Green-Mountain freeman. [volume] (Montpelier, Vt.) 1844-1884, 1867-07-24

college news.
You've seen Harper, of course ?" he
said. Did you ever see fellow more
changed ?''
&c did notice something-he looks hap
pier, 1 think
He's in love Capital, isn't it?" And
Harry laughed in way did not like.
why not?" | said, smothering nv
surprise and curiosity.
"Why, no reason, of course" was the
slightly disconnected answer, "only it
strikes one queerly someway. Let me see
the Hargraves gave that little party for
Maggie Ware the same night you were
taken i'll, did they not ? And Harper was
invited, you know. and went, though we
all wondered. Well Maynard was there,
and he said it was the most wonderful
thing to see how Miss Ware brought Har-
per out that evening. She actually looked
him up, as he stood against the wall in his
queer, bashtul way, and put him at his
ease, and made him talk after the most
unheard-of fashion. There never was any
thing like it, Maynard said and so that
was the beginning. They have met a few
times since, for, the ice once broken, Har-
cluse ways. | don't think Miss Ware is a
coquette, and yet she led him on strangely
for time, listening to his odd speeches
with grave earnestness in that splendid
face of hers that would have turned a
stronger head than old Harper's.' Every
body can see with half an eye that he wor-
ships the very ground she treads on, and
yet no one but he is so blind as not to know
that Fielding will win her. An odd pair
of rivals Forsyth Fielding and old Har-
per- eh, George"
Harrys careless words moved me far
more than he suspected. Here. then, was
my poor friends secret In the light of
this new revela tion how clear were many
portions of his letters that had puzzled me
to understand Knowing as | did the
depth and intensity of his nature and its
terrible capacity for pain and despair, |
trembed TO think OF the inevitable hour
that would shatter his dream. Ought
not TO speak to him-to warn him of his
danger? Was it not too late already TO
avert III the smallest measure the crushing
disappointment These questions and
many more | asked myself when alone
without being able to find any satisfactory
reply.
But the revelation of his fate was near
er thanI ina gned 1t came at a soiree
given TO our class by a member of the fac
ulty.
The evening was sultry and the air OF
the parlors oppressive. Not fully strong
yet from my illness. the heat affected me
to dizziness, and | stepped quietly through
an open door leading upon vine-covered
veranda The sound of voices came to me
through the lattice. and the leaves rustled
as two figures moved slowly along the gar
den walk in the moonlight. | was not an
intentional listener, but as leaned against
a pillar. almost too faint To stand, heard
these words in Maggie Wares voice:
" | grieve for one thing, Forsyth, and
all the more keenly now that you and
are 50 happy. 1t is a strange thing for a
girl to say, but surely | need have no Sc
crets from Vo7t-and | am so sure that
poor Mr. Harper loves me; and more than
that, it is | who have been at fault
ditied his painful shyness 50 much when
happened to meet him one day that | beg
ged Aunt Emma To invite him to our house
and | tried so much whenever | saw him
to make him feel happy and at home [
never dreamed that he would think any
thing more than common courtesy prompt
ed the little attention | paid TO him.
was taken wholly by surprise when rec
ognized in his manner a deeper interest in
me than | wished-l could not believe il
at first You know, Forsyth. it seems SC
strange to think of him in the light of q
lover; bat | am sure Of it now, though not
a syllable has passed his lips to that i'm
port
Don't give yourself moments pain
my darling" 1t was Forsyth Fielding
who answered. Surely you cannot be
blamed for being lovable; and if ole
Harper absurdly dared to think that yor
could care for him, he must pay the penalty
of his rashness."
Don't speak so, Forsyth dear For
give me; but if you and he were TO ex
change places he would not speak like tha
of you, [ think. The utter impossibility
: of ever loring any one like him does no
prevent my seeing how truly noble anC
good he is, and how much to be pitieC
for"
The voice grew indistinct | heard
: slight sound beside me, and turned only t.
start back again with a smothered excla
> nation of dismay. There stood Harper
every feature rigid and motionless as if Gu
: in marble, the last vestige of color gon,
from his face, and the look Of sleep
l walker in his eyes. "Will," | said, layin,
my hand beseechingly on his shoulder
Will" He caught his breath with
I dry sob.
ha ell
Il think will 90 home"
: Dear old WILL" | said, with the tear
rolling down my face, let me go witt
YOU
0 "No," he answered. shaking off m
hand, almost fercely. Let me alone to
: night F." and so strobe with uncovered hea
9 into the darkness.
: 1 went back to the gaily lighted room
e weary and stunned. Forsyth Fieldin
stood under the chandelier, with Miss War
1 on his arm. / had never seen him so bril-
liant, so utterly selfpoised as now, and tn
contrast between his royal presence and tn
L haggard face that had just looked at m
through the dim light of the porch mad
: me sick at heart.
d The next morning brought my poo
: friend to my room. Deep, discolored ho
, lows about his eyes told that he had nc
slept He grasped my hand trying t
y smile. Dear George" he said, "I wa
:: hasty last night-forgive me. You hav
t been the best friend ever had-you lov
me we'll enough never to speak to me Of
!. of what we heard last night. The past
dead-God alone can help me to bury
r out of my sight
: That was all. He went back to h