Weekly Calaveras chronicle., 1866-08-04

CuouSh3 auu hS ~" A~J oiSSPinS oI INC
rug at my feet. Poor Carlo! he needed
not the morrow, and thought not of the
future. Yet how long could I keep
him ?-and if | cast him away, who
would have him? He had neither youth
nor beauty to recommend him-nothing
but his old honest heart, and who would
care for that ? "Poor Carlo-poor old
Carlo" I thought; and, perhaps be-
cause my heart was rather full just then,
tears rose to my eyes as l thought of
the fate that lay before him. 1 believe
1 thought of something else too. 1 re-
member vision l saw in the burning
Goals; how it came there Heaven knows.
l saw them both, as no doubt they Of
ten were, bending over accounts which
they read together, then looking up
and exchanging looks and smiles which
no one could mistake. I wonder why
I came back to images which tortured
me-but it was so. 1 do not know how
long Mrs. Gray had been gone, when
Carlo gave a short bark the gate bell
rang; I saw tall dark form pass across
the window, and my little maid opened
the door, saying:
"Mr. Thompson, ma am"
[ rose. He came in, with his um-
brella as usual, and Carlo went up to
him and wagged a friendly welcome. 1
could not say one word. l was dread
fully agitated. l felt quite sure he had
come to tell me that he meant to marry
Jessie, and to ask me to go and stay
with them, or something Of the kind.
Nothing else could have brought him.
Or perhaps, as Jessie had, no doubt,
told him that I was gone, he had, on
learning the truth, felt ashamed of his
long coldness, come to make some ex-
cuse. He made none; but he asked
how l was, took chair, looked rather
hard at me, and, without waiting for
my answer, feared was not very we'll
"Oh! am not ill, you know" I re-
piled little carelessly. 81 trust you
are well, Mr.. Thompson"
lie said he was very well, and he
looked at the fire. For while we were
silent. Ispoke first. My remark was
scarcely gracious one.
81 heard you were so much engaged
that | scarcely expected to see you," I
said.
| was vexed with myself as soon as I
had said it. He might think [ was an
noyed at his long absence, and surely
was not But he took my implied re-
proach very we'll. He answered that he
mad, indeed, been much engaged; but
that everything was over now. Mrs.
Norris, he added, had left this morning.
Ny heart gave great throb; but l was
mute.
"She left in no very contcnted' mood,
| believe" he resumed. "The balance
in her favor was low-lower than l ex-
pected. Mrs. Norris has something like
hundred year. This and few jew
els constitute the net profit she derives
from her marriage. Unluckily, these
speculations cannot be repeated often,
you see. The capital of youth and
beauty has but time-a brief one it
is apt to wear out, and the first venture
ought to be the best. Mrs. Norris, not
having found it SO, is disappointed. I
suppose it is natural but you know I
cannot pity her very much"
Snnnoood NOT b,,t. II <hok oo1 i
hard talk panied me.
81 have fancy" he resumed, "that
this kind lady expected some other end
ing to our accounts. This is not very
fattering to my vanity, unless, indeed,
as showing my marketable value is it,
now?"
| would not answer that question:
His tone, his manner, vexed me. Sud-
denly he raised his eyes to mine.
'Did such rumor reach you ?" he
asked.
l could not deny it. My face was in
flame. | believe l stammered something
but I do not know what
Given you have heard it," he said,
scarcely pleased; "the world is very
kind. And you believed it, too! I had
hoped you knew me BETTER
He seemed quite hurt but offered
no justification. Then he rather form
ally asked to be allowed to mention the
business that brought him. So it was
business 1 scorned myself for my folly
which was not dead yet, and bade him
speak.
Was I asleep or dreaming? Mr..
Thompson spoke of my aunt, her love
for me, my forlorn position, and ex-
pressed the strongest wish to take care
of me.
"But,'' he added, with some hesita-
ton, 81 can do so but in one fashion
as your husband Will you overlook
all those peculiarities in my temper,
which used to annoy you, fear, and
take what there is of true and good in
me? Can you, will you, do this 2"
He looked at me in doubt. All !! this
was one of my bitterest moments. He
cared so little for me that he had never
seen, never suspected, how much 1 loved
him. And he expected me to take him
SO. clasped my hands and twisted
them nervously 1 could not speak at
once.
"And you, Mr.. Thompson" said
at last-"and you"-
"Well, what about me! Do you mean
can /, too, do this ?"
s'Yes; can you do it 2"
"Why, surely else l had never pro-
posed it."
He half smiled at the doubt nv nues-