She sighed now as she unfolded it,
and stood for a moment gazing upon its beauty. Then smoothly replacing
the folds, and laying it in a large chest, she sighed as she said,
"Indeed, I shall never marry him."
Years had passed, and many suitors had sighed for the hand of Annie,
and she had consented to become the wife of Alfred Lombard, after
succeeding years should more fully obliterate the remembrance of
past disappointment. He was a young man of good family, and handsome
exterior, and though Annie did not love him with the ardor of a first
love, still she respected his character, and admired his virtues.
His estimable mother too, had shown much affection for the fatherless
Annie, and she had spent many months beneath their hospitable roof,
supplying to them the place of a daughter, while they conferred upon
her all the affection of parents, and looking wishfully forward to the
time when their marriage should take place.
Annie was schooling her heart to forget the past; but some remembered
word, or dearly loved token would awaken the old grief in her bosom,
and bring the scalding tear drops to her eye lids.
It was a bright afternoon in early autumn, that Annie sat sewing by
a window in the luxuriously furnished parlor of Colonel Stuart, her
uncle, who was the practicing physician of the village, that she was
started by a loud ringing of the door bell. Supposing it was some one
after her uncle, she paid little heed till she heard her own name
called, and in a moment after Edward Merton stood before her.
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