The home journal. (Winchester, Tenn.) 1858-188?, 1875-01-07

anu cried silently Oil through tho ser
vice. Naucy's heart so went out to the
poor woman that, when they met in the
aisle she pressed her hand impulsively,
saying, in quick whisper, "Mrs.
Armitage, I'm so sorry for you."
81 don't want any of your sorrow !!
was the sharp response. cts fine
talk but you and | know we'll enough
who's the cause OF it all. One word
from you wonld stop it now if you were
sorry enough p
Poor Nancy The clock was on the
stroke of II that night when her lover
finally took his leave, and she was free
to pace the moon.lit sitting room from
end to end with set lips and glitteriDf
eyes. She did not cry. She felt as i
she was going crazy, and in her desper
alton she did not care il she did. Houl
after hour passed, and still she paced
there. till her rigid face showed Whitley
in the first faint gray of morning.
sob, would he go! could he gol
Would nothing happen to stop him p
Scarcely knowing what she was doing
Nancy slipped through the door, aud
hatless, trailing her dainty blue dress
through the dewy grass, ran across lots
to the ArmitNges.
1t was still dark and dewy. She
heard tho village clock strike 3 ag she
paused on the outskirts of the old
fashioned fowcr.garden behind the
house, and shrunk behind the hedge of
blossomy jlaes, whose potent cdor
sickened her. Her mind was in whirl.
She did not know why she was there,
or what che would do. She was in
deadly fear lest some one should dis
cover her, yet she could not turn away.
For half IN hour she crouched there
shiverinely, never taking her eyes eff
Johns window, but starting every time
the curtain blew. Suddenly step on
the garden path started her so violently
that she could scarcely suppress
scream.
1t was probably some of tho work
people-oh, il they should SEQ her A
hasty peep through the bushes showed
her that it was more than that; it was
John himself, striding straight toward
the gap in the hedge, aud wearing a
most nppropitious face. Nancy, in
blind terror OF discovery, craw!ed on
her hands and knees close under the
lilaos. He had passed, and vas almos'
by when bird that Nancy had disturb
ed flew ont with loud chirping. One
end of the loose blue sash had caught
on stiff bough, and the color arrested
his eye. Two strides brought him to
the spot, and he stood with folded arms
looking down at her moment before
his amazement found vent in the egcla
nation:
"Nancy p
He had never seen such utter aban
don and agony Of shame as that with
which the poor little maiden hid her
face and covered in the wet grass, with
the cry:
"Oh, what shall doP Don't speak
to me Go away |" and burst into d
storm Of tearH.
For answer he gathered the little wei
figure in his arms, smoothed the tumb
led cnrls, tried TO warm her icy hands,
and did not dare to question while he
s0oihed her in his tenderest way.
"Take me home" said Nancy as soon
as she found strength to speak at all.
"I shall do no such thing" was the
decided answer, as johns disengaged
hands raised her face 80 that he could
see il, "till yon tell me why you came,
Nancy. / couldn't help hoping a little
when saw you here. But don't make
me give it up! l thought my pride
would support me through anything,
but ] am afraid it won't do it," he
ended, sadly.
"rm so glad it WON'T - breathed
Nancy, in tones OF heartfelt relief.
But somebody'll see MS. Take me
home, John, and I'll tell you all
about it."
How different seemed the way home,
with John at her side, But Nancy was
in no hurry to "tell about it," She
only said, neryously, holding Johns
hand in both hers
"Promise me you won't 60 away"
"Ah, but / want another promise
first"
Nancy looked back nj the plumy
hedges whose shelter they had left, and
said, with half smile. "You SEQ the
lilacs aren't out of bloom yet, John; /
am sorry, as you said I'd be !"
"And the doctor? p asks the critical
reader. All, Nancy is no model OF
Christian maidenhood. She is only a
faulty young girl, erring and loving and
suffering, playing her part i'll one Of the
tragedies that are played everywhere in
the springs and autumnp, in the time
of lilacs.