The Lake County star. [volume] (Chase, Mich.) 1873-current, 1874-09-17

luic to sit, IOr my pleasurlnRs WIN OS
J trander. Lena took lively interest il
this portrait, brought her work to see il
grow under her eyes. She was too proud
, to show like enjoyment in Ostrander'l
attempt; the Bradfords are proud al
Lucifer, and Lena is Bradford to the
backbone. So at last there are four o.
us when we take our pleasure out o.
doors. 1t is a forsaking of works or
Lena's part she seems to have forgotten
} the lane and the halt. She follows Os
trander with her eyes steadily. won
; der if her heart aches?
Ostrander does not half relish thi!
new intruder; he wears wrinkle across
his brow. have seen him SO constantly
in these weeks that can interpret every
expression that fits across his face. Per
haps he too is tasting jealousy, and
cause for alarm. could ease his mind
Only last night, in the windy lane, when
a cloud blew over the moon, Mr.. Lowell
caught me in his arms and swore that
should love him willy-nilly. was too
angry to do anything but tear myself
away and VOW never would.
never mean to be married myself
September.-The play goes on and on.
Will Ostrander never see that his time
has come, then Lena hangs upon his
word, worships the ground he treads ?
How blind these men are! / feel as
though we were actors who had petrified
in our mask. Ostrander still keeps up
the pretty farce of devotion to me. Does
he not see that it has served his turn?
All! what delicious evenings we had
in the old chapel practicing those melo-
| 1innS f,,n,ao op1 oh 70 for Tho obo; h,
fore Mr.. Lowell came-lingering home
ward through the twilight lanes, brush
ing the dew and tracking the constella-
tions on moOnless nights! know Os-
trander by heart now l think shall
recognize him when we are disembodied
spirits. Lena and Mr.. Lowell 60 with us
to our choir meetings, and the sunset
dips in moment through the windows,
and makes the painted saints in the chan
eel smile. But the old tunes have lost
their sweetness. We sing the same airs,
we stroll in the same paths, the stars
that we have watched swing on in the
same orbits; what is it that has changed?
Am tired of the role assumed in a
freak of mischief? have heard it was
dangerous to play with fire. 1t seems to
me should like to 60 away for little
and calm the perturbation of spirits that
destroys me. / have done my part
bravely, though l say it but even the
bravest come away wounded. In teach
ing Lena to love Ostrander, have / not
learned too much myself? / am glad va
cation does not last forever!
What year of the world and what day
of the month is it, l wonder Last night
we were lettering in the library at dusk,
looking over Mr.. LovelPs illustrations,
for storm was coming up to spoil our
outdoor sports. Uncle Aristotle called
Mr.. Lowell away, and l strolled to the
music-room, leaving Ostrander and Lena
alone. had just touched the first chord,
and whether the interval was brief or
chord of Donizetti was the last thing /
heard till drew long breath, and some
one sobbed in divine. antiphony, "My
love, my love; speak to me, my loyeW
1t was Ostrander's voice, and had been
lightning-struck. But it was only a
shock, and l am up and alive to-day.
Was that bolt sent to make the revelation
to me of Ostrander's regard? He does
not know that understood, and there is
yet choice between TIVE ways left me
either to accept happiness at Lena's ex-
pense, or to marry Mr.. Lowell. Will it
wrong him? Once when told him !
had no love for him, he vowed he could
make me love him. Must let him try?
by and by Ostrander's affection will re-
turn to its 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 YER
andah. Mr.. Lowell is in the garden
waiting to waylay me. Stay! why should
/ go? Why should choose Lena's hap
piness instead of Ostrander'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. found it to-day in trunk
of old family letters and papers among
the effects of my late husband, Mr.. Low
ell. How blind we women are l found
something there too-this package of
letters from Lena to him. written before
Mr.. Lowell illustrated Uncle AristOtle's
book. There had been some love passages
between them, it seems, which he did not
choose to continue. This was why Lena
forgot her missions and ragged schools to
follow pleasure with us. She loved Mr..
Lowell. How plain it all is to-day; bit
of wisdom reaches me ten years too late.
Here is a violet-colored purse she nitted
for him; it should have been blue-blue
is the color of love here isa book mark,
woven in pretty parody, with her own
golden hair, Life is shcrt, but love is
long,"
Is she happy, l wonder, in her country
parish, with her children and the Rev.
Amos Greatheart9 I mean to run down
and see if 1 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 library-even his work on
the Andes in it's place and the Rev.
Amos Greatheart in his arm chair 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 hont ysuckle at my win
dow sends upward boquets Of perfume
that almost make me homesick. Mr..
Greatheart is swinging the baby in the
hammock.
al shall bring an old friend hsme to
tea, Lena love-" hear him say to her.
81 shall go 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 services. waited in the
porch for Mr.. Greatheart till the little
congregation dispersed. The lightning
corruscated on the edge Of the clouds,
and the resonant thunder made music
along the hills like "horns of Elhand
family blowing" As ] stood looking
out a step drew near. "Mr. Greatheart,"
/ said, 81 shan't mind the rain, if you
v ish to start"
Z" It reminds me-" said voice that was
surely not Mr.. Greathearts-"i il reminds
me of another thunder storm, which
struck in our neighborhood. DO you re-
call it, Mrs. Lowell T'
"Mr. Ostrander" cried, facing him.