Green-Mountain freeman. [volume] (Montpelier, Vt.) 1844-1884, 1865-11-28

10 lnB-t0 keep MIN WdltnB tnroubh long years
and losing in such dreary probation the you'll
aud hope Of his life. There was only one thing
to DO done. We must reliDquish the engage
J meut, and be friends only hereafter. | wrote
firmly but mentioned nay purposes TO no one.
The letter brought him the next week TO Say
, vile, as had iancied it might. He came foil
Of prayers and protestatiOns, earnestly deter
mined to make mo change my mind strongly
nlrenched in pretty theories of constancy and
romance. | met him on the sober ground Of re.
ality. | showed him just what my life would
be--just how narrow and homely the range Of
my duties. ! made him fully understand that
| bad assumed the care Of my mother as my
work in life, which God had given me to do,
and from which was by nc means to be turned
away. And then | showed him, what think
he must instinctlvely haze felt how impossible
it would be to him to share such liie-to be
happy in such a round, for which neither taste
nor habit had fitted him.
He made an attempt or two to persuade me
to consent that the engagement should be con
tinued-to let him wait Tor me. But | was
thoroughly determined--I would neither give
nor accept anything short Of absolute freedom.
Of course, being the stronger willed OF the two,
J carried the day. We parted, with pledges Of
faithful friendship, and with protesta tions on
his part that no one else ever could or shoulC
take my place in his heart-protestatio in
which have not the slightest doubt he was at
the time fully in earnest.
After he was gone | told my mother. At
first she protested against accepting such sac
riGce Of my future but when told her that
sacrifice there was none--that anything like
love which | had ever felt for Tom Esterley
seemed to me as utterly thing of the past as
| yesterday sunshine, as unreal and vague as
last nights dream, her anxious eyes Frightened
and ! knew that the prospect Of keeping me
gladdened her heart. Nor did | tell her any
thing more than the tru b. ! could not under.
stand why thus breaking the tie that bound me
to Tom Esterley had cost me 30 little pain but
| bad not one longing after him. My only
regret was for his suffering and that believed,
would be short-lived. 1t seemed TO me that
what had felt for him had been the merest
bubble on my cup of life, the offspring solely Of
2irlish vanity, and an idle longing for an easy
luxurious destiny.
One friend, | felt, had claim to know the |
truth--a friend proved and tried. The mex
time saw John Coman said to him
MY engagement with Mr.. Esterley is at an
end felt that my duty was here-a duty be |
could not share-and | would not let him con- !
sider himself bound to me any longer"
IlO answered simply:
Z" think you have done right, Frank and |
after that the sub cot was not mentioned between
us.
Through the long winter and spring tendtd d |
my mother, the most patient and gentle Of in
yalids There was little change in hor condi-
tion that little was for the better however
She had an Invalid chair, in which | used to
wheel her to the window, and into the kitchen
beyond. ] came to her with all my housekeep-
ing difficulties, and we were chatty and cheerful
together, in spite Of the terrible loss the power
OF motion was to her, and my own dumb heart
ache at seeing her 30 changed.
With June came the Esterleys back again
but without Tom He was travelling with some
friends. May said-he had thought he should
suffer too much in coming back to the old place
Then, as II fearful | should think she was
blaming me, she kissed me and sad, earnestly
"l think you did just what was right, Frank.
could not tell you how honored you for IT,
You are just ae much the dearest of my sisters
as if you had been Toms wife"
Except May-who came often to see me
saw little Of the Esterleys that summer. Their
lives and mine ran in very different channels
They were still gayer than OF old, for they had
city friends staying with them most OF the time
and their bright, pleasure-seeking life went on
to merry tune, But | never eRvied them any
more. The enchantment Of distance lent no
grace to their summer ways. had tried the
whole thing, and, for me, found 1t wanting.
With the fall rains my fathers lungs began
to trouble him somewhat, and his health to fail.
| think his anxiety and sorrow about my mother
had worn on him more than we knew. Not
that he was exactly ILL., only go far from thor
oughly well that it made US anxious. Then it
was that, seeing John Colman. began to un-
derstsnd what unselfsh friendship and devotion
might bo lie made no offers or professions
he Just watched for the opportunity to Co us
service. lie was beforehand with every task
likely to be too hard for my father no son could
have been more untiringly kind and thoughtful.
| began to honor him as | bad never hOnored
any man before. Sometimes | thought of the
love believed he had once felt for me, with such
a sense Of loss as one nigh, feel who had wan
tonly thrown away pearl of great price but /
not often, for iet that it had all been ended {
when | promised to marry Tom Esterley, and
my HE was too full of real cares and duties to
leave me much time for mere sentimental re-
grets.
At last, toward March, came letter from
May announcing Toms engagement to girl
whom he had met last SUMNER darling"
the letter said Z" and We all love her dearly, but
to me she can never be quite what you would
have been"
John Colman had brought me the epstlc and
when had read it through | handed it to him
with q suiiie.
" Just read" said, and see how constant
men are You would MT believe it, but when
we parted, year and two months ago. that
youth was suro he should go berolt and un-
coDsoled to the end of his days"
John read the letter, and then looked at me
with puzzled face.
How geyly you take it "he said Don't
you care"
" fes, in one way | care great deal. was
so afraid had made him suffer, and am tn ank-
iul beyond measure that he has 20, over it all
so easily
just then mothers voice came out Of the bed
room. "Children she called. ltwts way
she had Of associatIng as, of which had scarce
ly thought before, but now felt my checks
growing scarlet, and know John was looking
ut me. We went into the room together,
Mother he said, how would you like
me for o son
Her face frightened as had not seen It before
since her trouble came
" Yuu know Johs, how would like it. |
thiak you are my son now"
Then wish Jou would tell Frank how long
and well have loved her, and make her willing
| should be your son too. | thought until TO-
day that she cared for ,ome one else, and
would not pain her by telling her"
walked straight up to bin, and looked in
his eyes. discovered just at that moment that
this matter OF his love was matter Of life and
dea th In mo