The Newberry herald. [volume] (Newberry, S.C.) 1865-1884, 1873-03-19
strength she rendered the gloomy

t''N Wv MI V1'2itN wan vi
Goldmark:s' Sacunta!a.' Entirely
absorbed with the music, her face
was animated with its inspiration,
and at that moment Harry enter
ell.
i can only thank yoa sufficient
ly Miss Grey, by wishing You the
after happiness Of ':>;acuntaIa.'
is u wild Hindoo legend she
replied, 'and though full of SORROW,
l claim it as one Of my favoriles.
WAS it a just punishment for
mocking her priest?' and Harry
Huntington gazed earnestly upon
her with his blue. dangerous eyes.
; i hardly know, she hesitatcd,
and then with rare impulse, spoke
almost rapidly, 4 would rather die
: !han lose those whom | love
But she tried his faith and re-
covered him Col. Huntington's
voice was modulatcd--thc deep,
tender grave key 50 Irresistible to
girl OF woman. Even | could not
be insensiJ!e 70 the strange mag
nctism Of this man, and q chill
made me shudder, when l saw him
draw chair near the open piano.
We'll, | do not think that lie
proved faithful to either Isaac
Walton or cigars, but grew quite
satisfied with the old-fashioncd
little village: indeed, he informed
me that he would wait my arrival,
though he knew that I would be
detained two weeks in New York.
But three weeks found me still
in the city. and then l returned
to Clovernooll, bearing with me a
letter to Gel. Huntington, with the
Paris post-mark. 1t was twilight
when I walked up the pretty
avenue that led TO the cottage, and
there, by the Stone steps that led
to the broad piazza, I found him
sitting beside Annie Grey.
There is a letter, Harry, which
I think will decide your plans. for
the Alcott;s return by the next
steamer.
\ frown darkcncd his handsome
iacc and he thrust the letter into
his pocket, without even breaking
the seal. Then I left them, and
went in to talk with Mrs. Grey.
The moon rose, silvering the river
waveIets, the summer stars looked
softly down, and the young girl
drank in the music Of old, old
story which her purer nature
accepted as truth.
Harry Huntington WIS unusual
ly grave when lie entered our room
that night, and lighting his cigar,
smoked for a long time without
altering a word. At last | heard
him call me.
4 am sorely troubled, Frank,
and | wish you to help ne
do you recall your promise,
Harry?'
'And it is just in reference to
that promise that I would now
speak. I did promise not to tiirt:
and | did not even mean to be
interested. Indeed, if | had found
one shadow Of guile, l could have
closed my heart most resoIutely,
but she is as pure as an angel.
You know that / have never cared
for 1adelainc Alcott, and-I love
her.
Does she know all?'
/ have never told hcr OF my en-
yasament; but l could not help
it. Frank, and SO she knows how
much | care for her.
Then break your engagement
and marry her. II is only what
man OF honor would DO
You are strict in your notions,
Frank
lie cid not continue the con-
versatioh and the next morning
We left Clovcrnook.
Months wore on: the winter in
New York came freighted with
excitement, and I, absorbed in my
business, saw little Of Col. Hunting-
ton, who was the lion Of the season
and the acknowledged fance Of
Made!ainc Alcott.
[ could not forget the fair
beauty Of sweet Annie Grey, and
wondered if the wealth Of such
love would ever gladden. my
bachclorhood, and to make 1t 4
baciclorhood no more.
Tho cold January Of 'G9 had
almost closed, when one morning,
on entering the office, I found upon
M table q letter from Mrs. Grey.
'Annie is very ILL., she wrote,
and has asked TO see YOU
The next boat bore me to Clo-
vernook, when | found the little
village white with snow and death
like in its winter quiet. The
shady avenue, the walks recalling
our old summer life were stripped
Of their dark green drapery: and
the windows Of the cottage were
all closed. Hector. the house dog,
harkcd my first welcome and then
NJrc E,rn1- romp ont IN n,ant mo