Fayetteville observer. [volume] (Fayetteville, Tenn.) 1850-1966, 1866-11-29
you tell me about Miss Hudson p

you tell me ABOUT MISS HUDSON =
you spoke OF SO many others" r
Our eyes met for an instant
and then | said, plying his en-
barrassment: .oi paw tsf
"He has had so many friends
: itisn't at all singular that he shoul,
have forgotten one" "'..'9'
: But I knew then, as | do now
that he had not forgotten me. q
Just then, looking up, i saw il
a mirror opposite the reflection Of
our group-and John Grant,
When | saw the contrast between
Mary Keating and myself, | for
gave him, if / had not before
Not that I was SO very plain
do not think I was-bat she was
SO beautiful, so confding and lov.
ing, no one could help being charm.
ed with her; and / could not
blame him, for he had always
been great admirer Of the beau
tiful.
Mary Heating came to see me
frequently while she stayed at his
sisters, sometimes, not often, ac-
companied by John. 1t was an au-
tumn afternoon, full of clouds and
sunshine, when she came to make
her farewell call. He was with
her, watching her every move
ment with loving pride; and yet
it seemed to me that he regarded
her somewhat as a beautiful play
thing, winding her yellow curls
around his fingers, and calling her
pet names. We went out into the
garden to gather some flowers; and
as she ran about, laughing and
picking flowers, and
wreathing them in her hair, she
seemed a lovely and bewitching
child. John had gradually lost
bis constrained and embarrassed
manner when with. me, and, ex-
cepting that we never approached
personalities in our conversation,
our intercourse was getting to be
something as it once was,
! Our tastes in many things were
similar, We, had read and ad-
nired the same authors, and upon
most of the important subjects
with human life our
thoughts were alike. We were
of some work we had
ately read, and were quite inte- |
'ested in discussing its merits, |
when Mary suddenly checked her
lappyl play, and with a grave |
ace, walked silently for a few mo- |
nents at Johns side. At last she |
aid: 1i a9Ue .re9,qD w.I |
"You never talk in that way to |
ne, John, but it's because l don't |
NOW enough" Aa} |
"You know enough for me,
ear" he answered; but she went
n :-ua l1al 355-- .if |
81 shall be but fchild-wife.'-l
jaroline would suit you much bet
er."ino9 ojgi 5tsqa9 aa.uard |
i"Allowing you to be judge,"I
aid, laughingly, for L saw John
ould not answer. rI yl6a1la
We said no more on that sub
ect, but / think John asked him
elf more that once that day, sis
larry right?' iTmo5e1s asa.
When Mary bade me ''good by"
nat afternoon, she wound her
-hite arms around my neck and
issed me, saying, in her gentle
oice: ''-'i 'JlH' u. /
"Write to me often, Caroline,
nd teach me to be worthy of HIM"
And she went out of the gate,
trough the, hop-garden, leaning
4 his arm, the warm autumn sum
yht falling on her golden hair,
aking her very beautiful.
Soon after this John Grant left
I'm Wood. and took q farm on his
yn account, in the West Of Eng
nd, adjoining thatof old Mr. Keat- 4
G.. seldom heard and never {
his name. Mary wrote
to me during the win !
r; her letters were like herself,
aceful and charming, full of love !
id confidence. She spoke much ]
joins lssHow proud she was of I
m,l what letters he wrote, 30 !
uch better than hers, and wasn't
strange he should love such a
lid as she was 2" She went on !
riting in this way for several !
onths; /; but at length there was a
ange in her manner of speaking
John; it seemed as though she