The Manchester journal. [volume] (Manchester, Vt.) 1861-current, 1878-07-04
80 J. darIlrl-l. d awaLened ~

tDost AZ lAYNKhts u aWakeuco Der.
She swoke with pleasing sensation Of
lisleniug, she hucied she was enjoying
the singing ofa song, delicious ssrcn-
sde, somewhere In dream-land IN
dreAm-land ], must have been, for The
actual world 10 which she awoke was
aill.
She lay awake listening TO silence until
= strange sound attracted her eGr-- sort
Of whiFhng whisper, not The sound Of
wind in swsylng branches, nor Of steal
thy footsteps on The walk, nor murmur Of
distant voices. What could this strange
sound be? Aud auttering light break
ing through tie calm moonlight, casting
white spots upon the wall, What could
these fickering lights beg
Assured that she was not dreaming,
Eva aroused herself 10 60 TO the window
and look out. Two large maple trees
grew so near that their widest branches
almost tonched the window pane. Across
the bare boughs Of these trees hew in
fixed curves, one after another, wing
spread birds, purple and white, dropping
emerSld olive branches from their golden
beaks. Doves Of frel
For few moment, Eva, shrinking
back into The window recess, gazed al the
sppsrition spellbound, with q sort Of su-
perstitious awe. A tumult of thought
rushed across her brain.
/ Then she drew around her shawl, the
same blue shawl she had worn the even
ing of the fireworks, and which, useless
now in deep mourning, she had adopted
as a wrap dc NUT. She cherished Sc
cret tenderness for this blue shawl, for
on that night, most memorable of all
the nights Of her life, her lover-George
Warner seemed to be her lover then l.
drew il around her so caressingly. He
held its folds for moment in his hand
just beneath her chin, while his eyes
gazed down upon her with such content
and such longing and such deep devo-
tioui
Thus veiIel for the night air, Eva was
about TO fling open the window, when
bark! rich tenor voice began song
The singing was at first SO low, and heI
thoughts were so tumultuous, that the
words of the verses she hardly caught
But of the last verse she distinguished
every word;
Fast silent tears were flowing.
When something stood beJind
A haud was on my shoulder;
knew its voice was kind.
II drew me nearer, nearer;
We did not speak one word
For the beating Of our own hearts
Was all the SQUAD we heard
Eva, softly as flower, pushed up the
window sash and looked out. Bridging
the maple trees, she saw quite clearly in
the moonlight the telegraph-like wires on
which the doves had ridden. And at the
foot Of one Of the trees, in the attitude Of
a singer pausing between verses, with
his arms folded upon his breast and bis
eyes downcast, she saw George Warner
Did be raise his eyes suddenly and see
her? She did not know, she retired SO
hastily. She crept back to her bed, and
waited for--perhaps another song. There
came none; no more reflections futtered
on the wall: and Eva lay till morning
wrapped IN waking dream, blissfu
waking dream, for surely something
peaceful had crept nesting beneath her
sorrow.
Doves of frel DO not know why !
think of them so often. They seem TO me
to be more than fireworks; more than
clouds of sunset. They seem 10 be inteli-
gent, typical. These were Eva's words,
and she was speaking TO George Warner
1t was the evening after the November
serenade, and they were alone together,
the children having been gone to bed au
hour-alonc together, in that room Of the
house felt 10 be most sacred, once the
good Doctors resting room and study,
and where now, If the fathers thoughts
could revisit the beloved scenes, they
would certainly linger in blessing.
The curtains were drawn, sparkling
wood fire blazed on the wide hearth, the
lamp was turned low, and into the fire.
light was drawn the old-fashoned square
sofa, SO that George aud Eva conld rest
slde-by-side, with hand clasped fondly in
each others; for evidently they were
lovers.
Intelligent and typical they may be,
Eva, said George Warner, tboughtfully.
| remember at the time Of The Cedar
Creek fireworks had fanciful refec-
ton about the doves. ! have forgotten
exactly what il was, but | know 1t was
suggested by the comparative costliness
Of the carrier birds and the emerald leaves
in their beaks. One olive-branch was
worth more than flock of doves. And
they are typical. Whether the doves
mean sorrow or joy, the olive-branch
means peace. Peace, dear Eva; that is
what ! think life may have ia store for
as. Perfect happiness we cannot expect ;
we are both schooled to something be-
sides that; trials must come. In taking
you away with me TO our little house in
the city know you will miss your coun-
try home, your garden, your friends.
You will have me instead. Yes, Eva,
you will have me. lie was answering a
look Of Evs's. Bot, dearest, II ia not as
If were a rich man, aud could have
everything just as want 1t for my dsr.
ling wife and dear little Joe and Josy,
and surround you with every luxury the