The Washington critic., 1885-08-17
A TALE THAT is TOLD.

cesscs and failures these may be duly
chroniclcd; but was ever pen found
capable of tracing the throbbngs Of the
heart the loneings of the soul, the in
ncr conflict, with is secret victories and
defeats, the pleasures of hope, the
terror of fear, or The agonizing an
guish of despair?
Sitting tonight by my lonely fire
side, all the hot ardor of youth depart
ed and gone with the friends of that
time, fold my ringless hands on my
lap and dream Of the days that are no
more.
Forty years have clidcd by since that
bright summer evening, but can still
see myself rs If il were some other per
son, standing in the rose covered door
way, anXionsly watching the bend in
the road; for my father has gone to the
station to meet my only sister, who has
for the last two years been at school in
Paris.
] have not once seen her during that
time and am totally unpreparcd for
the marvel of beauty, who, lightly step
ping from The chaisc, grccts me en-
Enthusiastically as dear old Nclll'
Ivy was always a pretty child, but
now she is lovely maiden, fair as a
lily 1.-the as a sylph, sweet and facinat-
ing as siren. Lively and bright she
is, too, chatting gaily all the way to
her room; and arrived there, plac-
| ing me in q chair she kncels down be
! fore me, and putting her little hands
one on either side of my face, she says
Papa whispered me a sccrctabout you,
| Nellie; is it true?'
Eyes, Ivy, il is true" I answer,
thankful that her hands partially hide
| my bushes, for my engagement to Ar
| thur Grey, though six months old, Is
still too precious Il thing to be spoken
of lightly.
"Let me Sec" went on Ivy, in her
soft musical tones, smooth and flowing
ag French woman's, ''were not these
| the Grcys who took the Hall just be-
| fore | left Lilbourne? All, what u pc
| tito | was thcn-a mere baby. But |
| have come back to you grown woman,
Nellie, anxiously eager for lover of
| my own"
| The evening was spent in talking
| over old times, recounting changes that
had taken place, and looking forward
TO new pleasures in the future, and the
next day Ivy saw my lover. He walked
] from church with us, had luncheon at
the Nicaragc, and when the afternoon
service was over insisted upon taking us
up TO the Hall. After dinner we three
went out into the garden and lay upon
the grassy banks of the river, Arthur
reading to us the while from Paradise
Lost"
Ivy rested her golden head upon my
lap, and, unseen by any eyes, Ar
thurs hand wandered until It found
| mine, which it at once covered in its
strong, protecting grasp.
When we reached home / waited
anXiously for Ivy opinion Of my lover,
which she gave unaskcd.
He is charming" she said. 81
could find ii in my heart TO envy you,
Nellie. He is the very handsomcst man
] have ever seen"
"And the truest and best" | wills
pered, as / laid my head down on my
pillow to continue in dreams the happi-
ness of the day.
Before the next Sunday the Vicarage
was empty, and Ivy and / were or
phans.
When Arthur had asked my father 5
consent to our engagement ii had been
given ON the express condition that we
should not be married until had com
pletcd my twcnty-trst year, for he said
girl hardly knew her own mind until
that age.
When, without sign or warning, he
was taken from us | resolved to keep tC
my promise, and for the intervening
year ! went with Ivy to live with 4
sister of our father, whom we had never
seen.
She was the wife of a struggling so
licitor, living in the Clapham road, anC
had five Young children of her own.
She received us kindly, but rs if she
felt great responsibility in undertaking
c,chargc of two grown-up young In
dies, whose previous lives in a pretty
country vicaragc might have unite,
them for the dull, monotOnOus routine
Of Il middle-class house in LOndoI
suburb.
After few days Ivy and I decided
that we must in some way, at least par
italy, try to earu our own living, for w
saw only too plainly that our aunt coulC
i'll afford the additional expense which
we must be to her.
Walking one day in Remington Parl
we came to this decision and thcl
arose the question, what could we do
just then wcll-known figure passet
across the end of grayel-path we wer
walking, and merely saying hrrricdly
"Ncllic, there is Arthur Grey" ",
darted from my side in pursuit of tn
retreating figure, and in Il moment re
turned with my lover at her side.
Nellie would have let you so by,
she said, land then. what would hav
happened :?
~ should have had to go back t
your aunt, who sent me here after you
and to have begged her permission t
await your return there,
After walking for an hoar throuG
some of the most secluded walks of tn
park, during which time Ivy and Al
thur had most of the conversation I
themselves, my happiness being to
great TO allow of speech, we turnc
our steps homeward, My aunt rC
qucstcd Arthur to stay TO tea, whic
he did, and when he left promised {
all again next time he was in London
That night when we retired to on
, room Ivy was not so talkativc rs usua
but before we lay down she put he
arms round my neck, and leaning he
check against mine, she said, Nellie
! wonder il he had seen me before
which of us he would have choscn?"
| strokcd her soft cheek with IN
hand, drawing her nearer to me as
did so, and wondering why such
precious gift had been bestowed upo
me, who seemed so little worth it.
Time went ON, and every second q
thipl 1nu hTpnuht a lattat fro,
: Arthur.
y My aunt and agreed that Ivy shoul
undertake the education of our littl
cousins, thus saving the expense c
their schooling, and | soon obtained
situation as daily goyerncss to famil
living in the South Lambert road.
1 .,.l.l.ls,,,.,I