The new Northwest. [volume] (Portland, Or.) 1871-1887, 1880-10-21

for a time, L tnlnk IL was TO her; for. i'm SOmp
way, links had been Joined between us without
our ever knowing that they We're being forged
''Well," said l To her, the day before / went
we being alone together, chow long shall be
mssed?"
The only answer was to throw herself upon the
hearth-rug, place her hands upon my knees, and
turn her eyes up toward my face.
"Ah," said /, trifing with her sunny hair
"yOu'u have another sweetheart in a week.u
''In week? ?' said she, in that curiouslv clear
voice of hers. ''DO you think so ?'' She looked
up at me, and watched me for n moment Then
she turned and got upon her knees, kneeling i'm
front of me. perhaps So" she said. "Butu-
leaning forward so that her breath mingled with
mine-"he'll never be sweetheart like youu
What could | do? | knew her so welll |
knew that this was Just what she'd say to anyone
by way of comfort. | knew her words were as
trifleS, light as air.
''Make no VOWS" said /, "Only to be broken.
You and have had happy times why should |
begrudge the same to another"
She was silent. She was now nearly eighteen
but she was small that it never occurred to me
TO think of her anything but little girl. She
put her hands out and took mine, still in the same
quiet fashion. "WOuld you like me tO?r said
| she-'would you like me to-to take another?r
EN- said l. "what does il matter what / like?
Before the sun has gone down upon my going,
another day will have dawned for yOu.n looked
at her. 1t came to me that this way very
bitter, and however great fool | might be,
could not entirely hide what i'm my heart.
Little Sweetheart said |, ''Of thing be sure,
/ | shall never forget you.n
! She came to me, and | kissed her She still
/ kept her face near mine. 'Bertie,' said She-it
was the first time she had ever called me BERTHE;
/ it had always been plain Mister, before, and the
name rang in my ears-"Bertie, I'll not forget
you in a week.
almost pushed her from me. l knew this dal-
/ lance was worse than folly knew her we'll
and rose TO my feet "No," said /, with bitter
mirth; mot i'm a week, but in eight days.
Two years passed by. Occasionally | sent her
little notes pictures of noted places, foolish curl
/ osities. But / never gave her my address.
/ knew letter-wrting was not her strong point and
/ for some reason did not like to think that she
I would not write, although she could Through il
all | bore her memory with me, and wherever /
might be, at times would come the shadow Of her
sweet face. | would not own il 10 myself but
now and again l hungered for a sight Of her, and
because knew il so, and that il foolish
ness, / stopped away longer than / had intended
But at last | came back. Nv first visit was to
/ her home; for, try how would, could not deny
the longing for another sight of her. i found that
the position of the parents of En- had little inn
proved and her mother told me she had gone into
the world as governess. such had always been
. the intention; but wondered what kind OF gov
/ erness she would make. \ staid gOUregH0Rte? !?
with those blue eyes, and that smile, that ever
lasting spirit of mischief which would be bubbling
/ out ? Fancy her "A sober pTeceptress And who
were her sweethearts now? Was there pupil
old enough 10 be made the recipient of her favors
Or was there some who was not pupil, still more
/ capable2 Well, what did il matter 10 me? She
I and had each our way To 20.
Her mother told me her situation was in the
friends in that town, made them an excuse for a
. visit there. Yet on my arrival was in no hurry
. 10 find them out and taking up my quarters in u
/ quiet inn, / prepared 10 have a day two alone.
Ii was a Saturday afternoon, lovely weather, and
/ set out for a walk well known in years gone by,
through the Lovers Lane, past Quar- Abbey, TO
Fishhouse nesting by the waters side 1t was so
warm, and the country was 80 alive with beauty,
that took my time and fingered noting spots mem-
ory once held dear Reaching Quar- Woods wan
dered through the brushwood TO the waters edge.
f1t al, 4
mOss-grOwn wall and within this wall an ancient
gaTden-so ancient il deserved no bcttername than
I wilderness. The weeds grew rank and thick, and
I no hand but Natures had much to answer for in
it, There was an old green gate at the bottom,
which moved on rusty hinges under the trees was
garden seat much the worse for weather and
wear; and on the left was a Summer-house damp
and mildewy, with steps up 20 the roof, and seats
upon il.
Now once upon time when I was tutor at
Rhyde, / wont 10 linger with my young
charges i'm this same garden They would play
upon the shore OramOng the woods, while would
lie on the roof of the old Summer-house, sheltered
by the trees, looking out upon the Summer sea,
smoking reading orin waking dream. 30, partly
because of old times, partly because it was a fine
day, ! entered the garden and climbed up to the
old rOOf-seat My pipe, in sympathy with the
weather. was soothing to the nerves Gradually
substance became a shadow; the soft wind sang
music TO my languid ears, and a gentle charm
came over me. fancy il was sleep Utopian 10
lie there the wavelets rpping softly upon the
-pIf Il iilii 7t-itipii ol uiiclbNt'i St@ lttFdti-
ing my sweet dreams.
Something woke me-a sound | opened my
eyes, dreamly conscious that voices were some
where near lay listening with sort of curios-
ity, and became aware that was listening to the
prattle of children little voices were borne upon
the breeze children's laughter mingled with the
rippling waves. But every now and then there
was another voice, not a childs, yet chiidlike II
was familiar TO my ears, and as ! listened lis
sound woke within me chords of forgotten music
Before many seconds had gone, I knew it wa,
Ems voice ! heard. But did not move nor diC
turn TO see lay as i'm "a tower of strength, anC
it was comfortable feeling to know that / haC
bat 20 turn upon my elbow, and there before IN,
would be the little lady who once was my littl,
sweetheart. But at last | moved. | rose upoI
my elbow quietly, 50 as not to make n noise, an,
looked over the side of the Summer-house on (,
, the garden below. And there / her. Sh,
|rt-n. |. H. l.