Dodgeville chronicle. [volume] (Dodgeville, Wis.) 1862-current, 1871-02-24

it was to love. Perhaps he had no time
for love. His years had been spent in
work, work, work. He had made for
himself no home he had no family.
And now that he could allow himself
some pause, he had suddenly discovered
/ a well-spring of new feelings in his
ureast-feelings of whose existence he
had never dreamt It is not true that
sentiments which are long repressed
must cease eventually to exist. On the
contrary, it is this mere fact of repres
sion which often causes them to assert
themselves, though late, as strongly as
they do. Mr.. Jetfery was what some
persons might call an old man; yet no
| youth-not that lade OF five-and-twenty
who has Just come from Sea-could have
been more heart and soul wrapped up
in Edith Winthrop. Gradually she had
become part and parcel of his very ex-
istence-the sunshine and gladness of
his life. When he left her, he felt a
| blank in his existence, and that blank
was not filled up till he saw her again.
And Edith knew all thi5-knew of the
old mans love; knew, too, Of other love
for her, and of her love for some one
else. Not that she did not indeed love
Mr. Jeffery. For the matter Of that"
Edith had said often enough to herself,
$50 L love mamma"
"On this afternoon-a bright Decem-
| Der day-Mr. Jeffery took chair close
to Edith Winthrop's side. Yes, she was
very beautiful more beautiful to the
old mans eye than any form which he
| had ever beheld.
edith, my dear, you know what |
am going to say to you p
And Edith Winthrop bowed her head,
for she knew full WE'LL
off you wish me not to speak, |
promise you l will never speak it
again." -.dj,4 aeH II .t
But Edith wished him, she said, to
speak.
''You know" he went on, Ehow dear,
how inexpressibly dear you have become
to me. God knows, my darling, if you
become my wife, will do all that NOR
tai can for your happiness. When [
spoke to you last, you asked me to wait
fortnight That fortnightis passed.
it is two weeks ago to-day. Am | too
punctual, Edith? Nay, | will wait till
you tell me-"
"Mr. Jeffery," was the reply, in a low
voice, nothing | can do can ever suffi-
GENTLY thank you for-can1 ever show
how grateful / am-for all your more
than kindness. We owe it TO you that
we still have mother living. The
shock which came upon her at poor
papa's misfortune first, and then his
| death, would have utterly overcome her,
| had it not been for what }ou have done.
You ask me, do [ love you? You know
that we all love you very, very much,
indeed. But"
And here Edith was silent. What was
she to say? How was she to proceed ?
| She had said she loved Mr. Jetfery, and
she had spoken the strict truth; but
was it a love which wife should bear
toward her husband? And yet could
| husband ever be found more noble,
more selfdenying? And as she thought
of this, the burden of the old song,
can old mans darling" came into her
mind.
"Then, Edith, will you be my wife
This is the question | came to ask you
to-day; will you answer it now ?"
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. 9 Do
not talk about a return you have given
me more than [ can ever deserve. You
have made me, Edith, happier than |
ever was before in my life"
| 1t was all settled between Mr. Jeffery
and Edith-had, indeed, been under
stood from the very first-there was to
be no break up in the family 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 twenty miles from
| London.
The young sailor. cousin, Edward Ger
vayse-Ned, as he was always called
had been called suddenly away from
Hampstead the very day after the
events lust mentioned had occurred
before Edith had time, or perhaps the
inclination, to proclaim the new rela-
tions which she and Mr.. Jeffery mutu-
ally occupied. Ned Gervayse was once
more at Lily Lodge to spend his Christ
mas. Since he had been away he had
come in for a slice of luck, to use his
own expression. The commandership
of a post guard station had fallen va
cant, 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 impulsive
temperament, and he determined that,
on the strength of his promotion, he
would make a certain declaration, in
terms as explicit as the English Ian
guagc permitted, to a certain young
lady. Practically he considered that
declaration had already been made.
Edward Gervayse had never told his
cousin Edith Winthrop that he loved
her; he had deemed such an expression
of sentiment to be superfiuous but
Edith, he felt convinced, was per-
fectly well aware of the real state OF
| the case. II 4 Efg
1t was the day before Christmas Eve,
and they were busily decking the small
rooms at Lily Lodge with holly and
mistletoe. Edward Gervayse had only
just arrived ; Clara was out, but Edith
was awaiting his arrival, up stairs.
There was little struggle carried on
| underneath piece of shrub which the
ancient Druids used to-as the modern
housemaid worship. But Edward
at once saw, from the serious look upon
/ his Cousins face, that she was in a seri-
GUS humor.
Edward, DEAR" she said, " am SO
glad | have been the first to see you for
| should not like you to have heard
what | have to tell you from any other
lips than mine
"Stay," said Ned Gervayse; @ let me