Sunbury American. [volume] (Sunbury, Pa.) 1848-1879, 1874-03-06

bllnders. Days passed on, and her les
sons grew more and more tasteless to her.
! She colcilded that she did not need to re-
view her studies any farther. and still she
/ managed to keep up semblance OF inter-
/ est in them But her whole attention was
given to botany, and she thought the days
which were appointed for the semi-weekly
excursions into the fields and forests for
specimens the most glorious Cf all summer
days. Even when they wandered, on one
occasion, miles into the forest, and were
caught in a drenching rain, she thought
only of the protecting arms that wrapped
the shawl so carefully around her, and the
eyes which looked so earnestly into hers,
ostensibly teaching her to understand the
mysteries of science, but in reality teach
ing her the depths of love of which her own
heart was capable.
And so time, on golden wings, passed /;
the summer term drew near its close, and
with the announcement in class that the
next days excursion would be the close of
lessons for the term, came n wonderful
revelation to Anna. ''That," said the
Professor, would terminate his pleasant
relations with his class, and at its close he
would bid them each adeu, assuring them
that the past few weeks would be ever
pleasantly remembered by him. Then he
! left them, and Anna went to her room,
wondering, with s; vague dread, if that
were to be the last cs L, after all. She had
thought, but no matter, and she was in
terrupted by the post-boy bringing up a
letter. She took it eagerly, thinking that
perhaps it might solve her doubts but no,
it was from her father, contained notice
of Standmen's return, and told her that he
himself would come speedily to bring her
home. There were also few words from
Standmen, written in an unsteady, tremb-
| ling hand, hoping that she had well I'M
proved her time there, and that she was
now prepared for life of quiet peace and
happiness with him. 1t was hard work
for him to write, he said and he would tax
himself no farther now; he would have
ample time i'll the future to tell her all he
wished. He enclosed his photograph she
would see from that that the years had not
all dealt kindly with him, but he trusted
that her loving fingers would smooth the
burrows from his brow, and that in the
happiness of the future he should forget all
the cares of the past.
will not lntrude upon that night of
Anna Helbrun:'s life. If any of you have
ever seen the sun 90 down in utter dark
ness have seen inky midnight settle
around you, with scarce a star to light
up the gloom-you may have slight con-
ception of the darkness that settled slowly
around her heart. But the days of which
we read-when sorrOw-stricken maidens
shut themselves up away from the world
and ''nursed their griet in sOlitude"-are
gone by. and Anna was ready for the ex-
curslOu next afternoon much as usual.
The quick, sharp glance OF The lustrous
eyes, however, detected something of the
tempest which had ragged within her heart,
and felt by it emboldened for the confes-
sion that they were to make. So, when,
as if by accident, they found themselves
far from the rest, and he found her shady
seat upon a mOssy rock, there with his arm
about her waist and his glorious eyes look
inc into hers, reading her very soul. he
told her all told her how he had loved her
all the days since first he knew her-told
her bravely, too, of the convict blood IN
the parent whom he never knew, and who
had left him only this taint upon him for
an inheritance; how that, knowing the i'm
possibility of her linking her fate with his,
he had meant never to speak of this, and
now that he had dared to speak, not hoping
for a return of his mad love, but only to
prove that, whatever might be against him,
his heart was true.
And Anna-she knew she loved him and
she was too truthful to deny it, or feign
! ignorance of The power Of the passion that
possesscd her. Bat she told him, with
misty eyes and tear;;;;l Yoice, of her parents,
| and that she was, as 1t were, their last
hope of happiness hereof the husband
they had chosen for her, of her own passive
acquiescence in the plan, and of the speedy
marriage that awaited her. She was gen.
erous, too, even in that hour, for she did
not mention Standmen's letter, or the shock
/
she had received in finding him what he
was. But she spoke of his love for her,
sostered for years, and the great sin she
should commit, if she followed the dictates
of her passionate heart-for the depths of
! her nature were aroused, and it needed all
the firmness of her mind to keep her true
| to those who could rightly claim her. How
ever, firmness triumphed at last, and when
they joined TIE merry group, no one dream
ed that the hearts of each had been stirred
as they could never be again by mortal
power.
That night the young Professor accepted
the command of military post on the
/ frontier and was gone with the dawn, leav-
! ING best wishes and adieus for all. Anna
returned home, and three weeks later there
was quiet wedding at the old red farm
house. And she is very wise, taking quiet,
ly her share of happiness in witnessing that
of her aged parents. But her fancy is sel'
dom deeply moved by Standmen's placid
voice, 10 does her heart throb one atom
faster, for the admiring glances Of his clear
blue eyes.
The Professor is a Colonel now, and
might retire on his laurels, but he prefers
the activity Of frontier life; and though
many a far maid and matron have caught
eagerly the glance of his lustrous eyes, YET
has he never cared enough for another &c
tell again the secret OF his life, or why it i:
SO valuable to him. And thus each lives
bravely, the days of this earthly life, look
ing for bliss in that which is to come.
4 MAN, not accustomed to literary com
position or letter writing, having lost 6
| unU hat ut a country meeting addressed