Oxford Democrat. [volume] (Paris, Me.) 1833-1933, 1869-06-25

the distant clCy Whcfo ne was living, Sald
"Such pity! She was one woman of a
thousand, and deserveda better man than
that ap5.a tifa UJ 1.7di w
Well, Paul Logan was q better man
than Scott Goldrick's words would seem
to imply, and. better still u his gold bro't
all comforts to the helpless mother until
she died, and home and all the advan-
tages of wealth to the little sisters. And
now with her husband two years in his
grave Mrs. Logan went freely into society
again. rna 2aalaeHi eee
"Such lovely woman" men always
said when speaking of her. And Scott
Goldrick endorsed the verdict when he
met her at q reception one evening. and
the hostess supposing them to be unac-
auainted, presented him. HE
1t was the Olive Burnett Of seven years
ago who smiled up at him. as she said TO
Mrs. Lake. "Mr. Goldrick and | are very
old friends"
"You remember me, then.n he said, as
he led her away.
II never forget" was the sweetly
grave reply.
But somehow, even with this flattering
beginning, they did not seem to make
much progress in the renewal Of their
old aquaintanceship. Meeting often, as
they did, at party and ball reception, at
concert and theatre and opera, there was
always an undetinable something, dis
tance between; and 1t was quite at the
close of the winter, that calling one morn
ing on Mrs. Logan, TO make his adieu be-
fore leaving town, Scott Goldrick linger-
ed moment "a he bowed over her hand
at parting, to say, half jestingly, but yet
in earnest, too:
"Do you remember the old school
house?r
"Yes, l remember. / am going out
there on purpose TO see it this coming sum-
mcr.n
"And too. Who knows but what we
shall mecte"
Ii was in the midst Of the August heats
that Mrs. Logan, paying a flying visit to
Ryefeld, procured tho key of the old
school.house-empty now for summer va
cation--and walked down there alone one
afternoon TO look at it.
The door swung rustily upon its hinges
as she entered and look ed curiously about
II was not the cleanest place in the world
for coat of dust, raised by the last sweep
ing, had settled over everything; but the
rough-coated walls looked rs familiar as
ever, and the glazed maps hanging there,
and the unpainted wooden benches. 1t
was in the corner that Scott Goldrick used
to sit-and remembering, tide of recol.
lections rushed over her, and she sat down
in the low.backed chair and laid her head
down upon the pine table, just us she had
done that evening more than seven yeals
before.
Sitting there buried-in thought, she did
not hear the footstep that crossed the
threshold-:hat paused there at the door.
and thon came TO her while voice said:
Miss Burnett, am going away. Will
you bid me good-bye9"
She looked up with little cry-to meet
pair of clear. hazel eyes. TO see before
her bright handsome face. and heavy
waves of chestnut hair.
"You are really here. Mr.. Goldrick9 l
could almost believe that the old days had
come back again"
.You used to call me Scott, then" he
said, Significantly, coming around and
kneeling on one knee beside her chair.
"You are not pale now, so shall not
sprinkle your face with water" glancing
at the empty cup standing there on the ta-
ble, "but l should like to have your head
on my shoulder again"
She made movement to rise, but he
detained her.
Don't be offended, Olive" he said,
earnestly. II made confession OF my
sins that night, let me make another con-
fession now. think began to love you
that evening. but was boy. and did
not understand my own heart. know
now that love you. Your face has always
been before me as the sweetest and finest
in the world. You sent me away from
you then. Don't be SO cruel again. l
want to stay with you always. Olive. ]
wannt 10 be your husband. May | ?"
For an answer she put up her white
hands and drew his head down upon her
shoulder. And tho brown walls must have
opened eyes of astonishment, ifeyes they
they had, to see Scott Goldrick kissing
the blushing little woman. You see when
a man falls in love for the first time at
twenty-seven, he is apt to be desperately
in earnest.
And in the gathering gloom Of twilight
they locked the door of the old school
house behind them and turned their steps
homeward, not teacher and pupil now
but plighted husband and wife.
NOVEL MODE of TYING HoRsEs. The
Icelanders have curious custom, and a
most effectual one, of preventing horses
from straying. Two gentlemen, for in