Vermont phÅ“nix. [volume] (Brattleboro, Vt.) 1834-1955, 1886-02-19

ally, she remembered, IN the ball, as she had
been helping TO divest him Of his surtout)-
had told her that young p was gone to
the Calfornias. Aud that same old mailbag
had been hanging in the hall.
She had been angry at first, but she had
long since given over being angry and 1t
was not long after that when the old judge
died and left her with one brother. He bad
not done very we'll in the world and he had
died too. Aud many years after she saw in
the newspaper that Mr.. F. had died in
the CALIFORNIA;. (She had never mentioned
the name to any one in fifty years, nor shall
l do so.) She had seen F. once after the
time be had looked in her eyes on that elec.
tion day, but only in the street, and she was
in her carriage, and she was a little piqued
and had feigned not to see him and II was
the day after this that her father had come
home and told her, in the hall She was won
dering even then why be had not come; it
was already the beginning OF that long won
der that was to make puzzle of her life, -
until, indeed, she grew middle aged and bad
found her work to do and since then she
had been very happy. Only, she wished
that she might have had young relations /;
her brother bad left no children. For many
years she still had thought that he would
write but he never did. Could it be that
he had never loved at all? II was very
strange
Here again she paused q moment in her
thinking and looked again across the river
1t had not always been fretted with so many
bridges They used to have to drive many
miles around to the old house at Lschmere's
Point, just across the stream. She wonder.
ed il the house was still there now there
were many high blocks about it, where the
orchards had BEEN and a dozen long black
bridges stretched out and away, like the arms
Of the great city reaching for the woods and
fields. She got up and walked to the win
dow, with a rustic OF her clean silk gown,
and looked out for the view Of country high
lands. But the mist and fog we're too thick.
You never would have thought her seventy.
odd a. she stood there with her pleasant face
and her bright eyes peering as a girls might
do for some arrival Then she looked back
into the garret with the mass of old things
stored away, the outworn symbols Of her
quiet life. There was a lack OF children's
toys and little chairs most of the things
we're very old, from the locks in the chests
TO the old leather mailbag on the wall l.
was all hers, s,-hers alone. Half a thousand
children passed by her windows every day,
noisy. unkempt children, to q school near by,
and they would look up to her windows and
cry out at her. People thought she was a
miser and boarded more than memories. Aud
the neighboThood was very sad and squalid
and people said it was not even safe for her
to live there. She was very old. Had he
died happily, she thought? The paper said
that be had never been married And yet he
had behaved so cruelty to her. He had pleas
ant brown eyes, and such a brave, manly
way about him ! And then how tenderly be
bad taken the posy from her Why was it
that she thought of him to-day? And she
remembered thinking, years before, that she
would never have to cry again.
She felt that she was doing wrong, and
tried to scold herself like a child. Wiping
her old eyes with a girls light touch to The
eyes and head, she got up and went to the
window again resolutey. The fog and rain
we're still driving from the sea. Almost in
the zenith was little break of pale blue sky,
so pure, so cold, that it seemed like a memo
ry of heaven and its color showed that it
was after sunset. She heard a crash behind
her it was a startling sound 10 the still gar
ret, but she turned and saw that it was
only the old mail bag fallen to the floor. 1t
had hung upon its hook half a century, and
at last the ribbon bad broken with the weight.
Miss Allerton remembered it well-how it
had hung upon the knob of her fathers door
and been carried by him to his Office and
back on days when foreign ships came in
II was very dusty, but she stopped to pick it
leathern lips and drew forth a letter. 1t was
letter that had never been opened. 1t must
have stuck in a wrinkle in the bottom of the
bag and lain there all these years. 1t was
too dark in the old gsrret to see more than
that it was folded over and sealed With a
great, careless seal, without q stamp. 1t was
evidently written before the day of stamps
She walked with it to the little window the
little square of blue sky had grown larger
and gave just light enough for her old eyes
to read the address, to her,-to Madam Sa-
rsh Allerton.
1t was q boyish, trembling hand writing,
but the sight of it set her heart beating as it
self on the window-sill a minute before she
broke the seal. The letter ran as follows:
Sept. the sth, 1882
DEAR MADAM, 1T dare to write to you
to ask your leave to lay my addresses before
your respected father, it is only that l feel
last night that you learned my secret. l am
too unworthy Of you not to deem this letter
presumptuous; forgive me, dear Miss Aller-
ton, il you cannot return my love. II you
Emie when next we meet will take It that
you are not angry with me, although you can
r. 81 doign to love me. For l have loved yov
siACe that day we met two years ago. But n
Won q, a neither love nor pardon me, mss5eS nj
snsver 70 this note, and shall knev
%'F-.
Dearest do love you sol"
Miss Al,eY,on dropped the s,,ar from her
hands and looked outward tbe sky. The
rain vas driving mo-, wasHns shs bsaysns
clear and the rain carils 80 from her eyes,
n-iN a.