The tribune. [volume] (Beaufort, S.C.) 1874-1876, 1876-02-23

Precisely. And when is it to be 2"
" Well, since you have OWNED it, In
three weeks; and you must be first
bridesmaid, Jennie"
"With pleasure, Miss Ingestre."
"I'm afraid you'll find it rather dull
during our absence, janet" her uncle
said. "We're going on three months
bridal tour, and"-
"And I am going to London. My
dear uncle, don't say word. I have set
my heart on it. My old nurse lives
there. I will lodge with her; and,
really, life in this stagnant village is
growing insupportable."
So it was settled, and duly the we'd
ding came off. Eva the loveliest of
brides, Mr.. Etheridge the most ecstatic
of old addle-headed bridegrooms, Janet
bridesmaids. Then they were gone-off
goodbye to the old homestead and was
whirled away to the metropolis, where
she was soon busy in the precarious VEN
ture of writing book.
Another summer and it came out, and
was a brilliant success. Another, and a
second followed, and Jennie Stuart woke
up one morning and found herself ia
nous. Rich, too, or comparatively SO,
and able to crafty the desire of her
heart, and go abroad to fair, foreign
lands with an admiring party of literary
friends. Once oh /! how long ago it
seemed now-she had thought TO wan
der through these storied nations as Ern-
est's happy wife.
So the world went round, and the
years went by, and ten of those years
had been counted off the great rosary,
when Janet Stuart came back to her ma
tive land. Wealth and fame had crown
ed her; but she came back Janet Stuart
still, true to that old dream, a saddened
and lonely woman.
There were changes before her. Her
uncle was dead; his young wife inherited
ali his vast wealth; the fine old home
stead was for sale, and Ernest was
wherea No one knew; he had gone out
to Australia, having quarreled with his
new aunt, and, consequently, with his
old uncle; that was au Janet coul d
learn.
Janet Stuart went back to the village
of her girlhood, purchaser of the fine
old homestead where her happisst days
had been spent, and settled down among
the familiar sights and sounds to con-
friends there still glad and proud to
and with her "gray goose quill," and
her piano, and her pets, she was happy.
She stood in the May twilight under
the sycamore by the gate, one radiant
evening, six months after her coming,
tying up early roses and singing softly, |
when a man came slowly up the dusty |
road and looked at the pretty picture. A |
man who was bronzed, and haggard,
and weather beaten, and but poorly !,
clad-with his cap pulled far over his
eyes handsome blue eyes still. He
paused at the gate, weary and pale.
"Janet |"
She turned round with low, shrill |
cry, dropped the rose vine and caught |
both his hands, her face more radiant |
than the sunset sky.
ERNEST Oh, Ernest Ernest!"
"And you are really glad to see me,
Janet2"
She opened the gate, her happy eyes
shining luminous, and drew him in.
Did you know I was here ?" she
asked.
"Yes-why else should have come?
But did not mean to intrude. I only |
wanted to look upon your face once more
before went away again.
event away9 Where9s
"Back to Australia. I am poor and |
can do nothing here; there is still an
opening there. And before I go, dear
est, bravest Janet, tell me you forgive
me for the past"
His voice broke down; the old love,
stronger than ever, looked at her i'm
ploringly, hopelessly out of his eyes.
She stood before him, her hands lightly
on his shoulders, her dear face smiling
up at him SO tender, 80 true.
"You must not go; you must not
leave me! Dear Ernest, / don't forgive
I only love you'll"
Later, when the crystal crescent was
at its highest and the last lights were
dying out of the homestead windows,
Ernest Etheridge walked up the peace
ful, moonlit road to his hotel. But with,
oh | such nm infinitely happy face, and
singing as he went:
Say am DID, and gray and sad;
Say that health and strength have missed me;
Say I'm poor, but also add