The Cincinnati daily star. [volume] ([Cincinnati, Ohio]) 1875-1880, 1879-02-21
brown cottage on the outskirts of the city
where my bird would have her nest.

1t wastin March when her letters, which
had come faithfully all winter on their
stated days, failed suddenly. A week went
by without a message from New Orleans;
and when it came at last, it was written In
another hand
It was long letter, but I never read il
through. only read three lines, that told
me she was dead-that my baby was
buried in her arms. The yellow fever had
broken out in the city, and the Two were
among the first to go. Her parents had
left New Orleans, and, before their letter
reached me, would have sailed for England,
leaving Edna and her child in the vault
among the dead Verderay's, in a crowded
| city cemetery. ,..
| figure and the laughing baby any mere.
When there was no one else to share sue
cess and worldly comfort with me, nobody's
life to be sweetened by the things that
money could give them, it came to me in
my loneliness. Ihad no object in life now,
no care or occupation that was pleasant to
me; but, because nothing save hard work
and untiring application could make exist
ence bearable and deaden my heart in me,
| 1 wcrk d hard, and made money like other
men. But gave it away lavishly, as peo-
pie said. 1t was like sacred duty to my
| dead, to brighten others lives with the
means that would have spared hers.
never saw either of her parents again.
IT was better for US all, Mr. verdaray had
said, that the intercourse should cease with
Edna's and the child's death, and, God
knows, felt 80, too. ...... ..
So lived in New York alone, and rose
in the firm; Travelled, and made money;
and wandered from city to city, at last suc-
cessful in everything that I touched, with
out trouble or anxiety in ife-only the
burden of my empty heart. I was thirty
years old when my darlings died; / had
plenty more years to live, and death was
still long way off. People called me q
young man still, even after my hair was
very gray; and I seemed to have grown
old and tired down to my hearts core.
And the years went by wearily; and I was
forty eight and my hair clear white.
It was at Flemming's house that met
Harriet Stanhope. She was cousin of his
wife's, and an attractive woman-not q
girl-the sort of woman whom everybody
calls interesting, clever and cultivated TO the
uttermost, sweet-natured, and adaptable
and good, with even more than woman's
share of tact She was one Of those people
who win your confidence just by the atmos-
phere of their own natures, without effort tor
even wish.
Ihad not known her very long before
| could talk to her of the story that she
knew already, and tell her about the day
when looked back and saw the little fig
ure in the window, holding up my child TO,
me to see.
Well, you have guessed already, I sup
pose, atthe end of this beginning. Inevel
loved Harriet Stanhope, never. I was one
of those men-and, say what you will
they are not rare--who love just once and
never forget. But it came to me, slowly al
first and very reluctantly, and then with
great shock, that this woman cared for me
and had given more than ever could eve,
give back again. And began to think of tn
possibility of her taking-in mems eyes, q
least, and to outward seeming-Edna'
empty place. .....
She was lonely, too, as was, with NJ
near relatives, no claim Of love on any one
no home, and sorrowful outlook befor
her. l never could bear the sight of
solitary and uncared-for woman, and thi
woman touched all my pity and sympathy
gave her that and my friendship mos
freely and sincerely, and that was all. Blu
l began to think that even without love lif
might be sweetened a little, and mad
easier to bear, and that we might both tast
some quiet happiness at the last; an
. SO 1 said to myself that would MARI
her
/ did not resolve hastily. had know
her two years before I thought cf it at all
: and then it was long before the idea tool
a definite shape. was travelling in tn
West and one of her letters, reaching me a
large town in Ohio, decided the last dout
that was left in my mind. read it twic<
and then walked the floor all night, an
lived my life over in memory, and reache
far out into the future to plan out what
would be-what it must be, if God pr
served it-and then sat down to write
: letter to Harriet. 'E.
I wrote her long one, and lai
= my heart before her as honestly &
;, would have confessed its secret bsfo,
heaven. told her how much and he
; little could give her; how far I had ou
lived the warmth of youth and the be-