The Portland daily press., 1876-02-19
Annie Huntley's Choice.

Journal at the same time. She was looking
very charming in her buff muslin dress, with
pink ribbons at the throat, and looping back
her brown hair.
Pirate as we may of the unimportauce of
dress, it more or less influences the destiny
of us all. Venus herself would be ugly in a
tattered gown, and only imagine Apollo in
swaliow-tailed coat with bright buttons. An
ME Huntley knew the value of dress-and,
what is more, she knew how to attire herself
in just the manner most becoming to her.
She was not SO much prettier than dozens of
other young ladies, but everything about her
was in harmony, and people had fallen into
the habit OF calling her beautiful. She had a
clear wid-rose complexion, tolerably regular
features, soft brown eyes, and hair that was
struggling continually to break into curls
and ringlets so natural to it.
Milton Etheredge-grave, silent, wise law
yer--wondered within himself how long he
had loved this little Annie. He could not re-
member. Six years ago she had come to
them-the dying bequest of Mrs. Etheredge's
best valued friend, The good lady had been
a mother to her ever since, and Milton had
played the part of a kind elder brother. An
ME was eighteen when she came to Gray
mead-she was now twenty-five. Yes, he
was sure he had loved her for six years. She
had made everything so different. Her pref
ty ways of arranging curtains, and flowers,
and books, and knick-knacks, had frightened
up the stately old house wonderfully. Milton
thought it was strange how he and his lady
mother had ever managed to live without
her. ..
So he sat and watched her as she made
the shining steel flash in and out the bright,
fleecy wool. Not that he thought of ever be-
ing anything more to her than he was now.
His love was quiet yet, it had not reached
that passionate stage when it will not be SUBJ
dued by any obstacles. He was old-thirty
at least-and it would be childish for him to
hope she would ever link her young, fresh
life with that of man whose hair was get
ting gray on the temples.
But there was something more TO destroy
the hope, if he had dared to INDUCED it. At
one time, perhaps, he had INDUCED it, but
certainly not now. Annie Huntley had had
her life romance as well as other women. 1t
had been sweet at first-painfully bitter at
last. 1t had made her smile graver, her col
or more fleeing, her manner at times SUBJ
dued and sad-so Etheredge thought.
Annie and Leigh Richardson had met nm
der somewhat romantic circumstances. He
had saved her from drowning at Cape May,
when she had ventured beyond her depth,
and after her removal to Graymead he had
followed her there and located himself in the
practice of his protess:on-the law. He had
been a constant visitor for two years. People
began to speak of them as belonging to each
other, and Mrs. Etheredge had, with wom-
ans peculiar delight, begun to anticipate the
wedding supper and bridal trosseau. Ether
edge looked on with dull pain at his heart,
for which he felt half angry with himself.
Surely he ought to rejoice that Annie would
be happy, for Richardson was every way es-
Unable, and was rising rapidly in his profess
sion.
Suddenly, however, about two years before
the opening OF our story, bis visits to Annie
ceased, and he began violent filtration with
Nellie Seymour, the belle of the village. An
ME did not die on account of it-she did not
even NOPE, as girls generally do when crossed
in love. Her manner was little more SUBJ
dued, her laugh came less frequently. but she
was not heart broken. She put aside the
sympathy Mrs, Etheredge would have offered
her, quietly, and gave her confidence to no
one. Sometimes she met Richardson, but
they exchanged no words-not even the ordi-
nary ceremonious greetings of mere acquaiD-
tances they were as completely separated as
il an ocean rolled between them.
This night, as Etheredge sat watching An
ME, and thinking of all this, he noticed, with
a thrill of pain, that she was little paler,
little more quiet than usual. He remem-
bered that she had met Richardson at the
picture gallery that day.
Some magnetic influence in the gaze of
Etberedge made Annie look up. She flushed
under the serene luster of those dark gray
eyes, and her fingers forgot their cunning,
and dropped the ball of zephyr she was un-
winding. It rolled toward. the fre-there
was genuine old fashioned wood fire upon
the hearth-and, in STOPPING to recover it,
her right sleeve dipped into the blaze, The
flames leaped up-Milton sprang forward,
caught her in his arms, and crushed out the
fire.
She was frightened, weak and dizzy with
remembering what she had escaped, and for
moment she stood circled in his arm, her
head on bis shoulder. her soft hair resting
against his cheek. The touch thrilled him
with startling power. He was hardly him
self All the love he had so long kept under
foot rose up like an unbound tyrant. He
pressed his lips passionately to hers-he would
have told her then how dear she was to him,
but something seemed to hold him back. He
would wait little until the excitement Of
her recent peril would be over-would wait,
and think It over calmly. All that night he
sat up, thinking of his course. He loved Der
with all bis soul; he should never care for
another woman. But he was not quite sure
of the condition of her heart. What if she
udu SLilt q uUScIluS tCuuCIuCoS tOI lbiSAdlu-
son? He feared she might have. He had
seen her kiss a picture which he felt moral
ly sure was his. Would he like his wife TO
kiss Leigh Richardson's picture? Would he
like TO think she had ever kissed it? Then
he remembered how she had blushed some
times when he looked at her, and took cour-
age. It might be that the old dream could
be forgotten in the new. At any rate he
would know before he slept, be said, with
sudden resolution, and after breakfast he
went down town for walk. He knew few
of the fellows belonging to the Franklin club,
and for the want of something better to do,
he sauntered into their room.
There were only two or three present,
smoking their cigars and idling over the pa
pers. Their business hours had not COM
menced yet. As he entered he caught the
name of Annie Huntley. Fred Orme, reck-
less young daredevil, was telling a story.
Etheredge redeemed on hearing her name
from Orm's lips, and was about striding for
ward and calling him to account for it, when
Orm's next words arrested him, and forced
him to listen.
.sYou see Leigh Richardson was dead in
love with her. Never saw a fellow take it
any harder. Well, she is charming girl
dresses exquisitely. Never saw better fit
ting glove or boot than she gets on. Leigh
is smart, but never liked him since he won
that silver cup at the boat race. / meant to
have had that myself. Too COMPOUNDED bad
didn't getitp
$50 it was" brawled Ed Harrison; show
you sweat, didn't you Fred ?"
SIT was hotter than the tropics, and Leigh
is one of the cold-blooded ones. said that
meant to be even with him, and have kept
my word. Don't mind telling you the story,
fellows, since it is such an old affair. Pass
that lemonade, Etheredge-you'n be inter-
ested in it, because Pve heard it said that
you're rather sweet in that quarter. Matters
were going on swimmihgy two years ago, be-
tween Leigh and Annie. They'd have been
married before now if nobody had interfered.
But Dennis and I-you know Dennis Pip,
top fellow got up little plan between US,
and it worked splendidly, Didn't we raise
the deuce! gained possession of some of
Leigh's handwriting, and practiced writing
like it. l am an expert at that business,
fatter myself; and in few days could fair
iy beat Richardson with his own weapons.
So wrote letter to an imaginary chum of
his, giving description of Miss Annie, cal
ling her a soft little thing, telling him how
she adored the subscriber. and how the sub
scriber cared nothing at all for her, but was
enjoying glorious filtration. Of course the
subscriber was Leigh Richardson. This note
which was most insulting thing to any
woman-we contrived to have dropped where
Miss Annie would find il, and The result was