The true northerner. [volume] (Paw Paw, Mich.) 1855-1920, 1881-11-18

and for three miserable years her young
life was burden to herself and cause
of ceaseless sorrow to me who watched
her lovingly, but who was powerless to
help or comfort in such grief as this.
At the end of three years she was re-
leased. A fall from his horse, while rid
ing home in state of intoxication,
caused the almost instant death of her
husband.
After this Alice was anxious to leave
the old house, where there were so many
sad associations where we had been
happy children, and desolate orphans,
and where my darling Alice had lasted a
bitterness worse than orphanage. But
where should we go? 1t was ut the
close of our short New England summer,
that we held many a consultation rs to
where we should pitch our tent. 70 me
it was matter of utter indifference, for,
at that time, all places were alike to me.
We knew something of Boston. and my
chief pleasure during the memorable
winter L spent there, was the recollec-
tion of that first day in the Music Hall.
1t was, in more senses than one, o
marked day. for from it dated my init
mate friendship with Henry West. We
had met at several parties each had
recognized in the other kindred spirit;
and, as he was an habitue of the house
in which / was visiting, it became a
matter of course that he should escort
me to the various places IF amusement
and show me the lions" l loved
music, but had enjoyed few opportuni-
ties of hearing it; no stars ever wandered
so far out of their accustomed orbit as
our little country town and there was
very little native talent there. When,
therefore, Mr.. West invited me, soon
after my arrival in Boston, to attend one
of the Wednesday organ concerts, L
consented, little knowing what awaited
me.
When the first piece was over N re-
member it was the Tannhauser over
ture), l sat quite still, the tears rained
down my face, but no words would come.
Then it was | knew in an instant how
perfectly sympathetic were my compan-
ion and myself if he had at that mo-
ment uttered one of the commonplace or
conventional criticisms one hears so
often, should have hated him forever.
But he did not he only said very quiet
ly after L had recovered myself little,
81 am so thankful Won heard 1t first
with me-" and | replied, " If only it
might last forever"
From that day our friendship ripened
fast, and during the remainder OF that
memorable winter, the world was very
bright to me. Every week we went u
the Music Hall, and then / studied out
with his advice and assistance the music
we had heard together. When the
spring came, and Alice began to beg for
my return to her, it was hard for me to
think of all from which going home
must separate me. And, to all appear
ances, he felt it too. / could not doubt
that he had very great interest in me,
he had given 50 many proofs of it.
Would he wondered, speak some de-
cisive word before | left? Would not
he ask permission to visit me in my
country home So | dreamed On until
the last evening came. For hours the
drawing-rooms had been crowded with
guests, assembled to bid me adieu.
Many kindly greeting was spoken
many wish expressed that we might
soon all meet again. But not until very
late, when almost every one had gone,
did GIr. West appear. | knew ut
glance that something was wrong, and
nay heart sank within me- l talked on,
however, as merriy as before, giving to
each n bright word, good-by, wishing,
oh how earnestly, that it was all over.
At last we were alone. My hostess,
wearied by the evenings exertions,
begged to be excused, adding, jesling-
ly: IF one of the single gentlemen had
loitered SO long, Nelly, after all the rest,
l should be rather suspicious on this last
night, but there is no danger of any
thing coming TO pass now-so will say
good night. Pray, Mr.. West, do not be
taken with one OF your musical fevers
and pursuade Miss Langdon to open the
piano, for she is very tired and must set
out on her journey at most unearthly
hour III the morning."
As she turned to go Mr. West said, in
a low, strange voice: +" L must say good
bye, too, Mrs Gordon. Ibis evenings
mail has brought me letters which COM
pei me to leave for Cuba"
What No bad news from Mrs.
West, hope ?" she asked, anxiously.
My wife is very i'll, and wishes me
to join her Mt once"
/ am so sorry; but 1 sincerely hope
you will find her better on your arrival.
Give her my kind regards and good
wishes. How we shall miss you Pray
write and keep us informed of Mrs.
Vests health, and let us see you imme-
diately on your return" and, with few
more friendly words, she left the room.
His wife These two words burned
into my brain like coas'of fire. Icould
not think nor wonder nor ask question.
Ny one idea was to escape without be-
traying my suffering; to insure his leav-
ing me without discovering what those
two little words, spoken so calmly and
unconsciously, "Your wife - had
wrought for me In that supreme mo-
ment, in that single flash of time, while
he crossed from the door he had gone to
open for Mrs. Gordon back to the sofa,
where l sat, my woman's pride tri-
umphed over every other feeling, and |
spoke as calmly and deliberately as if no
tempest ragged within.
You must let me, too, express my
regret that you are summoned away on