The Forest Republican. [volume] (Tionesta, Pa.) 1869-1952, 1881-08-10
GRACE's DESK.

Margaret looked up from her sewing
machine for minute to glance across
the room at the quiet little figure sit
ting at the Windows round, graceful
little figure, whose attitude of thought
ful 'ravity was full of suggestion.
And then Margaret, always more or
less crusty, but kind-hearted, gave an
impatient sigh and increased the speed
of her machine by savage motion of
her slippered feet, and compressed her
hps and pnckered her forehead all up
in a perfect nest of wrinkles Will,
Grace, unconscious of it, sat LOOKING
out OF the window at the gloomy pros
pect-- half-melted, dirty, slushy- -browl
snow tha' WIS rapidly growing slnshiei
and more melted under the drizzline
rain tiat was falling ; and, of course
thinking about Laurie Marcellus.
Fer several months Grace had mo-
thought of mnch else but him, and yet
there hal not been an hour or mo
ment of that time that she had not trieo
not to think of him and grieve for HIM
1t had heen very similar to the sam,
old story Laurie Marcellus, hand some
elegant, aristocratic, fairly well-to-do il
the worlds estimation of riches, ha0
been Grace WarTener's most devoted ioI
several months, until by one of thos,
venomous waves of fortunes wand social
position and wealth had suddenly van
ished, and the Warrener girls found
themselves obliged to take in dress
making for living.
Friends who had always been friends,
who redeemed the dear name, who knew
fay ,l,ak
desert them I; but first and foremost in
the ranks of those who so conveniently
preferred to dispense with the society
of the two dressmakers who lived in
Appledore row was Mr.. Laurie Marcel
lus.
He had dropped out of Grace's life as
brilliant comet disappears from the
sky. He had called one evening, the
same as ever, wi h the sweet, caressing
tenderness in his voice-the glad, eager
light in his handsome eyes-that made
the girls heart spring within her; and
she had never seen him since nor
heard from him.
That very next day the crash came,
through which the great spice house of
Walfener u Gray suspended; and a
month later Caleb Warrener died with
apoplexy. and as soon as decency per
mitted the splendid mansion and furni-
ture, the horses and carriages, the sill
yer and jewels, all We're sold under the
red flag.
Margaret came grandly to the fore in
those dark days, when her keenest grief
was to witness little Grace's dismRy and
astonishment and suffering at Laurie
Marcellus' detection; and yet her words
were usually more bitter and sarcastic
than gentle-it was Margaret Warren
er's way to use heroic treatment.
:" Hes not worth the everlasting fuss
you make about him, Grace. I'm
ashamed OF you-downright ashamed; (;
and he not your betrothed, either |"
That was true, so far as formal words
went. Laurie Marcellus had never
asked Grace Warrener to be his wife;
he had never in so many words told her
he loved her; but he had known Just as
well as he had known he was alive how
the girls heart was all his own-how
she loved him dearly and truly, for all
her sweet reserve.
Grace smiled family when Margaret
spoke of the "fuss she made about
him. She knew we'll enough that the
"fuss was only her grave, sad face,
her quiet ways, her listless manner,
that she tried desperately hard to con.
quer, and in all the months that had
passed had not succeeded, and seemed
no nearer succeeding than in the be-
ginning--so nearly hopeless a task is it
tor woman to colquer thoughts and
heartsick longings for the man she
loves. Pride and shame may do valiant
battle for the victory, but pride and
shame are baby foes in comparison with
the giant they oppose-woman's strong,
enduring love for her chosen beloved.
And so the dreary time went on for
Grace, and by steady, persistent effort
she disalloWed herself to be dull or
complaining, or a kil-joy. She reso-
lutsly determined to at least be cheer