Vermont watchman and State journal. [volume] (Montpelier, Vt.) 1836-1883, 1877-04-25

The great clock of st. Martins was strik.
ing two when Nettie stole back into her
little bedroom--dark now, for the moon had
glided away TO look on other sights-and the
two heavy strokes vibrated through her like
two heavy beats of her own heart, as she
stood hesitating moment, on her cold, bare
feet the hard, wicked words she had been
listening to ringing round her in the darkness,
Striking light, she opened her neat little
desk once more and began to write. Neither
slowly nor carefully this time, and putting
in no word that was unnecessary, no love, no
word Of thanks. She only said;
81 will come-I will follow this letter at once
No need to trouble any one to fetch me. have
thought and thought, and perhaps it is best.
| Your grateful NErTiE O'NElLL"
| Nettie did not read this over. She folded
| it hastily, moistened the gum, and fastened
the envelope with much unnecessary press
ing Then she found she had no stamp, her
only one having been put on the long letter
she had written three hours before.
Never mind, she could take it off in the
steam of the kettle in the morning, only
suppose she should be tempted to post the
first 1t would be safer, perhaps, to destroy
that one, preserving only the stamp; so she
tore the elaborate, carefully-written letter
into fifty fragments, and burnt them all.
| Then once more the small face lay upon its
| pillow and the dawn, creeping in with its
cold sweet smile, found the wide, desolate
eyes searching-searchin still
Twelve st. Martins bell tolled each
stroke languidy, while the sunshine danced
round the gray old tower, and even made a
few slight fckle attempts to reach the low
windows of the formal house below and look
in cheeringly.
Twelve o'clock, and Nettie sat at the table,
waiting breakfast, her hair and her dress
neat and prim as ever; her work in one idle
hand as she leaned over the prettiy ar
ranged breakfast table and softly moved
with the other spray of fading hawthorn,
rather brown at the edges which stood in a
glass near her fathers seat; looking at it
and touching it very thoughtfully.
At the sound of the opening door she
started up, reading her fathers face rather
intently as she greeted HIM Poor child
there was little to read there save utter
moodiness and discomfort
ais this all you have for breakfast ?"
he asked, sitting down before the little dish
of ham.
Z" Yes, father, that is all to-day"
lie dropped his knife and fork and pushed
his chair little back, tapping his foot i'm
patiently. Nettie took him his cup of tea,
hardly wondering why he had no relish for
his food
"lf you want some of this, help yourself"
he said. al suppose you won't cry about
that, though. You can go to bed when you
like tonight"
"You are away great deal, father" said
Nettie, with an odd little catch in her voice.
" | never go away at all"
"You are welcome to CO." he said, care
lessly, d" if anybody likes to have you"
" Shouldn't you care 2" she asked, with
pleading wistfulness in her eyes.
Not Bit" he replied, in listless assur-
ance of the impossibility of the truth of his
words being tested. "What would it mat
ter to me? Now then is my hat brushed p
When Nettie brought it to him, she laid
one nervous little hand upon his arm.
"Come, open the door," he began, impa-
tiently.
But say goodbye, father; you are going
away, you know"
DO you want ?"
Zone"
"Take it tn, n"
Father" said Nettie, looking into his
ayes with an odd, old look on her small face
IL believe, if we we're parting forever you
would not kiss me of your own free will.
Should you should you ?"
Take your arms away, you baby. When
you are going away forever YOU can Judge
Tor yourself. That is not likely to happen
yet awhile. Open that door when tell you"
Standing back, almost shrinkugly, in the
little passage Nettie watched the tall figure
hesitate Il moment on the step, looking up
the street and down, then turn off slowly out
of sight, with never the backward glance
which little Nettie would have grasped at in
this moment of doubt and indecision.
'n"'ir" II,
The dainty shadows rolled smoothly along
The level lawn at Greenlands as the little
iieecy clouds chased each other coyly over
the broad lace OF the whlte August sun
and as these shadows hurried on they ran
up Nettle's white dress and touched Tor
moment the llttle thoughtful lace. But they
passed quickly and softly, as shadows should
pass from young and guileless face, though
some one strolling towards her thinks that
these Hitting shadows stay too long in the
big, radiant eyes.
A young man this some one was, in
back of his handsome head and as Nettie
sits on the grass thinking how sweetly and
sadly the chime from the distant steeple
breaks the Sunday hush upon the valley, he
stands and looks down upon her with very
tender light in his laughing gray eyes
81 wonder you did not hide in my alb
sence, as you generally do. was gather
ing this he said, holding out delicate,
halt-opened tea-rose.
How beautiful, Graham" she said, her
whole face showing the passionate love that
had grown up within her for these beauties
that had been so unattainable when at home
Is 1t for me Z"
"No," he answered, slowly drawing back
his hand and beginning TO fasten the rose in
his coat, "not unless you ask me prettily.'
"Then we may as well go to tea; the bell
has rung."
| She blushed little in her effort to look
| dignihed, but Graham read the childish ma
ture, he thought, very easily. He knew
whether his random, tender speeches hurt or
pleased her.
"Look straight into my eyes" he said,
laughing, and say, Dear Graham, give me
the flower, please You know exactly how
to plead when you like, little lady.
| 81 have never anything to plead for now,
she said, quantity. al have a great deal
more than | want in every way. What
should plead for?"
" Is it so new to you to have everything
you want ~ asked Graham, tenderly.
"You know it is" she said, with little
| UnlD- Come LET ms pp.'