmstead
| ,..I 10, 70
went at once and in the parlor found
Rose pale as lily, sitting beside her father.
She looked at me as came in for one mo.
ment aud then turned her face aside. and
hid it with her hand. She did not speak
Her father spoke for her Were you old
er Mr.. Dove, might be harsher, but | re-
gard you both as very innocent aud mex
perienced Had l known that this baby
play of courtship was going on, it should
have been stopped before. 1t is not too
late now, Rose sees her folly, she has re
solved to obey me. Some triae of yours
a ring believe -she will return to you
and then you will part. Rose"
She left her seat as he turned toward
her aud, crossing the room, calmly and sad
y laid the little betrothal ring on my
hand.
Good bye" she said, II must obey papa
1t is all over between us. Goodbye Viii
liam"
But could not be so calm. I caught
her hand, and turned toward the stern ole
man with his iron face.
"Do you remember your own youth ?
f cried. Do you know what you are do
ing p
And he answered, "My duty, l hope.
shall endeavor to secure the best interes
Of my daughter. You will cease to ug
the point when you hear that she is t
marry the Rev. Benjamin Bitterworth
, week from next Sunday.
"Marry him." cried, "Rose, have yo
! consented to this? Are you false to me
| Have you ="
) He checked me with solemn wave q
r his hand.
"You have done your best to Gil n
daughters mind with folly" he said, "bu
!. you have not succeeded She knows no'
!. that this. romantic talk about truth, fals'
s hood, and love, and so forth, is not fit fc
4 real life-not modest or maidenly. Sll