Spirit of the age. [volume] (Woodstock, Vt.) 1845-1913, 1874-01-29
A LOST LOVE.
BY EMMA +. NJ. WHITCOMB.

Late in the afternoon of one of the
mild October days, when autumn
pauses to let the summer have her
own sweet will again and one finds
tardy little dandelions lifting surprised
faces to sky as bright and blue as
that of June, Miss Carey came slowly
up the walk to her own door, holding
an open letter in her hand.
The breeze, which had given be-
coming flush to her cheeks, now pulled
at.her demme little hat, and out fell q
regular curl.
"How perfectly absurd" said Miss
Carey, ''for hair thirty years old to
curl! I'm ashamed of you, she ad-
ded; but she did not put it away, as
she stood thoughtfully gazing with
her mental eyes at the picture which
this half read letter held before her.
When. at length, the click of the
gate latch recalled her, | think she
could not have told at once which
was the real, the actual scene around
her, or that within her brain. How
far she had travelled in this brief
space of time! Back to her early
childhood; and the soft curl blowing
against her cheek, helped the illusion.
But directly Miss Carey came back,
with Il smile. to the present, and tuck
ed the little curl out sf sight, and
locked again ot her letter.
"Wc do realize our dreams it be-
gan, "You surely have not forgotten,
you who never forgot any thing in
the old geometry or Latin day, our
promise, Harry's and mine, when you
gave us, on our wedding day, that ex.
quisite little painting of Echo Lake.
| said, you will remember, when we
are rich enough, Harry and /, we
three, will 60 to the White Mountains
to see it. Now we claim the fulfill.
ment Of the promise.
want you, too, to see how well /
look at thirty; and Harry, he is just
as handsome and lover-like as when
he came to the old school, to call, and
Miss Park sat in the corner. with her
knitting work, for propriety. | de.
clare | can hear the clicks of those
needles at this mcment.'
Miss Carey folded the letter, and
when into her birds nest of a house,
where she had lived for ten years
alone. Few women could have been
so much alone, and still preserve the
sweetness and freshness of her heart
and mind. Like most true women,
she had lived a romance in her youth
1t lay in her memory like a withered
rose Leaf, little of its old time fra
GRANGE clinging to it, enough, indeed
to have sweetened her life during all
the long years. How vividly it al
came back to her, as she read this let
Ter from a class mate, who had beer
like dear sister to her, and in whose
friendship there had been something
enduring. "Yes, will 60" she said
to herself that evening, and sitting
down, she wrote to her friend, accept
ing the invitation; and a few days
later found her at the house of Mrs
Blake, where she was to stay fol
awhile before starting for New Hamp
shire.
! One morning, her hostess took hel
into the library, for the purpose o
looking over old "keepsakes," whicl
Mr.. Blake had kept in box by them
selves, and which she had never open
I'd since she packed them away, anc
shut down the lid, the week after he
school life closed. They both laughed
with shining eyes, as she opened it
the were flowers from the boquets sh'
she had received; the programmes o
entertainments they had given fo
sbenevolent purposes" AT the yer!
bottom lay her graduating essay, will
little blot on it still, where a tea