The Manitowoc tribune. [volume] (Manitowoc, Wis.) 1866-1878, 1874-09-01

of the month is it, wonder? Last night
we were lettering in the library at dusk,
looking over Mr.. Lowell's illustrations,
for a storm was coming up to spoil our
outdoor sports. Uncle Aristotle called
Mr.. Lowell away, and [ strolled to the
MUSHROOM, leaving Ostrander and Lena
alone. { had just touched the first
chord, and whether the interval was brief
or long lido not know, but that thrilling
chord of Donizetti was the last thing L
heard till I drew long breath, and
some one sobbed in divine antiphony,
':My love, my love; speak to me, my
lover It was Ostrander's voice, and
[ had been lightning struck. But it was
only shock, and / an up and alive to-
| day. Was that bolt sent to make the
revelation to me Of Ostranders regard?
He does not know that [ understood;
and there is yet choice between two
ways left me-ether to accept happiness
at Lena's expense, OF to marry Mr..
Lowell. VIII it wrong him? Once when
[ told him [ had no loYe for him, he
vowed he could make me love him.
Must I let hime try? By-and-by Ostrsnd-
er's affection will return to it's true
channel. All, mel if it were only right
to love and be loved, how sweet the days
might prove Ostrander is swinging in
the hammock on the veranda. Mr.. Lowell
is in the garden waiting to waylay me.
Stayl why should I go? Why should L
choose Lena happiness instead OF Os-
trander's? Is it that in choosing his [
am purchasing my own?
Ten years later.-How yellow my old
diary has grown! The perfume of that
dear faded summer is waited from every
page. I found it to day in a trunk Of
old family letters and papers among the
effects Of my late husband, Mr.. Lowell
How blind we women are? / found so
mething else there too-this package OF
letters from Lena to him, written before
| Mr.. Lowell illustrated Uncle AristOtie's
book. There had been some love-pass-
ages between them, it seems, which he
did not choose to continue. This was
why Lena forgot her missions and rag
ged schools to follow pleasure with us.
She loved Mr.. Lowell How plain it
all is to-day: bit OF wisdom that reaches
me ten years too late! Here is q violet
colored purse she netted for him; it
| should have been blue-blue Is the col
or of love; here is book-mark, woven
in pretty parody, with her own golden
hair. Life is short, but love is long. :"
Is she happy, [ wonder, in her coun-
try parish, with her children and the
Rev. Amos Greatheart? / mean to run
down and see if [ have indeed spoiled
more lives than my own.
| Sunday-How odd it seems to be back
again in Uncle Aristotle's house! The
same pictures on the walls, the same
books in the ibrary-even his work on
the Andes in its place and the Rev.
Amos Greatheart in his armchair 1t IS
little heaven below, In spite Of all.
Lena does not miss anything; she has
proved that first love Is not always best
love. The orchard trees seem like old
friends, and the honeysuckle at the
window sends upward bouquets Of per
fume that almost make me homesick.
! Mr.. Greatheart is swingingthe baby IN
the hammock.
II shall bring an old friend home TO
tea, Lena, love-" [ hear him say to her.
| shall 60 to hear him preach this after
noon, in the chapel where we used to
learn our fugues and chants.
Evening.-A shower came up during
the afternoon service. l waited IN the
portice for Mr.. Greatheart till the little
congregation dispersed. The lightning
coruscated on the edge of the clouds,
and the resonant thunder made musi :;
along the hills. like horns of Elfand
family blowing. AS | stood looking
out step drew near. Mr.. Greatheart, -
said, 81 sha Mt mind the rain, If
you wish to start.
1T reminds me- said voice that
was surely not MIR. Greatheart' s-'Lt re-
minds me of another thunderstorm
which struck in our neigh hood. DO
you recall it, Mrs. Lowell p
mir. Ostrander p | cried, facing
him. SIS is really you? l hardly ex-
| pected such a surprise
Il might ask. Is it really you = but
those shadowy eyes assure me; even your
dimples have not lost their cunning;
nothing of you that doth fade ! How
many years is 1t since we used to come
here and sing away the sunset hours ?
Ten? It was on my lips to tell you bow
[ loved you the night We were lightning
struck. Shall tell you now p
And SO, when the storm cleared, we
walked home together through the wet
familiar lanes. with the sun Furnishing
every grass blade; and, please God, we
shall walk together through life and
through eternity.
-.