Delaware tribune. [volume] (Wilmington, Del.) 1867-1877, 1869-11-25
DEL. THURSDAY, NOVEMBER 25, 1856

never nave given him up. always thought
that he cared, and now it is all SO cold," she
said !; aud she shiyered and clung to me in
her childish way, putting down her head
upon my shoulder.
After time she was somewhat soothed
and comforted, I saw her lay her curly
head upon the pillow before / would leave
her, and then / went down stairs again.
Mr.. Deane had heard the whole story, and
was full of righteous indignation.
Poor little thing, is she sleeping?' he
asked. Il think / will 60 and look at her. .
| thought myself that she was much better
left alone, but did not like to say it, so he
took his candle and went up stairs with me.
Laurette was lying fast asleep her soft
curls were tumbled about on the pillows,
her lips just parted, her little hand hanging
down over the side Of the bed. Mr.. Deane
stood over her with q sad and almost rever-
ent expression upon his face.
"God bless hcr!" he said, as she turned
away, and saw that a tear had dropped
upon the sheet.
Charlton was waiting outside in the pas
sage. There had been something peculiar
in his manner all the EVENING" Kind of
restless impaticnce quite unusual to him, SO
that was not surprised when he said laying
his hand abruptly upon my arm,-
Miss Ford, can speak to you alone ?"
When we were together in tho drawing
room he put chair for me ard stood himself
with bis back TO the fire, but it was some
moments before he spoke.
AS looked at him could not help wish
| ing that it had been otherwise. Me was not
a superlatively proper young man, like
Edward Finley if his gray eyes were frank
they were also somewhat defiant II his
| manner was free 1t was perhaps little reck-
less but there was a truth and force about
him Of which / felt the attraction. He
| might be somewhat OF despot, but he would
be just and genial in his despotism. Would
| it not have been better that Lauiette should
have been in his hands-loving him as was
sure she might have loved him-than that
she should become the property of such a
man as Edward Finley?
81 believe that | have always loved her.
he said at last, breaking the sileace. SAT
least Miss Ford, l know 1t now. If she
will come TO me, will do all that man
can do. lam going back to America, but
believe that she will trust herself to me-.
did not answer him dryly or Indignantly,
as l might once have done; for knew him
well enough to believe that it was not vanity
which made him say it; but knew Laurette
better, and was certain that to speak now
would be to ruin his chances forever. So
persuaded him for the present TO let the
matter rest.
81 am going back to America" be said
one day, quite carelessly, turning over the
newspaper to look for steamers. And saw
that the color flashed across her face and
| she let her knife fall, but she never said a
word. Charleion saw it too, but he gave no
sign.
| Then, when summer came, the old house
| in Brifield Square was empty; we had gone
down to Mr.. Deanes place in the county I;
and Charleton had slipped out ofou life; he
would come once more, he said, to say good
by.
1t was pretty little farmhouse standing
In the midst of surrey meadows, s,-meadows
with sorrell and yellow buttercups growing
amongst the long waving grass. Mr.. Deane
had become feebler and older, thought, but
he seemed quite happy. He sat basking in
the sun, with his newspaper in his hand, or
walked slowly round his small domain, in
specting the shrubs; perhaps 1t was a relief
TO him to be free from the pressure of busi-
ness. But Laurettes cheeks did not grow
rosy ip the country air; she grew paer and
more languid. Again She shut herself up
from me; she liked best to wander about
by herself, and often l found her lying awake
in her little white bed during those summer
nights.
Then 1t was that a new apprehension
/
never write, why did he not come? Per.
haps he had again mistaken his feelings
| perhaps he would sail, and We should never
see him again. Was it not possible that ne
had already sailed?
No wonder Laurette grew sadder and pa
Ter she could have waited bravcly and pa
tently, and now there was nothing TO wait toI
except the long parting for life. rormented
as was by misSiyings, how could speak!
and could not write to Charleton, tor did
not know his address.
l was sitting in the little drawing groom
one day. when heard the unusual sound ol
a firm, manly tread in the passage, and the
next moment Charleton stuod before me.
/ never was more cordial to any one in the
whole course of my life. l started up
grasped his hands, and am not quite SURE
that | did not kiss him.
sWhere is she?" he asked. The mex
minute he had stepped into the garden, ant
was left alone TO my own happy imagna
tions.
Well at last happiness had found her
She bad waited long, but il had come at last
though not in the shape in which she hat
looked for it.
often get letters from her now. They
are well and prosperous, and she has little
boy and girl but somehow l think Of hei
still as she was when last saw her. The
pretty picture in the dingy little vestry i.
still before my eyes, the joy bells are clang
ing overhead, the rosy choir-boy is pcering
around the corner, the clerk is hanging vi
the surplice, Mr.. Deane is in the doorway
talking to the clergyman, the sunlight il
streaming in through the painted glass win
dow, and the little bride, with her vel
thrown back and her dark hair clustering
round her forehead, lifts her sweet eyes t6
her husband, and smiles as she takes The
pen from his hand to write her name.
1t was the last that l saw of g little Mis-
Deane," 1t was hard to part from her, bu
felt that she was safe in Charlton's hands
II he was daring he was strong, if he wa
wilful he was true, and knew that he lovet
her. had been sad for her, and had re
joiced for her, and there was blank bu
as sit by my solitary fireside, feeling tina
age is coming upon me, and that / have n,
one near who Will miss me very much whel
am gone, the thought Of little Laurett
comes across me, with her proud reserve
her passionate grieis, and her pretty, win
ming ways, and the memory casts a bright
over the dimness of my life.