The Romance and Tragedy | Page 5

possible opportunity for the enjoyment of
Miss Wilson's society.
Our acquaintance quickly grew into a friendship which permitted
almost daily intercourse and enabled me to fathom the noble nature of
the girl, and to realize what a blessing would be mine if I could win her
affection.
A girl of strong character, there was nothing of the frivolous about her.
In the frequent informal social gatherings she was always the life of the
occasion, but never did her merriment get down to the level of silliness.
Without a suspicion of prudishness there was always with her the
natural dignity of the true-born gentlewoman.
Of course, it need not be said that Miss Wilson had many
admirers--altogether too many for my peace of mind.
When I would get temporary relief by thinking I was getting the best of
the Brooklyn element, I would suffer a heart-throb because of news that
some flame left behind in Chicago was burning brighter. When that
would dim or become extinguished, depressing news would reach me
from West Point, where Miss Wilson visited her cousin, the wife of an
officer.
Thus I was kept guessing most of the time, and though I could not but
feel I was steadily gaining my way to the goal, I cannot say that I did
not spend many an anxious hour pondering over the other fellow's
chances.
In the early summer Miss Wilson left Brooklyn for a visit to relatives in
Boston.
A few days later I followed her to that city, and her pleasure at seeing
me was so evident, her reception so cordial, that I dismissed from my
mind all fear of my rivals and determined to take an early opportunity
of offering her my hand and heart.
How impatiently I awaited her return. The days dragged along. I was

restless and unhappy. We did not correspond, so there were no letters to
brighten the gloomy days of waiting.
To a small degree I derived some comfort from frequent calls on Miss
Sherman, who was good enough to tell me of her letters from her
cousin and good-natured enough to permit me to spend most of the
evening in talking about her. I was certainly very much in love, and as
the case with most young men in that condition of mind, the object of
my adoration was always in my thoughts.
All things finally come to an end, and early in July Miss Wilson
returned to Brooklyn. She was to remain but a few days before leaving
for a visit in Connecticut.
In the interim I felt I must speak, and yet now that the opportunity had
arrived, what a mighty proposition it seemed.
For days and days I had been thinking of it, at night I dreamed of it. It
seemed so easy to tell the woman I loved, that I loved her, and yet
when the time had come my courage waned. I let day after day pass in
spite of a resolution each morning that before sleeping again I would
know my fate.
I tried to reason with myself.
I knew that my personality was not objectionable. I had lived an
absolutely clean life, had no vices. My associates were of the right kind,
business prospects satisfactory. Why should I hesitate to offer a hand
that was clean, a heart that was pure to the woman I loved? "I will do
it," I said aloud, and I did--that evening.
It was the evening of July 10th, 1870.
The day had been warm and oppressive, but after sundown a pleasant
breeze cooled the air.
As I entered the grounds surrounding Mr. Sherman's home I stood for a
few moments beneath the foliage of his fine old trees, inhaling the

fragrance of the flowers blooming on the lawn.
My mind was filled with a feeling of awe at the great responsibility I
was about to assume.
I had perfect confidence in my ability to care for the well-being and
happiness of the object of my affection. I knew my love was sincere
and lasting, and yet, when I thought of all it meant, to take a girl from a
home in which she was loved and happy, to bind her to me for all time,
to share what might come of good or evil in the uncertainties of life, it
came over me with tremendous force that if this girl should intrust her
heart to my keeping, a lifetime of devotion should be her reward.
The early part of the evening was passed in general conversation with
the family, and after a little music we were finally left alone.
The hour had come!
At my request Miss Wilson sat at the piano and played a few strains of
an old waltz we had been discussing. I stood beside