The Cecil Whig. [volume] (Elkton, Md.) 1841-current, 1877-04-21
THE LOVE LETTER.

They had been boarding together at the
farm, Jane Heath and Annie Conyers; and
all that Autumn Mr.. Craig had been fishing
aud shooting in the vicinity, and making
the farm, which was renowned for its good
fare, his headquarters. And Mr.. Craig
was handsome dashing young widower,
and Jane Heath had made up her mind
that to be Mrs. Craig was her destiny.
Indeed it might have been, for persever-
ance can accomplish wonders had not
Annie Conyers brought her trunks, her
crocheting, her sketch book and her blue
parasol to the farm for that Summer.
Annie was not prettier, nor younger, nor
better dressed, nor more accomplished than
Jane: but man loves one woman and
does not love another, and who can explain
why?
Amongst those hills and on that lake
the Colonel gave his heart to little Annie,
and she gave hers to him.
But on the day that called him home,
nothing had been said that could have been
construed into an engagement but he
had asked her if he might write to her,
and she had said Eyes, and Jane had
heard the request and the permission.
Jane did not love Mr.. Craig, but her
vanity was piqued, and she had greatly
desired the position which she would
have held as mistress of his house. Her
heart was very bitter as she turned away,
for he had not asked her to write to him;
and if their acquaintance dropped, as it
seemed about to do, her hope of clinchipg
the nail when they again met in the city
the coming Winter, as thay would be likely
to do, would be quite futile. AS she stood
watching the stage drive away, she felt
that the Summer had been wasted, and
that there was nothing left to do but to
pack up and return to the city at the end
of the week.
Meanwhile Annie had run away to her
room. She fancied she knew what would
be IN the letter which he would send her,
and she felt what her answer would be.
She wanted to be alone and to think it
over, and until tea time she hid herself
from Jane, and from hospitable Mrs. Will
ton herself. When, however, she came
! down to tea, she looked SO bright and
happy, that Jane felt like wreaking VEN
geance upon her.
Three days had passed since the Coloneps
! departure, and one evening Jane stood
leaning over the gate, when wagon drove
up the road and stopped beside it mo-
ment From beneath its covers peeped the
white head of an old farmer.
Good evening, MISS" said he. I" |
have been to the post office, and they said
there was some letters for Wilton's folks,
and fetched 'em over. Amt got my
glasses, with me, SO | don't know who
they're writ to; but you can see. All well?
| That's right. Good evening"
! And away he drove, leaving Jane with
one for Annie Conyers.
Her own was from her mother. She
| knew the writing; the other-well she
knew the hand that directed that, also
1t was from Mr.. Craig.
"And am l to give it to herr" muttered
Jane, between her teeth-"l!'
And then with an impulse which seemed
to her unconquerable, she hurried away
towards the woods, hiding both letters il
her pocket.
At least she might delay her rivals hap
piness for while: she would not carry ii
to her at once.
took the letter from her pocket, and looked
curiously at the superscription.
Yes, it was from Craig, and what had he
said Perhaps, after all, he was not il
earnest. Could she but read what he
hadwl itten, she would know.
She took pin from her dress, and drew
it along the edge of the envelope. Il
opened little space, but the rest chung as
closely as before. Impatient at this, she
forgot all prudence, and drew the pir
across the paper with sudden push. |
cut its way through, and now the mischie
was done. James heart beat hard and fas
with terror, but she had gone too far tt
stop.
Il shall know the truth she said, ''ant
try post-oflices; I'll read it, since I've tori
it," Then she pulled away the envelope
spread the sheet of paper on her knee, ant
read the following words.