AFTER AWHILE.
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��that mother had consented to receive the gentleman into the family. I was al- most vexed at first, but soon I grew to admire him more than any one I had ever met. Somehow, I could not flirt with him. I had no desire to, in fact, and of- ten when in his company I would find myself completely at a loss for words in which to carry on a conversation. It was something very strange, for I had always before found myself equal to all emergencies. I will try and describe him to you, Allie.
He was quite tall and rather slender, but not so much so as to mar the beauty of his form, which I then thought to be almost perfect. His eyes were black and. his hair a very dark brown, and as curly as your own sunny locks, Allie. He was always rather sad and I often used to wonder if he had ever experienced any serious trouble. You ask me his name, Allie, but it has not passed my lips in many years. I will call him George Town, for that will answer as well as his true name, for you never saw hiin and probably never will. I will not dwell upon the many happy hours we passed together, when busy with my worsteds and he reading aloud from some favorite book of poems, I would lose my strange reticence and discuss with him the beau- ties of style and sentiment, until uncle Winslow or mother would enter the room and bring me back to the realities of life again.
I had not even thought that school must soon close, until one morning at breakfast, George addressed mother say- ing—
"Mrs. Merton, after this week I shall not be permitted to sit at your pleasant table, as my duties as teacher end in
L next Friday."
I cannot describe to you my feelings, Allie. I paused in the act of raising a glass to my lips and turned my eyes to- ward his face, only to find him intently watching me. The knowledge that I loved him, suddenly burst upon me with an almost overwhelming force. I arose from the table with the rest, and some- how managed to talk and laugh even more than usual, but the dread feeling was at my heart all the time, and the
��words, "he is going away," ever ringing in my ears. All through the day I could hear them, and toward the close of the afternoon I threw a shawl over my shoulders and took a stroll off to the woods where we went the other day.
The trees were all bare, and as I entered the wood, the leaves rustled beneath my feet and the November wind sighed through the leafless branches over my head so mournfully, that at last over- come by my trouble and the gloominess around, I sank down among the rustling leaves and wept bitterly. I felt so hu- miliated that I had given my love away — unasked and unsought — that, that in itself was enough to cause me bitter pain, while the thought "he is going away," w T ould return ever and anon, causing me to weep faster than ever.
At length I grew calm, and arising to my feet, I sought for and soon found a little rivulet, where I bathed my flushed face, and then walked slowly toward home. It was nearly dark when I ar- rived, and George himself met me at the door.
"Lizzie, I was just going in search ©f you, for your mother was becoming alarmed at your absence," said he taking my hands in his, with a tenderness pe- culiar to himself.
I laughed gaily, for he had never called me Lizzie before, and my spirits had re- vived wonderfully as I replied, that I had been bidding good bye to the ^rand old woods, had taken my last walk in them for that season, and was not aware it was so late until I had started for home, which was all true enough so far as it went.
"I fear you have taken cold, Lizzie," said he, tenderly, as he opened the door for me, which led to the cosy dining room, where tea was awaithig me.
Half an hour later, I entered the sitting room and seated myself on the sofa, lis- tening to George, who was playing on the piano. He was a fine musician and I never wearied listening to him. After awhile, he arose and approaching me, said —
"Lizzie, will you allow me to sit be- side you and tell you a story?" Of course I assented, and drawing a
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