UNKNOWN

Globe, Volume VI, Issue 636, 3 July 1876, Page 3

UNKNOWN

% OLD \' Part Many a talk \]d Bill and TlHilMPl about the wari.. m y war Many a time cbd\(ind my little cottage of hi% mon g a t thflfHHHHB| once not alone. and not long before dVD-R’s then I stood afar off, whWjn sat at the old frioudM antHHHH| his good heart with kina wholesome reminding of tba,. call which must come to us. 111 I was installed as with old Hannah, who telling me about Uncle nobly he had lived out his life toSttHBH and how Miss Joy ,from the come constantly to see him, and talks with him, and what they said. other; and how that one day Uncle shewed her a letter, and that she cried it as though it would break her heart. Th» letter was my confession of hopeless love. ' Willy came the next day to see me, as I was amongst the men, and after a hearty greeting, said that some one was wishing to see me in the house. I did not look into the old parlor window as I passed it, bxit I knew well who stood beyond it ; my wilful heart told me that readily enough. I knew not whether to blame Willy or not for thus re-opening the wounds of my heart. Indeed I could not, for I was yearning to see her once more. This I said to myself as I entered the house: ‘ Once again, once more let me look upon her face ; then let me go away and hide me and my rebellious care for her, and conquer it.’ I stopped a moment at the door and triqd to school my feelings; but, ah me! when I entered the room my fluttering wits fled altogether with a great sobbing sigh, and I sank on my knees at her feet, and kissed her outstretched hands. It was an instant of wild happiness, and I could not resist dding as I did, for at that moment I forgot everything exceptYny own unutterable love. Like a flood it swept away every thought of my own unworthiness, and all proper sense of my own selfish shortcomings. She allowed me to kiss her hands again

and again, before she gently withdrew them from my close clasp. ‘Do not kneel,’ she said; ‘ not to meand then she paused and spoke my Christian name—Edward, almost in a whisper. I looked np very quickly at that, and my face, which all my life long befooled me, must have shown quite suddenly a very different look in it, for she b’nshed And . turned away her head, and w' ,ked nearer the window, but not before I saw she had tears in her eyes. I don’t know what I might have said to that, or what folly I might have been guilty of, but just at that time Willy shewed in sight outside of ’the window, and stood there amongst the ducks with the handle of a cane in his mouth ; and the sudden sight of him brought me quickly from heaven to earth again, Joy turned to me with a smile, and said; ‘ I am so glad to see you again, and Willy back again too—poor Willy.’ I was standing by her side, and had found my tongue again, and so I thanked her for thinking kindly of me, and said I did not deserve it, after quarrelling with Willy, her cousin and my own dear friend. * Ah, but yon saved his life,’ she said, and a beautiful light shone in her blue eyes. ‘lt was noble of you.’ I stood staring at her in foolish rapture, but with never a word to help me. But she never made as though she saw my confused absence of mind, although, after I had gazed upon her what seemed to me a wonderfully short time, she said we should go to join Willy, who did not, seem inclined to come in. ‘ Perhaps he does not remember we are here,’ she said. Joy drew down her veil, and I attended her and Willy to the gate ; the geese and other poultry attending also with noise and clatter, for Joy had been in the habit of feeding them when she visited the mill, and they could not forget it. Garth also, the son of Haco, howled so that I was obliged, out of sheer pity, to let him fawn at her feet, and hold up his great head - to her caressing hand. All things loved Joy. Everybody in our parish made a of me after I came back from soldierfofr _ 11!* was wonderful the respect that and I was invited out so much tlud Ilad f frequent opportunities for appetite was not what it had been. Indeed, when the heart is full, I have always pitied the stomach. After that day at the mill, I met Joy often and often ; at first by chance, and then by design, at least on my side; and one day, I know not how it was, but when she looked straight up at me in the lane, I just put out ' my arms and took her to my heart, and drew her close, and held her tight there, until she was ashamed for me, and gently bade me let her go. Then I told her I would, but could not by any means just then let her go from me, and she sighed, for she had lost all her liveliness and stately ways. I told her very freely, when I did find courage to address her, of my heart’s stotrnd, and thafc divc’-iry could not if she reproved me for loving ML for I could not natural, ■‘iike living and breathing ; ani l, ipsplbrcd her to say if 1 oould ever be werfry of a return ; and what Xcould do fb deaerve such love as only she, in all tbc widest pea .Jyorld, could give me. Thi* I- Mid, jdl Ike holding her close to brMMI, «ad feeling her heart beating with mine, p Cx-CV She sighed again and again, turned half away from mine. But sn«i|n*t ! j interrupted me to stop the words I spAfe? At last she put up her hands to her faHg and sobbed and broke out weeping sadly and violently. I thought I must have offended her, and said so, and hardly knew what to do or say except to ask her pardon again and again for having upset her feelings so. But she said ‘No,’ and looked into arms moved round her waist again, and. our lips met for one rapturous moment, and ahe laid her beloved head upon my shoulder, calling me her hero—her good-hearted brave Edward, and allowing me more kisses, until I forgot altogether that I was on earth and in a country lane, where at any time.Tgro might be seen by mortal men and women, not to mention village boys, who had seen ns walking together before, and had published it far and wide. But Jot- remembered where we were too soon, I thought, and left me very hastily with a promise to meet again. {To is continued. I