The Democratic advocate. [volume] (Westminster, Md.) 1865-1972, 1879-04-05
Select STORY.
UNITED AT LAST.

Miss Carney walked up the long green
lane on her way home from tea party.
She wore n brown silk dress and brown
bonnet, and carried large brown parasol
in her hand. The browns were Of differ
ent shades, aud ran softly into each other,
like the tints upon dove. All the lines
of her figure were smooth and rounded.
She was very pretty old lady, indeed,
aud must have been u very pretty girl,
though she was a spinster, aud people who
believed that all unmarried women were
left upon the bough of single blessedness
because they tempted nobody to pluck
them, must have owned that 1t could not
be SO ia her case.
Down the lane, coming towards her,
walked a gentleman. He was tall aud
broad his hair was grey, and his hat was
grey; and his summer suit was grey; his
beard was grey also. He, oddly enough
shaded off into another sort Of dove. The
green trees were all about them both, tho
gCsen grass beneath their feet. The roses
NODDED over the fence.
Ifthese had been two young people in
stead Of two old people, one might have
fancied it as lovers rendezvous, but they
we're old. OF course there could be no
romance about them.
Ia the middle Of the lane, shaded by
great chestnut trees, stood an old house.
Honeysuekle draped the porch. There
was m old fashioned sweep in the we'll 1t
was altogether thing Of the past-no
modern cottage Of architectural mysteries.
1t was SO old fashioned that it must have
been the same when these two people were
young Yes, when their parents were
born doubtless it stood, by no means a
new house, just as it stood now.
The pretty old lady in brown reached
the gate of this house first. She lifted the
latch and stood looking down the road
thinking that il must be the handsome old
man in grey had lost his way and would
inquire Of her, for the lane was no thor
ougbfare because fence and gate aud
u sign, with "All persons are forbid to
trcspass upon these grounds" nailed upon
II.
The lady's father had put up the sign
the day after the pedlar had stolen all his
pears. No neighbor minded it, but stran.
gers did. So the old lady waited courtc-
ously to tell the stranger that he might
take the short cut through the orchard IL
he chose.
ale walks like somebody know. Who
ean it be" she asked herself. Then she
suddenly blushed and looked prettier than
ever. Yes, certainly, it could not be be-
cause no Que desired TO pluck her that she
remained faded rose upon the branch
Miss Carney, not Mrs. Anybody.
On came the old gentleman in his grey
coat and as be looked at the little old lady
he dotted his grey hat.
MADAME" he said, "this is where Mr.
Edward Carney used to live, l know.
Docs he live here now ?"
But the old lady looked at him with
sadden start. "Oh |" she cried; and
added, "No he does not"
"fie is" began the old gentleman.
SIT is his tombstone that you can see I'M
der the great willow in the highest part of
the chprchyard, she said, pointing through
the trees. she was eighty when he died"
"Time flies fast" said the old gentle.
man.
Fearful fast, said the old lady.
She was not looking at him now, but at
the flowers in the borders'at her feet.
"Mr. Carney was n widower when |
kaew him, and had but one child a.
daughter" said the old gentleman in grey.
''she is living is she not ?"
eyes" said the old lady.
"But she cannot be Miss Carney still,
said the old gentleman.
"But she is, said the old lady, and
looked him in the face again.
Their eyes met. Hers were brown and
his were grey.
people alter out of knowledge in forty
years" said she; "and how on earth |
came to know you / don't know, for you
look like your own grandfather, Mark
Turner"
"Ask the old gentleman to walk 10, then,
Miss Carney" said he, for he ought to be
more weary than he used to grow on the
same road lifetime ago, coming from
the mill, you remember, Prisey, every
Sunday evening"
"Did you ?" said she pretending to for
get.
"0h, yes of course l will ask you to
walk in Mr.. Turner"
She turned. He followed her. They
sat down in the parlor--one on either side
Of the polished table.
Over it, between tho windows, hung the
looking-glass with its narrow gilt frame.
The bookcase filled the recess. On the
mantlepiece were some shell flowers under
glass. There was the stiff sofa with the
black cushing like the slice of futed col
umn; there were six chairs to match, and
the clawfooted sideboard. There had been
no children to break or scratch things.
All was the same as when he left il last
and saw Miss Carney standing in the mid.
qie Of the floor with her long black hair
'n eurls about her shoulders, and blue
I'bbon around her taper girls waist. Now
Re looked at her, aud she was really old
Fnd stout, but somehow she seemed to be
pobody else, but Priscy Carney. She saw
pm looking from the furniture to her face,
md interpreted his thought.
YES, she said almost argrily, dis it not
firangeT There are bits Of wood aud glass
Nnd china, just az they used to be. There are
me oak trees, only finer and greencr. The
Fcry grass and flowers might be the same;
nnd here am |, old, faded, aud lonely, aud
ny handsome, bright-eyed father dead 10
bis grave, and all care for gone. wish
! we're gone also. think people who
have not seen each other for forty years
need not seek each other again. /
wish they would not come to me after be-
ing oil the salAe as dead for forty Year,.