The Republican. [volume] (Oakland, Md.) 1877-current, 1885-12-12

.
| Ramember-What:" l said with worse
/ stammar
! Your memory must be short. But nd
| matter. So, after eighteen years of indie.
! pendeuce, you need 4 wifetn
| Perhaps | don't need her exactly" | ex.
/ planned, composing myself Il want ID
| marry, not because | want to marry, bnl
! because there is somebody l want IN
! marry
This categorical definition of my state Of
mind did not appear to surprise or sboclr
Mrs Jones, who rejoined quietly and with
| another smile:
The mistakes of youth are the faults of
youth Poor Mr.. Jones was an excellent
| person, and he meant to be good husband
| But he mefRt only, and ne wasn't. NV mis-
take was committed years ago when re-
! iected yc-f Sydney"
| | began to be alarmed. 1--WE need NOT
| speal. of that" | declared, suavely.
! Yes" she said; the past is past and
the present is present. Well, | suppose we
may consider the matter settled"
'The matter settled Then Edith knows9r
| edith: What has Edith to do with this1n
! But / interposed, and was quickly
stopped.
| sight"
Naturally" assented. "Yet, my dear
| friend, if you consent to let me marry your
! daughter, SHE"
These were my last words on this i'm
portant occasion. Mrs. Jones arose from
her chair with frigid decorum. Her ewes
! seemed to penetrate me. Then she said in
! coldly polite words, which came with a
| slight hiss from between her teeth:
Il believe, Sydney, we have made a
second mistake. | must inform you that
my daughter has already pledged her hand
| to Mr.. Rowland Van Buren,, whom you
| have met, | believe. They are not engaged
formally, but they will be within few
weeks. did not suppose that you cEeJ
for Edith. If | had supposed it, I world
have warned you, Be kind enough to for
get our conversation, and-please call again
| soon"
shall not bore you with an analysis of
my melancholy. Fate, mused was against
me The two beings, whom I had loved,
| whom I could have made happy. had been
! philosophy which had never deserted me,
| not even at the most tragic moments of my
life, and-I started again for Europe
leased house in London, and settled
| down TO steady existence had scores of
| friends, and | belonged to a half-dozeA
| clubs. On the whole, was quite comfort
able-fOr q bachelor, unusually comfort
able. had not the slightest desire to re-
| turn to New York. You see. [ was selfish
enough to be unpatriotic. ! was soon as
much OF a Londoner as any one in London.
| Ny stays there were prolonged during the
! summers came / rushed over to France, or
| Italy, or Switzerland, more as a matter of
| habit than for pleasure.
Time passed though hardly felt that it
was passing. | was an Old man before
| began to count the wears that Law behind
me- On a certain 9th of June, 1884, reached
my siXticth birthday l confessed that
was astOniShed to find myself so much of an
antiquity. 1t seemed incredulous that was
| abouo to begin the autumnal period of Il
mans life, threescore and ten. To be sure,
there are twenty sun-turns between sixty
| and eighty. Yet at sixty one has disagree
| able premOnitions of eighty,
You may ask whether l had forgotten, in
! the metamorphOscS of my life, the two
women whom | had loved, either of whom
| might have been Mrs Sydney Brockwood.
| II would be fatuous to pretend that | had
| forgotten them. But they were no longer
| real to NE. They were poetic ideals
! dreams of youth.
| On my sixtieth birthday | was in Paris,
/ where had engaged an apartment near the
| Pare MOnCeau for three weeks-three weeks
! Ofdelici0us solitude and comfort, untroubled
! by the old strident voices, the old stale
! pleasure, the old unpeaceful nights and
| days.
arrived at Paris somewhat early in the
morning, and was driven Immediately to
| my apartment. After l had dressed and
| eaten a light breakfast lit cigar and
!
salon. Then ! stepped upon a small balcony.
and examined with delight everything
| within my range of visiOn-the sky, the
sun, the streets and the houses.
A fresh sweet air blew from the west.
| There was hardly a cloud overhead. and the
| sunlight sparkled through the green leaves
| of graceful trees and on the clean, smooth
| stretches of asphalt below
! For a while | was lost i'll a kind of ecstacy.
This was interrupted by the noise of car
| riage wheels. Looking down, | saw that a
! carriage was standing in front of a pretty
| house Just across the way. 4 minute after
! ward two perSOnS-a Young man who was
! hardly more than big boy, and a young
! woman who could not have been older than
| seventeen or observation-disclosures ont of the
! house and entered the carriage The driver
| cracked his whip energetically and drove
! rapidly toward one of the boulevards.
| As the young woman got into the car
! ria-e the raised her eyes and appeared to
| regard me. Of course this was simply an
| accident. But it was an accident that gave
| me an opportunity 10 admire the most
| beautiful face that had seen since-well,
no matter since when. There was some
thing in this face that reminded me dimly,
| mystcriOuSlV, of two other faceS-thOSe of
| the women l had loved. And at a flash
| how can ] explain the workings of the
brain and heart!-the past was once more
| tangible to me, real. 1t is all very odd,
=
/ saw my charming piS-t-ois nearly every
| morning often two or three times a day.
| We We're almost on good terms enough to
nod to one another AFTER two weeks had
| gone by. for | was regularly on the watch
| for her. and she was therefore forced to
make the acquaintance of my personal APP
| pearance. do not mean to say that she
| offered any encouragement to my harm
! less HlrCatlOn-lf such a word can be used
| properly; she merely glanced at me as
though she expected to see me at a certain
| time in a certain place.
| discovered, in the course of careful in
| quirY, that the strangers name was Ship
| ley, that she was an American and unmar-
! ried, and that her boyiSh companion was
! her brothe" The two were staying only
| temporarily i'll Paris, and were to depart
| for New Ori as soon as sOmebody-sOme
! aged person or persons / was given to I'M
derstand-shOuld arrive from Rome. All
this was not especially satisfactory. The
| pretty American might be Miss Sbipley, or
| Miss anything else: the fact remained that
| | was unknown to her, while | had pas
sionate desire to know her. Under the in
fuence of my new emotion | forgot my
gray hair, my govt, and my sixty winters.
| ro}Hcd to be young again.
Luck favored me. | ran against q we'll
known LondOner, one day, u famous club
man, and in burst of confidence [ told
| him my secret. Within ten minutes | was
| invited to meet Miss .Shipley on the follow.
ing evening. it seems that my friend knew
her and her family very well indeed
| viii cut a long story short. | was intro
duced to Miss Shipley, and we became ex-