Montgomery County sentinel. [volume] (Rockville, Md.) 1855-1974, 1880-03-05

IL showed last all day, but Sarah and |
were so busy that we scarcely gave glance
at the weather, and l do not think | should
remember what it was, at this distance of
time, had not received u note from Doctor
Grant, the next morning, inviting me to
take sleigh-ride with him that afternoon. OF
course | went, and equally, of course, en-
joyed the ride, for DR.. Grant was what
George called "good company for any one"
His was one Of those frank, genial natures,
which seem to carry with them fresh air
and sunshine, and magnetic others into a
certain likeness to themselves, for the time
being at least.
Sarah met us at the door on our return,
and invited the doctor to come back after
disposing of his horse, and partalse of the
hot supper she had thoughtfully prepared
for us. He readily accepted her invitation,
and merry, social evening followed, en-
joyed by all.
That was the commencement of an init
macy between DR.. Grant and our family,
which made that winter the pcasantest
had ever known. went much in society
and had the satisfaction of knowing that
was popular. | WAS not belle, but knew
all my friends liked to see me, and that
when any kind Of mery-malsing was pro-
jected, my name was first on the invitation
list Wherever | went DIR. Grant was sure
to be, that-among the girls--he received
the soubrquet, "Callie Brownies shadow"
| think he could not have escaped bearing
this name, once or twice, but il did not seem
TO trouble him in the least Indeed think
he rather liked it, for he took no pains TO
disguise his preference for me. And FL
have said il was Il pleasant winter to me,
and enjoyed it without much introspec-
ton. | was pleased with DIR. Grants evil
dent admiration, and fattcred, not only at
his liking for me, but at his choosing me as
his iavorite among all the gay girls of the
village, many of whom We're far more beau
tiiul than |. Sol encouraged him. With
out encouragement, his feelings would never
have been so openly expressed. | antici-
pated with triumph the time when he should
ask me to be his wife, but, beyond the re-
fusal with which | intended to meet his pro-
posals, did not look The consequence to
him or myself, never occurred to me. had
heretofore been but an idle dreamer on the
shores of life's swift stream and now that
my barque was launched upon its bosom,
driitcd gaily down with the current, with
out thought of thclrocks and rapids was
approaching.
About this time our old family physician
gave up his practice on account of failing
health, and DIR. Grant succeeded him with
the greater number Of his patients, our fam
lily among the rest. We had no severe sick
ness among us, but he was occasionally
called in to see the children, who were trou-
bled with Group, and his gentlcness with the
little sufferers gave him hold among us
that he could have gained in no other way
Swiftly the days, and weeks and months
few by so filled TO the brim with pleasures,
that had no time for sober reflection, or
might have been saved the sin which cost
me such bitter repentance. The SHOWS
melted at last, and the brown, faded fields
grew fresh and green once more. Buds
burst from the naked boughs, and the trees
were in that state when the half-opened foil
age gives them such airy grace OF outline,
and such exquisite deicacy Of color, when
took a sunset walk, one. day with Horace
Grant. Ont Of the village we went, and
through the maple grove, to the spot where
the little stream, which turned the mill
wheel further down the course, fell from IL
rocky ledge with the roar and dash of
mimic Niagara. | sat down upon fallen
tree, while Horace stood with folded arms
before me, watching the spray Of the little
fall, now gittering with crimson and golden
reflection of the sitting sun
"a penny for your thoughts cried. lie
turned to me with look Of perfect trust in
his eyes
al was thinking of you,' he said softly,
"and Of the future. II looks as rosy as yon-
der spray wreaths. God grant its bright
ness may not fade as swilllyl But that can
hardly DC, for it depends upon you, Clara,
and you must have seen long ago, that
loved you, and would have managed TO for
bid it, in some sweet, thoughtful way, had
you not given me n little Of your own heart
in return. Am not right, Clara'" said he,
taking both my hands rs ! rose from my
seat. "Will you not give yourself to me as
my wife,"
withdrew my hands decidedly, saying
as did 50, You have mistaken friendship
for a warmer feeling, DR.. Grant, do not
love you; cannot marry you"
"Glar, do you mean what you are say
ing" he exclaimed, incredulously. "Don't
try to Brighten me, for | love you too well to
be trned with"
al am not trying 10 Brighten YOU" re-
piled, as calmly rs | could, for was fright
encd at myself. " / mean what have said
and now that have answered you, think
we had better go home The dew is falling"
drew my shawl about me, and walked
OH %ithout daring 10 look at him, as he
stood, thunderstruck at my words. Soon,
however, he overlook me.
"Oncc more ask you, Clara Browne
he said, "if you mean the words you have
spoken if you deliberately intend to crush
all my hopes Of future happiness, after allow
ing them 80 long 10 Irvine, unrebuked, about
your"
Ills face, saw, as | glanced up at him,
was rigidly calm, but his voice trembled
slightly. was in danger Of losing my'own
selfcommand, and in a desperate effort at
maintaining il, answered with bitterness |
was far from feeling; ais it then incredible,
DR.. Grant, that young lady should be
thfown into your society without yielding
10 its llscnationsY
"Nop was the indignant response; "but
Il is incredible that true woman, az sup
posed you TO be, should allow a man 10 law
ish the wealth Of his heart upon her, and
repay the gin with scorn. I loved you,
Clara Browne; trusted you as few arc ca
pablo Of doing, and, in falling me now you