Vermont watchman and State journal. [volume] (Montpelier, Vt.) 1836-1883, 1871-03-15
Vol. 66.-33G1. No. 21.

If you wish me not to speak, [ promise
you ! will never speak of it again.
You know he went on chow dear.
how inexprcssibly dear you have become 10
me- God knows my darling, if you become
my wife | will do all that mortal can for
your happiness. When spoke to YOU last
you asked me TO wait fortnight. That fort.
night IS passod-it is two weeks ago to-day.
Am l too punctual, Edith Nay, will wait
/ till you tell me-"
Mr. Jeifery," was the reply, in low
voice, nothing can do can ever sufficient
| y thank you for-can ever show how grate-
iu am--lor all your more than kindness.
/ we owo it to you that we still have a mother
living The shock which came upon her at
| poor papas misfortune first, and then his
death, would have utterly overcome her, had
/ 70 not been for what You have done You ask
me- do | love you? You know that we all
love you very, very much indeed. But
Aud here Edith was silent. What was she
to say? How was she to prooeed2 She had
said she loved Mr.. Jcfery, and she had spoken
the strict truth but was it the love which
wife should bear toward her husband2 And
yet could husband ever be found more noble.
more seli-donying ? Aud as she thought of
this, the burden Of the old song " An old
mans darling came into her mind.
" Then, Edith, will you be my wife, This
ls the question which I came to ask you to.
day will you answer il now ln
Then came the answer in low tone
" 1t is not much Of a return, but such as
| can give you, do give YOU
Thank you, my darling was the answer.
And the Old man kissed the forehead Of his
fair young love. 4" Do not talk about re.
turn you have given me more than can
ever deserve. You have made me- Edith,
happier than | ever was before in my life"
H.
II was all settled between Mr.. Jefery and
Edith-had, indeed, been understood from the
very iirst--thorc was to be no breakup in
the family circle at Lily Lodge The lodge
they were, indeed, to leave; but they were
all going to be together at Mr. Jeffery's new
house in the country, about two miles from
London.
The young sailor cousin, Edward Gervayse
Ned, as he was always called-had been
called suddenly away from Hampstead the
very day after the events Just mentioned had
occurred-beiore Edith had had time, or per-
haps inclination, to proclaim the new relations
which she and Mr.. Jeaery mutually occupied.
Ned Geryayse was once more at Lily Lodge,
to spend his Christmas. Since he had been
away he had come in for slice Of luck, to
use his own expression. The commandership
.of a coast-guard station had fallen vacant,
and the post had been offered to him.
Mr. Edward Gervayse arrived at Lily
Lodge in the very highest spirits He was a
young gentleman of impulsiye temperament,
and he determined that, on the strength of
his promotion, he would make certain
declaration, in terms as explicit and the Eng
lish language permitted, to a certain young
lady. Practically he considered that declar-
alton had been already made. Edward Ger
vaysc had never told his cousin Edith Win
throp, that he loved her; he had deemed
such an expression Of sentiment to be SUPER
tluous; but Edith, he felt convinced, was
perfectly well aware of the real state of the
case.
1t was the day before the Christmas Eye,
and they were busy decking the small rooms
at Lily Lodge with holly and mistetoe.
Edward Geryaysc had only just arrived;
Clara was out, but Edith was awaiting his
u
carried on underneath piece of the shrub
which the ancient Druids used to-as the
modern house maid does-worship. But Ed
ward at once saw, from the serious look about
his cousins face that she was in "A serious
humor.
Edward dear she said, % am so glad
have been the first to sec you; for should
not like you to have heard what | have to
tell you from any other lips than mine
Stay" said Ned Geryayse " let me tell
you first what have to say"
And Ned attempted to repeat the cousinly
salute; but his lips paused in mid-air. He
was sorely puzzled at Edith's strange absent,
fearful look but he went on, told her every
thing; told her Of the luck which had be-
fallen him, and why he esteemed it luck
told her how often he had longed plainly to
ask her, as he did now, to be his wife, but
how till now he had delayed, because he felt
it would be wrong-told her
But Edith Winthrop burst into tears.
Ned, dearest, she said, " it cannnt be-"
And then Edith Winthrop told Edward
Geryayse everything.
Ned said few words in reply. At first, it
is true, he laughed the notion to scorn. Edith
But then he found she not only could, but did,
Edward Gervaysc was on the point Of giving
utterance 10 some words Of bitter anger; but
he checked himself when he looked down and
saw Ediths fearful, sad, heavealy face.
"Well," he said, breaking long silence,
shall 80 to the cape"
lie bent down, kissed her forehead, and left
the room.
And Edith-what of Edith? She sat as
one stunned. Till now she had never realized
in its full force the promise she bad given
the deed she had done. She sat on a low lit.
tic chair close to the fire, and she laid her
face upon her hands upon the table, and wept
and moaned to herself 80 Ned O nv
love, my love !" That was all but in that
was everything
She heard voice call Edith" She looked
up--it was Mr.. JefIery
That you, Mr.. Jelfery they never told
me you were here"
She noticed that Mr.. Jelery did not on
this occasion do what he had so often done
before when she failed to address her aflianced
husband by his christian name, ask her why
she would not call him James. Mr. Jefiery
simply said;-
ayes, my dear, came in some few minutes
since; but | did not interrupt you; aud
indeed did not SEQ you were there in the
twilight till heard you speak. met your
cousin Edward Geryayse, on the stairs. Ii
is well, | think, that he has returned came
to tell you that | have taken the box at the
theatre for tomorrow night, and hope you
and Clara and Edward Gervayse will come.
And now, my dear, as have an engagement
at six, | shall leave you. God bless you,
Edith" And Mr. Jeaery was gone.
Yes, he had only been in the room few
minutes but those few minutes, how much
had they taught him lie saw il all now.
Fool, blind that he was, only now to know
what he should have known so long before
only now to have perceived that when Edith
L 1 Il. L L