The true northerner. [volume] (Paw Paw, Mich.) 1855-1920, 1876-07-28
WAITING FOR AN ANSWER.

ooheo. COulu btu you Iue sOrrOWS Ol
others, but my own-well, we'll ! as you
will. You shall hear. The wound has
never healed, and If 1 put my hand
above it, the place still throbs, even as il
will beat and ache till kindly nature says
to me, "Sleep, poor weary one, and
rest" And then peacefully, trustingly,
and with simple hope of forgiveness,
may sleep that long sleep which they
say so fippantly has no waking, but
which has waking, as every lesson
which we learn in life persists in teach
ing us.
You will smile, perhaps, when I tell
you that Twas once what people called
pretty-that this pale-hned face was
once plump and rosy, these sad eyes
bright, and this gray, scant hair golden.
brown, long, ana flowing. But why
should / think you would smile2 Do /
not know that you must have seen the
gay young plant putting out its tender
leaves in spring, growing green and lux
uriant of foliage in summer, ripe and
ruddy in autumn, and gray, bent, and
withered in age2 And should be pitied
because have but followed in the way
of nature2 Surely not. 1t is not for
that ask your sympathy, but for the
blight that fell upon the young plant and
for months that it would die but it
lived, as have lived to tell you this.
Do you know that wondrous feeling
which comes in the early year, and that
strange sense of keen delight, that elas-
ticity OF spirit, when, full of youth and
hope, the very tears of joyous sensibili
ty start to the eyes as you wander amidst
the trees and flowers in spring L re-
member how L felt, oh so well, even
though it is now forty years ago, and 1
was 20.
Jack and were engaged. 1t was all
such simple homely, affair. We had
known one another for years-the chill
dren of neigbboring farmers. Jack-I
still call him by the simple old pet name
of those days-Jack had been away at O
good school, and being bright and
shrewd and clever he had won his way
on, taking to engineering instead of his
fathers farm life, and now it had come
to this that he had been staying at home
for month previous to going out to q
good appointment in Melbourne.
That month in spring, how it passed !
We had met again and again, and in his
honest, manly way, he had asked me to
be his wife.
"You know, Grace, that have always
loved you," he said; "and now have
hopes and prospects, it cannot be wrong
to ask you for your promise"
We were walking by the river side as
he said this, and how well can picture
it all-the soft gliding water mirroring
the trees on the opposite bank, the
young, green buds just breaking from
their cases, and, above all, the soft ten
der blue of the spring sky-the blue, he
had told me, that was like my eyes.
"D" -ou want me to promise, Jack 2"
said simply, as I looked up in bis
face.
"No, darling am satisfied" he
cried, as his strong arms held me to his
broad breast, and that was all. No oaths
could have bound me more tightly to
him. felt that was his wife when he
should come to claim me.
We were late that evening, and en-
tered the house shyly, for there had been
80 much to talk of and plan. In amonth's
time Jack was to sail for Melbourne
then he was to work very hard for three
years, and come and fetch me to be his
wife.
That month glided by, and the last
day had come. 1t was, as / told you,
ring-time-joyous spring time, with
the hawthorn's snowy blossoms, the
apple-trees pink and the pear-trees
pearly With their pyramids OF flowers
Every meadow 1 passed was starred with
golden butter-cups, and from every
spray the birds trilled or jerked forth
their merry songs of hope and love.
could not feel sad, even though
was gCing to meet Jack for the last
walk before he went away but, as
said, mingled with the feelings of &c
stasy ther was strange tearfulness Of
eye, and my breath would come at times
with sob.
He was by the stile, waiting for me
the stiie down by the long mead, half
way between the two farms-and, as ht
took my hands in his, we neither of III
spoke, but stood gazing away ovel
woodlawn and meadow, all clad in theil
wondrous beauty, and listened to tn,
birds. Now it was the soft tender COO
of the stock-dove from the wood, nov
the jerked-out song of the linnets then
soft and mellow, from the thick hedge
rows foated towards us the futy note
of the blackbird, while on high trille,
away the larks, singing one against TIN
other to their mates, sitting in the tai
grass of the golden meads.
We could not talk, our hearts were to-
full, for Jack was to be off at daybreal
the next morning. But there was m
need for words. We loved each othe
in the simple, nature taught way that ha
been since the world began, and we kne,
that every joyous song around tbs
thrilled upon our ears meant love, an
even In our sorrow we were happy.
"Only three years, darling" JAG
whispered to me, "and then -"
The tears rose to my eyes as 1 tried I
answer him, but 1 could not speak
word.
"And you will let me find a long lette
when / get therea" he said tenderly.
Yes. Jack, PROMISE" 1 said, an
then it was time to return, for the hour
had glided by, how we could not tell.
Jack spent the evening with us
home and then he left us hurriedly, fo
our farewells had been said in the WOO,
and it was one hearty kiss, given an