The Banner-Democrat. [volume] (Lake Providence, East Carroll Parish, La.) 1892-current, 1897-10-23

|
tried perhaps before to stretching,
snapped before the forced merriment
of that foolish laugh; and because he
had not the heart to say so he has
held his peace and gone; gone for
good.
1t is Spring again now; the second
Spring since my lover left me. Twice
have we dressed the church with ivy
and holly, and hung big punches OF
mistletoe in the vicarage hall.
have come up to London to buy
summer dresses for my sisters, and on
other domestic business; but these
duties have been achieved; and now,
before L go home again, am bound on
an errand which, though would not
dare own it to any one, (for indeed ]
know it to be both vain and FOOLISH
has been pressing ON my heart ever
since left home, with a yearning
persistence to which, even though it
be unmaidenly, cannot choose but
yield.
1t is to visit Dicks lodgings, where
he always lived when he was in Lon
don and the address of which / have
known by heart this many year.
L go there and make my little ex.
cuse about wanting to see the rooms
for friend-I hope it is not very
wrong to say so-and even manage to
get out his name as the person who
once recommended them to me. That
proves an "open sesame" however,
| for Mrs. Brown beams with smiles on
the instant, and begs me to walk up
stairs, (which fortunately the rooms
are vacant, and just as they was when
| Mr.. Meredith was there hisself, fol
times and again he'd said to me: Now,
Mrs. Brown, don't you do nothing to
these rooms; for comforbler couldn't
be, and if ever 1 returns to London
it's back to them l shall come and no.
where else.' And, by the way, ma'am,
if so be you're friend of that dear
gentleman's, perhaps you can give me
his address. There's letter been ly-
ing ere for him this ever so long. 1t
come about six months after he left,
inclosed in a note to the owner of the |
'ouse, saying as whoever posted it had
dropped it into a gap between the
postbox and the inside of the wall, and
there it had stuck, no one finding ii |
till a few days before"
am standing there in Dick s room,
thereon where he sat and worked and
wrote many and many letter to me
in the happy days of old; the last
room, perhaps, in which he ever ate
meal or rested before he sailed away
from me and England together; and
yet cannot look at it. Icannot think /
Of it. A haze has come before my
eyes, and numbness over my brain,
for there on the table before me Lies
my letter, the very letter, blotted with
tears and soiled and crumpled with
age, which 1 posted with my own hand
two years ago, and WHITEHALL! / see
it all now, how could 1 think him SO
hard. so unforgiving, 1 who ought te
have known his nature better-whicb
he never received at all.
I must be very weak, or the shock
is too great; for as Mrs. Brown leaves
the room l sit quietly down and faint
away.
1t is only for a minute, however.
The sunbeams which were shining on
a pot of yellow crocuses in the window
have not moved hairs breadth; and
family on the clear cool air / can still
hear the bells from some distant
church which were calling the people
to saints day service when / came
in.
There is step at the door; but
though know it is Mrs. Brown 1 can.
not look up, or raise my head from the
hard deal table where it is bowed.
All my long self-restraint, all my pain
full, pitiful efforts at womanly retic-
ence and bravery have broken down at
last in burst of childish grief; and
the tears so long held back break
forth in binding rain, and my face
is hidden in my hands. So it hap
pens that some one coming in sees
me before see him, or can so much
as dry my eyes, and utters an excla.
nation of surprise.
81 beg your pardon" he adds very
quickly, 81 only came in because my
old landlady has been telling me some.
thing about letter, and a lady"
And there he breaks of, for 1 have
lifted my head, and as our eyes meet
there is cry.
"Cecily! Cecily! Is it you? Oh,
my darling, my love, what good angel
brought you here to give me the sight
of your and somehow, somehow, in
one moment, all the pain and grief and
WEAKNESS, oil the bitter bravery OF
days when ''the burden laid upon me
seemed greater than could bear" are
gone, blotted out like breath from Q
glass; and there is nothing but Joy
and peace and rest, rest perfect and
serene to mind and heart and body;
for am in my lovers arms, and my
tired head is drawn down upon his
breast; and hear his voice, the dear,
tender voice of old, murmuriug
prayere for forgiveness mingled with
such words of love and fondness as ]
never thought would greet my ears
again on this side of the grave.
The bells have ceased to chime.
The yellow crocuses bend and shiver
before the sharp cold breeze, but we
/