The Middlebury register. [volume] (Middlebury, Vt.) 1850-1882, 1865-09-20
won't you sit down' You may be
tired with your walk

you do not wear the gray, see, when
you take your strolls,' she said glancing
at the eagles on his sleeve. They had
been bright once, but were dull with long
service now.
'EIardly-not even in this hospitab!e
town. l prefer, under all circumstances,
to carry the face as well as the heart of
loyalty. If l recollect rightly, | believe
| have never been afraid or ashamed of
this uniform
The rough private's dress formed
strong contrast to the elegance of hers
bnt it was more than balanced by some
thing in his deep-set eyes, and certain
pressu e oflihin lips; perls)s word
of Mrs. Brownings-mdSteJm- would
have expressed it. Some such thought
as this may have crossed her mind for she
glanced from the uniform up into his
weather-stained face. Then she looked
away. She may have remembered just
then the home left, the friends he had en-
stranged, the han dships and perils he had
borne and braved, for this humble place
among his country's workers. Miss Bron-
son had many theories of her own con-
cerning sham patriotism, but she knew
the ring of the real coin when she heard
it. 1t was another evidence of the Justice
of that Questionable epithet have al
luded to that she had had the courage to
say so when occasion offered.
'On the contrary with some bright
ness in her eyes-'you should be proud Of
it.
She was kind to think so, he said, and
sail it wondering II there were servant
on her plantation TO whom she might not
have spoken the same words as gracious
ly.
1T has seen rough work in its day,
Miss Bronson, but we are rather still in
camp just now. Are you not re,y lonely
some of these summer evenings ?
The abruptness of the question, asked
with the look and with which he asked
it, would have embarrassed many women.
To Miss Bronson, question, tone and look
alike seemed to be no more than any 9TH
er idle chat. Except for the chill in her
voice, when she said, raising her eyelids
in her slow, naughty way:
Lonely? Why should l be p
MGinley bit his lip.
'Arc not my grounds looking well, Mr..
MGinley? turning, with polite, care
less smile, which on her face was mere
glitter. 'The gucrrilas have let me alone
50 far, except that little patch of cotton
down in the south field which was of
small consequencc.'
Il wish they had not touched the south
field, Miss Bronson
Why that particularly it could easily
be spared
because l have pleasant associations
with it,.
She remembered too-he knew she did
the days when they had played there
as children, at mimic housekeeping on
the mimic plantaiion-thc long, long sun
ny days bright with pictures of blossoms
and birds and cloudless skies, and the lit.
tie dark-eyed girl who used to 90 out
among them with him, hand in hanl.
She must remember. Yet if she did she
gave no sign. The incredulous arch oi
her eyebrow, which was her only answer,
seemed to sting the young man. lie
turned quickly, some sudden flush mount.
ing to his forehead, stopped ir his slow
walk down the path and faced her.
Miss Bronson, look at me if you please
She complied, because she chose to ;
she made it very evident that was her on.
ly reason. His face just then had look
Miss Bronson was little used to meeting
much less to enduring quietly.
'You do remember
She smiled.
playing with you in the south field
Oh, yes; | have good memory
You do not remember it unpleasantly !?
'Nlr. MGinley, it is someweat chilly
standing still so long He turned sharp
ly away from her and strobe down to the
gate She continued her walk as inditfer.
emily as if nothing had happened to her.
'Are you going9 Well, | wish you a
pleasant evening and safe walk.
He smiled bitterly.
"A mans life is the most worthless in
vestment he has, in these times. If the
little dividends should stop before l see
you again.
He waited, apparently for some expires
sion of interest from her. But there wa,
not word or look She stood perfect
ly still, with her eyes on the darkennl
road.
In that case l thought l should lik,
to tell you why | left camp tonight. DE-
you wish to know?
'Oh, I'll leave that to you; if yol
choose to tell me, you may
Again that look which Miss Bronson
was not used to enduring. His eyes wer
on fire the compression of his lips seem
ed absolute pain-perhaps she did not so
it.
Il do choose to tell you. came to se
you; If had seen you for moment un
known to yourself, my object would hav
been gained. l had not expected tn
honor of a conversation with you. | ar
obliged to you for your condescension.'
He waited, before he bade her good
evening, to watch her moment; wit
that look which on mans face shows tn
crisis of some great agony in the soul
look which the accident of his deaf
might well stamp on Miss Bronson's men