The Louisiana Democrat. [volume] (Alexandria, La.) 1845-1918, 1886-02-24
not happy bridegroom, but
a stern and disappointed man.

Fifteen years passed, and the village
where Alice Graves had lived had pros
pered and was fast growing into a little
town with bright prospects ahead. One
autumn evening a tall. grave, middle
aged gentleman stalked slowly up the
street with his eyes .thoughtfully wan
dering over the faded old house and its
neglected grounds. Pausing where a boy
was idly swinging on gate of one of
the new houses he said: II see the prop
erty over there is for sale. Who is the
present owner?'
cold Mr.. Landon Graves was the
owner, but he's dead now-been dead
two .years-and the place now belongs
to his daughter, Miss Alice. y
Miss Alice9 You mean Mrs.-Cur-
tsp said the gentleman, hesitating at
the last name"
'She amt Mrs. Curtis That's my
mothers name," replied the boy.
And lady who had been standing
unseen among the shrubbery came has
tily forward
Miss Alice Graves has never mar
rice she said. 81 suppose you must
somehow have heard the old story
which got about of her running away
with Mr.. Curtis on the evening she
was to have married another. It was
all a mistake--a false report. She
merely rode short distance with
him in his gig to take leave of an
old lady of whom she was fond. But
the horse was young and skittish, and,
taking fright at something, ran away,
throwing them both out. People be-
lieved it an elopement, until when,
some hours after, they were found
in the old mill road, Alice badly
bruised, and Joe with his leg broken.
The man she was to have married be-
lieved it and left her without a word
Joe Curtis is my husband now," she
added, with smile, "and Alice Graves,
though she has not lacked offers, has
never married She could not easily
get over disappointment like that
''But why was not he-why was not
| Nj. Warner informed?" inquired the
stranger, in voice of such oppressed
vehemence that the boy turned and
locked at him wonderingly.
f'Alice would not allow it. She was
| as proud as he; and when she heard
| that he had gone she said: If he could
believe such thing Of me it is well that
We should part. Let him gor'
The stranger made no reply, only
pj led his felt hat lower over his brow
al Mrs. Curtis added: eff you would
II to inquire about the place, you will
fl Miss Graves at home. l saw her
UPON the porch a few minutes ago."
| She watched him as he went slowly
| down the street.
"He thinks that I did not recognize
him. As if l would have said what did
about Alice to any one but Gilbert War.
ner! And can see that he has not for
| gotten her either. All, I hope it may
all come right now.''
When Gilbert Warner knocked at the
door of the old Graves house, it was
opened by fair, graceful, sweet-look-
ing woman, in whom he had no diff
Guilty in recognizing his old love, Alice.
But it was not until he stood in the full
light of the parlor lamp that she knew
him; and then she involuntarily drew
back a step or two, and looked at him
with white face, as though she had
seen a ghost. .... ........-.e
"Alice-don't you know me?" he
said, holding out his hand.
II know you; but why do you come
here?n she answered, as though striving
to be cold and proud, while her voice
faltered and her eyes filled with tears.
81 came to ask forgiveness he re-
piled. Until to-day I thought that
you had wronged me-and you did, Al
ice, in not letting me know Of my
wretched mistake. So many years of hap.
piness lost to lis both! Oh, Alice, is il
too late? May we not yet be as happy as
we once expected to be?'
1t took some time, some pleading,
some humiliation on his own part, fol
high-minded Alice had been deeply
wounded by his too ready belief in her
desertion Of him. But still her heart
had never really swerved from its first
real love, no more than had his own
and when Gilbert Warner left the little
town it was as he hoped to do fifteen
years previous--with Alice Graves as
his BRIDE Chicago Times.