Year: 1870

luS, VI COiulOTJ uluiScll WILL " ucW III
sect or new planet No Heed to won.
der how he. would take it"


And since then she had watched at the
window guiltily and miserably for the
valentine, SO sure, she thought to come


At last, she saw a figure coming
straight and fast toward the house, and
the blood flew to her cheeks, and her
heart beat fast; but it was not the post
man--only neighbor with blanched
face and frightened eyes, that told her
bad news before her lips uttered it.


She went out to meet him, and they
stood there looking at each other for a
moment. Over the hills little crowd
was coming slowly, something in its
midst.


''Don't be too frightened. Mrs. Ro.
mer," gasped the man at last. s'It may
not be.as bad as they think. The horse
SHE'D Just before the post-office, and the
doctor was thrown. He hasn't come to
yet. Oh, no; no r'-for she had thrown
herself on her knees, and cried out that
he was dead, s'not dead-not dead yet,
Mrs. Romer."


But the wretched woman knew that
death was very near, and the food of
agony that swept across her heart told
her that she had not ceased to love her
quiet husband - a -


They brought him in-and from that
moment, for long days and nights, she
kept watch beside his bed, thinking of no
other thing on earth, praying only that
he might be saved to her. She suffered
agonies Of remorse. Every false thought
pursued her with revengeful stab.


The gray overcoat hanging on the
wall, which she had thought old -manish
and like him, as he rode away, seemed
to haunt her with the thought that it
would never be worn again. She could
not bear the sight of it longer; and so
one day she took it softly in her hand to
hang it in certain closet. AS she lifted
it, something fell from one of the pock-
ets-a letter or paper. She stopped to
recover it, and saw fanciful envelope,
with bright seal, and her name upon it.
Such were the valentines that came to
her. This was surely one of them
What did it mean? Had her husband
discovered the writer? Had there been
some cause for the accident, of which
she knew nothing? She looked at the
valentine again. 1t had never been pos
ted.


Ethel began to tremble violently from
head to foot She sank down upon her
knees, clasping the valentine between
both palms, and held it thus while
Could it be?-oh, could 1t be? She
opened it. The same glowing verse, but
sadder and more hopeless, telling Of love
unreturned. The same measure in the
same feigned hand, yet not all unknown.
Had she never before seen that little
fourish--that peculiar formation of a
letter?


"Oh, heaven make me siire p sobbed
Ethel, and she found her way somehow
to her husbands desk, and opened it.


Within lay envelopes like those uro1
the valentine, little box of such gay
seals, and fragments of verse-the
proofs that the writer of those passion
ate poems-of those wild protestations
of loye-was no other than Ralph Ro-
mer.


She crept back to his bedside, and
kissed his face and unconscious eyes
She prayed heaven to give him back to
her. She prayed to be forgiven, with q
sense of remorse and shame such as she
might have felt had she been much more
wicked, and heaven listened to her The
crisis passed in safety land Ralph Romer's
eyes opened on face pallid with grief
and worn with watching, but beautiful
with holy love and constancy. When
one day, her head Upon his bosom. she
told him all, he also had his tale to tell.


Il am old and gray, you see" he said,
"and such love seeiis only to belong to
youth, I could not speak it, but felt it,
and Isput my thoughts into verse-and
/ sent them to you, my darling, with a
hope that You would know whence they
came some time, though hardly with a
hope that you could give me more than
a child's respect and duty"


But she had sven him morc-she
had given him all woman might, and
this she told him.


They are together still. l think they
have forgotten that one is young and
the other old, in the immortal youth of
both their hearts. After that one long
talk, they said little more but their love
was an assured thing. He tells her, as
of yorc, all his scholars dreams, and
talks of the stars and the flowers rather
than of themselves. But Ethel is con.
tent. She has but to remember those
treasured valentines, which lie, bound to-
gether with blue ribbon in her most sa-
cred hiding place, to feel assured of her
happiness. There is no empty nook In
her warm heart, and the angels of leve
and duty clasp hands beside their hearth
stone.