Vermont watchman and State journal. [volume] (Montpelier, Vt.) 1836-1883, 1876-07-12
VOL. 71.-3639. NO. 80.

effect of his grief at parting, and loved him
the better for IT, lie told her that the sud
denness of their orders prevented him from
| pressing her 10 accompany him, aud asked
her II she would mind coming out TO him If
he found himself totally unable TO come home
for her. No, Esther said she would mind
nothing which could be good for him. His
duty was TO his regiment hers to act as he
and her parents thought best And so he
went away, all his old passionate affection
reyiving at the end, while she tried 10 bear
/ up till he wa gone then grieyed long and
/ bitterly, but schooled herself 10 patience,
trusted in him, and was happy still Two
years passed his letters, frequent at first,
soon grew rare and brief, aud at last stopped
altogether. They saw his promotion in the
I papers but no word came from himself.
Mr. Hume forbade his name 90 he men
toned; the neighbors spoke of her as " Poor
Esther and were virulent on the subject
Of her wrongs. Esther held up her head,
went about her duties chccrfully, aud still
tried TO be happy, lie came home on leave.
aud they mover know il I'LL one day, by
chance, when they heard that he was mar
ried and in Paris with his wife. The shock
almost took away Esthcr's life; it never
touched her faith I" lie has been told that
| am dead or false" she said "thank
heaven, at least, that the lie has not wrecked
his happiness altogether, that he has found
consolation. Some day we shall meet in
/ heaven, where all things are known, and he
/ will see that | have kept my word and
80 she trusted in him still.
She never spoke of him again never heard
| his name mentioned. Her father was given
the living Of marlborough, and they left
their remote village for the old town, 10 re-
side there in the rectory till his death, aud
afterwards at the palace.
That is Esthers story. How her life has
passed in these latter years, have already
/ hinted to you.
Esther had been away week and was
out walking with Colonel Dalton. lie had
asked mamma TO let me 60 with him. to
show him an ancient font in a village church,
about three miles from cur town and, side
| by side, we threaded the dusty white lanes,
with the tall, green hop-vines curling out in
blossom aud tendril from their supporting
poles on either side, and faint, amber
colored heat-mists hanging over the blue
valley below--Colonel Dalton talking of
some of his Franool'russan adventures, and
| listening greedily. By-and-by he said,
laughing:
"Why Miss Birdie you are making me
as garruous as an old woman shall be
voted unbearable, at my club, when | 90
back. il you get me into such evil habits"
Don't go back, them ! answered, laugh
/ ing, too; stay here where ii is not an evil
| habit, but n good one. We won't vote yon
unbearable."
81 wish could" looking earnestly at me
"but I'm afraid you'd tire very soon OF
wonout soldiers Stories
Try" | answered, lacopically. awe
are not changeable people in Maidenborough.
| We 10 and say and think the same things
all of us-from years end to years end
Good Heavens in a tone of horror,
"howeyer do you endure il 2"
"Could not you ?" | asked, looking up
wistfuly; "why, il is one of the pleasantest
things in the place When things are nice,
one doesn't want them to change"
"Ah, that's woman's point of view.
| Unfortunately-l speak as man--when
things don't change they generally cease to
be nice, az you call it, Now, should have
| thought you would have enjoyed travel and
variety" and then he started off into fresh
| descriptions of beauties | had never seen,
and delights had hardly imagined talking
of them as of things must know one day,
till it seemed SO easy and natural that fell
into the same humor and built castles in
the air of travels in Spain and Italy until
we came home greater friends than ever.
We had become friends. Every few days
| wrote 60 Esther, and every letter was
filled, girl fashion, with Colonel Dalton's
sayings and doings, and entreaties that she
would come home and make his acquant-
ance, for he cannot stay much longer, and
almost each morning talked of going
talked of it but still he did not 60 We
! quarrelled, of course-he had way of
alluding TO women now and then in slight
ing tone, of which highly disapproved.
/ Also he declined to enter into my friendship
for Esther and rather snubbed my enthu-
siasm on the subject.
Are we not very comfortable without
this paragon of yours, Birdie p he said to
me one day. We were on the river returning
| from row and you may observe that he
had dropped the Miss now in speaking TO
me; but then, as he said, he was such an
old friend of papa's. Z" think | should find
her a great bore and run away in disgust"
You don't know what you are talking
Of" answered, Indignantly. =" You don't
know Esther. All ii you did ---"
1--we known two on three Esthers in my
life, and none of them were TO be compared
to certain hot-tempered and charming
young friend OF mine. One was our majors
wife in the Seventeenth. All ! was des-
perately smitten with her. she made such
capital milk-punch for us youngsters And
another--well, she was desperately smitten
with me. | was a lad then, You know, not
an ugly old soldier; and, between ourselves,
if hadn't gone abroad do believe should
have married her; for she was prettyish
little soul though awfully good and dowdy
All boys are sad dogs, Birdie. Don't you
think so -
| ltf a.. I
answered, panied and stiilly; but | don't
think you could have been nice one
"Why not 2"
"Nou talk as ii You had always been fall
ing in love or playing at doing so and as II
every woman don't think that sort of
thing is manly"
And you think me unmauly, then " he
asked, with considerable heat
No, mol | answered. eagerly. :" know
you are not. If you We're, wouldn't care
how you talked OF yourself but can't bear
you to pretend to be worse than you are
Then, Birdie, you do eare-a iittle-for
what am p he said softly as he leaned over
the oars to look up into my face.
No answer. was busy with knot in
the tiller-rope.
Wouldn't you rather made myself out
worse--far worse than | am-than YOU
should find me out worse than seem p"
"Of course My head was still bent
over that troublesome knot, but felt he was
drawing nearer.
: What il were TO tell you that, despite
= those youthful follies- which all men go
through and get over as they grow older |
have never really known what deep, passion
ate love was till this fortnight No; not
even in the case Of my poor wife. She was
+ amiability itself, and was sincerely at
tached TO her but now--now Birdie-l,
am feeling now"
We were slowly drifting into the bauk as
, he spoke. Tall thickets of wild roses, one
show of blossoms, growing almost with their
! roots in the river, were hanging over cur
heads the water beneath was deep, clear
brown, strewn with white blossoms and scat
tered petals, and with tall, heavy-headed bul-
4 rushes standing up in it. The sunlight
/; slept on the yellow waterilies aud the
; meadows dappled with sheep, and lazy
, brown kline on the farther side can see it
all now, il | shut my eyes Then only saw
p and heard him; nothing more.
Birdie" he said in lower, sweeter tone,
and putting aside the oar TO take my hand
dear little Birdie, don't you know who has
, taught me what real love is
Ills other arm was closing round me.
could not move or answer. My face was
, burning, my heart in a whirl OF confused