South Branch intelligencer. [volume] (Romney, Va. [W. Va.]) 1830-1896, 1875-07-30

MO, i answered assuming a stern
nees did not feel; s'tis q principle
With me never to encourage such insti.
tptions."
Sir" patting her dainty foot impa-
/, tisntly against the carpet, mot encour.
age feeding the orphans OF dead Queer
Fellows! Do you mean that?"
Her clear. dove like eyes embarrass.
ed me with their steady gaze. 1 arose,
and took out my pocket-book.
"How much shall i give you. Miss
Dunbar"
What you can afford, SIR"
handed her a fifty pound note. He
eyes gladdened so they fairly dazzled
me.
"Oh. Mr.. Trowbridge," sho cried, 81
did not expect this. You are SO good,
so generous !"
She took out delicate little purse.
and crammed it in; then she turned
to go.
Goodbye, Mr.. frowbridge," she.
said, pausing in the doorway, and hold
ing ont her hand. II thank you very
much, indeed; but won't you come
down to the fair tomorrow EVENING"
Please do, Mr.. Trowbridge ="
did not promise her, but went.
nevertheless and, after the fair was O.
yer, attended Jessie home. NV old
sweetheart. Lady Dunbar, grown into
buxom matron, met me in, the hall.
"At last Charley" she said, grasping
both my hands but you've been an un.
friendly old curmudgeon all these years
and We may thank Jessie for Turing you
out OF your den l suppose. She won
her bet by it too. You see the girls
were all here laying plans for the fair,
and they got talking about you, and
young MIR, Snyder offered to bet five
pounds that none Of them had the cour,
age to go up to Walnut Hill and ask you
for donation. But Jessie made the
venture; and now that you have come
out of your seclusion do be sociable.
Charley, for the sake of our old friend.
ship.
took ut her at her word Almost
every evening after that found me at
Sir Walter Dunbar's pleasant home
And one spring night, when the air was
sweet and balm and the moonlight soft
and mellow, and the great apple tree
beneath which we sat, was white with
fragrant bloom, / made the same pro.
posal to Jessie that had made 20 her
mother twenty years before, not on my
knees, however. but sitting by her side,
with her little hand in mine.
Il loved your mother years ago, Jes.
sic" l said; but l was silly boy then.
am man now, and L love you as no
man ever loves butonce. Do you think
you can be my wife?'
u think can, Mr., Trowbridge," she
answered, simply; land I'll do my best
to make you good one. I've thought
OF you great deal all my life and low
ed you, l believe, even before l ever
knew you. Mamma used to tell me a.
bout you when l was little girl and
L always thought it was wrong in her
to take your poem and your brooch, and
thee laugh at You; though of course, it
was right for her to like papa. But
I've always felt very sorry for you; it
must have been terrible when you went
home and found your mother dead. I've
got the poem and the ruby brooch you
gave nanny; and l am very glad you
love me so much Mr.. Trowbridge. Yes.
I'll be your wife, and I'll try to make
your life so happy that you'll never re.
member the sorrowful past"
SO married the daughter of my old
sweet hearts and there she sits in the
great armchair, before the blazing fire !;
and that little thing on her lap is my
son and heir, Charles Trowbridge, Jr.
Aud in regard to myself, Charles Trow.
bridge, ST.. | am the happiest man that
ever the sun shone on.