The Universalist. [volume] (Chicago [Ill.]) 1884-1897, 1897-09-04
CHAPTER |.

est memories OF my lie, anu reidCo
when and where Walter Linton and
first met; should describe my pride
and happiness when | knew that he
wished me to become his wife. The
love we bore each other through life
-ay, even after life-may be made
manifest as [ write these lines, butt
is not because loved him l have this
tale to tell. Other women have loved
as I love. incurred as | mourn; my
life, so far as the joy and grief of it
90. is but the life of thousands.
Had Walter Linton, when first he
asked me for the heart which was al
ready his own, been but a poor
struggling man, | should have given
him all as freely as l did then. If
need had been, | could have waited
patiently for years, or until fortune
smiled upon him. Feeling this, had
no false sentiment as to sharing the
worldly good that was his, although |
was a penniless girl and brought
nothing in my hands. Of course,
kind friends around wondered why
Walter did not choose wife who
would bring him wealth as well as
love. All, no one could have given
him more love than l could give him;
that was all he wanted or asked for.
He was twenty-three, and his own
master; l was twenty, and utterly
alone in this world. So we were
married-just six weeks after that
happy spring-day on which he told
me was dearest to him.
Our home-a dear gray old house,
full of pleasant corners-was Dray-
cot Hall, Somersetshire, not far from
the Mendip Hills. Walter had re-
Gently inherited the house and the
estates of Draycot, and when we took
possession of our kingdom, which was
almost as new to Walter as it was to
me. life seemed to hold all that could
be desired. Walters income was
sufficient for the life of quiet couu-
try gentleman-a life to which he
settled down, and appeared to find
every wish gratified in that happy ex-
istence. Shooting, fishing, and hunt
ing gave him plenty of amusement,
the land, part of which he farmed
himself, brought occupation and in
terest enough to make him feel that
his life was not altogether an idle or
useless one.
Then, to make our happiness COM
plete, the children came-a girl, then
one, two, three bonnie boys. How
merry and busy the old house grew
with them, the sturdy rogues! How
proud Walter was of them!
We were not very rich people.
Compared to that of some of our
county neighbors, our income was
insignificant. Draycot Hall, although
not such an imposing pile as the
name might suggest, was by no
means a small house; and, like all
rambling old places, cost good deal
of money to keep up. Even when we
began life together we found, at the
end of the year, that our expenditure
and income nearly Tailed, and as ex-
penses increased with an increasing
family, we felt that few hundreds
added to our revenue would be a
very welcome addition. But in spite
of this our lot was too happy for us
to think of grumbling.
We sat one summers evening on
the lawn. The air was cooled by late
fallen rain, and sweet with fragrance
rising from the freshened fowers-for
days were long and petals not yet
closed. Our latest given child slept
on my knee; and, as we watched the
sun sink slowly down behind the
Mendip Hills, my husband said:
Helena, how shall we manage to
start all these boys in life'"
laughed at such distant obi
CATION. We were still young, and it
seemed that so many years must
pass before the baby on my knee
would want starting hand. kissed
the child's little white fingers.
"Why, Walter" l said, "you are
looking a long, long way into the
future"
Eyes, my girl; but days happy as
ours pass very quickly. 1t will not
seem so long before we shall be
obliged to think about it. What
shall we do then9 We save no money
even now, you know. By-and-by we
must send these babies to school;
after that they will want money to
help them on in professions. How
are we to do all thisl Our income
won't increase.
ave must try and economic" |
answered, impressed by the really
serious view he took.
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