The Kenosha telegraph. [volume] (Kenosha, Wis.) 1860-1888, 1881-04-01
Let the scholar sit up
. HALSEY'S STORY.

most always Jolly, SAID brlght-eyed
Mrs Steele. Sometimes, though, /
fancy that I detect an expression OF
panied sadness about you. But you are
such peculiar fellow that 1 have been
afraid to say anything about it,"
A little pause, during which pretty
Mrs. Steele eyed the "iolly fellow -
sharply, and then took up her crotchet-
ing again, while he gave two or three
quiet whiffs at his cigar.
Pretty Mrs. Steele knew how to man.
age this man. Some ladies have a
peculiar tact for managing old bache-
lors; Mrs. Steele was one of that kind
She was one of those lively, kind heart
ed, middle-aged ladies, blessing in her
home, dutiful wife, with some pretty
ways left for her gentlemen friends a
good mother, with little of her youth
full coquettishness still clinging to her.
A particular, good-natured bit of a body,
whose smile brings sunlight into a
gloomy day, and whose soothing touch
and spicy talk is q good panacea for all
the ills of life. A woman who can cry
with You If she finds you in trouble, or
laugh with you at your own misfortunes.
A blessing to mankind in general, out
side of her home as well as within it.
Halsey, as she addressed him-more
properly, Dick Halsey-was fine, broad
shouldered fellow, bachelor-or, at
least, in his thirties, getting a little bald
Just where his long, sloping forehead be-
gan to curve backward before gradually
ascending to form the bump of self-es-
TEEN. A large, clear, blue eye, that
looked you deliberately and squarely in
the face, and turned to sparkling VIC
let when he became excited or spoke
with more than usual animation; q
broad chin, shaved smooth hazel
colored mustache, firm, decided mouth
"a striking, robust type of manhood.
Halsey always spoke deliberately, and
generally paused before making any re-
mark, after another had done speaking,
long enough to make it seem probable
that what had been said was being
weighed in his mind. After such halt
he remarked slowly, in reply to Mrs.
Steele It is so. 1 am sometimes
painfully sad"
He gave two or three quick puffs, and
then threw his cigar out OF the open
window, and turned his chair so as to
face his friend.
+" l can see it all again at times, and
all the old heartache comes back. [ see
the soft moonlight, which filled our
hearts with an awful stiffness, desolate,
singing pain. [ see beautiful, sober
faced young girl, crushed in her young
hearts best offering OF love. Did love
herP Yes, with that rich, unbounded
love which can fill our hearts completely
but once; with that sort of love which
leaves no longing of the affections un-
tiled with such love as makes prosper
lty and adversely welcomed by young
hearts with mutual hope or care.
What was her name? Menard-
Daisy Menard. This little miniature
will give you some notion Of her appear
ance. Dark hair, soft dark-blue eyes
u sober, lovable light in them-a small,
shapely hand, dignifed, graceful APP
pearance. She was little bit of a
body, quiet and unassuming, but full of
pluck.
For two years we We're friends at
school. came to love her, but was I'M
willing to disturb our friendship by let
ting her know it. I hid the deeper af-
lection within me, and we were friends
A beautiful friendship, frank and help
ful, held us Just so near during the two
years of our school life. Day by day I
felt that she was becoming more a part
OF my life; that was happy when she
was near and miserable when she was
away; that she brought out in me what
vas good; that my tastes were nodded
into better form by hers; and that l was
nerved to greater exertions, higher as
pratlons, by her queenly nature.
1t seemed to me that everything was
against amy declaration, or even appear
ance, OF deeper affection than that
helpful friendship. I was poor; must
hnlsh my law course, or woe was me.
felt; everything was against my getting
myself IN any position where | would
feel hampered. l must have plenty of
tune. must work patiently and INDUS
trlously, Even with my most sanguine
hopes, some years must elapse before I
would be Independent in my profession.
We were young, too-searcely at our
twenties yet. No, no l must not let
her see that she was more than a friend
IN my thoughts Then i stood some
what In awe of this quiet little woman
There was behind her franlzness. her
exquisite nG5Uete, refined dignity
which seemed to make friendship easy.
but made me question with myself
whether any appearance of a deeper
feeling would have been received at that
time.
"But, during the last month of our
school days, sometimes thought 1 dis
eerned a very marked change in her
something different from the old maize
friendship. She was rounding out into
a prouder, more-dignifed womanhood.
ohe became more coquettish, and I be-
gan to fear that our friendship might
not always last.
My last term was finished. Igrad-
mated with honors and debts I was
determined to follow Bractan and Rlack-
stone, and, in few days, with the helm
of friends, had secured place under an
attorney well-up in the profession. and
began my reading at once. I earned
something in the office copying, and
added enough to my slender purse to be
able to live and prosecute my studies
uninterruptedly by giving lessons in
French.
Il began to feel settled, and wrote to
Daisy, mixing quotations from Kent
with criticisms of the latest novel, and
gossipy chat about the place, people and
my hopes for the future. L felt more
settled, Il said 81 was clad ~ have
done with school and feel myself in the
world. I spoke with pride Of my pro-
tesslon, and was sangJline of success.
Many letters followed this during the
summer, Some were as hopeful. others
respondent Some pretty hints were
thrown out. A little coquetting fol-
lowed One little suggestion followed
another with great deliberation, before
any decided declarations of real feeling
were made. But it all came about at
last, and we understood each other.
ct now began to seem TO me that [ was