Prescott journal. [volume] (Prescott, Wis.) 1861-1871, 1867-03-16

u Il :
i'll it as right"
"Cecill"
81 mean it. am sort of go-be-
,ween; no, not that exactly; but they
both care for me so much. They don't
freeze up when I'm there. / can't
fancy them without me; it would be
terrible"
But, Cecil, you promised"
"No, j didn't. And if / had, l
shouldn't keep it, of course; that is,
you wouldn't want me to. 1t would
kilIpapa to lose me, and as to Lady
why / never cared for any
one so much In all my life. didn't
knew it was in me till she woke it up. |
You remember what fused to say |
about her eyes. They are just like
that; like beautiful deep pool;all dark,
you know, till it draws you close and |
makes you want to know so much what |
Is underneath.
Here Lady Rainham came to the |
window again, but the two figures had |
passed out OF the laural walk, and she |
saw them no more.
In the afternoon Cecil went as usual |
to her fathers study, but he was stoop- |
ing over a book and did not notice her. |
He was, in fact, thinking the thought |
that had troubled him in the morning,
but Cecil fancied he was busy, and
looked round to see what mischief she
could do. 1t flashed upon her that
here was fine opportunity for the old
chest, and so she seated herself on the
carpet and began her rummage. Pre-
sently Sir Hugh, hearing the rustic OF
papers, looked round.
81 should like to know who is to be
my fairy Order" he said, amongst all
that mess"
81 will, papa. 1 shall give tap With
my wand, aud you will see it all come
straight. But look here. Isn't this to
mamma? 1t has never been opened,
and it's like--a valentine.
Sir Hugh locked at the large "Miss
Neville" on the envelope, and knitted
his brows in vain effort to remember
any thing about it. He couldn't. 1t
was very strange. He fancied he knew
the writing, but yet could not tell whose
it was, certainly not his own, II re-
collecting anything about the packet.
He considered little, then he said,
"You had better take it to her."
He took pen and wrote on the cover
"Cecil has Just found this amongst my
old papers. l have no idea how or
when it came into my possession, Meth
er can 1 make out the hand, though it
doesn't seem altogether strange. Per-
haps you can solve the mystery"
III. ITS MEssAGE-AFTER MANY DAYS.
1t was in verse, as Franks valentines
had always been; hating, and with
queer rhyles and changes of measure.
It was full of the half-humorous tender
ness of quiet friendship; and it ended
with hope that she would make ''old
Hugh" happier than his first wife did;
that was if she accepted him; and with
demand for her congratulations upon
his own approaching marriage; since
he was "the happiest fellow alive, and
couldn't keep the news from her,
though it was secret from all beside.
And the evening grew old; the white
fiecked sky turned colder, and the moon
came out. But Lady Rainham sat with
this voice from the dead in her hand,
motionless; full of humiliation and re-
morse. And she was thinking of many
years of bitterness and sorrow and
pride; and of heavy sacrifice to a
myth, for she had never loved him.
And her husband whom she did love
whom she had so wronged-how was
she to atone to him?
By and by the door opened and Cecil
stole in. And she saw Lady Rainham's
face turned towards the window with
the moonbeams lighting it,and thought
she had never seen anything so beau
tiful in her life.
Mamma" she said, softly, "Why
don't you come down? We are wait
ing, papa and I and it's cold up here"
81 will come" said Lady Rainham;
but her voice was strange. Cecil knelt
down beside the chair and drew her
mothers arm around her neck.
''HOw cold you are! Dear mamma,
is anything the matteS? Cannot Icom-
fort you?"
Lady Rainham bent down and held
her in a close embrace.
'My darling, you do always. lean
not tell whether 1 want comfort now or
not. L am going down to your father,
and Cecil, 1 must go alone; l have some
thing to say"
She went into the drawing-room,
straight up to where her husband sat
listlessly in his chair al the window.
He started when he saw her, and said
something hurriediy about ringing for
lights, but she stopped him.
''1t will be better thus, for what l
have to say. Hugh, have come to ask
your forgiveness"
Sir Hugh did not answer. The speech
took him by surprise, and she had ne
yer called him Hugh before, since their
marriage. He had time enough to
tell himself that it was only another
mockery, and would end in the old
way.
But standing there. with Franks let
ter in her hand, she told him all not
sparing herself, and then asked if he
could ever forgive her. She was not
prepared for the great love which an
swered her; which had lived unchanged
through all her GOODNESS and repulses:
and which drew her to him closer now
perhaps than it might have done if her
pride had never suffered under these
years of vfetchedness.
Cecil never knew exactly what had
happened; but when her father put his
arm around her and called her his bless
ing; she looked up at him with an odd
sort of consciousness that in some way
or other the old valentine found in her
rummage amongst his papers had to do
with the change she saw. And it was
her doing. So she made up her wilful
mind straightway to exult and triumph
over the fact to poor Charlie; and then,
if he wanted to send her another next
year, why, after proper amount of
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