Wheeling Sunday register. [volume] (Wheeling, W. Va.) 1882-1934, 1883-09-02

daily. There was something wonuer-
fully kind and endeariDg about this
Young man; ones heart warmed to him
instinciively. Suddenly l had an idea.
"Perhaps il wasn't your mother, after
alln / exclaimed. "She only saw your
hat-she was on the other side-but she
described you to me as q tall, fair"
"Why, perhaps it wasn't" he cried,
fairly sparkling with excitement.
"why, how funny Of me never TO
think Of that! i ought to have asked
YOU what she was like" We both
laughed heartily.
''Well," / said, beginning to describe
her, "she was"
"By Jupiterw suddenly exclaimed
INV volatile companion, darting To-
ward the train as it began TO move Oh.
Then he paused for an instant, though
AT bis peril, exclaiming with q brilliant
smile: al beg your pardon, but l must
90 on this train. Good-bye-thank
YOU" the last words were almost
shouted ss he sprang upon the plat
form. [ stood stupidity looking after
him, holding my breath with horror st
his rapid and dangerous leap. The train
thundeIed away and / went home,
smiling to myself at this adventure
with 8 strange young man, Could this
be sober Helen Irving?
But this was not the end OF II, else
why should / write the story? The
next time l went out to give Lucy q
lesson, as the train was rushing along, l
saw q tall figure crossing the platform
between the cars. He was holding on
HE hat with one hand, and his fair curls
we're blowing in the wind. l could not
mistake the clear colored, somewhat
bropZed face, and eager blue eyes. |
SAW the latter sparkle ~ he entered my
car and glanced NJ me and l guessed
nv his manner that he intended speak
ing TO me
This will never do" l thought. awe
have no knowledge of each other, and
have never been introduced; | must re-
pei him."
I bowed very slightly and coldly as
he lifted his hat, hut he had already be-
gun to speak.
"Do you Know Miss Lucy Reeves""
al am her music teacher" l answer
ed, CURLY and cOldly.
His face fairly beamed.
"Ah," said he; "Once more | beg ten
thousand pardons- good morning. he
bowed with Incompatible grace and was
gone.
OF this last Interview / spoke to no
one. j began to sleep badly aud to
think too much. Was this l, Helen
Irving II so, was that young lady
growing sentimcntaI?: On the occasion
of my next Journey, my heart beat time
with the jarring train. The tall, fair
young man" GIi not appear, however;
L,,N ~. 90 l.... I'LL tI.pf an IN hpr
saying:
'Did you find your son that day"
"Ges, my dear; thank We kindly.
There be comes now"
| looked up aud saw along, iank, red
haired youth, IN a light OvercOat OF
CHASTITY tint, with u bell-Crowned felt
hat on the back OfhiS head. | murmur-
eel something and retreated. Oh, how
he would laugh If he knew. ! felt quite
NrptcheI."
How solemn you are"' said Ircy
that day.
IL am thinking of the woes of Mr..
Robert Curtis ! replied.
Before She hadtlme tOauSwcr the SER
want brought in n card. The piano WAS
i'm the back parlOr, and through the half
closed doors we saw a visitor enter. TEe
uame on the card was Barton Halliday.
Lacy spraug up crying, Never mind
the lesson, come" she dragged me in
To the front parlOr. | saw a "tall, fair
Young man IN a light o~vercOat,' with a
pair of very bright eyes. So this was
iuCy'S needless friend-an artist, as |
had said; and an id!er! | felt 4 mingled
Thrill Of JOY and pain.
81 knew 1 should manage it," he
cried, gleefully a. a boy. Then the
astOnished Lucy had to hear the whole
story, and We had the merriest time
over il. We parted the best Of friends.
Lite was changed to me after the be-
ginning of my intimacy with Barton
Holiday; yet | could not forget his
character rs Lucy had drawn it, and a.
| saw il in its more prominent develop
ment. \ great simple hearted, eager,
needless boy, How | tried to desplse
him. let, in my soul | knew that
there was a rare beauty in his nature,
a perfect clearness and sincerity, u
SiuglenGSS of mind, q gentlenesS and
vi rightneSs that marked him q true
knight among q world of sOldid aud
unghiSalrUuS men. He was rich, but
unspOilCd, and generous TO a degree;
and he was no carpet knight, L knew,
for he had served in the late war for 3
year before il ended, when he was a
mere boy. My mother loved him dear
Is, and not for his money, for she was
an unwor!dly, simple little mother. lie
was very luvable. Still j tried to look
upon him with u certain good humored
contempt, and seemed to succeed.
When, therefore, he asked me TO be his
uifp refused him.
Oh, what wretched days and nights |
spent after that. How his Image
haunted me, as | had seen him in his
6Oyish brightness, and the true grief |
had inflicted upon him! The thought
of him tugged ut my heart-strings until
| knew al last that there WAS no use to
resist-he was uuutterably dear to me.
| sent Cor him then, ami sid: "Barton,
will you take all unS;ud, Capricious
girl - and he did not leave me in
uOuht. We have been married now
fer some years. | often laugh when |
compare my mOther-in-law-a beautI-
fui, d~elicat,, old lady, like a white rose
about 10 drOp-wIth the stout, anxious,
worthy soul who couldn't find her
flair, talp' son. AS for my husband,
he has leased me n great deal with his
carelCSsneSS, but he IS 80 gentle and gay
wilhal, that patience is easy. He is a
shade more careful now, and | am less
precise, which they say is an improve
ment. 1 have only one thing more to
say: My friend Lucy Reeves married
Mr.. Robert Curtis, and neither of them
eve seemed to regret it. We are very
polite to each other in regard to our
respective marriages. There is good
material for teasing on both sides, and
We dare not use il to the fullest sdvaut-
age, 80 each maintains a discreet re
serve.