The Albany register. [volume] (Albany, Or.) 1868-18??, 1870-05-28

was a tedious life; yet I soon grew to
love it. Twenty years after | found my
self rich man, the proprietor of the
Walnut Hill Estate.
L had ample means, so I gratifed my
love for travel. I wandered all over
Europe, launched m bark upon the Nile,
and sat beneath the shadow of the Pyra-
mids; returning home again, sunburned
and tootsore with weary, loveless heart
l shut myself up, having no intercourse
with my fellow men, and regarded wo.
mankind with bitter feeling of hate and
distrust.
One sunny, autumn afternoon-I have
vivid remembrance of it, even to this
day; it was early in October, and the
sunlight, streaming down upon the great
walnut trees in front of my dwelling, and
glinting through the tawny chestnut
leaves, seemed to have peculiar warmth
and Brightness lay on a little hillside,
watching by turns the blue smoke curl
ing up from my meershaum, and the
busy village folks down below me- There
was fair, or something of that kind, ON
foot, and an unusual hustle prevailed.
Alter while, [ noticed trim, girlish
figure, wearing brown robe and jauu-
ty little hat, coming up from the town in
the direction of Walnut Hill I watch
ed her with feeling of interest, in spite
of myself; and when she actually turned
into the lane that led UP to my door, l
felt my heart pa'pitating like boys.
Could it be possible that any woman
would have the audacity to force herself
into my house-to beard the lion in his
den? !?
On she came, her brown veil and
streaming ribbons futtcring in the wind,
her little boots beating brisk tattoo on
the gravel. | lay quite still till she
passed me, then, rising on my elbow, /
watched her covertly. On she went
straight up to my house, up the front
steps; and then, bang went the knock
er. heard the door open, and knowing
that she had been admitted, rose and
sauntered up myself, thoroughly vcxcd
at the tremulous eagerness l feltto know
who and what she was. She rose from
her seat as T. entered, saluting me with a
pretty bow.
" Excuse me, sir" she said; but
you are Mr.. Charles Townbridgc, 1 be-
lieve, and am Jessie Dunbar"
The silyery voice, the familiar face, the
name, and some glittering ornament in
her bosom, all struck me at once at the
same moment. fell my head spinnin.
round like top; but l managed to ask
her to be seated again. and, as she com
piled, satisfied myself in regard to the
ornament she wore. It was my ruby
brooch, the one for which / had given
the savings of poor mother. could have
sw orn to that. What could it mean ?"
q We are holding fancy fair, Mr..
Townbridge," she began, "for tbe benefit
of the Queer Fellows orphans; every one
is giving us something, and I've comp up
to see il you would help US. You will, l
am sure.
"No," answered, assuming a stern
ness I did not feel; "'tis a principle
with me never to encourage such insti-
tutions
"Sir," patting her dainty foot impa-
tiently against the carpet, g not encour-
age feeding the orphans of dead Queer
Felows Do you mean that
Her clear, dove-like eyes embarrassed
me with their steady gaze. l arose, and
took out my pocketbook.
How much shall I give you, Miss
Dunbar ?'
sWhat YOU can afford, sir"
I handed her fifty pound note. Her
eyes gladdened so, they fairly dazzled
| me.
"Oh, Mr.. Townbridge," she cried, +"
did not expect this. You arc SO good, SC
generous"
She took o,ft-a delicate little purse,
and crammed it into it then she turned
to go. :,
aGood by, Mr.. Townbridge," she said
pausing in the doorway, and holding out
her hand 8" 1 thank you very much, in
deed; but won't you come down to the fail
to- morrow evening? Please do, Mr.. Town
bridge.
I did not promise her, but went
nevertheless and after the fair was over
I attended Jessie home. My old sweet
heart, Lady Dunbar, grown into buxior
matron, met me in the hall.
8. At last, Charles" she said, graspine
both hands g but you have been an un
friendly old curmudgeon all these years
and we may thank Jessie for Turing 80,
out of your den, I suppose. She wor
her bet by it, too. You see, the girl
were all here laying plans for the fair
anu Lucy SOI " tdihiuS aOOue } Va au'
| Young Mr.. Smyler offered to bet fiv
pounds that none of them had the cour
age to go up TO Walnut Hill and ask yo
for donotion. But Jessie made th
venture and now that you have com
out of your seclusion, do be sociabls
Charley, for the sake Of our old friend
ship"
took her at her word. Almost ever
evening after that found me at Sir Waite
Dnnbar's pleasant home. And one sprin
night, when the air was sweet with balm
and the moonlight soft and mellow, an
the great apple tree, beneath which "
sat, was white with fragrant bloom,
made the same proposal to Jessie that
made to her mother twenty years befor
not on my knees, however, but sitting
her side, with her little hand in mine.
"I loved your mother years ag
JESSIE" said; but was a silly bs
then. I'm man now, and love you
: no man ever loves but once. Do "