The Indianapolis journal. [volume] (Indianapolis [Ind.]) 1867-1904, 1885-04-19

OLIVER'S BRIDE.
A STORY BY MRS. OLIPHANT
PART I.-CHAPTER I


Grace. 1 can't let you take me without telling
Eou though it's against myself. Ihave not been
lie man that your husband ought to be, that is
The truth
She smiled upon him with all the tenderness
Of which her eyes were capable, which was say
ing much and pressed the hands which held hers.
They had just, after many difficulties, and en-
barrassments and delay, said to each other all
that people say when, from being strangers.
they become one and conclude to part no more.
They were standing together in all the joy
lul agitation and excitement which accom-
pany this explanation-their hearts beat
The radiance of the delight which is
always surprise to the true lover, even when
to others it has been most certain and evident
Their friends had known for weeks that this was
what it was coming to, but he was pale with the
ineffabe discovery that she loved him, and she
all eavaloped in the very bloom of blush for
pure wonder of the extraordinary certainty that
be loved her. She looked at him and smiled,
their clasped hands changing their action for the
moment, she pressing his in token of utmost
confidence as his hitherto had pressed hers.
'iI do not mean only that do not deserve you
which is what any man would say he resumed
after the unspoken yet unmistakable answer she
had made him. 1.-THE best man on earth might
say so, and very true. No man is good enough
for such as you; but mean more than that.
you mean fattery," she sad which | would
not listen to for moment if it were not sweeter
to listen to than anything else in the world.
You don't suppose believe that; but SO long as
you do"
Her hands Embossed and melted into his again,
and he resumed the pressure which became al
most painful, so close it was and earnestl
Dear" he said, with his voice trembling,
''you must not think l mean that only That
would be so were / better man. mean that
hem of your garment. Oh, listen; / have not
been good man, Grace"
She released one of her hands, and put it up
softly and touched his lips.
'All that has been is done with, she said. for
both of us-everything has become new"
"Ah,7 he said, IF you are content with this,
it is so; it shall ever be So Yet would not ac-
cept that peace of God without telling you--with-
out letting you KNOW
'.No more she said, ''or might have to con-
fess, too"
YOU" he cried, Selling her in his arms with
kind of rage. 30, never name yourself in
such a confession. You don't know; you can't
Imagine"
Again she stopped his mouth.
mo more, more. We are both content in
what is, and happy in what is to come"
Happy is too mild word. 1t is not big
enough nor strong enough for me-"
She smiled with the woman's soft superiority
TO the mans rapture which makes her glad
Superiority yet inferiority; admiring, yet half
disdaining the tide that carries him away-al
for her, as if she was worth that! Proud of him
for the warmth of passion of which she is not
capable at which she shakes her head, not even
he able to transport her to such height of
can transport him. She began to adopt the po-
sition of mentor TO him on the moment as
soon as it had been acknowledged that she was
his love, and was to be his wife.
It had been a long wooing, much interrupted,
supposed 20 be hopeless. They had loved each
other as boy and girl seven or eight years be-
FORE 1t is to be hoped that no one will be
wounded by the fact that Grace Goodhart was
twenty-five; not an innocent angel of
eighteen, but woman who had her
own opinions of the world He was
five years older. When she was seventeen and
he twenty two there had been passages between
them which.he had perhaps forgotten, but she had
never forgot. At that period they were both
poor. She an orphan girl in the house of her
uncle, who was very kind to her, but announced
everywhere that he did not intend to leave her
his fortune; he young man without any very
definite intentions in life, or energy to make a
way for himself. They had parted then with
out anything said, for Oliver was gentleman,
and would not spoil the future of the girl whom
he could not ask to marry him. He had gone
away into the world. and he had forgotten Grace
But there is nothing that girls mind is more
apt to fix upon than the vague conclusion
which is no end, of such an episode There
is in it something more delicate than an engage
ment which holds the imagination as fast as any
betrothal. He has not spoken, she thinks, for
honour's sake He has gone away, like a true
knight, to gain honour or fortune and so win
her. She is consciously waiting for him, all
these long years perhaps, till he comes back,
following him with her heart with her eyes as
far as she can, ever open to all that is to be
heard of him, collecting diligently every scrap of
information. She had not been without her
little successes in that time others had seen that
she was sweet as well as Oliver Wentworth and
she was so lighthearted and cheerful that no one
could say il was for divers sake for any rea-
son, but because she did not choose that she
would have no one in her sphere.
And then came that strage reversal of every
thing, when the old uncle died without any will,
and Grace, who it was always supposed must go
cut governessng at his death, was found to be
his heiress She was his next Of kim there was
nobody even to divide it with, to fight for a
shares and instead of being q little dependent
orphan, she was heiress and very good
match. How it was that Oliver Wentworth