The Democratic advocate. [volume] (Westminster, Md.) 1865-1972, 1879-12-06

another glimpse of her to-day, if possible |
The horse was moving swiftly down the
road, but did not go fast enough. Henry
applied the whip again and again. The horse
became vicious, took the bit in his teeth, and
tore ahead at furious rate. A sleigh was
coming toward him, and Henry, with the ex.
pectation Of receiving bow If Maud should
be in it, tried to check the brute, but it was
impossible. The passing sleigh was not
Pratt's; it had but one horse. Not far be.
hind it was a double team, that must be theirs.
No, the jaded.looking animals came along at
jog-trot; il was a family sleigh, and its rustic
occupants looked wonderingly at the wild
horse and wild driver flying past. Still
another came into view. Henry exerted
himself more than ever to get the horse under
control, and not wholly without effect. The
sleigh rapidly neared him; the harness gilt
tered the bells had tuneiul ring, he knew
those high,stepping bays. He was right this
time, and in his excitement rose to his feet
and tugged powerfully at the lines. This
effort was more than successful; it brought
the animal to his launches aud threw Henry
headlong over the dasher into the snow. He
insunctivey grasped the reins, aud was on
his knees brushing the snow from his head
and shoulders, and thinking with chagrn and
modification of what he had missed and
the righteousness Of the mishap, when he
heard Pratt Morris saying,
whats all this, Vincent? You are not
hurt, hope"
Springing up at the sound of the voice and
bowing confusedy to Maud, who was looking
at him with an intent and alarmed expression,
he replied
"No-thank you--no harm done, believe,
at least he added, his glance at Maud
having restored his self.possession, "nothing
worse than n woundel snirit -
81 IN so glad to hear II, Mr.. Vincent said
Maud, smiling sweetly. ~ was very much
| frightened"
As Pratt turned his horses again he called
out:
81 advise you to sell that unruly beast-or
trade him of.
They were soon out Of sight. Henry NOR.
tlhcation was gone; he would not have missed
the occurrence for anything; he was oyerjoyed
at the remembrance Of Maud's words, and
the unmistakable evidences Of her sincerity.
When he reached home, and was passing
upstairs TO his room, Maggie, who had been
sitting ut q window watching the passers by,
came into the hall and said,
why, Henry, what took you down the
road again? and what in the world made you
drive the poor colt 80 hard ~
Zone Of my freaks, Maggie, and the colt
took a notion TO follow my example"
The room Henry entered was large, aud
was used by him both as bedroom and study.
The books, which were piled upon the bureau,
a couple of tables, and the mantel- piece, we're
daily arranged by Maggie, when her health
permitted; but they had not been disturbed
| by the student to-day nor would they be.
Wood was piled in the fireplace and in box
at the side. Henry soon had cosy fire, and,
drawing up his lounge and stretching out upon
| it, gave himself anew to his meditations.
The vision of that look of alarm and that
sweet smile made him buoyant. II brought
to mind expressions Of her couuteuance at
other times, when it had seemed responsive
to the love he so earnestly desired to speak
of, but did not dare. What had his fears
amounted to? Why, to the suspicion that
she could be actuated by the little motives Of
other kingsbury ladies; that she was like
them-one of them; whereas she was im
measurably superior, and would look down
with plying contempt upon those who would
have such trfles separate kindred souls. He
had done her injustice. Perhaps he had also
been unjust to her father, who had treated
him very respectfully. Mr. Chesweke's abil
tiles were undoubtedly OF high order; he
was well.known for his generous impulses
and as for his PRIDE perhaps that was par.
donable in man who had so much TO be
proud Of, and who was temperate in this as
| in other things.
He renewed his determination 10 reveal
his feelings to Maud at the first opportunity;
he would do it tomorrow. II he could get
the daughters consent, and the parents should
persistently interpoSe objections, he should be
compelled, as true lover aud as true man,
10 meet them with stern resistance; but sure
| ly, surely, there was ground for hope that it
would never come to that. Yes, he would
speak to her tomorrow.
On the morrow his purpose was still firm,
yet he proceeded to its execution with some
misgivings.
| The lesson was over Before il began there
had been some laughing remarks about the
mishap Of the previous day. Henry had now
replaced volume in the book case, and, re-
turning, paused when half way round the
center'table, at the side diagonally opposite
Maud, who was sitting near thegrate. The fire.
| light made the spot where she sat the brightest
in the room. Her face was turned toward him.
1t had all its peculiar refinements; it told Of
mental activity; there was beauty in its classic
outlines and, he thought, divine beauty in
its expression. Those dark old walls, with their
rich. tinted old family portraits, were good
background for the stalwart form of Henry
Vincent and his strong face, in which thought
and sincerity and honor were always stamped,
and in which unspeakable love was now
shining,
The critical moment had come.
miss Maudi-his voice was tremulOus,
and so was the hand he rested on the table
'there's something have been longing for
courage to tell YOU
He stopped, and lowered his head while
striving to regain selfcommand. Soon he
went on, bringing his glance earnestly upon
her face again as he concluded
81 was on tho road yesterday with the sin.
gle purpose Of meeting you. The sight of you
with Pratt Morris had demoralized me. Ii
you love him, ! have nothing to say; but he
cannot love you more than do"
ale is only friend, Mr.. Vincent"
The silence following these words was un-
broken until Henry spoke again. A delicate
color had suffnsed Maud's cheeks and ten.
Piles, and she was looking down at the book
her hands clasped,
al love you. Thank Heaven, | have said
those words, which have so long struggled for
utterance. You know the truth, but you
don't know that il is the central truth Of my
life. My life has been little or nothing here.
tofore. You have given il q purposei one that
puts in motion other purpokes,' II you can
love me, here his voice again faliered-''l
will try to be more worthy Of your love.
will do my utmost--spend my lite-in trying
to make you happy"
There was another papse; still she did not
speak. He now made q concession that he
once would have seOrned to make to anyone
'Your influence has revealed to me per.
sonal defects such as | see would repel most
ladies' Of your society. Perhaps the influence
that revealed them may ultimately remove
them. But what is love What is its blind.
ness? Surely it is blindness, not to what is
within, but to what is without. II is a flial
blindness to the defects Of home; il is pa
triots blindness to the defects of his country;
it is, hope, woman's blindness 10 the de.
fects Of her lover. but didn't meaa to rea.
son with you; IL your heart responds 10 mine,
| need not do that; so much my own tells me.
Maud, belive God smiles upon this love
bear you. Darling, can't express il. lean
only say ! love yoa-wilh my whole heart and
soul ~
Maud's silence was caused by no affected
coyness, nor alone by her delicate maidenly
modesty. The man she oyed was trying 70
put intd words his lave for her; she could not
stir she could only listen 10 his low, intense.
ly earnest tones, aud let her heart thrill and
throb with a new and supreme joy.
Henry advanced 10 her side, and reJeasing
one Of her hands, FeyeFently Kissed Il. Look.
ing up yearuingly into her face, he saw the
l0ca. .Ierht IN. tar avau lhan he .-.sI.t -.