The Republican. [volume] (Oakland, Md.) 1877-current, 1881-07-09

I
ness which seemed to overflow his life.
now could it have been otherwise. 7
thought. What might not my own list
less face have been #
You are very tired, Max" said
rrank, IN his quick, glad tones.
A little; but was not thinking of
. .nat. was thinking how utterly con-
tent you look, Frank"
SO ought, because I am so utterly
other wayP"
"No, none.''
!, " You do, Max" he continued, a little
tn0ughtfully. "You look-I can hardly
tell how-;as if you had been living much
longer than l have, and yet l don't
mean that you look much older. You
are just as you always were, L think;
and yet you look as if you lived great
ueal In those seven years-if you can
understand. But, indeed, you must
nave been working to some purpose, to
nave won yourself such a name as you
nave done. What will Bent do now
without you? for you are never going
back, Max-never. suppose he has
earned a fortune, as we said he would !;
II ne has not, he ought to have done so
with SUCH partner; and he must keep
sup his practice alone. Mine has in
creased so lately that it can only now be
carried on by Wallingham Brothers.
Max, old fellow, does not the old name
sound more winning to you than that of
the new firm out in exileP But will
f7sfjt urge this tonight" he added, al
most as if he could read what pain the
thought gave me. $50 l look utterly
CONTEXT, do 1? Yet l have had trouble,
too. You ought to say you see the
trace, MIX"
"Whs troubled"
"a trosble of five years ago." he an
swered dlietly; ga trouble 1 never felt
that l coaid tell you in a letter. When
first asled Lettice to be my wife she
refused ne, Max"
81 fearel so, Frank" I said, so low
that he stopped forward to catch the
words. 81 feared so from your silence
at that time. But never mind, dear fell
low, as it ha ended so brightly"
"No, don't mind one atom. 1t has
ended so brightly, as you say. You are
too tired to &C out this evening of course,
Max; but as promised to run in and tell
them all of Jour arrival, as soon as L
had brought you safely to Redbury, L
will just go scross for a minute or two,
if you don't mind"
81 will go With you," I said, and rose
at once. 1t would be less hard now
than it could over be again.
1t seems ike dream to be walking
once more at Franks side, along the
shadowy streets; and still more like a
dream to be entering unannounced, as
of old, the pretty, familiar room where
Lettice sat alone at the window, sewing
in the twilight.
"Lettice,'' cried Frank, in gay eager
ness, "here's Maxi"
was standing opposite her, looking
down upon her with still, calm eyes
the grave elder brother of her affianced
husband. She dropped her work, and
put her two hands into mine, in quick,
glad greeting; and / spoke to her just
as knew Frank would wish me to speak
to her. She was changed more than he
was. The face that had been almost
childlike in its sunny beauty was a
woman's face now; deeper and graver,
but Infinitely more beautiful, thought
as l saw its old bright, sunny smile still
there. She looked up at Frank, a Won
derful light shining in her eyes.
"Now, you have all your wish,
Frank" she said. And 1 felt that she
was as happy in his love as he was in
hers. | stood beside them, talking in
laughing, genial tones; hoping she could
never guess how hardly L had schooled
myself to this.
Presently Frank passed out through
the window, and Lettuce, looking after
him, raised her eyes questioningly to
me.
"You think us all changed, 1 suppose,
Max. Even FrankP"
"Yes," l answered, absently.
"But you have not seen Amy yet"
she went on, smiling. "She, of course,
is most changed of all. Frank has gone
to fetch her, fancy. He says she is like
what was at her age, but that is only
his pleasant flattery, for she is very, very
pretty"
l followed her words dreamily, Won
dering whether it could really be seven
years since Lettice and l had stood talk
ing to each other last; while 1 felt how
impossible it was that the little one,
WuOlll VIC Ial oil CWllUluCu W pCU anu
spoil, could be at all what Lettice was
in those old, sweet days.
"Frank seems to know exactly where
she will be,' Lettice went on, little
nervously, l fancied in my silence.
Z" You remember the old seat under the
lilacs, MAXI Amy is as fond of sitting
there as-as 1 used to be when was her
age. You used to say, too, that you
loved to rest there on a summer even
ing. But you have been away so long,
doing so much, that those old memories
will be all buried now?"
eyes; all buried now," 1 answered,
feeling the scarlet mount into my face,
to contradict the GOODNESS of my words.
She smiled-a little wistful smile,
which had strange, brave tenderness
in it,
81, too, have lived seven years since
then," she said; f" but the old memories
are dear to me, Max; and l would not
bury them for all the world"
"Because it is 80 different with you
and me,' L faltered. ell think l
have no courage left. How long Frank
stays!"
6 see them in the lower garden now,"
she answered gently looking away from