The Manitowoc tribune. [volume] (Manitowoc, Wis.) 1866-1878, 1867-12-19
nity it was they should tear the boughs

bursting INTO rlppleS or song, ana my eye
followed him, rising, lowering, rising
again, pauslng, balancing on the wing,
soaring up once more, darting away ob-
liauelv, resting awhile, but always sing
ing-singing as if he could not cease for
his life-then dashing down, like q stone,
and vanishing.
And then my grief seized me once
more, and I dropped on the turf and hid
my face in my arms, and cried as L had
never c!fed since [ was boy, when my
mother died, ard when I thought the
world held no more happiness.
When our great griefs fall on us we treat
them as boys do bonfires. 1t seems that
they can not burn fercely enough; we
heap on them everything that come to our
hand in the way OF fuel all the tenderest
recollections. all the sweetest hopes, all the
most blessed anticipations that made the
joy and glory of our ives-that were as
wings lifting us above the earth we trod
on. All these are brought out from the
storehouse Of memory and thrown on the
pile, making it blaze with inextinguisha-
BILE fury. or what seems to US SO, and we
feel bitter relish in the anguish, and
seek to make it more, rather than less,
as we stir the heap into fercer conhgra-
ton.
All me ali mel what miserable fool
L had been: and how | was punished!
L had thought, when In my hopeful
ness that morning [ had calculated the
whole affair, that | had been prepared
for this impossibility, and could bear it.
But strangely, it had never entered into
my calculations that If Loisette were not
for ne it could be that she was promised
tn ha ha
thing so impossible to endure without
every fibre Of my heart being torn by the
agonies of jealousy, in adwition to grief
L0isette engaged, Loisette with 10 love
for me, all her love for another! Iloisette
thinking of him, calling him all those
tender names that lips Ike hers seemed
made to utter And in August, in three
months, he was coming back, doubtless
to claim his bride
At that thought [ sprang up as if a
serpent had risen from the green turf aud
stung me- | started away so far that it
was not till dark that, utterly worn out
and exhausted. | reached home. [ shall
never forget that night, nor the waking
III the morning after 4 couple OF hours
dead sleep.
That day | wrote to my cousin, Sir Ed
VIII u tIditiftfit1, WHO liII ,id>t DEcb di}-
pointed governor OF New Brunswick, to
post he had suggested my taking when
his nomination TO the place had been first
talked of. The answer came; he would
be delighted In less than fortnight |
left England.
81 am s., g:ieved, :" Mrs Hamilton had
written before this, $50 grieved in every
I f,1 ,o4 loo, v-vo,,r- fban n,
fancying | had her good wishes: Il
should have been so glad to have hidden
you God speed by word of mouth before
You went, but I feel [ ought not to ask
you TO come. Any way, you have our
word from Loisette. Well, better so.
What could she say.
| often look back now on my soiourn
in that black, miserable, raw colony, ice
bound for half the year, sunscorched for
few weeks, with something Ike a shud
der
The great cold staring barrack of a
government house, with Its fat, unshaded
gardens; the unp;ctureSquare village
that was the seat Of Government, and
prided itself accordingly; the country
that was nothing bI., dense forest, bare
studded with blackened stumps
or quaking morassi The interminable
winter, white, silent, fettered with frost
that was unrelenting as death. that chilled
the blood and nipped the flesh into biains,
and checked the current Of life IN the
veuis of childhood, Of age, and Of all
tender beings.
Oh, the desolation of those winter fof-
ests! No tongue can tell it No breeze,
no voice of bird, no rustic OF leaf, no
color; broad white floor, broad bluc
roof, black, stiff iron trees standing up
motioniess and stark All So ike my
life in de>o5 teneSs only this nature felt
no pain
[ staiI there till the sickly, tariy spring
often driven back by fresh snowbails,
came to loosen the spell that winter had
laid on the suffering land and then | re-
solved to bear 1t no longer, and come
what might, to return to England ana
learn the tidings OF LoiSette. 1t seemed
to me that anything wouid be more en-
durable than this dead silence regarding
her.
So 7 turned my back on New Bruins
wick for evernlore. and reached England
in March-3Earch wild and ghastly, but
at least alive with birds and singing, and
St&t>S ditI-i buio Il I}SiiOObliiSS al LCIu dlli
hedgerow.
went at once into Eertfordshire. I
dared not go to Mrs Hamilton s |
dared not ask anything about the family,
lest | should learn what | had come there
to know
| wandered about among the lanes
where we used to wander, hoping. dread
ing, longing, oh, how intensely At
Lost I nd h.,,.
| did not meet them, but turn OF the
road brought me in sight of them, walk
ing slowly before NE.
| fastened nay steps; | must see her
once more must lock into her eyes
must hear the tones of her voice. let the
cost be what it would.
As | approached she turned with d
| start, a look half expectant, half alarmed;
| she felt who was coming, and the blood
rushed over face and neck and brow
| Mrs. Hamilton, who followed her sister S
| movements, was the first to speak; she
/ came forward, both hands extended with
| joyous welcome; then Loisette greeted
me with shy kindness, passed to the other
| side of her sister, and walked on silently
| while Mrs Hamilton questioned me as
| to my travels, my movements, my plans
You Il come and see us, you will prom
Use? | know you are man of your word
and that if you promise you viii keep
your word. Come aud dine to morrow,
will you p
| promised. could not be more mis-
cradle than | was, and must learn all |
wanted to know But | would not go to
dinner. remembered too well the last
time | dined there, SO | said l would go
| In the morning.
When / entered the drawing room
what rush of memories at sight of the
| familiar place--of the two women sitting
| -.