St. Landry democrat. (Opelousas, La.) 1878-1894, 1878-03-16

preference. [ suppose, if ] had been
properly trained, or year or two older, I
might have answered: g. am enraptured
with music--Beethoven Mozart, Henry
Russell, and the seguins; dearly love
art-Tition, Michael Angelo, and Benja-
min West; but I adore poetry-Milton,
Byron, and N. P. Willis"
~ admire art and music, poetry, and
all such things, but 1 don't know much
about them yet. To tell the plain truth,
my particular enthusiasm is-just horses |!
I suppose it's perverse and improper, and
all that; but do know something about
horses, and I love them"
Ny hero smiled, in a beaming, indul-
gent way, and declared that he partici-
pated IN my enthusiasm; that his love
for horses amounted to quite passion,
and that he fattered himself he owned
the fastest trotter in all that region.
All! at that moment, to quote from
dear Miss Bremen, "our souls met"
Mysterious sympathy of passionate
young hearts!
His eyes, upon nearer view, were
gray, but their expression was full of
poetic sensibility. They beamed with
that tender Difference, half wistful, half
wicked, hardest Of all looks for even
"little women" to resist. suspect the
fellow knew it. They all do.
There was, now and then, mysteri-
GUS shade of sadness over his brow all
interesting, Lara-like frown that came
and went in that festive hour. ] OWNED
that, young as was, he had had great
thoughts and ambitions, great so1rows
and sins, or meant to have them, which
was all the same.
Atparting, he begged from my bouquet
sprig of geranium, which he placed in
his button hole "for remembrance"
Then he asked leave to visit me, which J
graciously accorded. Then we muir
INJURED our adieux.
[ went home with my head among the
stars. My dear, absurd as it may SEEM,
really believed I had that night met
my destiny, and met it, on the whole, in
very satisfactory shape.
did not know just when to look for
my adnlirer, but was ready for him
morning and evening. grew strangely
careful Of my dress. | assidueusly
brushed and curled my hair. I applied
cosmetics to my sun-burnt face. 1 slept
in kid gloves.
These alarming symptoms were not
unnoticed by my tender mother; but she
noticed that my manner had grown quiet
and maidenly, and took great comfort
thereat.
Six days l waited in vain. The
seventh-magic number! brought--not
him, but letter. It was dainty-look-
ing missive, all rose tinted and gilt
edged. This was before the time of
envelopes-a remote age bordering on
the " Drift PERIOD" you may think, in
the insolence of your nineteen summers.
1t was directed-this letter of letters
in one of those rearing Italian hands
once so fashionable. It was sealed with
lilac. colored wax, and the seal bore the
motto-how well remember it, though
I didn't in the least know what it meant
then--of /" 1oyours tsde!e"
With my heart beating into my finger.
tips broke the aeal--I opened the letter.
The very first line was something start
ling, unequivocal: " My dearest Love /"
Without waiting to read another word,
turned the leaf to look a. the signature
ooh, my prophetic soul v' it was John
Trevalyan
made no copy of that letter, and
find memory has been little unfaithful
in regard to the exact wording. I know
that read it with great satisfection-in
especial, love-like inventory which it
contained of my most amiable and ad-.
mirable characteristics. There were
things set down there that ] had sup
posed known only to myself
Toward its close the letter assumed a
practical tone. IT will, with your
leave" it ran, "call on your father in a
day or.two. In the meantime, love, per-
haps you had better confde our dear
secret to no one, unless it be your
brother Tom."
All, heavens! the letter was not for
me! Alas! I had no brother Tom"
Providence had been bountiful in sons
to our house. Our cup had run over
with that particular sort of blessing,
but the respectable name of Thomas had
somehow never struck my mothers
rowing fancy. At the baptismal font she
had never given it in.
Fatal omission
" Madam, you might have saved me
from this"
I resealed that letter. sent it with
all dispatch, and courteous apology to
my double, now my rival, I was wretched,
but | could not be base.
Yes, she married my John. After
that got no more of her letters. which
was some consolation.
No, she was not pretty, even on her
wedding day, but she was charmingly
dressed.
John still lives. He has grown rich