The Evansville journal., 1868-12-02
A SISTERS STORY.


read her rightly it is not David she
loves"
There was long silence, then Erie
spoke, steadily and firmly. 1t Is
quite plain to me-the right aud the
best. He could make her so happy
she could make his life so bright
and it will all come right when L am
gone"
Erie, what do you mean? Where
ar you going?"
Away; bat only for time, Efie
dear. When 1t has happened | will
come back to you. Little mother
you will not spoil my plan?-you
could not do it.
y, Erlel not that. Look back
upon your life. Sighted by our father
set aside for a younger son by the
mother you loved so well,-even the
property that shoald have been yours
given to him by that old miser whose
very name L hate,-not strong enough
for the life you chose,-and giving up
all your suffering years to us q
Erie, dear Erle,-and should he take
this too?' Then my love and sym
pathy rose up in all its strength, and
| cried out passiOnately for his right,
But he stopped me as [ clung to him,
Hush. Effiel [ have done nothing
yet of the trust that was left with me- E"
l looked up, fearless now, deter
mined not to add to the pain that was
so visible upon his face. But, Erie.
if he guesscs this, he will never be
happy again"
He shall not guess"
And Erie, suppose-suppose she
loves you better?"
Even then he shall not know; he
shall not see me take this blessing.
But no need think of that She does
not, dear; and now let us arrange"
| cannot tell of the hours we sat
there, making and unmaking plans !;
silent sometimes for long minutes,
with our hearts too full for speech.
The faint dawn was breaking like a
line of hope far away, when at last
Erie left me; everything clear and
distinct in the future we had marked
out.
As | closed the drawing-room door,
David came cut of the library. He
started on seeing me. and asked why
was so late" Making plans for to-
morrow, EHie?" [ told him yes, and
smiled to see that, but for the wistful
look in his great blue eyes, his face
had its old brightness. And have
you been making plans for the NOR
row, Day?" He was beside me then,
and | put my hand upon his shoulder
as | asked it.. He answered with a
simple Yes" but he looked into my
face as if to see how much [ meant.
Then, David, [ hope they were OF
love and happiness, for [ think that
your Tomorrow will have both. Good
night" He held me fast. Effie, our
future is to be spent tOgether-do you
forget that? Why, of course, there
must be love and happiness.
All, David, we shall see"
Ellie, you are smiling with your
heart full; you guessed Alright, at
least you saw it, and you know all
that my own heart krows. 1t is like
you to teach me hope. dear little
mother; but we know each other too
we'll to hide the truth"
" David, | know it ali, and [ say it
still"
He kissed me with his own bright
smile, in which there was so much of
the hope he was not conscious Of We
parted then, and the line of light was
broad and bright when | left watching
it at last.
Fife, why do you not try to per-
shade Erie against this wild scheme?
[ wish you would; he would listen to
you. Why should he go? IF he
wants money, there is plenty lying
idle; aud as for occupation, I'm sure
| don't know what my place will do
without him. | wish he would give it
up. Do urge him to do So"
don't think he will, Day; he is
bent upon it, as you said; and really
| think it may be better for him"
Efie, this is hardly like you.
What do you need for him2 A good
brave man, to whom everythingis is easy
whom everybody loves-a home for
him here with those he loves. Why,
Effie. what can you wish for him more
than this?"
Perhaps, David, he will value these
things more when he has learned
what it is to long for home and rest
Anyway, | believe he knows best, and
will be led by wiser, tenderer hands
than ours. And as you never ques-
toned yet his good and noble aims,
do not begin now, dear; he never dis
appointed US yet-did he?"
David turned away with a sigh, and
/ bent my eyes upon the net work
that was to go with Earle.
So, upon n bright May morning,
when the early sunshine turned the
tear-drops on the flowers into dancing
glittering gems, silently and tearlessly
| bade good bye to my best-loved
brother, and he set out with David
so sad and so uneonscious-for Ports
mouth. How [ envied Winnifred her
n lssionate sobs, as [ held her closely
In my arms, in the rooms that had
grown suddenly cheerless and chill
ing.
While our grief was fresh as ever,
David came back with the last mes
sagas for us all, and with a mournful
look upon his face, which, said to
myself over and over-would soon
give place to gladness that was natu-
raj there; but which deepened and
deepened day by day, until that one
day came.
I'VE had a cheerful, loving letter
from Erie, describing brightly and
amusingly his bachelor home and
strange life, and David had taken
it with him when he rode to Upton,
that he might read part of it to Mr..
St George and Hope on his way home.
1t was a cheerless October after
noon, l thought, as | drew the cur
tains slowly, looking down the dark
ened road, and listening for the quick
tread of David's horse, which | knew
so we'll. even far off.
Winnie startled me at last. Lis
ten, little mother. there is Davy; but
how slowly he eOmesF