Year: 1867

of the ocean, outwardly unmoved, bu


secretly underlninded ). i,when he


fell 7 was left alone with the child, The


innocent cause of my double bereave


ment. Then, and not until then, did


turn to her. The love of my life wal


lavished on her, and I had neither
i thought nor inclination for any other


AS soon as she had passed the period
tof bsbyhood and the little feet could


run without my care, | took the first
s.eps toward securing a aEselihood fol


US both. The homestead was mine
mine, together with the fathers scanty
savings of fifteen or twenty years; but
I had my own plans for this sister, child
Of mine, and must prepare for the fu-
ture. 1t was very hard to decide on
converting the old-time keeping-room,
so full of memories of the dead, into a
sehool-room, but it was the best l could
dos The scholars came in slowly, and
l was tempted more than once to cry
something else. RI 7 IL


Quiet was irksome to me; my am


bition always outran both opportunity
and strength. 1 had no patience with
the service of those who only stand and
wait; so l worried and fretted, and was
not always. motherly to my poor Emily
l am afraid; for how could ! be calm
and perpetually gentle with nerve;
strung to the point of vibration? So
innocently her eyes rebuked me some
times. l remember it all now, and
see where l lost influence over her.
Often life was very dull to me, and only
for hope should have cared very little
at night whether woke in this world
or the next. But hope brought dreams
to me, as she does to all who trust in
her, and the picture of my darling !
future was brought out in genuine Tit
ian coloring on its black background.


Time that waits for no man, is not a
whit more polite to woman; and while
l thought myself still young, my child
slipped out Of childish frocks and ways,
hid her dolls and read Nremances, grew
inattentive in school, and tried my pa
tience beyond its limit of endurance,
am afraid / was harder with her than
any mother would have been.a I was
stupid / acknowledge, but how could /
believe that this child cared for any, one
but me9 saw it at last, and put forth
my strong will which was met by a
stronger. -StO}d /,


Ibad marked David Tracy when be
first came to the place; and thinking Of
it calmly was not surprised that Emily
should be pleased and fattered by his
attentions; still 1 did not believe that
she loved him. He was young physi-
clan, young though thirteen, years her
senior, who had forced his way against
every obstacle, and secured what every
physician before him had failed to. do,
the sentirepractice Of five country towns,
l admired the mans presistency, and
his power to compel circumstances, YET
I knew enough Of human nature to be
sure that he would never make my
child happy. And I did not like his
way. If be loved my sister, why, not
come in manly way, instead of infu-
sncing her by stealth and ont iof. my
sight! / was angry, and did not scru-
pie to'feproachG GEmily for lack Of conf
dence in me. Il suppose I took the best
means in the world to wean her from
me and attach her to him; at least
succeeded admirably in doing both.


All her schoolmates envied her, and
Chat was all in his favor. Miss Susan
was an old maid end naturally enough
young people because she was
satisfied with her condition and unwil-
ling that they should be happier than
she. Perhaps he did not say Just this,
but he meant it, which is the same
thing, and between the two there came
to be tacit understanding, and | was
a hard person. .<z sF Z


III could have proved him dishonest
or untruthful, or in any way an i'm
moral man, l could have had some ad-
vantage, but he stood before the com
munity gentleman without repronch,
fair and honorable in all his dealings,
generous upon occasion, and reasonable
always. Ihave horror of reasonable
men. They are never surprised, never
at loss, can never be corrected or rea-
soned with, because they do all the
reasoning themselves and were correct
and rightfrom the beginning, and there
is nothing more to be said.
.a l could have lived with the doctor if
by any possibility love had gone before
and opened way; and if we were
never happy, we should never have
been utterly miserable; but l knew it
must be otherwise with Emily. She
was never satisfied with love. Her ma
tnre crayed it in a morbid way. But
although it was the very essence Of her
being, the oil that fed the lamp of her
life, she never sought it. not even from
me. Well in a little time she and the
doctor were engaged. She was only
seventeen, and hopedto keep her
awhile now that I could not send her
away to wiser teachers, but the strong
will clashed with mine again and tn
umphed. A few times the two were
together in public she shrinkiug fiom
observation with all the delicate sensi-
tiveness of her nature, he inditferently
attentive at times, again wholly absorb
ed in himself.


1t was pitiful to see her eyes follow
him, those beautiful eyes so full of the
hearts longing. If he had told his
love as most do, l think she would never
have loved him; but the little he gave
stimulated the desire for more, and a
tinge of mystery completed the illusion.
So they were married and l lost her.
Perhaps you who have more than one
friend think it little thing; besides,
some gain by marriage. It is of no
use to tell you how loved her, because
they who have loved know there is no
power in language to describe the
depth Of the heart, and they who have
not would not understand me.


AT first she came to see me every
week, walking two miles, because the
doctor was necessarily away with the
carriage. But, unaccustomed to such