News and citizen. [volume] (Morrisville, Vt. ;) 1881-current, 1881-12-22

first Christmas present that had pur-
chased; received my change and the lit
tie silver locket, and went home.
1t was Saturday and there was no
school. busted myself with embroid-
cry patterns, and tried to plan what
could make, and what could buy with
the rest of my money; but all the time
I was really trying to settle the ques-
ton in my own mind whether should
have my daguerrotype-for it was in
the old days of daguerrotypes-put into
Grace's locket.
I said to myself, :tPerhaps she does
not love me enough, now, to want it."
But in my heart I knew that she loved
me as much as ever, and that it was
only my wicked pride which hated to
admit that was wholly in the wrong.
I was sitting in the room where my
mother was sewing - poor, patient
mother, with so many weary stitches
to take always--and my aunt was read
ing. Suddenly my aunt looked up.
''Here is something I want to read
| u.
And then she read:
"sThere was an old custom in Egypt
of carrying dead body round on its
way to burial, and stopping before the
doors of all who had been its enemies
that there might be a reconciliation be-
| fore the last long parting. What If by
common consent all human lndlter
ences had to expire with each old year,
and new page begin with the new?
| Would we not be careful, having felt
the soreness of estrangement, to keep
the new year fair 2"
The words struck me with a strange
force and meaning. What if / should
wait too long before I let Grace know
not only that I loved her, but that I
believed in her love? Would any sac
rifice of such poor thing as my pride
be too much to make to atone to poor
Grace for all the pain I must have
cost her?
You will think my simplest course
would have been to go to her at once,
and tell her all that I felt. But have
| told you that I was an imaginative
child. There was something in me that
delighted in scenes and crises--in doing
things in story-book kind of way. 1t
would soon be Christmas eve, and Grace
would be expecting nothing from me.
How charming it would be to go to her
with the loeket, and surprise her with
that and my visit at the same time.
That afternoon I got my daguerrotype
taken, and put into the locket. The
man who took it gave, with his soft
brushes, little rose to my cheeks, just
tint of blue to my eyes, and little
golden warmth to my hair.
secretly thought it pretty picture,
and I don't think from that time till
Christmas eve there was one waking
hour in which 1 did not plan afresh
what should say to Grace, and how
she would look, and what touching
! and beautiful scene it would be alto
gether.
At school, however, I held myself
more carefully aloof from my friend
than ever. 7 was so desperately afraid
that I should be led to anticipate the
grand reconciliation I had planned.
Grace looked sad, and I used to think,
sometimes, paler than usual but if I
believed, as I did in my heart, that the
sadness was on my account, / comforted
myself by thinking how soon should
chase it all away.
Christmas fell that year on Thursday,
and that whole week there was no
school. Wednesday night, just at twi-
light, We had finished our afternoon
meal, and asked my mother if I might
carry my present to Grace and stay
there for little while. She consented,
and told me she would send for me at
nine o'clock.
took good look at the locket befor
I put it in its little boz lined with pink
cotton wool. thought how delightful
Grace would surely be with it !; and I
was glad it was the carnation one, and
not the forget-me-not, for fancied it
would please her better.
Shall I ever forget that clear yet ten
der winter twilight through which
walked the half-mile between my house
and Grace's I? The west still held the
glow of the sunset. The sky was cloud
less, and in the east the evening star
hung tenderly, as if to watch what might
befall on earth this night of nights.
I knocked at the door, when at last
reached the house. I never used to
knock, but had been such an infre-
quent visitor of late. Mary, Grace's
half sister, opened the door, and saw
that her face was all swollen as by long
weeping.
81 am glad you have come, Carry"
she said. ave were going to send for
You. Grace wants you. She is very ill
with pleurisy. She has been ill two
days, but we never thought of danger
until to-day"
danger /" think that was the most
awful moment of my life. knew then
that she was going away from me; and
at the same time knew, better than 1
had ever known before, how dearly /
loved her, how dearly she had always
loved me.
''May speak to her ?" I whispered.
Eyes, the doctor says it will not hurt
her. You may go in now"
I found my darling in her own room.
Her mother was there, and her cousin
Edith sat by the fire. Grace put out
her hands.
"How do you do, Garry? I'm glad
you've come"
The very same old words of our first
meeting, only now they were spoken
plainly, but in hoarse, strange voice,
not like my Grace's.
''May see Garry quite alone?" she
asked, and the others went out.
sank on my knees beside her, and it
seemed to me my heart broke then and
there. She spoke family, and with
difficulty, but she drew herself along
and rested her head against mine.
Don't grieve so, Carry" she said.
81 always knew you loved me. Did
you think 1 didn't know? But couldn't
be unkind to Edith"
"No, and was wretch; a wicked,
wicked girl but did love you all the
time. See, l got this for you three
weeks ago." and opened the little sill
yer locket, and laid it in her hand.
L II