Vermont watchman and State journal. [volume] (Montpelier, Vt.) 1836-1883, 1869-02-17
" Pardon me, I was mistaken. I though

She besitated. My hand had begun 70
throb painfully.
Never mind" said coldly, provoked at
the change in her voice and manner. began
to pick out bits Of glass from the wound,
which was worse than had at first thought
She watched me a moment in silence, half
turned as if to go, then coming to my side,
again said, hesitatingly
" Mr.. Dalton, perhaps / can be Of help TO
you let me try"
No doubt ought to have kept my cold
dignity, and refused her aid, but the voice
was soft and sweet again, and | could not do
otherwise than yield the hand once more to
her gentle touch.
Calling for linen and water, she dressed
the wound quickly and skilfuly, while grad
ually we because more sociabe She had
never been so interesting before, and / rotir-
ed that night coniessing to myself that at
last | was in love.
The next morning met her alone in the
library. Impulsive as men in love some
times are, | asked her to marry me, because
she smiled on me. might have known bet
ter, but | was not prepared for the look she
shot forth from her dark eyes, accompanied
by the scorniul words
Surely you are beside yourself, or your
memory is very short. How long ago was it
you expressed surprise that your sister tole-
rated in her parlors a person you very graph
ically described as working barefoot, or wear
ing blue stockings ? am surprised that
you should so far forget your dignity as to
think of wedding one whose early lot in life
was so far beneath your own :"
Speechless with wonder her every word
panied me, and l could only listen.
But let me give you word of advice for
your future benefit. When next you speak
disparagingly Of absent people, be sure none
of them are within hearing"
Having thus spoken, she abruptly depart
ed, leaving me staring at vacancy.
Well, if that was not the greatest damper
my pride and self-love ever received sat
still a little while to recover my equanimi.
ty, after that stunning assault from n womans
tongue.
Ere | left the library, | vowed that it we
both lived she should yet become my wife
The proud vixen Then | gave way to
anger aud made up my mind to face the mat
ter boldly. would not leave the place van
quished. The victor should not exult over
the shattered remains of my affections. And
as she had already promised Nettie she would
remain through September, we both met daily
under the same roof as usual.
At last the bright summer had nearly
waned Some of our friends had already
left. One day more, and | should be on my
way back to town.
In that last warm, happy afternoon, with
book in my hand, | strolled out to one of the
arbors.
1t was delightfully."- pleasant there, and as
threw myself on one Of the low couches,
espied behind garden-chair book-the
very book Kate Hadley had been anxiously
looking for few days before her lost
sketch.book.
| quickly took possession of it, and opened
it, Of course. The first page | glanced at
presented fac-simile of myself, as | must
have appeared after my plunge in the brook
the day | first met her. | could not but re-
cognize it,
Turning leaf after leaf, upon which ap-
peared traces of real genius, found at last
a haf-written sheet of note paper within the
leaves.
Now, as you will probably never know
who | am, | will confess that, without the
least hesitation, | read the closely-written
lines, as follows:
My Dearest EHa-I am sincerely glad
you confided in me so fully as to trust your
secret with me. Rest assured il shall re-
main inviolate. You think that am happy |
Il, with my heart in my own keeping ! |
You say that | can know nothing Of the |
pangs you suffer. Darling | will tell you
what no other will ever know. am as ut |
terly wretched as a fond heart can make its |
unhappy possessor, And that heart of mine |
is in the keeping of one of whom any woman
might be proud. | know this will seem
strange to you. Not long ago he asked me
to become his wife. | scornfully refused, be-
cause my pride had magnifed mere molehill
into mountain. He is not man to sue the |
second time and have deliberately raised
barrier between US what will never be sur
My future now has"
Here the letter remained unfinished. Oh, |
how my heart beat With triumph? No,
with love. And would win her yet! Now
| understood why she had nearly moved the
house from its foundations for that book.
quietly proceeded to the house, and hear
ing the piano, peeped in. She was practc-
ing alone. | stole up behind her, and with
out word placed it-open at the ridiculous
picture of myself--on the piano before her.
How she started, and how painfully she
blushed as the half-written letter slipped out |
upon the keyboard shall never forget
the look she gave me as she said in stihed
voice:
Where did you get it2"
Under garden chair in the south arbor"
A silence followed, during which | could
fairly hear her heart throbbing under its
weight of modification. At last, for pitied
her, as she sat with head dewncast, and scar
let face, with its sweet mouth twitching in |
nervous excitement:
Kate, have done dishonorable act. |
have seen your book, and read your letter
but do not regret it. 1t has made me very
happy! Darling do not wrong your own
heart, and crush mine again for love you
SO truly Surely you will not destroy the
happiness Of us both for those careless, thought.
less words that, in my conceit, spoke ere |
had seen you2"
For answer | receiyed-well, no matter,
reader but rest assured it was different
answer from the first, and entirely satisfactory |
did not leave the next day. We were
married at Christmas. To-day am happy
husband and father, and often laugh over my
wooing ut Maplehurst.