Eaton weekly Democrat. [volume] (Eaton, Ohio) 1866-1875, 1872-05-30
EATON, OHIO, THURSDAY, MAY 80, 1879.

arguments; nothing, not even Millicent's
sweetest smile, not even hsr tears, had
power to change his purpose.
"Proud and worldly p how the words
rang in his ear; his Millicent-his angel
of home that was to be-proud and
worldly
At last Millicent coldly arose, and,
with shining eyes and trembling lips,
pronounced the words that shut out
hope from his heart.
Millicent, my love my love !" he
reiterated, in voice of anguish, "you
cannot surely mean it. So trif1ing a
matter must not separate us. You are
not yourself now by and by you will
revoke this cruel decision"
81 do mean it, Paul. From this time
forth we are only friends," and she
swept out the room.
He tried to think that she would not
be in earnest, that this mood would pass
away and leave her better nature a
chance to assert itself. He was mista-
ken. She was coldly polite at the break
fast table next morning, absent at lunch
time, and quiet and distant at dinner :;
so much 80 that it set everybody, even
the butler, to wondering what had hap
pened.
1t was at the close of that unhappy
day he threw himself, sick at heart, upon
the sofa in the west parlor, where they
had 80 often sat together. Little Stella
found him there, his face buried in his
folded arms, and she came lightly for
ward and touched his hair.
AS he started up, almost wildly, the
child laughed. His soul had thrilled
to the hope that it might have been
Millicent, repentant.
I,
look p said Stella, moment after, quite
sobered.
"Do 1? It's the freight, perhaps"
he answered wearily.
"Where's Millicent ?'' asked the child,
accustomed to see them together.
don't know, my darling" )" and then
he held his breath, and Stella touched
his arm softly, with an arch look.
Millicent had entered, thinking Paul
had gone out, as was his wont on that
particular day of the week. She came
forward slowly, her soft, rich robes
trailing along the carpet, and started at
the sight of Paul and Stella, both re-
garding her with intent eyes. Then
she made a movement as if to return,
but checked herself, walked quietly past
them with a smile for Stella, not for
Paul, and stood at the window at the
further end of the room, her slender
form perfectly defined, even in the fast
deepening twilight shadows.
Stella turned her attention upon her
uncle again. She felt uncomfortable.
Something in Paul's eyes, as he caught
the glance of Millicent, gave her
vague discomfort, child though she
was, and she fell to smoothing his hair
and kissing him.
Millicent stood like a statue.
"Uncle Paul, won't you tell me
story ?" coaxed Stella, after pause.
"My little one, I'm all out of stories,"
said Paul, in changed voice.
But please tell me one of the old
ones," the child pleaded "only one, and
[ won't ask you for another. It's a long
time since you told me the Rosa story.
Ah, darling Uncle Paul, don't say no l''
have told it a hundred times, Stel-
la" said Paul, anxious to be gone.
" No matter; come, begin-I'H help
" You needn't say you were called out
at a late hour one night, begin where
you saw the woman. What did she
say p,
Paul, istlessly.
"And the poor little boy
"A poor little boy stood sobbing at
her bedside"
"But it wasn't a boyl' continued
Stella, with renewed interest.
"No, it was q little girl dressed in
boys clothes. She had supported her
mother by playing the violin on the
street: and the dress was her protection
at least her mother compelled her to
wear it, hoping it might save her from
rudeness."
And the mother had been lady,"
yes, once years BEFORE"
"But she didn't die after all.'
"No; =; with proper nourishment and
medical care, she recovered" said Paul,
evidently talking with an effort.
"Then you found that little Rosa
was a genius, didn't you, and got her
to school, and dressed her up nicely ?
And that was years ago; and now
she's a young lady, and we all
think SO much of her, don't we, Uncle
Paul2"
Yes, dear"
Millicent turned, swept softly by
them like a shadow, and went out of
the room.
"Uncle Paul, I love you dearly"
said the sensitive child, watching the
yearning look with which he gazed af-
ter the retreating figure.
OOu ulesS you, uILle One !! he all
swered, in broken voice.
"And you look just like an angel
in your white robes, in st. Mary's, on
Sundays" She bent closer to him, till
her innocent lips reached his ear.
Millicent said that once; she said you
looked ike an angel"
A heavily drawn, almost sobbing
breath was the answer. Poor Paul he
had forgiven the imr etuous girl; the
flame of his love burned higher than
ever.
Not long after that Stella ran into
Millicent's room.
"ThereI 1 forgotI' she cried in
childish dismay, as she caught Mill
cent brushing a handkerchief over her
eyes.
"I ought to have knocked. Please
forgive me, Millicent.''
You are always welcome, DEAR"
Miss Dunallan said, gently.
"Do you know what ails Uncle Paul p"
questioned Stella.
Millicent lifted her head in her old,
naughty fashion.
know r' she answered. GLOW can
L tell, child? Your uncle has his
moods, like other folks, suppose"
"Oh I'' and Stella turned her eyes
b., IL