Spirit of the age. [volume] (Woodstock, Vt.) 1845-1913, 1874-06-04

!
uncle. Once or twice | thought Of
the Spartan boys fox gnawing and
tearing at his bosom. So my love
tore me, and so hid it-better to die
of it than have it seen.
She was not my cousin by blood,
that dark-eycd Mira-only my uncle's
adopted child.
No tie of relationship stood be-
tween us, for though cousins have
wed I scarcely think they ever loved
very truly. She was the very realiza-
ton of my dream of girlish beauty.
She was every thing / had every
hoped for; and when coming back
from that long journey, in which I
had well-nigh put girdle round
about the world | found her altered
from a romping child to what she
was. l knew my fate was sealed and
for little while she had been so kind
to me that / had been made fool Of
1t was very different now. She
had bound up Cato's black hand. She
sighed over the black haired Captains
storied scratches. Yet six months
before I had been wounded nearly I'M
to death by an accident, and her first
greeting on my convalescence was,
you careless wretch, the only wonder
is you didn't manage to cut your arm
quite of, and make a fright of your
self for life ! I've no patience with
people who can't look where they are
going. You'll break your back yet,
aud end your days in wheel chair
Let me keep the use of my feet at
least, so long as l am to dwell within
reach Of your voice. said I and we
passed for couple Of uncourteous
testers.
Sometimes, in my character of cous-
in, used to act as Mira's escort. Odd
enough to see how tired she grew Of
me. How any stranger seemed bet
ter company then /. And some day,
when she had been wooed and won,
perhaps by the Captain bending over
her at the piano, l should shake hands
and utter some careless congratula-
t,on ana che uvulI nUu au1vu ts $50,
and we should part forever. Strange
enough, all lit, when l remembered
how l actually felt toward her.
The Captain was going. He had
looked at his dainty watch. Shock
ing to think how late it was--'How
lightly falls the foot Of Time that only
treads on flowers |! and with a quota
ton and a bow and glance at Mira,
the 70 ON was empty Of him. 1t was
a relief to me.
Mira had reseated herself at the
piano. | sauntered in and sat near
her. will you sing something for
me 2 asked This sweet old thing
for instance :? and l tossed Love not
upon the piano.
Sweet old things are tiresome, and
am tired said Mira and if she
could have read my soul she could
not have blushed more deeply. Per-
haps she was thinking of the Cap
tain.
IF you could only hear Nina's
friend, Miss Deane, sing that said I,
affecting to yawn.
Another blonde {?
"A lovely one
'Ah 7 and laughing she arose, and
going out upon the porch gathered
two or three rose-buds. Not because
she wanted them, l think, but in an
idle mood. AS she passed me after
ward one dropped from her BOSOM
ut my feet. 1 left it lying there, but
came back with slippered feet an hour
after to find it and kiss it, and sleep
with it against my heart. A silly,
romantic thing for man Of thirty to
10. Yet I did it nevertheless.
So ended my first evening at Oak
lell. / had hoped for nothing else,
yet always 1 felt new pang. Iwon-
lered why 1 came there SO often, as
looked at the summer sun rising
overthe distant hills next morning, and
vowed as l had vowed before, never
20 come again.
My uncle was busy with rod and
inc as | entered, and we were to pass
. long, bright day beside the trout
streams. At four Cato was to drive
he ladies down, and we were to so
nome together in the carriage. De
spite my resolution l found myself
anxious for their coming as the day
wore on, and when, with the sound
of wheels my uncle cried, "That's
,t..,, Io,,.L ~ .,, Lo,,,. L.4 -. .Lo |