The Wheeling daily register. [volume] (Wheeling, W. Va.) 1864-1878, 1867-02-16

Z rEsm London Society for Feb, ssss@B :
: A Forgotten Valentine,
u. IT'S MARK ON THE YEARS TO csAE'
= Sir Hugh brought his wife home; and
Mis- hair was not gray, ,1neither nad sny.
premature wrinkles marked nis isce,
70 his servants there appeared no
change in him, either for better OF ior
worse. He was just the same grave,
Silent, rather adelibeTate master taey
They did think sindeed,
that he was dreadfnlly1polite to his la-
dy; but perhaps that was propex--pe-
fore servants. -
Sir Hugh, taking Evelyn to the draw
ing-rooms, which he had causedfo DC
altered and frightened for her, turned
and said to her, "Welcome hOmes's.Sl
And as he said it, the memory Of his
O Gn dreams of that home stung him SO
bitterly that he half put out his arms to
take into them the Evelyn he had once
kSown, but ShS neSef say, the movee1
nfsnt; Ind wouid not have needed it il
she had seen. She passed on into the
I6on, AS brilliant tglit Sf Which seSm-
ed to hurt Sir Hugh's eyes, for he put
his hand over them suddenly, apd for q
moment he stood at the door irresoiqoe;
then closed it gently, and went to see
after his little girl0isi.u 0E&
That was natural enough, they said,
--thOse gossips down stairs who were
always on the watch But why didn't
he take his new wife with himf And
why did he stay with the child, hour a.
tor hour, till mono of the evening re-
mainedf The first evening, too! Above
al, why, when the household had re-
tired, and all was quiet, did o tall,
slight figure, which rustled little as it
passed, 20 into the nursery and kneel
down beside the sleeping child and sobf
The nurse saw, for she was not asleep,
as my Clsdy ofan6iedJ and she was not
likely to keep ID to herself, either
These and such things were puzsling.
At frst they formed constant source
of whisperings and shakings of wise
heads; but gradually the gloss of new
ness wore away, from them; the. dull
days swept on, and something Of the
grimness Of the stone heads that guard
ed the sweep of steps at the !hall-door
seemed to have crept into the house. 1t
was 80 still and silent; SO monotonous.
But for the small Cecilia, it would have
been unuSterably dismal. But she was
q child, and had childish ways, which
remained unchecked. She was quite
young enough to take very kindly to
tho pau, mamma uhn vac an haaufi ful
and so good to her. ~.
"Not like nurse said she would be-
ugly and cross" she said to her favor
lite playfellow,-"but good. / think
she could have brought the little
princess to life again, as well as the
fairy did. You never saw such eyes in
your. life as she has got; just like the
pool under the willows, where we are
MOTTO go, Charlie, you know; down., as
if you couldn't ever see the bottom;
ever so deep. And she kisses me, too"
To which the boy replied, with de-
cision, that she couldn't be o fairy in
that case, for FAIRIES never kissed any
body; itwasn,t lucky, that was unless
they were wicked FAIRIES. And it was
all very well now, but when Cecil mar
ried him, he shouldn't allow her to kiss
anybody.
BY and by, however, as Cecil grew
older, she used to wonder in her wise
little head what made her father and
mother, when they were alone, talk to
each other, if they did talk, so like
company" That was her idea of it,.
She jumped up from the piano one day,
and waltzed round to the footstOol at
Lady Rainham's feet, with sudden
thought that she would find out.
"Well," said Evelyn, looking at the
pursed-up lips, which evidently had a
question upon them, whats the mat
teri Is your new music-lesson tos
hardp
"My new music-lesson isis fidget-
ty crank" said Cecil, hesitating for an
expression strong enough; 'but it's not
that. was just wondering why you
and papa"
Sir Hugh let his book fall with sud-
den noise, and went out of the room,
passing the child, but taking no notice
Of her.
"Why you and papa went ON Cecil,
refectively, "are so odd, like grand WIS.,
itors. When there's any one here /
know / have to sit stiil, and not tumble
my frock nor cross my feet; but when
there's no one it's different" 3
"Your papa and are not children"
said Lady Rainham. ."Grown-up peo-
pie must be steady, Cis."
"Then don't want to be grown up.
And I'm sure, quite sure, that I'll never
be married, if pne is to do nothing but
sit-sit' all day long, and have no fun"
Lady Rainham bent down to kiss the
resolute lips that uttered this bold de-
cision, and then her face grew sad.
There were times when even to her
pride the life she led seemed almost too
hard to bear,-times when she was mad
enough to think she would tell Sir
Hugh that the act which stamped him
in her eyes as base and dishonored was
no secret from her, as he doubtless be-
lieyed it to be. But she could not do
it. It seemed to her as if the conscious
ness that she knew would only make
him more conte0ptible in his own eyes
as we'll as in hers. 1t would but widen
the gulf, and make what she was able
TO bear now utterly intolerable. For
she never doubted that the purport bf
the letter was known to him, and he
had suppressed it for his own ends.
And the poor boy who wrote it was
dead. There was the great mischief OF
it all. If he had been living and well,
SO tender halo might not have rested
over the past, and all in the past con-
nected with him; so bitter resentment
mil ght not have been nnrsed in silence
against the wrong which her husband
had done them both But Frank had
lived but o few months after her wed
ding, and she never saw him again. He
was dead, and she had killed him,-no,
not she, but Sir Hugh. ..rr.- ~
She was thinking such thoughts one
day when something made her look up,
and she met Sir Hugh's eyes ixed upon
her. There was so peculiar an express
sion in them that she could not prevent
certain proud, antagouistic inquiry
coming into her own. He went towards
her with his book open in his hand.
He bent down and put his finger on a
line in the page, drawing her attention