Marshall County Republican. (Plymouth, Ind.) 1856-1878, 1873-01-09

Iodu Dy you III tuo Sdl10 Spnle LII WACn
it is written by me.
81 never thought that believed in
fatalism, and yet, if our acquaintance
ends as I believe it will, do. Why
did I delay my journey home two days,
if not to meet you? And why did I, by
the merest accident, read your pretty
name on the title page Of the book you
had been reading, if it was not to gain a
clue by which might continue our &C
quaintance? I thought OF these things
a great many times, and at last have
come to believe that the fates are inter-
ested in us. You know
There is destiny that shapes our ends,
Rough hew them as you will.
cit may be, Miss Lucille, that mis-
take you entirely; that you will regard
me as presumptuous and this as unpar-
donable. If you do, do not write to me;
will accept silence as my rebuke. And
do not fear that I will ever make another
effort to make you remember me. But
if you think have done anything wrong,
l."
l had read thus far when / heard the
girls coming noiselessly up the stairs.
They should not disturb me, said to
myself. I would read my letter through
alone, and sit in the Pickering freight
and think over every sweet word in it.
1t would be time enough to tell them in
the morning. So, hastily springing up,
| flew to the door to turn the key, but
just as laid my hand on the knob the
room filed with yellow light, and look
ing back I saw the half sheet of nv
letter curling slowly up on the hearth
The first 1 still held; the last had fut-
tered away from my careless hand, and
the draught had drawn it into the fire.
In an instant / was shaking the un-
burned fragment free from fire and
ashes, and irantically rubbing the
charTed edges in my fingers. The upper
half of the page was Drowned, but ieei-
BILE, but the rest was gone-the name
was burned of.
The door bursted open and the girls
came bouncing in.
"Oh, girls, my letter, my letter.
"What letter? What is the matter,
Lucille? Dear Lucille, are you crazy?"
But I could only hold the black pieces
in my hands, sitting on the floor in utter
despair, and made them no answer.
They sat down beside me, and Allegro
picked up the envelope and read the
poStmark.
Is it from him, Lucille?"
=" From Mr.. A., Lucille ?" cried Nettie,
Selling the envelope away. "Then why
in the world are you making such fuss :?
Do let us see it, oh, please do! A whole
sheet! Do let us see what his name isl"
=" cannot; oh, Nettie, it is burnt"
Burnt? Why, here it is in your
hand!'
"But the last page-the page with
the name oae-is gone! 1t blew into the
fire, and now [ cannot answer it. ~
Profound silence reigned.
But surely you remember the
name %
81 had not looked at it. I wanted to
read it just as he wrote it. I never
thought to read the name"
They both fell to crying, partly
through sympathy, partly through vexa-
ton, and partly through thwarted curl
osity.
eco away, girls. Don't blame me,
and don't pity me. 1t was your fault.
and it was mine. Go away; want to
be alone"
That was ten years ago.
Nettie is married, and so is allegro,
but am not. Lately Nettie's husband
has moved to Albany, and last winter she
wrote for me to visit her. eff you will
et me know when you are coming, I will
meet you at the depot" she wrote, "but
f you do not write, take carriage and
lrive to No. ="
It was quite late when I left the cars
md handed my checks to the driver into
whose carriage [ got. It was too dark
% see distinctly who my companions
we're, but a little girl was talking gayly
% her father, and very soon included me
n her conversation. care you going to
'ur house, too? ?" she asked, laying her
land on my arm.
strangers; it is very rude, my dear"
aid her father, drawing her back beside
lin.
The driver mounted his box, and we
attled out upon the brilliantly lighted
treets. The glare of the lamps Lit up
'ur carriage, and opposite me sat Mr..
u He was little changed-ten years
'lder, of course, but I knew him III
family. My vail was drawn, and so
hick that even the sharp eyes of little
lucille-my namesake, I felt sure could
lot see my face.
What ought I to do? If I lifted my
all, would he know me? Ought 1 not
hen and there tell him all?
But 1 had no chance, for our ride was
hort, and in few moments our carriage
lalted before an elegant home. "There
s mamma at the window, papa, Watching
or us; and baby is there too" Lucille
ried, as she pressed her face against the
rystal side of the carriage. With
pleasant goodnight" from each, they
eft me out in the dark, tired and cold,
where | sat stupidity staring after them.
The wide hall-door opened, and (while a
ervant came out for the luggage) [ saw
lim through the frosty lace of the win
low catch his wife in his arms as little
lucille went dancing around them.
I used often while in the city to ride
oast his house with my sister, but I
llways averted my eyes from the door
slate. His name could never be mine,
md I had no interest in knowing it.