The Fremont weekly journal. [volume] (Fremont, Sandusky County, Ohio) 1867-1877, 1872-04-19

L
''Can't you go aloneP'
"Alone! how would it look2" Mrs |
Els temper-for she had one, though !
it did not often parade itself-was
aroused. "You are so neglectful of
those little attentions you use to pay
me once; you never walk with me,
nor ever pick up my handkerchief,
nor notice my dress as you once did
swell, fellow can't be ever wait
ling on a woman, can hep growled
Mr.. Edge.
"You could be polite enough to
Mrs. Waters last night, when you
never even thought to ask whether 1
wanted anything, though you knew
perfectly well that l had headache.
/ don't believe you care for me as
much as you used to'-and Mrs.
Edge looked extremely pretty, with
the tears in her blue eyes and the
culver on her round, rosy lips:
"Pshaw," said her husband, peev-
IishIy. ''Now don't be silly, Maria. "
"And in the stage, yesterday, you
never asked me if l was warm enough
or put my shawl around me, while
Mr.. Brown was so afectiOnate to his
wife. 1t was mortifying enough,
Henry; indeed 1t was"
81 didn't know women were such
fools" said Mr.. Edge, as he drew on
his overcoat to escape the tempest
which was fast approaching. "Am
I the sort of man to make a ninny
> of myself doing the polite to any sort
of a female creature? Did you ever
know me to be conscious whether a
woman had on a shawl or a swallow
tailed coatp'
Maria eclipsed the blue eyes be-
hind little pocket handkerchief and
Henry, the savage, banged the door
loud enough to give Betty, in the
kitchen, a nervous start.
"Raining again! l do believe we
are going to have q second edition
of the deluge," said Mr.. Edge to
himself that evening as he enseonced
his six feet ofiniquity into the south
west corner of the car at City Hall
go ahead, conductor, can't you see
we are full, and it is dark alreadyp
SIN one minute, sir" said the con-
ductor, as he helped a little woman,
with a basket, on board. "Now, sir,
move up little, if you please"
Mr.. Edge was exceedingly com
Portable and did not want to move;
but the light of the lamp falling on
the peally forehead and shining gol-
den hair of the conner, he altered his
mind and moved up.
"What lovely eyes" quoth he
mentally, as she bowed a single ack
; nowledging smile. "Real violet, the
Icelor / most admire! Bless me! what
business have married men like me
| to be thinking about eyes? There,
she has drawn a confounded veil
over her face, and the light as dim
as tallow dip; but those are pretty
eyes"
The fair possesser of those blue
| eyes shivered slightly, and drew her
mantilla close around her shoulders.
"Are you cold, Miss? Pray honor
ME by wea,ing my shawl. l do not
need it myself"
She did not refuse-she murmur
ed some faint apology for troubling
him, but it was not refusal.
mo trouble-not bit, said he,
arranging it on her tempting should
ers; and then as the young lady
handed her fare to the conductor,
lhe said to himself: what slender
little hand. If there is anything l
admire in woman, it is a pretty
hand. Wonder what kind of a
mouth she has got! 1t must be a de-
Ilightful one if it corresponds with
her hair and eyes-plague take the
veil"
But "plague," whover that mysti-
cal power may be, did not take pos
session of the veil, so Mr.. Edges
curiosity about the blue-eyed dam
sci feudluGu uncdbAoACua
"Haye you room enough, missP 1
fear you are crowded. Pray sit a
little closer to me"
"Thank you, sir" was the soft re-
ply, coming from behind the veil
as Mr.. Edge reAected-like an angel
from a dark cloud. And his heart
oava LARGE thump as the pretty
shoulders touched his own shaggy
oyercoat in hesitating sort of way.
decidedly, this is getting quite
romantic" thought he, and then with
an audible whisper, "What would
Maria sayF'
The rest of that long, dreary ride
was delicious with the shoulder
against his own. How galIantly he
Jumped up to pull the strap for her
lbv some streak it happened to be in
the very street were he intended to
stop. And, under the circumstanc
les, we hardly blame him, when the
cars stopped so suddenly that she
Icaught at his arm, for the squeeze
he gave the plump, rosy hand-any
man of sense would nave done the
same-it was such an inviting little
lily.
"Allow me to carry your basket,
Miss, as our paths lie in the same di
Irection,' said Mr.. Edge, courteously
relieving her of her burden as he
Ispoke; "ahd-and-maybe yon'll
Gnd less difficulty If you take my
arm"
Well, wasn't it delightful! Mr..
Edge forgot the wet streets and
pitchy darkness-he thought be was
walking on roses. Only as he ap-
preached his door he began to feel a
little nervous, and wished. the little
Iincognito would not hold on so tight
Suppose Maria would be at the
window, on the lookout, as she often
was, who would she interpret matters2
He couldn't make her believe that