The Cincinnati daily star. [volume] ([Cincinnati, Ohio]) 1875-1880, 1880-04-20

BERTHA ELSTON'S IDEAL.


as the maid finished the morning toilet;
"and if one comes, am not at home.
For few hours, at least, wish to be
left alene."
The maid left the room, and Bertha
Elston threw herself into chair to
think. A fair picture she was in her
dress of white muslin, the little feet,
crimson slippered, lying one over the
other. OF what was Bertha thinking,
the soft light beaming in her eye, and
the delicate color suffusing her cheek
In moment she rose and took from o
black walnut cabinet magazine. The
little poem she sought between its leaves
she had read, it would appear, more
than once before, for the leaves opened
Of themselves as Bertha seated herself
again costly in her chair. Again she read
the admired lines.
"Who can it beg she said, half aloud,
her fancy sketehing somewhat vague
ideal of perfection. "Ah. me! every one
Graves happiness-the happiness OF love
and sympathy-and how must such a
nature as this Lowell And yet some there
are who have so little appreciation"
Bertha's thoughts had wondered away
from the poet; and not dreaming that
she might make an invidious compari-
son, her mind was soon dwelling upon
her own husband.
tRaymond is kind, and ! feel sure he
loves me; but if only he possessed more
sentiment, if he cared more for the ideal,
if-that is, if he was of anature more hike
this one-and, oh! what a woman l
might have been, the wife of man SO
delicately organizedP'
She rose and put away the poem, but
she took her seat again, and again fell to
dreaming.
"Was this man to whom her heart was
60 attracted alone in the world? or was
he married, and held in the folds of a
cruel fate to an uncongenlal compan-
ion?"
Bertha's eyes were fixed on the floor; !;
but the light beginning to CLEAN in
them betrayed purpose forming in her
mind. -a. .... $685..
at can't possibly do any harm," she
said to herself, as she took an exquisite
little writing-case in her lap. "Just a
few lines / can not resist! Let me tell
him how entirely one heart responds to
his"
The penning of these few lines oeca-
stoned the destruction Of nearly a quire
of hot-pressed paper; for Bertha had
never written before to very literary
man, and here was q poet, with taste so
delicate, so critical AL she intended to
soy was few words Of admiration for
the lovely poem and il, indeed, few
expressions indicative of her own long
ing for congenial friend slipped to a
piece of paper, it was, perhaps, no harm,
she whispered to herself. A week
brought an answer, 70 grateful, so de-
Iightfully expressed. The poet begged
again for word, and how could she re-
fuse? And, as day after day, the CORES.
pondence went on, how could she resist
plunging the whole interest of her heart
into this one unknown individual? And
how might she not yield assent to his
wish to visit her? For the world she
would not bring moments pain to her
husbands heart; but the things unseen
and unheard can not occasion sorrow in
its slightest shade.
Bertha bade adieu to her husband
with loving kiss, and five minutes
afterward wrote, with great earefulness,
az, answer to the poets request. She ap-
pointed ten of the following evening as
the time to receive him, and she invited
J., him to her own charming suburban
home. The hour was later than she
could have wished, but the desire to be
free, if possible, from other visitors led
to it's choice. To meet under the droop-
ing elm which shaded the lawn might
have accorded with the Days Of old ro-
nance; but Bertha smiled at the very
idea.
The time drew near. The evening
shades were dispelled by the most benig-
nant face the moon ever wore. Nine
o'clock came, and Raymond Elstons
wife began to walk through her drawing
rooms, listening nervously. Rapid
glances she cast at the bronze timepiece
on the mantle, where a coquettish figure
of Pysche seemed to whisper to the but
terhy on her outstretched finger.
Five minutes Of ten. Hark! Bertha
started with sharp, quick surprise. II
was only soft, low strain from a flute
but how she trembledl She could moi
advance q single step. She clasped her
hands and stood still. A step? Yes, a
quick, well-known step On the terrace.
Oh, Heavens! Bertha did not faint OF
shrek, and she hardly dared to sink
upon chair. She strained her courage,
and strove to gather ups little self-pos.
session. What could she say? Of course
Raymond must have seen some one; and
tfien, oh, dear, the flute!
Raymond opened the door with hi,
latch-key, and came in, portmanteau ir
hand, and kissed her heartily, He sale
nothing Of a flute. Bertha thought ht
he must have heard it,.
"Why, my darling" he asked, car,
you trembling? What has happenedw
"Nothing, Raymond. Let me go VI
stairs"
Quickly she sought her room, and in