The Columbia herald. [volume] (Columbia, Tenn.) 1850-1873, 1870-10-21
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~ hJ@ AN W9e ueVeI eu8a&eu,
was the reply In an evasive tone.
"But hearts are supposed by theun
initiated to have more subtle methods
Of communication than by words"
"See h@e, Tom BurnsH said Wirt
with sudden heat, Z" I didn't ask you
here to cAtechise mev
@f beg your pardon, Wirt-I WON'T.
j Xoo and have been friends too long
4 e quarrel: Let's talk Of something
4 pleasanter.n al - :
4 That's like you, Tom. You always
i remember the Hsoft answer" we used
1 3toAxibble in our copy-books. It was
who was in 1AnltAbut the thought OF
Myeie touched me. But you may as
4 wei know the, worst of me, as you al
| ways have known, i am afraid /. do
/ repdembef 8ysie q great deal too we'll.
lives, 3 fool ever to let myself care for
her, since I can't marry her. !, Dear lit
tie thing ! and T. do believe she, likes
me. .lY0n know how she has been
brought up.s. Whg, Tom my whole
salary Nonldn,t dress her, and she has
not q cent 0f her own What could /
d0f A bfavef fellow than I am might
dig and delve, and hang by his forlorn
hope, till he was gray. shall do no
such thing. have made up my mind
to cut the knot Of my destiny by mar
Eying Ethel Stanley, handsome as an
Indian queen, and after Mysie, the
sweetestitempefed girl I know, but
above all, worth a cool fifty thousand."'
"f you can.'' - 5f's isah,,a 4
"Iff can, yes. But the worst Of It Is
to look into Ethel SANKEY'S eyes-the
truest eyes, Tom-and see Mysie's face
come between. 4 feel sometfmesAn
The twoyonng meh were walking on
now, and EtSel heard no more. 4
b Once more, poor Ethel! Around
her WAS all that had made the world
beautiful and life so pleasant, but the
soul had gone out of her hope, and left
her gazing on its lifeless body, with q
strange self-pity very sad in one so
young. Was it not enough to be ieal-
oUsly n1iscOnstrued in the truest impuI:
ses OF her nature p her very love.
mOtherless as she was, for her mothers
friend, traduced as the servile fiattery
Of . fortune hunter +? Must her humif-
istion l Be completed by hearing from
the very lips Of this man, who had al.
ready touched her fancy, and might
have won her heart, this cool confession
that he sought her not for herself, but
for the paltry gold, from which, even
in thought, she now shrank with bit
ter loathing? '3T1 .se's.''.
With the swift, unreasoning general
ization of youth, she saw the whole
world hollow and false, a fair expanse,
full of snares and pitfalls for weary
feet. The near hum of life in the par
lois where she had been SO gay, came
to her ears and made her shudder. Yet
soon in her sharpest pang-so: sharp,
because it was her first experience of
what must sometime add in some way
come to us all-this child of q faithful
ancestry looked ur to the great, blue
vault of the sky, lit by the tender radi-
ance of the stars, and felt that these, at
least, were true, and that beyond them |
there was God. The ripples crept
whispering along the sand at her feet
and with the strange double-conscious-
ness which often moves parellel with |
extreme mental suffering, appropriat- |
ing In its course the most acute impress |
SONS Of outward things, and connect |
ing them with some latent memories !
Of the past, she. remembered the o,d |
vacation spent with Nellie Dudley in |
her home among the Berkshire bills, |
and the sound like this, half rush, half |
rustic, which their flying feet had made |
amid the heaps of early lalien Autumn |
leaves. That was years ago, and Nefst
lie never went back 20 school. Darling |
Nell She had the letter yet, with the
long, golden curl, which the stricken
grandparents had sent to her from
their desolate home, after the first snow I
had fallen on little new-made grave.
The paper, she knew, was yellow and
blotted over with tears, but this>sen-
tence in its old-fashioned characters,
was as dear to the eyes of her memory,
as when it had just come to her, a mes
sage out Of the unreturning past |
She spoke of you very often, and
never more tenderly than the morning +
she died. 1 want you to cut off this |.
curl, she said, and send it to Ethel
with my dear love. She liked to be
here, and sometime she will come here
again, and see yOu for my sake.'h
Ethel sprang up with q sudden, ire
sfstible impulse. The welcome that |,
had waited her so long a.for Nellie's
sad" would be none the less warm, she
knew, because, tired and heart-sick,
she claimed 1t for her own as well. =
Ouc WOulO SO. su0 WOtHu 1Ot even |
wait to write to her only relative, the
uncle who had been her guardian
Deep In his stocks and mortgages, it
would not matter much to him where
she went, if only she were safe and
happy. HIS house, grand and cold,
had never been real home 10 Ethel,
coming to It as she had for years, only
70 spend an occasional vacation, and
going away again more than half glad
to escape the indefinable chill which
the stately courtesy of her aunt and
cousins shed uponher frank, impulsive
Mrs. Fitz Warran would wonder and
at her sudden desertion,
and she would end, as she always did,
by winning over the dear old lady to
the side of her ON n desire.
With Ethel, to think was TO act, and
with her heart lighter already, she ran
away to her own room, to prepare for
the morrow's packing.
A little oId-fashioned village nesting
among pine-clad hills, just high enough
to give the sense of loving protection
without the gland loveliness which
lOftier heights insI ire; sung to by a
cherry little river Ghjch Olaypd at