Daily globe. [volume] (St. Paul, Minn.) 1878-1884, 1880-10-03
COUSIN EDWARD.
How He Learned His Lesson.
CHAPTER /.


"Oh, what have done What have
[ done" exclaimed Nellie, under her
breath, as sad and dismayed she hur-
red up the garden path. "He. will
never be kind to me any more. How
could 1 have said such things !" And
her hands trembled so that she could
scarcely lift the latch of the old-fash-
Toned door, and she turned away to
quiet herself little before going in.
The garden was lovely and luxuriant,
and heavy dews, weighing down the
heads of all the beautiful blossoms,
made it still more lovely In the calm,
clear light of the moon which shone so
brightly overhead. But with a sigh
Nellie crept out of the glory Of silver
light, and paced to and fro beneath a
row of rugged elms, whose far-spreading
branches cast fretwork of shadow over
the fowery borders and neatly -graveled
paths below.
Nellie glanced up at the rambling old
farmhouse, which had been her home
for so many years. How she loved it
Every nook and corner that it contained
was dear to her.
GO I have it and all in it left to me,
she said, In a soft, sad tone, "and dear
father and mother, too A happy, hap
ply home it has always been, and [ am
thankful for it But, oh, Edward how
could you be so unkind? Oh 4! how
could you?"
She listened, fancying she could hear
his departing footsteps yet. And per-
hapS she might have done so.
VIII Lei, L. IL II
of his rather-thin lips, he was
on his way home, along the winding
lanes. He was man of five-and-thirty,
while Nellie was scarcely 20. She was
simple and innocent as a child. but he
had learned many lesson in the school
of life ere this. Yet another was in store
for him, and probably another and an
other, for while we live we must learn
and we VIII learn-so foolish are Vein
the most costlya and laborious way, for the
most part. Experience keeps q dear
school," says the proverb, "but fools
Will go to no other" And are we not all
fools until hard and memorable expert
ence has knocked and kneaded wisdom
into us? And one lesson which Edward
Melville prided himself on having
learned was the value of money. He
was a bachelor, and so he made up his
mind he would remain until he could
find a woman aUith money who would be
his wife. He himself was a country
doctor, and, with very small and not
increasing practice, it would never do to
marry and have but that to depend up
on, he told himself.
He had generally escorted Nellie to
her own door, after their evening walks,
but this evening he had left her just
outside the gate. He was her aunt's
step-son. She had known him all her
young life, and had always called him
Cousin Edward, all unsuspicious of the
feeling which was steadily gaining
strength within her heart, till this even
ing. And Edward, for his part, had al
ways treated her as a mere child,
ga glorious night p he murmured, as
he leisurely pursued his way and as he
looked round at hamlet and trees and
wayside brook, and picturesque farm
houses dotted here and there, all sleep
ing In the moonlight, the disdainful
curve left his lips, and pride and hau-
teur smoothed themselves away from his
brow.
Poor little Nellie p he said, again,
with something like a complacent smile.
81 suppose, then, that she cares little
more for me than [ deserve. It is
great bore, for of course it is out of the
question that should-that could"
He paused, and began humming a
tune, and switching the dew-laden
hedges with his walking-cane.
No." he presently recommended,
"one must have enough to be comforta-
BILE. And Nellie has got nothing, and
have got next to nothing. One may put
up with the want of little sentiment, [
should imagine, if one has a tolerable
settlement in life. At all events, Imean
to try ii"