Oxford Democrat. [volume] (Paris, Me.) 1833-1933, 1874-08-11

hi, silver bowed Spcctaclcs. The boy I
following in his fathers track" chucklct
the worthy man, AMI in her heart Cells
believed that her father was right.
Then. over her knitting. she would try
to make picture for herself OF Junlata'
as sho looked dancing that outlandish huI
no doubt bcwitching dance, the bolcro,
aud the Spanish girls black eyes wonld
flash and her little feet twinkle curiouslJ
through all the s,aid New England con-
vcrsaiion. Till, finally. when Mark Wilson,
OF young DR.. Heath. or Lewis Sunderland
from over the hill. had said good night
and gone away, Celia would bctakc her
sell TO her chamber, there TO piece out the
broken images again 10 dreams, and
lancy she heard Rory's rich voice singing
sercnadcs under the thick-blossomed
crcepe,s, and SAW the gleam Of gold in
Junialas black cloud OF lrcsscs. till she
started suddenly broad awake, with tho
sun in her eyes, and Peters whistle in hei
cars, rs hu went out 10 fodder the cattle
in tho early morning. Then she would
half smile rs she made her simple. but
dainty toilet, and, standing before the
GLASS. shook loose over her lni' face the
thick, waxing locks that needed no Tor
cirn ornament to give them tho glcam o'
gold; then she would go lightly down
stairs, for she must set tho whole house
hold machinery in motion, she muss sec
that others ale and drank. she must eat
and drink herself; and amid her multi
plicity of occupations. she had no time tc
pine or pale. and so the new day drew to
n close, like those that had gono before
and should follow after it.
SO four years slipped away. and then
Rory same home. suddenly. without
word OF warning; he wanted 10 give
them surprise. he said. Aud huge
surprise il was; only, alter little. he
had dropped so completely into his old
place. that il seemed as il be had never
been away. So said uncle Jacob.
You ain't hi, changed, not q bit,
wen, on the old man. You're brown
cnough-ycs. but then you always was
coffee color, you know, Rory, hey ?"
Yes. know. answered Roiy. return
ing Tic old mans laugh. "But an
changed, for all that, uncle Jacob. Ash
Celia J."
We'll. well, perhaps You be, perhaps
you be-" said the old man. My eye
mint what they were-nor my glasses
acithcr. shall have TO buy a new pair
srcs..'
Bu, the change in his nephew was one
which no new rair OF slasscs-nor ever
of ewes, unless they had been Ceiia's-
would ha:c enabled uncle Jacob to sec
.-S'Po,e wc ,han't keep You long.
continued tie, presently. You'll be ia
Ad.l1 10 ,tt tlNN ~ ''lH
"N,, uncle Jacob" answered Rory
i've come home lor good. medn to
Try and turn TO account here what I've
managed to PICK up out there"
Aha didn't | say so? Going 10 dc
lust as his father did ?" chuckled the old
farmer, obliyious apparently, that neither
his fathers agricultural nor matrimonial
ventures had thriven in transplantiug
but you'll have TO go back, though, &c
fetch your bride. When's it to be. oh,
Lad? whcn's The wedding coming OIL p
Tho wcJding?" repeated Rory
drcamily; then, with start and smile
"Oh. some time next year, expect"
Then it really was to be-" thought
Celia, as she watched Rory's unconscious
face. How strange that she. she should
have been the one to send him half across
tho world 10 find wife in this unknown
friend. who otherwise would doubtless
have remained unknown TO him forever
We'll, she did il for the best, she told her
self, SO often before. but this time she
could not console herself quite 50 readily
And lust then Rory's eyes turned sudden
ly fell upon her. aud she bushed guilty
und got up and went out into the kitche n
remembering all at once that Nancy
Walsh was raw girl, and was probably
spelling whatever she had in hand.
Two or three days passed by much q:
OF old.
"Do you expect anybody, tonight,
Celia?" asked Rory one evening.
mo, not that I know Of" answered
Celia, rather in surprise. "Why? ?"
Nothing, only rs DR.. Heath was here
last night, and Lewis Sunderland the
niyht before, and Mark Wilson the night
before that, WAS wondering if you hat
one every evening in the week."
."What nonsense, Rory" said Celia
turning away in search of something in
her work basket.
as i, nonsense ?" said Rory. I'm
sure l hope SO. Tor then we have pros
poet OF quiet evening.
A very quiet evening they seemed t(
have prospect of, for it was a long 'im'
before either of them spoke word. They
sal opposite each other, with the light
stand between, Celia knitting, and korl
lazily watching her quick little hnger
ay in and out among the needles. Both
perhaps, thought of just such an evening
ioar years before.
There's your moth back again. Ceha'
said Eoiy. suddenly.