The Russellville Democrat., 1881-03-03

to explain
 Perhaps I can help you,D lie said. Tour mother told me, yesterday, that you had had girlish attachment; but she believed that it was over.,, "No," answered, 'it is not-I am ashamed to own it--but it is as strong as | ever l know the man was mercenary. l know he did not possess the noble quali- ties, with which l fancied him endowed; but that has changed nothingl I feel that l am lacking in womanly dignity and selfrespect. But even that does not en- able mo to call my heart back
 He was so good and kind, that having got over the worst, it was easy now to continue. 1 told him the whole story. His sympathy for me was as great as the generosity which enabled him to put by his own pain, and strive to comfort me l could not have believed it would be so; but sorry as felt for him, the being able, for the first time in those two weary years, to speak freely, was an inexpressi- ble relief; for in order to spare my poor mother, I had shut my secret so carefully from her eyes, that she honestly thought l had outliyed both my love and my suffering.
 We talked for long while and at last he said:
 "Will you try to forget that I am the man who has asked you to marry him ito remember only that I am your friend-anxious for your peace and hapPiness?"
 "You are too good to me-too good" I sighed.
 T could not be-" he answered with his beautiful smile. "Elinor you are very brave, honest woman. Much as esteemed you never really did you justice, till now"
 "Oh, am poor weak creature" I cried impatiently. T despise myself yes, do- nothing can be more con- temptible than to Q man whom I cannot respect,
 'Nor do think you will long," he said. q believe that even now it is the wasted affection, not the man whom you regret"
 q do not regret him." I cried. Eff he were to come back, oday, I should bid him go My trust is dead-my respectis dead-but the love stays-forgive me, l must show you all the truthw
 He promised to tell my mother. It was selfish of me, l knew, to let Him do this for me. But he offered and I was so shaken that could not bring myself to talk with her yet.
 On the following morning, I received a long letter from him; and I think a more beautiful one was never written. It put the whole case very clearly be- fore me- His arguments were so con elusive, that 1t seemed to me he could be content with esteem and affection. l felt that those l could give most heartily already. He believed-and for the time almost made me believe-that my soli- tary life had caused the old love to keep its hold that it was, in reality, a senti- ment totally separated from the man, who had primarily been it's object. He believed that if knew there was per son in whom could trust, whose dear est care in life was my happiness, it might give me new sources of thought, and that gradually new hopes and aims might grow up i'll my mind.
 He entreated me to leave matters as they were for six months; to come to no decisiOn; to contide all to time. At the expiration of that period, l could give an answer free and unbiased, as if had not already spoken. l was to be bound in no way l could regard him as my friend that and nothing more;
 So much, ats least, l could grant; so much l owed in return for his kindness; and hoped, oh! so heartily, that time might prove he was right. He held long conversation with my mother She was, as ever, goodness itself from first to last! It was not till after many weeks, and then by accident, that she allowed me to learn that Mr. Ogilvie had gained one promise from her, which was that however l might decide, the fortune of the two boys was to be his care-and this he wanted kept from me.
 That was very pleasant summer, and not to me alone, for the whole neighbor- hood united in saying the same, and all admitted that it was chiefly owing to Mir Ogilvie's eXertions. He had a succession of visitors at his house, all of them per sons worth knowing-the incest class of what are called society people-and, be- sides number of noted men and wom- en from among the artistic and literary professions.
 Mir. Ogilyie found occupation enough One of the first matters he attended to was the settlement of Agnes Perkins difficulties. They had resulted in her triumph, and Agnes was now one of the principals of the establishment. She be- toillS d litIutlIt GutSb Ht NIT. OSllNlc house, where she was treated with as much deference as if she had been an heireSs.
 And was happy-yes, was. Some- times l reused up enough to be aston ished at the fact. 1 cannot say that l thought much. when the most important thing in my future was concerned. I saw this occasionally and grew remorse- ful. But Mir. Ogilvie seemed always to understand when one of these moods came upon me and invariably took means to make me forget it.
 made one really intimate female friend, Agnes Perkins. l learned to love and respect her next to my mother. Such union of gentleness and decision, of womanly softness and masculine cour- age, l have never seen. She was good deal older than I-almost thirty, though she did not look it; and life had been far from gracious to her; yet she was inva- riably cheerful; and l used to tell man. ma that to spend an hour in her com- pany was like breathing mountain air.
 My poor wordsca give no idea of what NIT. Ogilvic was to me during this sea- son; how perfect his behavior; what mingling of respectful admiration and brotherly tenderness. l cannot write even this poor, bald sentence, without staining the page with grateful tears.
 Never but once did he do a thingwhich caused me even to wish he ha,l not, as out of keeping with his character. One day at a picnic, when l had got away into the wood bY myself for a little. and