National opinion. [volume] (Bradford, Vt.) 1865-1874, 1874-05-30

| ulOtC tuSh y s>''"5 49, O~''
of New York.
The evening after her arrival a
letter was put into her hands, ad
DIRE ssed to her maiden name. She
started at sight of the old familiar
"Miss JESSIE" and grew pale tt
faintness as she tore open the ell
velOpe and recognized the handwrit
ing.
"What is the matters" asked Mr.
Trevellyn, az he marked her pallor
I'll am tired, and will 60 upstairs
l think"
"Have you letter?" he asked.
"Only a note from friend,' she
quietly replied.
In her own room, without wait
ing even to close the door, she read
q long, loving letter from Give, full
of self.reproaches, and sympathy
| lOI Hcf. AIl dCCiucuUdi IHSCtlu :,
with a friend had given him the
first intelligence of her fathers ill.
ness. and their journey South. Why
had not some friend written him
for her? He had been so wounded
by ber silence. Now he begged for
giveness for words of reproach and
coldness. Might he write her father
and claim her for his own Jessie
Time had no wings while he waited
her reply-n0w the impatient lover.
Mr.. Trevellyn finished his paper
and cigar, looked at his watch, then
left the room in search of his wife.
Through the open door of her
room he saw her sitting silent and
motionless, the fire of a chilly May
evening shinging upon her golden
hair.
"What picture for my home,"
he softly whispered, as he bent over
her. A face of marble whitenesS,
a trembling hand which grasped The
letter, startled him into saying.
"Dear Jessie, there should be no
secrets between man and wife. May
| see the note which so strangely
affects your"
"You can not ~ was the brief,
measured reply, as she rose from
her chair, no longer the timid, suf-
ferlng girl, but a wronged and out
ragged woman. "You can not read
it, though 1 tell you from whose pen
it came. Dearly loved this man
from whom your perfidy has forever
separated me, My answer you shall
hear, for | am your wife," she bitter
ly added. 1t shall be my care that
it safely reaches Mr.. Lee"
A night of tears and agony for
Jessie, of mingled remOrse and rage
for her husband, and she stood be-
fore him in the morning light, an
open letter in her hand.
"Mr. Trevellyn, you will hear what
| have written my friend:
" 'MY DEAR Mr. LEE;-
- After long winter, passed in the South
at the bedside of my father, have returned
to my old home an orphan ,but-a wife. In
the presence of my dying father married his
nephew, Mr. John Trcvelyn. This brief note
must be my reply to your letter written a
fortnight since. God bless you forever.
"'JEssLE p"
Years rolled on. John Trevellyn
sought in the excitement of political
life to forget the past. Jessie's
beauty and grace were everywhere
acknowledged; but it was the per
fectiOn of the statue which no low
ing heart and hand warmed into
happy lite.
Within a few months after nine
years of married life, John Trevellyn
had died, but not before he had con-
tessed to Jessie in bitter, penitent
humiliation, the deception practiced
toward Give Lee and herself. Free
ly, even lovingly, she had forgiven
him.
But the old wound was not heal
ed, and the remembrance of her
old lovcr.-now a diplomat at for
eign court-wa ever one of mingled
pleasure and pain.
On the morning of which we
write, Mrs. Trevellyn had seen in
a daily paper the announcement
that Mr.. Lee, after an absence of
ten years, had returned to his native
land for brief visit.
With a world of memories stirring
her heart to its very depth, she had
amOst invOluntarily wandered out to
the old trysting-place.
"HOw strange" !" she said, as she
slowly started toward her home, an
hour later, Show strange that Give
shOu1d NOT know mo IF ho hut
knew the truth! But l can never
tell him the honor of the dead for.