Vermont phÅ“nix. [volume] (Brattleboro, Vt.) 1834-1955, 1896-10-09
MISCELLANY.
A LETTER.

anu JuuBmehI ueclue tnhC we must part
have told you that can bear it. My
arrangements are made for Leaving Ben
ton the coming week, and if must leave
you also do not let me look upon you
again. 1t would not be wise. ] know
well what your position demands, and
accept my destiny. God bless you al
ways. Adieu."
Thus ended my answer to David
Woolsey's proposal for my hand. He
had never asked me to tell him of my
former life, and / might have evaded it
with him as 1 had with others, but
scorned to do that, so 1 sat down and
coolly and deliberately told him all
how that poverty had followed me with
relentless hand and forced ME into
the hot and sitting factory when was
but 8 years old--would his pride oringe
when he read thati thought so-how
that two years more found me working
as a servant girl, and SO, step by step, 1
wrote down for him the whole of my
strangely checkered life.
l was not disappointed when the week
went by without his coming-I should
certainly have been had it been other
wise, and it was with a steady and de-
termined hand that finished my prepa-
rations for leaving. 1 was going to
Brierwood Brent as governess. MY pres
emit needs would be supplied. That was
some satisfaction, aud if David Woolsey
chose to take another for his bride, as 1
expected he would. all 1 could ask of
him was to keep -way from my eyes.
1 stood cut of doors the night before
left, looking over the dear old hills
which had almost become part of my
self since my stay in Benton, and was
bidding each silent, fearful farewell,
when saw David Woolsey riding slowly
by. did not wait to think, but, raising
my finger for him to stop, ran down
through the yard into the street and
reached up my hand i'll his.
II go in the morning, David. Good
by"
Have you nothing more for me?'
His face grew whittier than this paper
am writing ON while he spoke hard
ly understood him, but answered:
Nothing more. May God keep you,
David Woolsey."
He bent down until his breath floated
over my face, looked full into my eyes,
as though it were the last time-as in
deed it was for many day-then with
a look of such superb scorn that it thrill
ed every nerve in my body he turned
his horses head and galloped away.
If we had parted friends, believe 1
could have borne it better, though did
not hate him for his scorn. 1t was not
possible for me to. My love for him was
too full and perfect for that. had told
him that l could bear it, and should I
allow the burden to crush me now? God
knows was very weak.
1 found Brierwood Brent a quiet
home. 1t was a quaint, curious pile,
with its wide verandas, its odd looking
wings and it's high and sharply pointed
arches. had two pupils, both little
girls, daughters of Mr.. Bethel, my en-
ployer. Details are tedious, and will
not dwell upon them. Enough to know
that resolutely kept the past awGy
from my mind and turned my attention
to the present.
had been there about six months
when one evening there came a call for
me. 1t was an unusual thing, for gov
erness has few acquaintance and fewer
friends, but l did not stop to think who
it was. If had, should, 1 suppose,
have concluded that it was some one to
see me on business, perhaps to hire a
governess or something of the sort.
went directly to the parlor and found a
Mr.. Clayton there. 1 knew him by rep
utation as an honorable and influential
man, but never spoke to him. Mrs.
Bethel met me at the door, introduced
, l,cA IL H.
conversation by saying:
''Miss Hyde, do not be startled at
what l am going to say. l am man Of
few words, and came here tonight to
ask you to be my wife. Your hand may
not be free to bestow upon any one, but
if it is have any hopper"
1t was a romantic courtship, wasn't
it, reader? did not say word for fully
five minutes, and then 1 said:
81 thank you, Mr. Clayton, for hon.
oring me by asking for my hand. 1t is
certainly unexpected, but 1 have an an.
swer for you. 1 will be yours on one
condition.
"Name it"
"That you never refer to or ask about
my past. 1t has been very bitter, and il
must slumber in its grave now. Enough
that my character is unstained. "
81 am satisfied. 1t shall be as you
|. say. Tomorrow evening, with your con
\ sent, will spend here. Good night. y
He bowed and left the room.
In six weeks was married. Now, TO-
night, as I sit here with the moonlight
flooding into my room and think ovel
those years of my life, it seems like
.ome brilliant, troubled dream. My am
bition was aroused. 1t had been kept al
bay all my life, but now it was Embossed
and, as love was nothing to me, thai
ruled my heart like an evil spirit. Blu
let me tell you how met David Woolsey
again.
We, my husband and ], had received
cards for magnificent ball, and, as usu
al, we attended. During the evening
while stood conversing with a groul
Of gay ones, felt hand laid light!
upon my shoulder and turned to con
front the lightning glance Of DaVit
Woolsey. l know paled fearfully, bu
I did not lose my self command. HI
bent down to my ear and whispered
Follow me in few moments to thu
conservatory"
There was determination in his voict
and something in his eyes which said