Charlotte messenger. [volume] (Charlotte, Mecklenburg Co., N.C.) 1882-18??, 1882-12-02

satin stitch, point and wheels, her
happy thoughts went straying over all
that brief, bright month when Joe
Dalton had spent his summer vacation
in Redleaf, and every spare emoment of
it in close vicinity to the Sunderland
farmhouse.
Joe, be it known, was the 'squire's
step-son. Only the year before the
squire had married dashing, though
elderly widow from the city, with two
grown-up sons. One of them Ivy had
never seen, but Joe had been in the
habit of paying frequent flying visits
from the city, where he resided, and,
as report said, was amassing fortune
fairly fabulous for so young q man.
When the summer came, and he
spent whole month at the squire's,
he had singled out Ivy from the whole
bevy of rustic beauties, and devoted
himself to her with persistence that
soon set every gossip's tongue in mo-
tion.
What delightful month it was
How they had picnicked and frolicked
! together through the long summer
days; and strolled through dewy lanes
in the dreamy twilight, and rowed on
moonlit nights down the shining river
And then that last scene of all Ivy's
cheeks glowed at the remembrance
of it.
She had gone down the garden path
with him to the little gate, and there,
under the shadow of the elms, and
hidden from the house by a clump of
syringa bushes, they had somehow
found saying goodbye very linger
ing transaction indeed. Ivy remem-
bered how he had held her hand in his
tight clasp till all the warm blood
came billowing up over cheek and
brow, and her eyes fell beneath his
ardent gaze. Then, almost before she
knew it, an arm had stolen around her
waist, pair of warm lips were
pressed closely, lingeringly on her
own.
Goodbye till Thanksgiving" he
laughed, and was off before she could
chide him.
He hadn't told her in just so many
words that he loved her, but how could
she doubt it? Hadn't every look and
act declared it over and over during
that happy. vacation time? And then,
if he didn't love her, why that last
tender caress speaking volumes to her
answering heart?
The morning came-Thanksgiving
morning-with floods of golden sun
light, with air so crisp and bracing
that it made ones blood tingle just 20
breathe it. Ivy made haste to finish
her light morning tasks, and then daint-
lily arrayed herself for church. She
was to walk. 1t was only mile, and
the choir had arranged to come early
and practice their anthem once more
before service began.
With light step she tripped down
the narrow path. But at the1ittle gate
she stopped suddenly, trying to check
a frown ; for there, under the elm, be-
hind the leafess syringa bushes, stood
Alvira Simms, the village dressmakeP,
evidently lying in wait to walk to the
church with her, and Miss Simms was
one of Ivy's pet aversions. Many's
the time she and Joe had amused them
selves at the expense of those cork
screw curls and affected ways and
tones of vinegar sourness.
"Good-morning," simpered Miss AL
vira. 81 thought likely you'd be COM
ing along, so / walked slow on purpose
to see if l couldn't have the pleasure
of your company to church. It's beau
tiful morning."
Beautiful" said Ivy, briefly, and
she looked curiously at Miss Simms, as
if to divine the cause of this sudden
desire for her society, for they were
usually as distant as the poles. She
fancied an unusually malicious twinkle
lurking in the seamstress' snaky black
eyes.
/" suppose you've heard the news?"
with sharp side glance and an air Of
immense Importance.
"News? No, I've heard no news
worth mentioning" returned Ivy, in
her most Indifferent tones.
"Well, I don't know as you'll con-
slider this worth mentioning" retorted
Alvira, bridling up. "It's about Mr..
Dalton-Joe Dalton, you know. But
you used to be so very intimate with
him that | thought perhaps it might
interest you to know" She paused
and looked Ivy full in the face. "Hes
married r she said, and there was a
hateful, cruel light in her mean face
as she watched the effect of her
words.
married p echoed Ivy, with wide,
startled eyes. 81 don't believe it r.