Year: 1870

A~s-s~A ASUsssSA y AAASSoAVe


Valentines day as soft and sweet q
day as any birds could wish for mating
in 4; primrose of violets in its breath
promise of roses in its sunshine. Tho,
to be sure the boughs were bare as yet,
and there were no green things growi ng,
save in the pots which Ethel Romer
had been putting out upon the broad
window sill to catch the sunshine. The
thing that savored most of spring was
Ethel Romer herself, as beautiful wo>
man as ever artist painted, or poet sung
Of Within, near the fire, sat DR.. Ralph
Romer himself. Spring had left him
long before. If winter frosts were not
upon his head, autumn had touched it
with gray.


Ethers musing was interrupted. The
postman's rap did it. An envelope. with
pretty border and faaciful seal, and her
name upon it, was put in her hand.
At the sight she blushed rosy red, know
ing well what lay within, and went back
to the tireside with the thing in her hand.


"For me?" asked Ralph.


"No," she said; ''for me-"


If he had only shown some curiosity
then-if he had only looked at her jeal-
ously; had there been some shadow of
her lover in his face or mein, all might
have been different; but he went on with
his book, and she carried her valentine to
her own room to read it there in quiet.


Yes it was o valentine. Three times
had that day returned since she married
DR.. Ralph Romer, and each time had it
brought just such an envelope, with just
such passionate lines upon the page with-
in, written in the same teigned hand.
Again and again she read it over-again
apd again-just as she had the others, and
thought, oh, how bitterly what beauti>
full thing life might have been to her,
blessed with such glowing love as this
life that must always be cold and wintry,
having only the calm, quiet. commonplace
affection which her gray haired husband,
gave for all the wealth of golden spring.
time warmth that she felt within her
soul-for all the beauty that many an ar
dent youth had coveted in her girlAood.


Could it be the Iair haired student who
sat near them in church? or the dark
eyed soldier. with empty sleeve, who pass
ed their garden so often? On whom had
she made such an impression, while he
whose life she shared saw in her only q
good little woman, who had silly ideas on
abstract subjects, and needed much sage
advice and counsel?


Her poor heart. .ached as her head did.
She felt wicked and ashamed, and very,
very miserable and forgot how her house.
wife duties pressed upon her, until the
sinking SUP reminded her of them.


Even then she took one look in the
glass, and thought, if she did not say it,
that great deal Of beauty had been cast
away on quiet unfortunate Ralph Romer.


After tea they walked out together, and
stood beside the pond in the garden. and
saw the gold fish in its depths; and he
told her of the genial habits of gold fish.
The writer Of the valentine would have
spoken $3.50 thought Ethel-of her gold
en- hair. The stars came out, ard he
spoke Of them and not her bright eyes.


She wanted to turn upon him, and say.
"What are all things worth, compared
with warm and living lover She longed
to ask him why he had given her that
woful fate-why he had Gagged the heart
he did not care for. "Any woman could
have made your tea, and listen to your
talk of astronomy and natural history"
were the words Of her lips. II was made
to love, and to be loved again."


But she said nothing. He saw her be-
side him little paler and little stiller
than of yore, that was all.


But from this time on, the little happi.
ness that had still fingered in Ethels life
was at an end. She grew desperate, and
seized spon the only possible relief to the
monotony Of her life. Very beautiful,
very lively, much courted by the village
eoteris, she found no difficulty in becom-
ing that most detestable of creatures, q
married filt.


Ralph Romer never sought to keep her
at homo, but he seldom went out with her.
More than once the golden.haired student
or the dark-eyed soldier had found it the
most natural thing in the world to act as
escort home after some social meeting, and
no harm was done; only there were too
many bushes, too lingering a clasp of
parting hands. when it was remembered
that Ethel Romer was wife. Home was
neglected but Ralph did not complain.


So the long year rolled around and
Valentines day came again. Ethel had
watched and waited for its coming-not
quite the same pure hearted Ethel.
Thoughts she dare not utter had crept in
to her soul. The soldier with the great
black eyes and soft voice, who made his
empty sleeve only another charm to win
hearts-who had told her al he dared
with his tongue, and more with glance and
she had long ago decided, be
the writer Of those valentines, so full of
love and pathos, SO tender, SO different
from anything that Ralph Romer ever felt
or uttered.


She had given him hint, and if it
were he, then Ethe; Romer knew that it
had been better for her never to have
been born; for, for tho sake of him who