Smyrna times., 1871-03-08
My Confession.

We have all loved once. In every hear
there Is some secret place where are boarded
memories which often in the twilight haunt us
GOd pity US to whom these memories bring
not sOttened solemn sadness (which resembles
ram, but agony which almost stops our breath
and makes the fast-faliing tears burn their
traces into our checks. | also have such
memories of short, happy summer, so hap.
py that now, when look back through the
long, weary years that have since passed, the
glimpse OF my lost Eden almost madens me.
To-day, as am looking over some relies of
mlne, little ring Of dark, glossy hair fell
from an envelope into my hand, and brought
such tears as few shed but once in life II
was wrong in me, wife, to lavish kisses upon
that curl tonder and more loving, than | had
ever given the man whose name bore. How
longed to lay my head upon his heart and
weep away my sad lost lite.
Paul, Paul, come back to me! There was n
Tune when your V, ice drove every pain away
but now, though die for longing TO hear v0u
speak you cannot come to me. Heaven be
merclfuI to us, who meet our husbands day
after day, with forced smiles Of welcome, when
our hearts are back to another
1t was July that met him. and have often
thought that the fire Of that glowing month
tlnged our love. The hot day was over. the
moon had not yet risen, and the stars seemed
TO bring dewy freshness as one by one they
came out in the dark blue sky.
! paced up and down in the clear star
light, listening to the murmur of the waves
upon the shore. Far out at sea a white sail
rose and fell with the motion of the waves.
and made me think of : Little Dombey. watch
ing the waves and clouds, aud thinking Cf the
silver like sail that seemed to beckon him to
come"
saw my hostess come from the house on
her usual walk to the village and thought the
straight, manly form by her side some neigh.
Dor. As they came close to me, however, She
stopped and introduced me to Captain Wing
a new 6oarder. As my hand was clasped in
his, and his dark eyes met mine, shudder
thrilled me from head TO foot, and in that July
night an old superstition | had heard, about
such tremorS, rose in my mind" Death has
looked at you snd passed on, Paul Wing said
speaking my very thoughts.
We walked upon the shore sometime,
watched the tui moon rise, throwing a path
OF silver on the ocean, bathing everything iG
! hight, and only when we saw the light in the
hshlng village close by disappearing, did we
turn to 90 back to the house
Day alter day of that short, sweet summer
found US together night after night listened
to his loving words, and fOrgo: the past, cared
not 1or the future. but lived only in the pres
ent. 1t was my first love- and now. when |
think how worShipped hin, wonder that
dld not tremble, for dread Of what | might
nave known, that such happiness never lasted
We were married, yet the world thinks this
man, whose wedding ring is on my hand, is my
first husband.
1t was a little seaside village far from any
one VINO knew us, where we met, and no one
but the munster aud US two knew of it.
lhe summer passed very swiftly the first of
4 4 :. A..
the seaside for London, where we both lived. |
was music teacher, he the youngest son OF a
noble family and, for the present, our mar
rage WASH to be disclosed In one week
after our return his regiment was ordered to
India. a hurried, tender farewell, and he was
gone L never saw or heard of him again but
once, then he was dead. Died 50 suddenly
that there was no chance to leave me fare
we'll word
The story Of my lie closed then it seems as
II have been walking in dream. Only in
the night could weep for him. poverty is a
hard master, and luust work by day. have
often thought with a sad smile at the fancy
thlt wept away all youth aud hope in those
bitter nights. After time the dull mOnotony
OF my life seemed to close around me, and al
most crush me. prayed for death, and since
l could not die, onged for change.
1t was at this time met him whom | now
called husband he loved me; was wealthy
would take me into the world, and [ should
have change, perhaps might forget, sometimes,
| the memory Of that summer; so | married
him, and when pro missed to love, honor and
obey" | thought not of him, but of Paul,
sleeping so quietly in his far off grave, and
longed to slumber beside him.
For three years | have played my part
played il so well that women envy my happy
fate. My God if they but knew how often |
have almost taken His power into my hands
AMI taken my own wretched life
How well | remember that night when cut
this curl from the dear head that 50 often rest
ed on my heart How many times | have
pressed kisses on those dark curis, now chang
ed to dust in far-Off India
Out Of all that flush of summer love and Joy
this little ring of hair is all that is left, except
the memory. | thank God that death cannot
always pass by, and sometime, when l cross
the river, | shall find Paul waiting for me on
the other side.