Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1871-11-18

many were the conjectures afioat in the village
as to the strangers history and adventures; diff
ferent people putting him down as a forger, a
smuggler, q murderer, or a retired fillibuster,
but all agreeing that he had something on his
mind
But il was only occasionally that he was sad
ana down-hearted; generally he was merry
enough, and often urged Mrs. Burnham about
her promise to q I'd him wife. His frequent
visits to her beco uing well known, the young
girls of the neighl orhOod kept a watch on Briar
cottage, and on tn strangers movements; and
when he was there several would drop in quite
Unexpectedly on sore particular business with
dear Mrs. Durham, and hence many merry
evenihg Is were spent nder her roof. No par
ticular damsel, however, appeared to take Mr..
Harwood's fancy; he laughed and fiirted indis-
crimnately, and told them he was entirely at
Mrs. Burnham's disposal.
Towards Mrs. Burnham herself there was al
ways tenderness in his manner, and an afec-
Tomato consideration, which could not fail to
make an impression upon her. In fact, she felt
that in a very short time this unknown stranger
had gained great hold upon her. and she often
wondered if he was really serious when he
wished her 10 recommend him wife; and III so,
how solemnly she would accept the responsible
ity, and how she would hope and pray for his
happiness. This was when he had been spend
ing mirthful evening in company with many
others at the cottage: but, on the other occa
sions, when they were alone, and quiet con-
versatiOn, glorious sunset starlit sky, or some
awakened recollections had subdued him to his
reflective and melancholy mood, then Mrs.
Burnham felt as if she could resign the task of
making him happy to no one, but must claim it
for herself.
Mrs. Burnham now began to discover that
they were talking in the village about her and
the stranger, and that Mr.. Harwoods visits and
attentions to her afforded much topic of discus
sion among the widows and single ladies of a
certain age. Miss Truelove, especially, was very
voluble on this subject. She herself had been
unsuccessful in her Overtures to the stranger.
She had completed the slippers very handsome
~, and seized an opportunity of Offering them to
MN; but Mr. HARDWOOD, who knew she kept a
shop on the high street, had actually asked her
her delicate hints that they were intended as an
Offering OF friendship and respect. Then she
smiled smile, upon him very graciously and persever-
indifferent to her smiles. SO Miss TxuelOye got
very angry indeed, and the object of her Ire was
not Mr. HARDWOOD, but Mrs. Durham. On one
occasion, when the latter met Miss Trueloye
and Mrs; Hayford together, and accosted them
as usual, Miss TruelOve said" Really, Mrs
Burnham, tits very kind Of you to notice us; we
proud" 'ON
"Nonsense Miss Truelove :" said Mrs. Hav-
ford, sternly; "married women should have no
These and other incidents aroused struggle
in Mrs. Burnhams breast Hitherto she lad not
ventured to consider Mr. Harwood as an admrer
garded him in that light. If he were really so.
was she justified, rs a married woman, in receiy-
ing his visits And the perplexing doubt arose
woman.
Was she free or not, if the stranger was to ask
her to marry him, to become his wife ? She
pondered over this question continually and
confessed to herself that she liked MIR. Harwood;
but then 1T occurred to her that she had known
MIN only Tor week or two, that she knew moth
ing OF his history, and but little of his character
But MS visits were now so frequent that she
must either forbid them, or give a color to the
rumors and suspicious concerning her which
were rife in the village, and the conclusion that
she came to was that she must discourage them.
q md oil hat clna 4
out regret, for he had aroused her interest and
sympathy, and gained sort of hold upon her
arectlon and good will; nevertheless she deter
opportunity.
This opportunity was not long i'm arriving. Mr..
Harwood called in one evening, telling Mrs
say to her. He was i'm one of his grave moods.
and when he had seated himself in his fayorite
place by the window, he remained silent for a
few moments, as If he were doubtful how to be-
gin. This hesitation on his part rather embar-
raised Mrs; Burnham, but tlength she plunged
HARDWOOD" she said =" for too had something
to say to you. You won't be angry with me-
will you, or think me unkind, if ask you not
to come here quite so often ?''
" Not to come here! Why not ?'' asked Mr.
HARDWOOD, anxiously.
IN tell you" she sad but you must not be
offended. You know what people are, and how
they talk, Well I've heard that it is thought
that ought not to receive the visits of gentle
man"
"My dear Mrs Burnham, is that all 81 said
Mr.. Haywood, some foolish tittle-tattle-
gossip, scandal! I'll tell you how YOU NAV
silence it all; and indeed that was NV object in
coming here tonight. You know my position
you know something Of my character, and YOU
have shown 70 much interest in me that you
have offered 10 provide me with a wife. Mrs
Burnham will you be that wife yourself? You
promised to find me one with whom should be
satisfied. Then look no further. for search far
or wide, you will never find one who will please
me half so well as YOURSELF
" Mr. Harwood," said Mrs. Burnham all in a
tremble with surprise and emotion, ''surely you
forget that am married woman"
. No, do not forget" said he, ''but remem-
Der also that your husband has abandoned YOU
Tor eighteen years; that YOU don't know whether
he is alive or dead, and that, in any case, he is
as much dead to you as ii you had seen him
.'True, Mr.. HarwoOd," said Mrs. Burnham,
''if he does live he is still my husband; and if he
were to come tomorrow, could deny him ?"
"Yes,'' replied Mr.. Harwood, "his long ST.
lence and neglect have divorced you from him
as thoroughly as the divorce could do.''
II swore TO be true to him until death parted
us" said Mrs. Burnham trying to quell her in
clination TO accept Mr.. Harwoods views; "and
how do know that he is dead?"
"Ah, Mrs. Durham, don't torture with ex-
cuses,' said he. "Te& me at once, if such is the
case, that you don't care for me-that YOU don't
think you can learn to care for me; but don't
seek excuses. Your husband is dead, and binds
: 'If knew-if only knew it," she exclaimed,
"But no, L have no right even to |
receive your addresses"
"Then you don't care for me?" said he, sud- |
denly dropping his voice to a despairing tone |
That's the truth OF it. You cannot like me. L |
have been nOurishing foolish hope, which |
turns into a dreadful disappointment; and |
suppose may return to my old, rowing, solitary |
life, instead OF obtaining wife and a home"
" You mistake me, Mr.. HARDWOOD" said Mrs. |
Burnham, in a faltering voice. "Irespect you
more even than L had known myself. Iwish |
that had never seen you, or that you had |
thought of any one before me-"
"Then tell me, Mrs. Burnham," said MIR. |
earnestly, do you still feel any affec-
ton for this husband OF yours who has left YOU |
all these years? When he and you parted You
must have been young and ardent, and fresh
from the passion that made you man and wife.
Tell me, does any of this feeling finger with you,
and is that your reason for refusing me?'
:. Mr.. Harwood,'' she replied, Gin eighteen
years the warmest affections cool. i loved nv |
husband when he left me, but for many a year
have been accustomed to look upon him as
dead-tO me, at any rate"
And you have quite forgotten him?" he
asked.
II have forgotten him." she replied
There was a slight pause, and then Mr.. Har-
wood said, Tell me, Mrs. Burnham, that you |
don't like me, and shall be satisfied
- can't say that. Mr.. HARDWOOD" she replied; |