Democratic Sentinel, Volume 2, Number 13, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 10 May 1878 — IDA’S LOVERS. [ARTICLE]

IDA’S LOVERS.

Oh, I loved iu my youth a lady fair, For lif r azuro eycH and her golden hair. High and clear the awcet tenor voice rang out through the bracing, frosty air. Tt was an October morning; the woods were glorious in crimson and gold, the fields were white with frost, and the wind, cool and delicious, blew gently from the west, carrying health and strength to frames debilitated by summer’s sultry heat. “Who is that singing?” called Ida Miller, from the boughs of a chestnut tree, to her cousin Lou, seated underneath, gathering up the bright nuts as they fell. “ I don’t know; it's some person over in the next field. He’s a gtiod singer; hope ho won’t come along this way. Givo that bough another shake, Ida,” exclaimed Lou. Ida did so, and the nuts came down in a torrent. Deeply absorbed in gathering tiiem into her basket, Lou Miller did not look up until her cousin called out again, in a half-frightened voice, “Lou, as sure as you livo, that person is coming directly toward us; ho sees the branches shaking, I suppose, and wants some chestnuts. He’s a young: man, in a brown suit, with a gun on his shoulder, and oh 1 so good-looking !” “Hash! he’ll hear you,” said Lou. “Gome down, quick, before he gets here.” “Not I,” replied Ida. “I can’t get down, without climbing all the way back along this slender branch. I’m going to hide in the leaves until he passes on.” “ Oh, Ida, come down; he’ll see you, anyhow, and a pretty figure you’ll cut, perched up theio like a squirrel. Come down, quick,” coaxed Lou. “I won’t, I tell you; I’ve got a secure resting place, and I’m going to remain here.” Meanwhile the stranger approached and saluted Lou Miller with a graceful bow and a pleasant “ Good morning,” which the lady returned as gracefully. He was wonderfully good-looking, at least, so thought Ida Miller, surveying him from her airy eminence. A tall, erect form; brown hair, glossy and curling; frank, laughing blue eyes, and handsome lips, adorned by a drooping, light-brown mustache. Surveying the branches overhead, his eyes caught tne little figure of Ida hid among the loaves. Raising his ride to his shoulder, he said, laughing, “Is that lawful game, or do our laws forbid the shooting of such rare and beautiful birds V”

Lou laughed. “Our laws forbid it, certainly,” she roplied. Poor Ida was covered with confusion when sho found herself discovered, and, in endeavoring to change her position, her feet slipped from tue main bough, and she only saved herself from falling by grasping a slender branch with both hands. This bent with her weight, and she found herself swaying “between heaven and earth.” but fortunately only a few feet from earth. The young man caught her in his arms, and deposited her safely on solid ground. Between fright and shame the poor girl was speechless; she could only glance shyly at the stranger, while hot blushes dyed her face and neek. The young man regarded Ida’s rosy faco with undisguised admiration. Never, he thought, Iftid he seen any one half so lovely. Her short, curling hair, black as jet, hung in picturesque confusion over neck and forehead; her cheeks were red as June Jroses, while the great brown eyes above them were half filled with tears, and the scarlet lips beneath parted in a bewitching smile. Her small, but round and graceful figure was clad in a coquettish walking dress, revealing feet and ankleß of exquisite mold and fairy-like proportions. Lou broke the embarrassing silence by bursting into a ringing laugh, in which the others joined heartily. * Ycu must not undertake climbing again, my girl, or you will be certain to break your neek,” said Lou. “ But the chestnuts—l’d only got one branch shaken,” replied Ida, ruefully. “ Well, we must let the squirrels have them, I suppose.” By no means, ladies,” said the stranger; “I am a good climber, and will gladly shake the tree for vou if you wish it. ” “ J “We should be much obliged to you but the trouble would be too great.” ’ “ No trouble at all, I assure you ” he said, taking oil his coat; and in a moment he was gliding up the tree with the ease and agility of a squirrel. The bright nuts came rattling down like a shower of hail, and soon the ground was almost covered. To gather them up was a work of time, and I am afraid the young man did but little good in filling the basket, for he kept up such a continued conversation that they gave but little attention to the business on hand. And I think that little Ida almost lost her tender heart as she watched his handsome face, and listened to his pleasant, musical voice. The baskets were filled at last, however, and the young ladies were ready to go home, i “ y°u tell me where Dr. Miller lives V” asked the young man, throwing his rifle on his shoulder, and taking a good long look at pretty Ida. I might to be able to do so, as he is my father,” laughed Lou. «aidTn en /° U &re my COUBin . Louisa,” said the stranger, in a pleased tone. My name is Louisa; but I don’t think you can be my cousin, as I never saw you before.” “ y es, you have, but you have forgotten me I am Ralph Darrel-Coisin liafe, whom you used to play with when you were a very young lady, in short dresses. I have been abroad for ten years; so, of course, you don’t recognize

“ But I .do, now. Tour eyes and smile are just the same. Oh, Cousin Kale, I am very glad to see you, after all Ihese yearsand they shook hands heartily. “Is this your sister?” asked Rafe, lo king at Ida, and holding out his hand. “My cousin, Ida Miller, my father’s niece, and, therefore, no real relation to you. I have no sister.” “I hope we shall be friends, Miss

