Vermont watchman and State journal. [volume] (Montpelier, Vt.) 1836-1883, 1878-06-19

uooI or bWO ana so leu l)oDDlD, expecting
to be home in few moments" She tried
to comfort herself so. Could not comfort
herself so, for a wild misgiving seized her.
But she waited-waited for an hour. Every
light in the village had become extingnished;
but it was clear starlight, and Eva ventured
beyond the gate, and looked up and down
the street. Not sign of watching or NOV
ing. Another hour, and another and then
faint streaks of dawn. BY this time Eva
knew that some disaster had fallen the
pang of it grew upon her moment by mo-
ment. She could endure it alone no longer.
She aroused a neighbor Inquiry was
made. The doctor was not in the village.
He had been to see old Mr.. Benton at nine
o'clock, then started home by the meadow
road, which was followed in the search and
there, just as the Fourth-of-July bells began
to ring over the town with their clashing
peals of freedom, they found him.
By the roadside, on the greensward, in the
attitude of slumber, with his head resting
against his folded arm, and his face, so kind
so peaceful, with smile upon the lips, as
OF happy dreams--fast asleep no, not sleep
ing-dedd.
Pre-admonished, perhaps, by some fatal
symptoms which a skilled physician would
know, he had dropped the reins, slighted
from the sulky, given faithful old DObbin
the free way home, and upon the grassy bor-
der OF the road he had travelled so often laid
himself down for the last heart-beating.
SO to the enchanting evening of the fire
works and doves of fire there came no NOR
row of love and happiness such as it had
seemed to promise, but only tears and mourn
ing Yet at the funeral, beside the open
grave, as the most solemn words of burial
were spoken, Eva felt, or remembered after
ward that she had felt one meeting look of
firm and manly eyes one look that, compre-
hending her anguish sought to soothe it,
Two days later she received letter of con-
dolence from George Warner, with the post
script dare not intrude now upon your
sorrow, but when visit Cedar Creek again
shall claim the promise you gave to let me
see you"
Eva relaxed no effort To- perform her daily
round of duty. Joe and Josy knew no
change in her watchful care the order of
the household, under her ceaseess industry,
went on as usual but with what faintness
OF heart did she pursue her path, where thorns
were knitted into every hedge-row, and every
foot place, and every pillow
SO summer passed, and October came,
with its flaming glory a miracle in the
mountain region where the maple-trees bor-
dered forests of cedars. And then November,
with its mournful winds, its sad, mysterious
yapors, and its bare trees.
1t was a November midnight; not dark
midnight, for the full moon shone on Cedar
Creek and on the sleeping village, and came
flowing through the windows of Eva's
chamber, until, bright almost as daylight, it
awakened her.
She awoke with pleasing sensation of
let cb faI uba in,-i,, tI,a
singing of a song, delicious serenade, some
where in dreamland. In dream-land it must
have been, for the actual world to which she
awoke was still.
She lay awake listening to silence until
strange sound attracted her cara sort of
whirring whisper, not the sound of wind i'll
swaying branches, nor of stealthy footsteps
on the walk, nor murmur of distant voices.
What could this strange sound be? And
fluttering light breaking through the calm
moonlight, casting white spots upon the
wall. What could these Hickering lights be
Assured that she was not dreaming, Eva
aroused herself to 60 to the window and
look out. Two large maple-trees grew so
near that their widest branches almost
touched the window-pane. Across the bare
boughs of these trees flew in fixed curves,
one after another, Widespread birds, purple
and white, dropping emerald olive-branches
from their golden beaks. Doves Of fire
For few moments, Eva, shrinking back
into the window recess, gazed at the appari-
ton spell-bound with a sort of superstitous
awe. A tumult of thought rushed across
her brain.
Then she drew around her shawl, the
same blue shawl she had worn the evening
of the fireworks, and which, useless now in
a. uIa l,a1 a1o a
ne nut. She cherished secret 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 drew it around her so caressingly.
lie held its folds for a moment in his hand
just beneath her chin, while his eyes gazed
down upon her with such content and such
longing and such deep devotion
Thus yelled for the night air, Eva was
about to fling open the window, when, hark
a rich tenor voice began a song The sing
ing was at first so low and her 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 behind;
A hand 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 sound we heard"
Eva, softly as flower, pushed up the win
dow-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 singer
pausing between verses, with his arms folded
upon his breast and his eyes downcast, she
saw George Warner.
Did he 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 a waking dream, blissful waking dream,
for surely something peaceful had crept
nesting beneath her sorrow.
"Doves of fire | 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 to be intelli-
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 an hour
alone together, in that room of the house
| felt to be most sacred, once the good doc
tors resting-room and study, and where now
if the fathers thoughts could revisit the be
loved scenes, they would certainly linger in
blessing,
The curtains were drawn, a sparkling
wood fire blazed on the wide hearth, the
lamp was turned low, and into the freight
was drawn the old-fashioned square sofa, so
that George and Eva could rest side-by-side,
with hands clasped fondly in each other's;
for evidently they were lovers.
Intelligent and typical they may be,
Eva" said George Warner, thoughtfully.
al remember at the time of the Cedar
Creek fireworks | had fanciful reflection
about the doves. | have forgotten exactly
what il was, but know it was suggested by
the comparative costliness of the carrier
birds and the emerald leaves in their beaks.
One olvebranch was worth more than a
flock of doves. And they are typical
Whether the doves mean sorrow or JOY, the
olive-Branch means peace Peace deai
Eva; that is what | think life may have in
store for us. Perfect happiness we cannot
expect we are both schooled TO something
besides that trials must come. In taking
YOU away with me TO our little house in the
city | know you will miss your country
home, your garden, your friends. You will
have me instead. Yes, Eva, you will have
me-" lie was answering look OF Eya's