River Falls journal. [volume] (River Falls, Pierce County, Wis.) 1872-2019, 1885-01-29
HOW AUNTIE SAVED ME.


/ had been restless and unhappy al
erent things, but found it impossible
to confine my attention to any more than
five minutes at a time; and now after an
early dinner, / took book and wan
dered out in the grounds with the hope
of diverting my mind with "The Ouch
e's's" sprightly chatter.
1t was a warm but pleasant afternoon
in July, and / walked listlessly among
the rose bushes and shrubbery till
as l was passing a little rose-em-
broidered summer-house, a voice called
as that you. Edith ?" and turning in,
l found aunt Muriel in her favorite rus
tic seat among the sweet tea roses, with
her favorite Proctor open upon her lap,
and her favorite work (knitting) in her
hands. The whole picture was so cool
and sweet and peaceful that l paused a
moment at the door to contemplate
it.
Aunt Muriel was my great aunt, my
fathers aunt, and had lived with MS ev-
er since was born, and long, long be-
fore. She was the handsomest old lady
] ever saw. Tall, straight and active
with bright black eyes, and hair in
which scarcely silver strand shone
regular features, and complexion
many young person might envy Aunt
Muriel at eighty looked fully twenty
years younger. Though always use
full and active, and everybody S
friend and comforter, she talk
ed but little, and on the subject of
her past life was very silent. l often
wondered why aunt Muriel had never
married, for I am sure she must have
had many admirers. | was great pet
of hers, and always loved to be with her.
Dropping on the low seat at her feet, /
let The Duchess, slip to the ground,
and clasping my hands over aunt Muir
iel's knee, said;
I've got the blues, ante, and don't
like them. 1 want you to drive them
away.
Aunt Muriel smoothed back the frow-
zy bangs" from my warm forehead.
"What has given my pet the
blues?" she asked, and as | looked up
in the dear old face, something in mine
must have prompted her to add:
"Shall Iguess, dear Flirting again ?"
well, auntie, that is nothing new,
for Tn always flirting"
"But who is it this time? Tom, or
Philip, or Rufus, or John?"
Here [ nodded, and squeezed Aunt
Muriels knee. John, auntie," l said
solemnly, while my lips trembled, and
/ felt the tears rising to my eyes. Aunt
Muriel looked very grave.
Il had hoped, Edith, that you would
spare him. John Moore seems to me to
be different type from the other
young men around here. There is
something strong and grave and sin
cere about him, and when he is in
earnest, think he would be very much
in earnest indeed.
Eyes, Aunt Muriel, think he was very
much in earnest, indeed last night,
when he asked me to marry him."
"And you?"
'Refused him, auntie, And oh! /
know I've behaved very badly" with a
sudden accession of contrition, and the
tears really filling my eyes, ''for I've
made him believe all the time that 1
really cared for him, and gave him every
encouragement in the world, as is my
wont, you know; but didn't think he'd
take it so hard. And last night, when
/ pretended surprise at his proposal,
he said such cruel words and called me
heartless firt, and left me in such
anger. [ know Pm a firt, but I'm
heartless," half sobbing.
Aunt Muriel stroked my hot cheek
with her soft, cool hand.
"Do you love him, my child?" she
asked
ooh. no-that is-no, | hate him.
Oh, auntie, 1 don't know; but am sor-
ry firted with him"
Aunt Murlel did not speak for a long
time, and l lay quite still holding her
hand against my hot cheek and lips.
Then, with deep sigh, she said;
Edith, have long noted this unior-
tunate propensity of yours, and it has
often given me great uneasiness, for |
fear, my child, You will one day wreck
your lifes happiness upon tiff you
have not already done So"
Wreck my life's happiness! Was my
happiness centred in john Moore ?
Pshaw! / threw up my head and
looked Aunt Muriel in the face with a
light laugh-forced, / must admit.
No danger" | said.
Aunt Mul.iel looked at me so search
ingly that dropped my head upon. her
knee.
''Tell me a story, auntie, | said.
''Shall | tell you the story of my past
life, Edith?"
''Ah, yesl" / exclaimed eagerly; tell
me about the time when you were young
and pretty and admired--and when you
firted," / added mischievously; but
the panied look that came into the dear
old face, made me regret my thought
less remark.
Yes. Edith" she answered gravely,
II will tell YOU of that time, and If the
confession of my weakness can help
cure you of yours, | will not regret lift
ing the veil from my sad and erring
past.
Aunt Muriel paused, and looking
over my head gazed at the horizon as
though in that far distant boundary
line she read the story of her long
vanished youth.
when / was your age, Edith, was
acknowledged beauty and belle. An
only daughter Of wealthy parents, there
was no wish of mine unqualified. We
resided in a large town, and among
the many hondsome and popular girls,
there was none so sought after as my
self, and | had admirers and suffers by
the score This adulation had the eff
feet of making me exceedingly fatidious,
and blind even to the merits OF
those who sought my hand. For
allowing myself to become especially
interested in none of them, my
whole thought and ambition was to aud
as many victims to my list as possible
neither thinking or caring of any suffer
ing might infict. So the years passed,
] travelled good deal for those days,
when the means of travelling were so
limited. Summers at Newport and Nj
agara, winters in New York aud Wash
ington, and three years in Europe; SO
my girlhood and young ladyhood passed.
At thirty-five, but looking years young
er, was still heart whole and family
free. But then it was for the first time
/ felt the passion of love. That seems
n,,;to nr, ol,-nnc..d age dnrihtlass In