Ida, if we are not cousins,” said Rafe, pressing her little hand, and smiling down on her blushing face. “Of course you will go home with us, Rafe?” asked Lou, with cousinly familiarity. “Yes. Iran down here from town for a week's shooting, this beautiful weather, and I intend staying at your father’s, if you will tolerate me.” “We shall be glad enough to have you there. And we must be going, for it is nearly dinner time, and this bracing air gives one an appetite.” “It does, indeed. I, at least, feel a strong desire to taste some of my aunt’s excellent dishes.” - Dr. Miller and his wife were greatly delighted to see their favorite but longabsent nephew, and gave him a cordial welcome. The doctor was a retired physician, living on a fine farm not far from a large town. He was a jovial old man, disposed to take life easy. His daughter Louisa was his only child; but he loved his brother’s orphan, little Ida, as much as he did his own child, and treated her the same in every respect. The weather Continuing clear, coo and delicious, Rafe Darrel enjoyed some fine sport in wood and field; but, in spite of these attractions, he spent a large portion of his time in the house or in walking with the young ladies. I suspect that Ida’s brown eyes and cheeks influenced the handsome young man a good deal.

‘ But the course of true love never does run smooth; and ere long he discovered that he had a rival in the person of a stalwart youDg farmer named John Gordon, who walked into the parlor one evening dressed in his best. Ralph Darrel saw at once by his manner that he was little Ida's “ beau.” The knowledge did not please him, and ho retired to his room,in a fit of the sulks. “What the mischief can she see iu hat booby to like ?” he said confidentially to his pillow. “But what difference does it make to me ? Am lin love with this little country maiden? Yes, I am; and would marry her to-morrow if she would have me. Aye, there’s the rub—will she have me ? I believe she would learn to love me if that confounded fellow would keep out of the way. Certainly she doesn’t love him, for he’s ugly as sin. I think I had better wait awhile and see how matters go on; and, if she isn’t actually engaged to that fellow, I’ll cut him out, by Jove! if I can.” With which consoling reflection he went to sleep. Another week passed without Ralph Darrel having decided whether or not he could “cut out” the young farmer. Sometimes ho teased Ida about him; but she speedily got into a bad humor, and vowed that Bbe cared nothing at all for him—which Darrel, with his knowledge of women, could not believe. One morning, being in a particularly down-hearted mood, he took his rifle, and started for the woods to renew his acquaintance with the pheasants. He had not gone far ere he heard voices, which he recognized as belouging to Ida and her lover. “ All’s fair in love and war,” he said to himself; and, approaching as near as he dared, he crouched behind a bush, and peered through the foliage at the lovers—if such they were. They were seated on a fallen tree-trunk; Ida’s face was averted, but Gordon’s wore an expression of mingled anger and sorrow. “You liked me well enough,” he said, in a reproachful voice, “ until that fellow from London came down here. I suppose you think you'll get him now, and may-be you can, but it’s my opinion you’ll get no great prize, any how.” “You are no gentleman,” retorted Ida, angrily, “ to slander an absent person. I never expect to get Mr. Darrel; but that is no reason why I should marry you. ” “1 didn't mean to say anythingagainst him; I don’t know anything about him; but oh, Ida, he doesn’t love you as I do ! Only think how we played together as children, and how I have loved you ever since, caring nothing for anyone else !” “I am sorry for you, John, if you love me as you say,” replied Ida, gently. “ But I can never care P>r you only as a friend, and it would be wrong to marry you. ” “You never can love me as I love you ?” “I never can, John.” “ Then good-by,” said the honest fellow, rising to liis feet, and holding Ida’s hands in his, while his mournful eyes, filled with tears, met hers. “I shall never trouble you any more. I am rough and ngly, I know, but I loved you truly. Will you let me kiss you once, for the first time and the last?” “As a friend, you may, John,” said Ida, pitying his sorrowful face. “As the only woman I shall ever love!” he said passionately, catching her to his breast for a moment; then he released her, and disappeared without another word. Darrel pitied the poor youth sincerely; but at the same time his heart be J high with the joy of renewed hope; and approaching the spot where Ida was still seated he sat down by her side. The beautiful girl blushed scarlet and would have fled, but he detained her by clasping her hands in his own. “I met your friend, Mr. Gordon, a moment ago, ” said Rafe, mischievously, “ and he seemed to be terribly downcast about something. What is the matter with him ?”

“How should I know ?” replied Ida, trying to withdraw her hands. “But ho was talking with you; I heard your voices. He looked just as I fancy a man would who has proposed to the woman he loves, and has been rejected. Did you refuse him ?” “ Why do you ask ?” “ Because I think you treat him badly, little girl. He is a good fellow, and loves you devotedly. If you knew how you hurt his feelings, you would not treat him so.” ‘ ‘ It seems to me you concern yourself a good deal about that person’s affairs,” said Ida, growing indignant, and almost ready to cry. “ What difference does xt make to you?” “ Well, my darling, I love you so myself that I can feel for others who love you, as I fear I do, hopelessly. Dear little Ida! can you ever care for me at all, or must I, like poor Gordon, kiss you and depart forever?” Ida gazed earnestly upon him for a moment; then, sobbing with joy, she threw her arms around his oeck, and laid her blushing, happy face on his shoulder. “ That’s right, little girl,” said Rafe. “ Do you know, when I held you in my arms under the chestnut tree, I vowed that they should be your resting-place through life ?’’ “And I loved you at first sight, too,” confessed Ida, shyly. ‘ * Even so, darling. If we do not love at first sight we never will love at all,” said Rafe, kissing her lips. With which little bit of doubtful philosophy we will leave them.