Year: 1859

of her violence. / left the house that after
noon and the next morning was among The
quiet scenes ofmy girlhood. The good peo
pie we're ready with open hearts to welcome
back the daughter of their old pastor, and
took up my abode for my year of trial in the
family Of the village doctor.


Very soon had scholars to give me a
comfortable support, and the days and
weeks glded fast away. Sometimes ! long
ed to hear from my friend, and was always
angry-such was my inconsistency-tha he
did not write, notwithstanding my request
that be should not.


One morning-the year was almost gone
i chanced to glance over the marriages
in New York paper, when my eye fell upon
the following:


In Grace Church, by Rev. D, E.
E. Everett, Esq, to Maria daughter of the
late John &. Etheridge, all of this city,


What do you find so interesting Dora p
asked Mr.. Bush. You are as red as a
rose.'


The marriage of Maria Etheridge and
her cousin replied, quietly laying down
the paper and taking my seat at the break
fast table.


Two foolsl' cried the doctor with energy
-'Couldn't she get husband without mar.
ryng her cousinP


And then, much to my relief, the worthy
man went off into q long dissertation on the
subject, which lasted until breakfast was
over, and | could escape to my own room.
was somewhat stunned by this sudden blow
but my work was before me and must be
done. Besides, only was at fault. Ernest
was not bound by any engagement to me.
L left him free, aud according to my own
theory, ought to be glad that he had avail.
ed himself Of his freedom 1t would have
been infinitely worse had l become his wife
to find, when too late, that he did not love
me.


The warm, beautiful September days came
at last, linking together Summer and Au-
tumn with a chain SO close that it was hard
to tell when the one was gone and the other
came.


1t was the anniversary of my parting
with Ernest Everett, and had treated my
self to a half holiday, in order to examine
my heart and find just what advance had
made in the year past, and how well l was
prepared to meet the battle with the future.
The twilight hour found me still sitting
alone in my chamber, with my head bent
upon the table. No call to supper had an
nOyed me, for the doctor and his wife were
both away from home, and had told the
girl wanted nothing. l was indulging in
the luxury of a good, hearty fit of tears
when rap came at my door, and Bridge
looked in to say there was some one below
asking for Miss Deane Thankful that the
evening shadows would hide my tear-stain-
ed face, | went down stairs. Before had
advanced step over the threshold, found
myself clasped in the arms of Ernest Ever
EFT, and he whispered


MY probation is at an end, Dora You
are mine now


His explanation was brief, but it remov-
ed a weight from my heart. She had mar
ried q cousin Of his-a wealthy, gouty old
man with a family of six motherless child
ren-who bore the same name. we sat
down in the quiet little parlor, and the
shadows gathered and deepened but my
heart was full flight and joy, In one short
week we were married. and returned to New
York, where Mrs. Etheridge was among
the first to visit us. Ernest could not for
give her for the cruel words she spoke to
me when poor orphan; hut !, in my beau
uiful home, secure in the affection of my hus-
band, was ready not only to forgive but to
forget.