Los Angeles daily herald., 1875-01-26
TWAS THE WIND.

| nSI5Sli III tIte pliEes Itcl iitdu pllIoWeu
in the lap of her aunt Jane She is a
saucy young lady of Is, this Gertrude
| with q short upper lip used to scorn-
fully curling; blt she is charming
enough when she smiles. Aunt Jane
is 35, with the pensive, softened face
we used to admire in our youth. Aunt
Polly-a few yeirs older-sits on the
further side; and in the old leather
covered arm chair is Uncle Ned, his
brown nieerschaum pipe in hismouth
IN sort tof haze of tobacco and medita-
tion. Uncle Ned is not profoundly inn
| pressed, possibly, with the solemnity
of the occasion. lie is used to sitting
up till midnight and good deal later,
and does not trouble himself much
about the past, except In its geologic G
or historic aspect But Aunt Jane is
a sensitive, giftedcreature, profoundly
sympathetic, will q dark, mobile face
and deep, luminous eyes. She is in
the habit of holding forth on matters
OF love and relationships of the sexes
with great fervor. On these occasions
Gertrude generally makes pantomimic
gestures, as though she were beating
the big drum; but Aunt Jane goes on
with glistening eyes, Needless of the
irreverence of her junior.
Gerty, however is rather silent and
solemn, tonight, Perhaps tits that
the thought of the ruthless fight of
| time has come vividly home, or haply
she is sobered by the reflection that
she is still unffianced at the end of the
first year in society.
1t is a long, irregular, many-ccrner-
ed room, in an old-fashioned country
house. At one end is a low window
that looks upon a lawn and large gar
den. In the farther angle is door
leading out upon the lawn. Gertrude
rises and, marching to the other end of
the room, opens the doors, letting in
a volume of cold air and the sound of
distant church-bells.
aBother the girl!o growls Uncle
Ned, saivering. "Gerty, shut that
door,
| Gertrude let 60 the handle of the
| door; gust of wind caught it and
slammed it to with loud bang.
| Aunt Jane jumped and turned a little
pale. Polly, too is startled, and looks
significantly at her sister.
do you remember, Jane? she asked.
Aunt Jane sighed softly. "Ah, yes,n
she said.
"Mysteriesv' cried Gertrude, sink
ing down into her place again. "What
do you remember, Aunt Jane: Come,
tell me.o Ha
ats very old story, dear"
:" All the better for that; let us hear
it. But first tell me what reminded
you of it ~
"'Twas the windn said Aunt Jane.
/" Ah tell it Jane,n cried Polly; it
will be n lesson to these young peo-
ple.n ~
IA lesson they don't require said
Aunt Jane, severely; "but as you'll
tell it, Polly, If | don't, and as
couldn't bear to hear you tell it
well -
| 4AIb -ras iS or 20 years ago, lferty,
and your grandfather was alive then.
He was q physician, and we lived in
a big house in the Clapham road.
There was nice garden about it, and
close adjoining was another large
house, whose grounds We're divided
by high wall. 1t was an old fash
ioned house--your grandfathers- s-with
a wide passage right through itand u
glass door leading out into the garden,
directly oposite the hall door. In the
other house lived an Indian nabob, a
hot-tempered, fiery man; but he had a
son Benjman who was very nice-at
least thought SO then. Papa attend
ed OH this nabob, and by degrees we
became quit intimate with the family;
not with him, for he never would 60
out, but with his sons, and especially
Ben, who was the youngest, and only
year older than l.
"Well, we grew up together, girls
and boys, and somehow Ben and |
were thrown good deal together, and
he seemed to take fancy to me.
"Ah, you were very fond of him;
don't tell me-" cried Polly.
"Well perhaps | was" said Aunt
Jane, with another sigh. cat all
events this went OH for three years,
and Ben never said anything to me-
not anything particular, you know.n
"Three years!' cried Gerty, in
amazement. Fancy! and never pro-
posed. Goodness me! I'd have brought
him to book in three months"
"Ah, We were very differently
brought up in those days, Gerty. Why,
[ was quitea - baby in such matters, a
very child, compared with you; and
yet was about your age, if not older.
Why, don't think I'd said word to
him all those three years butjust' Yes,
Ben,' and No, Ben.' Yes, was a lit
tie fool, I dare say, Gerty; can see
it now. We would go out for long
walks together, too; and Ben would
| talk all sorts of nonsense to me-about
love, and so on; and all l could say to
him was, oh, Ben, you shouldn't say
such thingsp oh, Ben, you shouldn't,
indeedp Ben, how can you? Ben,
you mustn't. All, could shake N.Y.
self now to think of it!
"But of New-year's eve--yes, it was
| lust Is years ago-Ben came and spent
| the day. And we had little carpet
dance, and Ben danced with me ever
so many times, and we danced the
new year in together; and when the
time came for him to go, went to the
door with him-I generally did-to
show him out.
"And Ben turned round upon me
after had opened the door, and he
had Just crossed the threshold-tuned
round with his face quite white, and
| his voice husky. Jenny, l love YOU;
will you be my wife?' And he tried
to take hold of my hands to draw me
| to him. And 1 was frightened, dear,
and stepped back; and somebody at
that moment opened. the glas door, at
the other end of the passage, and a
gust of wind rushed in and slammed
the big hall door right in Ben's face.
And / sat at the foot of the stairs
and cried. l never saw Ben again,
not for years."
ooh aunt" cried Gerty, Why didn't
Won rim affar hirno r WOllIdN tsaH