Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1882-07-08

showing my anectlGn Dy outward signs. | am
too conscious of the depth of his love for me
to let any false shame or misunderstanding rest
between us: and sd IwrEe and lust tell him
the whole truth about that luckless scene; tell
him how dear he is to me. and beg him humbly
and with tears to forgive me and love me still;
not to give up his journey tif he has accepted
the post / know that cannot be- but ut least
to come to me before he goes and say good-by;
and to take my promise that at whatever time
he wants me | Wilt be ready to be his wife
whether he can come baekfor me, or have to
go out to him. Other women have done that
much for men who oFe them. and why not
for Dick, who has. waited for me longer than
many lovers already and signs himself mine
faithfully" still? =" "
So my letter is finished at last. and walk
across the fields myself q will not trust it to
any other hand) to put it in the post do not
do 80 In our own village. | started with that
intention; but remembrance of nv swollen
eyes and pale tear-botched face deters me-
dare not show myself in the little street where
every man. woman and child knows Miss Ce-
city and her lover" and will make their COM
ments on my woe-begOne appearance, SO l
walk on brskly to hamlet two or three miles
off, and daresay the fresh air and exercise
DO me good: for though my hand trembles as
drop the missive into the wOrln-eaten slit of the
rustic post office feel better already when it is
done; and as turn slowly homeward l fall to
counting the hours that must pass before it is in
Dicks hands, and again those other hours before
can't hear till the morning of the day but one
following; but he may not be able to write even
SO quickly, and, on the other hand. If he comes
instead of writing-ah, God grant it! that
would be good indeed-he might be with me as
early as tomorrow afternoon. With that
thought 1t is impossible to be utterly down.
hearted, and / reach home with my mind
braced to wait, if not cheerfully, at least with
patience.
And do wait, wait patiently indeed, but with
ipSSpninD a f0r
Dick does not come. nor is there any answer to
my poor, tear-blotted letter. Suns rise and suns
set. The daisies Ope their red-tipped petals to
the morn, the wood sorrel folds her emerald
leaves at dusk. The swallows that dipped and
shot like living arrows through the sunlight of
the early day HE to their nests beneath the
caves at night; but neither by day nor night
comes there any answer to my prayer for par
don Gradually, gradually the bitter truth
creeps into my heart that those words, ''yOurs,
faithfully" meant. not what my foolish trust be-
lieved but the brief signature of stern formal
ity. Dick has left me. His love, tried perhaps
before to stretching snapped before the forced
merriment of that foolish laugh; and because he
had not the heart to say so he has held his peace
and gone; gone for good.
1t is astonishing to see how little the family
seems to think Of his departure To be sure
they know nothing of the cause How should
they unless [ told them? and that, somehow, |
cannot bring myself to do. After all, the most
of them are only children, and they did not
mean to hurt me; besides. while there is any
hope OF his coming or writing, would not have
them guess we had quarreled at ALL and after
ward --afterward it is too late. Words NAV
em0Itter, they cannot heal broken heart; and
so L hold my secret close and only vince i'm
silence when l hear them talking lightly of
Dicks going to Canada; or when Francis to
tease me. asks if | ever EXPECT to see him back
again, and what 1 will bet that he doesn't
find new flame on the voyage out
Even little Teddy invests in a toy boat
to play at "Cssy's Dick sailing away"
and father calmly says it was good thing he
went. He thought the lad an utter fool to
refuse such berth the first time it was offered:
and though it was pity he hadn't time to come
and say gOOd-bVe. it would never have done to
risk losing it by farewells that can be said Just
as well on paper. That is ALL and after while
even that sort of talk dies aout, and except for
an occasional question or remark Dick might
almost be forgotten! and no one notices how
pale and silent have grown, or how resolutely
shrink from even the few gayetes which crop
up In our quiet neighberhoOd. 'Cecily was al
ways quiet" ''Cecily likes staying at home"
what much more sOciable girl Kitty isl" that
| is what the family and the little world outside
say; and 1t is true enongh.9 There is only one
thing l want now. and that is to be let alone
to drudge away at those household duties which
once came between my Dick and me- but which
are all have left now to help me to carry on
my cross from day to day, and to keep me from
that sorrows crown of sorrow, remembering
happier things --. alII
It's spring again now; the second spring since
my lover left me. Twice already have the fields
been red with pOppes ana the deem woods
brown with falling leaves. Twice have we
dressed the Churchwith ivy and holly, and hung
big bushes of mstetOe in the vcarage hall
Francis has passed. long ago and got his COM
mission. Tom is at Rugby; and the mother of
the Twins has come home from India and taken
her offspring away; and now it is spring once
more, and instead of being in the country to
watch the ferns uncurl their furry green frOnds.
or to wade ankle-deep among the lush grasses
OF the water-meadOws for the marsh marigOld's
golden blossoms. L am making my way sOwlv
and with the nervous air of country girl unused
to noise or crowds. through the narrow streets
and dlngy squares of one of the most closely
packed districts in the heart of London. | have
come up to town to buy summer dresses for
nifty and Maude, and on other domestic bust
ness; but these duties have been achieved; and
now, before go home again. | am bound on an
errand which though would not dare own it to
any one (fOr indeed | know it to be both vain
ana fOoiish) has been pressing on my heart ever
since left home. with yeagning persistence to
Which. even though it be unmaIdeny cannot
choose but yield. : -
Lit is to visit Dicks lodgings. where he ALWAYS
lived when he was in London: and the address
OF which | have known by heart this many
year. Perhaps they may be occupied by other
people, in which case my journey will have been
In vain; but if not feel as if it would be
comfort to me aterward just to have breathed
the air he breathed to sit in the chair where he
must have sat and read my letters many a time
ard oft; and have no fear of meeting him. He
Is IN Canada still; that much learnt only a
little while ago from line in Montreal paper
sent me by friend who knew US both: and per
haps | have faint idea in my mind that the
landlady (Dick used to say she was a kind
motherly old woman) may tell me something
more of him.
go there accordingly. and make my little ex-
cuse about wanting to see the rooms for friend
i nope 1t is not very wrong to say so-and
even manage to get out his name as the person
who once recommended them to me- That
proves an .'Open sesame" however for Mrs
brown beams with smiles on the instant and
begs me to walk upstairs. (which fortunately
the rooms are vacant and just as they was when
Mr.. Meredith was there hsself for times and
again he'd said to her Now. Mrs. Brown don't
you go doing nothing to these rooms; for com
torbler they couldn't be, and if ever returns to
London it's back to them shall come and no.
where else And, by the way, ma'am, ESQ be
you're friend of that dear gentlemen's. perhaps
you can give me his address. There's letter been
laying ere for him ever SO long. 1t comes for
him about six months after he left nclosed in u
note to ''the owner of the ouse," saying as
whoever posted it had dropped it into a gap
between the pOSt-bOX and the inside Of the