Weekly Trinity journal., 1879-03-22
WEAVERVILLE. CALIFORNIA, SATURDAY. MARCH 3D. 1879.

through nights and days, the long impa-
tience, hope. 1t only lasted little while.
| knew should have her IN the Spring,
in home of our own that | had planned
already. | chose the very house-a little
brown cottage on the outskirts of the city
whore my bird would have her nest.
1t was in March when her letters,
which had come faithfully all Winter on
their stated days, failed suddenly. A
week went by without message from
New Orleans, and, when 1t came at last,
it was written in another hand.
1t was a long letter, but never read
it through. l only read three lines, that
told me she was dead p that my baby was
buried in her arms. The yellow fever
had broken out in the city, ard my two
were among the first to so. Her parents
had left New Orleans, and, before their
letter reached me would have sailed tor
England, leaving Edna and her child in
the vault among the dead Nerdorays, III
So | never saw the little white wrap
ped figure and the laughing baby any
more.
When there was no one else TO share
success and worldly comfort with me,
nobody's life to be sweetened by the
things that money could give them, it
aa to In, I
object in life now, no care or occupation
that was pleasant to me: but, because
nothing save hard work and untiring ap-
picatio1 could make existence bearable
and deaden my heart in me, | worked
hard, and made money like other men
But | gave it away lavishly, as people
said. 1t was like sacred duty to my
dead, 80 brighten other lives with the
means that would have spared hers.
| never saw either Of her parents again
1t was better for us all, Mr.. Verderay
had said, that the intercourse should
cease with Edna's and the chid's death
and God knows | felt go, too.
So lived ON in New York alone, and
rose in the firm; travelled and made mon
ey and wandered from city to city, at
last sHceesetul in everything that touch
cd, without trouble or anxiety in life
only the burden of an empty heart. !
was thirty years old wien my darling.
/ died; | had twenty more years to live
and death was still long way Off Peo
| pie called me young man still, even
after my hair was worry gray ; seemed
to have grown old and tired down to my
hearts core. And the years went by
YEARLY ; and | was forty-eight, and my
hair clear white.
1 l. was at Femming's house that met
Harriet Stanhope. She was coasln OF
| his wife, and an attractive woman-not n
girl-the sort OF woman whom everybody
calls interesting, clever, and cultivated to
the uttermost, sweet-natured, and adapt
able and good, with even more than q
woman's share of tact. She was one o
those people who win your confdenc,
just by the atmosphere of their own ma.
lures, without effort or even wish.
had not known her very long before
| could talk to her of the story that sh,
knew already, and tell her about the day
when looked back and saw the LITTLE
figure in the window holding up my child
for me to see.
Well, you have guessed already,
suppose, at the end of this beg inning.
never loved Harriet Stanhope, never.
was one Of those men-nnd, say what yol
will, they are not rare-whe love JUS
once ana never forget. But it came tc
me, slowly at first and very reluctantly
and then with great shock, that thi
woman cared for me, and had given more
than | ever coIld give back again. AnC
| began to thinl, of the posl ity of he
taling-in mems eyes, at least and I,
the outward seeming Edna's ompt,
place.
She was lonely, too, MS l was, with n,
near relatives, no claim Of love on AM
one, no homo, and sorrowful outlool
before her. | never could bear tie sigh
of solitary and uncared for woman, anC
this woman touched all my pity anC
sympathy. | gave her that, and ml
friendship most freely and sincerely, anC
that was ALL But l began to think thA
even wtout love life night be sweetenct
little and made easier TO 5ear, and tha
we might both taste some quiet happiness
at least and SO | said TO myself that
would marry her.
/ did not resolve hastily. / had known
her two years before | thought of it a
all, and then it was long before the del
took definite shape. was travelling IL
the West. and one of her letters, reaching
me at large town in Ohio, decided th'
last doubt that was left in my mind.
read it twice, and then walked the foe
all night, and lived my ife ovor in m,
memory, snd reache far out into tn
future to plan out what it would be-
hat it must be, il God preserved it,
and then | sat down to write lelts
TO Harriet.
l wrote her long one, and laid m,
heart before her as honestly as / woul'
have confessed its secret before Heaven
/ told her how much and how little
could give her; how far bad outlive,
the warmth Of youth and the best part o
loving, and asked her if she woEld TAX
me as | was-a man who had burieC
half his nature twenty years ago.
read the letter once and sealed it, an'
wrote her name on the cover. / haC
no doubt Of what the answer would be
! and | WINS nlnl | LLinL LLaL / hn sleI