The Middlebury register. [volume] (Middlebury, Vt.) 1850-1882, 1873-02-11
Love in II Snow Storm

Love in II Snow Storm.
al know | am pretty said Clari
Wintringham to herself, gazing com
posedly into her mirror, "but do no
think | am sufficiently beautiful to scnt
all the young men in my acquaintance
into ecstacies over me-"
1t is not always very easy Tor Il girl tC
Judge of her own looks, but Clara triet
to be as impartial as possible on thi
special occasion And what was it tina
she saw reflected in the glass before which
she stood, critically surveying the crea
ture who N the world calls Clara Winning
ham.
A tall, supple fgurewith sloping shoul
dcrs and daintily taperea waist ; skir
soft as satin, and tinted like an oleandel
blossom, deep blue eyes, just shaded into
voiiet at the iris, and little fresh moutl
where the teeth shone at every smile like
pearls through crimson shell.
Yes said Clara nodding her head Sc
that certain spirias of golden brown hail
which always fell over her forehead
danced coquetishly up and down Il ar
pretty. Then that five hundred pounds 9
year that Uncle Bruce will secure me Is
not altogether disagrceable pill for some
Of my lovers to swallow. | don't think
| am made for an heiress. | like tC
mend, to patch and contrive. and I've al
ways had an idea that | would make {
splendid poor mans wife. A splendid
wife for poor man, mean Of course.
She took from her belt withered rec
rose and bunch of violets, as she spoke
aud arched her pretty eyebrows over
them in puzzled fashion.
Harvey Gellettc gave me the roses,
she soiloquised He's very handsome,i'
Harvey and | always did have a weakness
for handsome people, and he's a rising
young man in his profession, people say
| like talanted people too. I'll keep tho
rose jus. little while. And she laid il
away in satin lined box where she wa'
wont to treasure souvenirs of these hel
girish days-'And Frank Hoods violet!
Poor Frank Hood He's so silen
and awkward, and yet there is something
about him that won't let one despise him
lie certainly is not handsome, though hi
has fine eyes, and a face like one of thos'
old marble creations one sees in th'
School of Design Well, l won't throw
oway the violcts either, not just yet.
Clara took the jeweled hair pins out o
her shining tresses, and laid aside the
white taratan dress and wreaths of blue
blossoms, and went composedly to bed.
For why should she lie awake and lose
the fresh roses Of her complexion, and din
the sparkle of those glorious violet eye:
thinking about the respective claims o.
the various lovers who lowered ,moth-likc
about the torchlight of her charms
There was time enough to make up hcl
mlnd-quitc time enough, Why, SHE
was not yet nineteen, and life was so full
Of bloom and freshness for her. Clar;
knew that the autumn must come sooner
or later, but she meant to have a goot
time first Sensible Clara
So, in the very middle Of the season
when balls, operas and masqueradcs wer,
at their height, and when old Aunt Dal
mayne wrote pious letter up to hel
brother in town, setting forth that 'sh,
had the rheumatic awful bad, and ther,
want any help to be had, and she was 81
lonesome that she couldn't stand it NJ
longer, and wouldn't one of her thre,
nieces come down and stay with her for
short time = Clara astonishel the family
circle by volunteering to 90.
My DEAR said Mrs. Wintringham
you do not know what you are undertak
ing. 1t is common farm house
And Aunt Aantha Ann is full o
whims, remarked papa Wintringham
rubbing his nose, But | suppose she i
poor and lonely
We'll, but said Clara, Miriam is busl
With her lessons and her German class
and Laura belongs to those sociabes
seem to be the only one disengaged. Be
sides, am getting tired of balls ant
operas and twelve o'clock suppers.
should like to try the other extreme jus
for fun
You'll find it anything but fun, sal,
Mrs. Wintringham, putting her gold stop
pered castorette to her aristocratic nose.
We'll, at any rate mean to try sal,
Clara valiantly. so papa, you may writ
to Aunt Dalmayne that I'm coming
The scene looked indescribably beauti
ful to Clara Wintringham that frost,
December night, as the jolting old chais
with sleepy old horse trotting in front
turned into the valley road, and she coul
see the ancient farmhouse, steep-roofe
and brown with a half century of sun
and rains, with the tall elm boughs wrest
ling overhead in the gale, and the woode
hills rising up on every side, while on
ruddy beam Of light plowed from the tin
windows under the caves, casting as
might be, a javelin of brightness athwar
the road in front Of the door.
Il think she is expecting YOU said tn
rough charioteer who had been sent to tn
station to meet Mrs. Dalmayne's niece
but am aieared you'll find it very lone
some.
'Oh cried Clara gleefully, as sh