Bradford opinion. [volume] (Bradford, Vt.) 1874-1881, 1875-06-05

br0nze, and under the wrinkles and
behind the beard, o face that twenty
years before was the dearest in the
world to me-the face of Duncan
Ashly. We parted one day expect
ing to meet on the next, but that
evening lie was called away, and
wrote instead of coming, In the
letter he said what he had said be.
fore, with his eyes-yes, those same
beautiful eyes-that was the
choice of his heart and the desire of
his life.
"Answer me-" said he. ~ cannot
want till see yOu."
So | answered, long, foolish let
ter, though there was no need OF
writing, for he had read all l could
say long before, with those eyes OF
his. Then watched and waited for
him, but never saw him or heard
one word more. If you are young,
you can imagine the slow dyins.Out
Of hope and expectation and ifyou
are old you know how such things
can be levied over and hidden in Sc
cret graves.
But now, as though the graves
had been opened and the judgment
set, came this sudden reproachful
question up from the buried past. |
fairly caught my breath, as turned
back my eyes and looked him in the
face again.
"Forgive me-" said he directly, in
Il gentler tone. 81 did not mean to
speak. You brought it out with
your eyes; that questioning. turn
was so familiar. Of course you
were quite right, and never blam'
ed you. never meant you should
see me again, but the temptation to
feel myself beside you, only to be in
the soothing charm of your pres
ence. was too great. 1t has been a
blessing l shall carry with me all
the rest of my life.
He was rising to go away, but |
put out my hand, 81 did write,
Duncan Ashley said l. "The let
ter must have gone wrong"
"You did! You wrote ~ he cried,
sinking back in his chair again, and
looking at me eagerly. "What did
you says"
"There was only one thing l conld
say, and l said that" l answered
blushing as though l had just writ.
ten the letter.
A middle-aged woman in hood
and waterproof. But, dear me, it
was only my face that was middle
aged, after all my heart was as
young and silly as ever. AS for
Duncan's face, the marks of care
and thought and time fell off, leav-
ing in it only the eternal youth OF
love.
1t was the old story of a lost let
ter, aud the older story Of proud
man believing himself rejected and
humiliated, and fleeing to tho ends
of the earth with his pain.
"Twenty precious years wasted"
said my New Zealander. awe will
not be separated another day while
we both live. There is il clergyman
among our passengers, and We will
he married this very hour"
That was 50 like his headlong de-
cisions! Certainly he did need so.
Der second thought like me for bal
last, "That cannot bew l cried.
"The ceremony wouldn't he legal
without license or something. And
l would by no means do anything SO
sensational and conspicuous"
But, bless your heart ] might as
we'll have tried to wipe up the At
lantic with my pocket han dkerchief.
He was so grieved and so resolute
land, indeed, when one comes to
think of it, twenty years is long
enough for an engagement,) that l
finally dropped off my waterproof
and sea.sickness, and stood up be.
hind the pinnacle, and was married
before eight bells that very morning
ring and all. Duncan produced it
from small casket, where lie had
carried it in his waistcOat pocket for
the whole twenty years.
81 could never bear to put the lit
tie thing away" said he, looking at
it tenderly.
The next day we came to port
with sun shining and our flags fly.
ing. There was a furry of good
byes, a hosting of trunks, a wei
coming of friends on the shore, and
a glad hur, ying to and fro.
Among the rest was an instanfs
naStlin of Miss ArlnOuTS lips on