Dodgeville chronicle. [volume] (Dodgeville, Wis.) 1862-current, 1868-06-26
SeIefted Miseellaay.
TWENTY FOUR HOURS-A STRANGE
STORY.

Ii was bright, clear morning. The
sun sparkled on thousand emerald buds
and the morning breeze waited in strong
scent of violets. AS I stood on the door
step OF my own home in Devonshire,
looked on as fair q scene of flowers and
sunshine as ever was given in these British
isles to Valentines Day. Such brilliant
blossoms = wind flowers, hepaticas, and
crocuses-blue, purple, white, and cloth
OF gold. 1t was thoroughly spring like
morning, and as | stood lettering on the
step youth of fifteen bounded through
the hall, seized me by the arm, and cried,
ought to be your valentine, but 1 can't
A man may not marry his grandmother,
nor his maiden aunt o, dear me, what a
pity But never mind, Grace come along,
we will go forth for adventures, and you
shall met your Valentine, if such being
exists" l told Master Bertrand that he
was a saucy school boy, but l started with
him on walk to the lodge, nevertheless.
And now must explain little.
was at Combe Minor which had been
my home from my birth. My father had
died seven years before last Valentines
Day, and left my mother, with daughter
by her first husband just ten years my
senior, and myself Seven years ago from
last Valentines Day was sixteen years
of age, and Julia Moore, my step-sister, was
sixand-twenty. But my father had son
by an earlier marriage, and when this son
came to take possession Of Combe Minor,
he came as widower, bringing Bertrand,
Oliver, and Jack with him. A year after
our fathers death my halfbrother mar
ried Julia Moore; and year before the
day when [ stood, as [ have said, on the
doorsteps of Combe Minor, my mother
had married her third husband, Sir God
fry Selby, and they were keeping st. Val
entine's Day in Northumberland, amid
wind and snow. No wonder that, on
every account, preferred the soft Devon
shire air and the sweet flowers of our sun
ny home. So l was twenty-three, and
Bertrand fifteen, and not my Valentine,
because he was my nephew; and so we
started on our early walk. There was
winding drive by the edge of the wood,
where rock cropped out, and holly glitter
ed,and the willow had began to show golden
buds. This drive led by the moss well,
and the old quarry, so picturesquely plant
ed with larch, to the north lodge; and
Bertie and trod the way gaily; our steps
making crisp echoing sounds in the clear,
frosty air, and the birds singing in the sun
The old fancy, that the first man we met
was to be my Valentine for the ensuing
year, made fun for BERTHE, who being yery
merryhearted, and also very clever bow,
kept me laughing, spite Of the mock indig-
nation with which 1 had to meet some of
his most daring imaginations.
You'll never be married this year. Oh.
Gracey! Nobody coming to marry me,
nobody coming to woor Eh! who is
that?
We had just caught sight of the lodge,
and we saw stranger standing, as if ir-
resolute. The stranger then knocked at
the lodge door, and walked in.
Now fair play, dear, good, unfortunate
Aunt Gracey. 1t won't do unless he comes
out, and walks on, and meets us honestly.
The first you meet, not see. You are out
OF luck-you are-no!'
And here stranger reappeared; and
walked toward us quite as unwaveringly,
and with as much intention as could be
expected of any Valentine under any cir
cumstances throughout the whole West
Countrie."
"All right" said BERTHE, in low voice
don't finch. Bear up bravely, Gracey
I'll stand by you. twill be all over in a
moment Look him in the face that you
may know him again"
| could have beaten the boy for the droll-
cry he threw into his small impertinence
for could not keep my face grave, and
the stranger was fine, TALL handsome
looking man, walking straight III the
middle of the road, and inspecting us with
very evident attention.
Hold your tongue, Bertic !"
"Don't be agitated-keep your self-pos-
session. Trust in me-guide, philosopher,
friend!"
Here we were brought to stand sud-
denly by the stranger stopping close be-
fore us, and saying, Bertrand Lawrence
| know your name 81 asked at the lodge"
linen he took off his hat to me.
MY Valentine looked five-and- thirty
years OF age, with a face a good deal
bronzed, and very dark hair. He had a
moustache, but no whiskers nor beard he
was what anybody might call handsome
aud he had an indescribable look of power
about him. don't mean bodily strength
though he had that too But he had GER
tain sweetness of expression on his some
what massive face, asif he was gentle with
the gentleness Of one who could play with
life because he had tanned it into submis-
sion to him. All this struck me as he
lifted his hat, and said: "Miss Lawrence"
Then he went on, speaking to BERTHE. as
your father at home? | am called Deyerel
james Deyerel, Do you know my name "