SEARCH
0-9 A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z
Prev | Current Page 56 | Next

Ewell, Martha Lewis Beckwith, 1841-1902

"The Harvest of Years"

If he had been older, I should have felt that heaven had
opened; as it was, I longed to be full of hope and to dream of days to
be, and still I feared and I said aloud, "I am afraid, oh, I am afraid!"
and at that moment Louis stood before me, and in quiet tones spoke as
one having authority:
"Emily, you will get cold, you should not sit here."
And as I rose the moonbeams fell on my tear-stained face, and he said as
if I were the merest child:
"Why do you fear I shall ever be different toward you; but you need not
feel bound even though you have said you will love me."
"Louis," I cried, "you are cruel; you trouble me; I can't tell how I
feel at all," and then realizing his last sentence I took off the ring,
but ere I could speak he put it back, saying:
"No, no, Emily. I will wait one year, and then if you are afraid I will
go away; but keep the ring, for that is yours, and yours alone."
I went up to my little room without bidding any one "good-night," and
thought those old three words right over, "Emily did it." I had covered
myself up because I dared not be known, and if, after all, it was right,
how good it would be to be loved by one capable of such wondrous love as
he possessed.
I dreamed all night that I was alone and ill, and in the morning I
dreaded to meet Louis, but he gave no sign of any troubled thought, and
when the stage came was ready with his bright "good-bye." He folded his
little mother to his heart and held her there for a few seconds.


Pages:
44 45 46 47 48 49 50 51 52 53 54 55 56 57 58 59 60 61 62 63 64 65 66 67 68