Orleans County monitor. [volume] (Barton, Vt.) 1872-1953, 1876-07-10

1lom tnae time tney met ually Oh Ihe
way to school and the way from school,
walking slowly along the high-road and
the pretty wood path that closed it, and
giving each other gradually, with all
the trustful facility of youth and irresist-
ible attraction, the confidential histories
of their young lifetimes. At evening he
case to see her.
And, then, what happened All'at
once the dismal interior Of the old house
where Louisa boarded became as rosily
transfgured as its exterior had been by
the glory of the western heavens the
ho,sr of Miss Thatcher's arrival. In a
more magical couleur de rose, the fun
ereal parlor blushed into a boudoir +;
the low-windowed bedroom blossomed
into beauty, not only with all the buds
and branches brought into it as memen
toes of darling walks and drives, but
with the subtitle efflorescent unfolding of
love-dreans.
One evening the young couple were
sitting in Mr.. Seaman's parlor by the
dim lamp, dignifed by the mercenary
genius of Mrs. Seaman into ian extra, -
looking together over the mill manu-
script.
81 find it so dull" said Leonard
|. Mansfield. ''Were it not for one consid-
GRAFTON and one conviction, should nev-
er be able to finish. The consideration
is for your sake, because you like it.
Louisa; the conviction was the founda.
tion Of my coming to claim the record
When my uncle's will was read sever
years ago, one clause struck my imagin.
alton.
If any of my heirs feel sufficiently
interested in me to inquire into my per.
sOnal history, they will find my diary
in the old mill where it was written, al
Red Cedar Pond, twelve miles from u
j county, Connecticut. Personal ap
plication to be made to Deacon Treat ol
Squire Wells The heirs noted this di
rection with indifference.
"My share of the legacies took me
through college-as my father, one o.
the dearest and noblest of men, but new
er fortunate in money-making, could no
aford-and furnished me with small
capital to commence law practice. l haC
more than one eompunctious though
about my benefactor. 1t seemed to mt
a shame to accept such benefits from
man in whom l had not even sufficlen
interest to acquaint myself with his per
sonal history. This year, when became
for the first time encouragingly estab
lished in my profession, | determined t.
commence my vacation by looking VI
the neglected diary. confess l do no
find myself inspired by its revelation
What did YOU find, dear Louisa, to kin
die you into the request that has haunt
ed me, Il hope you will looe him a lit
tie ."
81 found worlds In it, said Mis-
Thatcher, signing so sOrrowfully, as sh
had not done since she had entered he
new world of love and loving.
/ Worlds of schat, my dearest ?" aske
the light-hearted young lawyer. He wa
clasping her hand in one of his as b
spoke, and with the other he turned al
sently the leaves of the time stained boo
that lay on the table. A little bit {
handwriting that he knew struck hi
vision it was the line on the margin,
"NO one to love. none to caress."
Miss Thatcher saw it too. "Yes,
know" she said, softly. 81 wrote
there. 1 could not help it. Twas th
tribute Of my sympathy"
He turned to her very earnestly
Something in the tremulous sensitivenei
of her face smote his heart painful,
Tears started to his eyes He folde
his strong arm around her with a SEN
! of infinite tenderness.
"Let me tell you," she said, disenga:
ing herself frem his embraces, "what
strange thing found, or thought l four
in that diary. First of all you know
l was drawn singularly into rappo
with the writer by my own sad lOnel
: ness. felt the depth of meaning in b
; complaint. Yes, she said, tremblin
81 must confess, and do repent. eve
in his complaint against Heaven Aloi
l in the world. Sometimes that happens
} And here let it be explained to Il
l reader that by an accident in the Grad
the writer of the diary had been ma
/ physically repellant, and his sensiti
soul exaggerated his misfortune into
barrier between himself and the loyi
sympathies of all mankind. As
= womankind, be knew not-for his moth
t died of his birth-even its matern
r tenderness.
Leonard DEAR" Miss Thatcher we
1 on, "you viii think me, perhaps.
J. most superstitiOus being; but | think
4 and the idea has gained some reasOnal
: pleas-I can not help thinking that Il
t book is framed as mode Of bequest
J. believe the writer, your fathers broth
g stung with the bitter thought that
; hard-earned fortune would be spent
I Il u 4 r. L