, 1880-08-23

hands out and took niue. still in the
same quiet fashion. Would you like
ma to?" said she-would you like
me toto take another ?"
EN-" said I, Z" what does it matter
what l like? Before the sun has gone
down upon my going. another day will
have dawped for you. l looked at her. 1t
came to me that this was very bitter,
and however great fool might be.
| could not entirely hide what was in
my heart. Little Sweetheart" said
1, "of one thing be sure-I never
shall forget you"
She came to me and I kissed her.
She still kept her face near mine.
Bertie," said she-it was the first time
she had ever called me Berthe; 1t had
always been plain Mister before, and
the name rang in my ears" BERTHE,
I'll not forget you in week.
almost pushed her from me. l
knew this dalliance was worse than
foily-I knew her so well-and rose to
nv feet. NO" said l with bitter
mlrth; "not In a week, but in eight
days"
Sho made no answer, but still kne]t
at my feet. And SO We parted; for the
farewell on the morrow was but form
al one.
Two years passed by. Occasionally
/ sent her little notes. pictures of noted
places. foolish curiosities. But never
gave her my address. knew letter
writing was not her strong point, and
for some reason did not like to think
that she would not write, although she
could. Through it all / bore her
memory with me, and wherever 1
might be, at times would come the
shadow of her sweet face. l would not
own it to myself; but now and again
hungered for sight of her, and be-
cause | knew it was so, and that it was
such foolishness. l stopt ed away
longer than / had intended. But at
last l came back. One of my first
visits was to B; for, try how l
would, could not deny the longing
for another sight of her, l found that
the position of the parents OF En- had
little improved, and her Iaother told
me that she had gone into the world as
governess. Such hal always been
the intention; but l wondered what
sort of governess she would make. A
stald gouesnante with those blue
eye es, and that smile, that everlasting
spirit .f mischief which would be
bubbling out? Fancy her sober pre-
ceptress And who were her sweet
hearts now? Was there a pupil old
enough to be made the recipient of her
favors? Or was there some one who
was not pupil. still more capable ?
Well, what did it matter to me? She
and had each our way to go.
Her mother told me her situation
was in the neighborhood of Ryde.
Happening to have friends in that
town, made them an excuse for a
visit there. Yet on my arrival. l was
in no hurry to find them out; and tax
ing up My quarters in quiet inn, |
prepared to have day or two alone.
1t vas Sa urday afternoon, lovely
weather; and set out for walk we'll
known in years gone by. through the
Lovers Lane, past Quar- Abbey, to
Flshhouse, nesting by the waters
side. 1t was 80 warm, and the country
was so alive with beauty, that took
, my time and fingered, nothing spots
memory ouce held dear. Reaching
. Quar- Woods, wandered through the
brush oOd to the waters edge. Along
the shore there runs or ran a wall, al
old moss grown wall; and within this
wall an ancient garden SO ancient it
deserved no better name than wilder
ness. The weeds grew rank and thick,
and 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 gate, much the worse for
weather and wear; and on the left was
All old summer house, damp and mil
dewy, with steps mp to the roof, and
seats upon it.
entered the garden and climbed up
, to the old roof-seat. My pipe, in sym
pathy with the weather, was soothing
to my nerves. Gradually substance
became shadow; the soft wind sang
sweet music to my languid ears, aud,
u gentle charm came over me. fancy
it was sleep. Utopian to lie there, the
wavelets ripping softly upon the shore
a dim suspicion of unclOuded skies
pervading my dreams i!
Something woke me-a sound. I
opened my eyes, dreamily conscious
that voices were somewhat near. I lay
listening with sort OF curiosity, and
became aware that was listening to
the prattle of children little voices
we're borne upon the breeze, children's Is
laughter mingling with the ripping
waves. But every now and then there
was another voice, not a child's, yet
childlike It was familiar to my ears,
and as listened, its sound woke within
me chords of forgotten music. Before
many seconds had gone, knew it was
Ems voice 1 heard. But 1 did not