North Iowa times. [volume] (McGregor, Iowa) 1867-current, 1870-02-09

band ride away on his great brown horse
thinking how grave and serious he was,
how odd in oil bis ways-how eld-manish
was his gray overcoat, and his broad
brimmed hat-saying to herself, "if l
were to leave him, and he were to Gnd the
house empty, he would 90 on reading, or
comfort himself with q new insect or a
new planet. No need to wonder how he
would take it,"
And since then she had watched at the
window guiltily and miserably for the
valentine, so sure, she thought to come.
At last she saw figure coming straight
and fast toward the house, and the blood
flew to her cheeks, and her heart beat
fast but it was not the postman--only a
neighbor with blanched face and frighten-
ed eyes, that told her bad news before his
lips uttered it.
She went out to meet him, and they
stsod there looking at each other for a
moment. Over the hills little crowd
was coming slowly, something in it's
midst.
"Don't be too frightened, Mrs. Romer,"
gasped the man at last. "It may not be
as bad as they think. The horse SHE'D,
just before the post-ofice and the doctor
was thrown. He hasn't come to yet. Oh,
no, no v'-for she had thrown herself on
her knees and cried out that he was dead !;
"not dead-not dead yet, Mrs. Romer."
But the wretched woman knew that
death was very near, and the food of
agony that swept across the heart told her
she had not ceased to love her .uiet hus'
band.
They brought him in-and from that
moment for long days and nights, she
kept watch beside his bed, thinking of no
other thing on earth, praying only that he
might be spared to her. She suffered ag>
onies of remorse. Every false thought
pursued her with revengeful stab.
The gray overcoat hanging on the wall,
which she had thought old-manish and
like him, as he rode away, seemed to
taunr her with the thought that it would
never be worn again. She could not bear
the sight of it longer; and SO one day she
took it softly in her hand to hang it in a
certain closet. AS she lifted it, something
fell from one Of the pockets-a letter or q
paper. She stopped to recover it, and saw
fanciful envelope, with bright seal, and
her name upon it, such were the valen.
tines that came to her. This was surely
one of them. What did it mean? Had
her husband discovered the writer ? Had
there been some cause for the accident, of
which she knew nothing? She looked at
the valentine again. It had never been
posted.
Ethel began to tremble violently from
head to foot. She sank down upon her
knees, clasping the valentine between
both palms, and held it thus awhile.
Could it be ?-oh, could it be2 She open
ed it. The glowing verse, but sadder and
more hopeless, telling of love unreturned.
The same measure in the same feigned
hand, yet not all unknown. Had she
never before seen that little flourish-that
peculiar formation of a letter?
"Oh, heaven! make me sure ~ sobbed
Ethel, and she found her way somehow
to her husbands desk and opened it.
Within lay envelopes like those upon
the valentine, a little box of such gay
seals, and fragments of verse-the proofs
that the writer of those passionate poems
eli those wild protestatiens Of love-was
no other than Ralph Romer.
She crept back to his bedside, and kiss
ed his face and unconscious eyes. She
prayed heaven to give him back to her.
She prayed to be forgiven, with sense of
remorse and shame such as she might have
felt had she been much more wicked, and
heaven listened to her. The crisis passed
in safety, and Ralph Romer's eyes opened
on face pallid with grief and worn with
watching. but beautiful with holy love
and constaucy. When one day, her head
upon his bosom, she told him all, he also
had his tale to tell.
II am old and gray, you see," he said,
land such love seems only to belong to
youth. l could not speak it but felt it,
and l put my thoughts into verse-an6 !
sent them to you, my darling, with hope
that you would know whence they came
some time, though hardly with hope that
you could give me more than o child's re-
spect and duty"
But she had given him all woman
might, and this she told him.
They are together still. think they
have forgotten that one is young and the
other old, in the immortal youth of both
their hearts. After that one long talk,
they said little more; but their love was
an assured thing. He tells her as of yore,
all his scholars dreams, and talks of the
stars and the flowers rather than of them.
selves. But Ethel is content. She has
but to remember those treasured valen-
tines, which lie bound together with blue
ribbon in her most sacred hiding-place,
to feel assured Of her happiness. There
is no empty nook in her warm heart, and
the angels Of love and duty clasp hands
beside her hearthstone.
Tue true gentleman is Gods servant, the
worlds master, and his own man virtue
is his business, study his recreation, con-
teatment his rest, and happiness his re-
ward God il his father, the Church is his