Milford chronicle., 1885-05-15

/ L6afS passed Oui ttlu tAe PAoPhOoJ -
good Miss Perkins was, Of a verify, full
| filled, for Annabel had reached the ma
ture age of twenty-nine, and was still
unmarried.
Once Sylvie had said to her: "Why
don't you marry, Annabel -? You've no
idea how much happier you would be.
| Mark says you are such a heartless
coquette that you are incapable of low
| ing any one, but know better.
''Well, never mind, dear" was the
smiling answer. ''I know Marks bad
opinion Of me, but can stand it SO
long as you are happy. That's all the
reward / ask. "
Which struck Sylvie as a queer an
! swer, but she was too absorbed in her
! love for Mark to think Of 1t long. Be-
side, Annabel was so different from
| other girls Marks inability to appre-
ciate her dearest friend was his only
fault in Sylvie's adoring eyes.
And now Sylvie was in her peaceful
grave, while Annabel Ray was still
talked Of and censured for her persist
encein ''clinging to her freedom, as she
expressed it. No longer the gay ring
leader Of every frolic, as of old, but
graceful, spirited, lovely woman Of near
ly thirty, every one knew that she could
yet boast of more eligible offers than any
younger belle in the place.
And one day she was brought face to
face with that episode in her career
which people supposed she had long
since heartlessly forgotten.
She was returning home from an
afternoon call when, nearing her own
gate, she observed a gentleman passing
slowly by it with his gaze fixed yearn-
ingly upon the house.
The sound Of her footsteps on the
crisp ground startled him; he turned
and found himself face to face with the
girl who had cruelty Tilted him years ago.
It was the first time they had met since
! Sylvie's death.
A deep flush rose quickly to his very
broW-a flush Of annoyance that she
should have caught him thus betraying
a lingering interest in anything that
concerned herself She read it Alright,
but. controlled by a sudden, irresisti-
BILE impulse, she hastened forward, ex-
tending her gloVed hand with a smile Of
/ welcome.
''This is a great surprise, Mr.. Thorne, "
she exclaimed, pleasantly, Just as though
she were speaking to an ordinary friend.
'fWiIl you not come in2 am sure
mother will be as pleased as 1 to see
you !"
He was going to decline, but glance
into Annabels fair face, bright with
the color and sparkle of the Wintry
day, called up such hosts of old, sweet
memories in his breast that he felt he
would give much to live over one half
hour. even of his golden youth.
"Why notP It would only be a con-
fession of weakness to refuse. And am
surely proof against her wiles now, he
thought, to excuse his yielding to him
self, for his proud resentment toward
her had never wholly died out.
But there was no trace OF coquetry
about Annabel now, he was forced to
admit. as they sat talking togetherin the
cozv. well-remembered parlOr. Mrs. Ray
had gone up stairs for her afternoon nap,
40 those two. who had once been lovers,
had the room to themselves, and their
conversation turned upon old friends,
and by-and-by, they spoke tenderly ot
Sylvie-his pretty, lost wife.
"Dear little Sylvie /" Annabel said,
softly. as bright tears sprang to her
lovely gray eyes, 81 am glad to know
that her life was full OF happiness, brief
AS il was, Hers was a perfect love,
Mark. I think grief would have killed
her if anything had prevented her be-
coming your wife. You remember that
But here Annabel stopped with pain
fully vivid blush. Mark, seeing It, I'M
derstood the reference only too well, and
instantly his pride was up in arms o2C
ST do not care to be reminded of t6e
night, Miss Ray" he said, in a areEBHiri E.ii4ii
abrupt way that was positively .ptly. and
But that very rudeness thriis. We ma Il
bel's heart with strange ral;eed l;'6S to "a q
he had been Indifferent she VS. in this e. j
have cared to undeceive him as to tn
part she had played Snat memorable
night. But tsAIia5 naughty, resentful al
did nnty mean indifference. 1t showed
mat the old wound still ranked. Now
at least. she would set herself right II
{ his ewes, and then-well, she would fee
happier, whatever the result
''I know what you have Away
Thought of me, " she said hurriedly, will
averfed ewes. 'tBut I-what if cOulC
prove to YOU that you have been wrong
It is always painful to be misJudged pJ
those whom we-esteem.
"That have wronged you ?" he re
/ peated with a curious, bewildered look
''HowP What can you mean =
[ "Wait here a moment, she answered
Then she rose in a kind OF nervous
! haste, and fitted from the room.
But soon she reappeared with buncE
: of withered flowers and a tiny note
! yellow with age, and held them up, half
shrinkingly, before his wondering eyes
"Do YOU know them?" she asked, il
a voice that quivered pathetically II
, spite of all her efforts to steady it.
: "Mv fowers-the very flowers sen
4 you that night, AnnabelP" he ex
i claimed, questioningly, as he recognizes
+ the faded note.
I eyes, And you we're not wrong Whel
Won declared you saw them on me.
did wear them to the party in answer t
vour wish: but Mark, we had scarcel.
entered the room that evening before
learned poor little Sylvie's secret-tha
Z you were the hero whom she loved 3
passionately that to have lost you woul
, have broken her heart. Flirt, coquette
Z I may have been, as people said
J. but"
4 "Hush /" cried Mark, as great foo
a of light and rapture broke over hi
I handsome face. "I see it all now-wha
= I never dreamed Of before. You sacr
ficed yourself to Sylvie's happiness. Oh
I. NV true. noble-hearted darling" hi
1 voice trembling and choked with emo
tion, show cruelty have misiudge
r youl'
And, with low cry Of unspeakabl
. 10Y, he opened his arms and drew he
! close. close to his throbbing heart.
I sHow could you help it You wel
y - IL. .Inn nnanrrnnan nnLLLl