Richmond dispatch. [volume] (Richmond, Va.) 1884-1903, 1888-09-30

Der Win na1 DfOken Hcf Htaft Dtb"A
to be afraid OF what l had done
The next morning Leslie spoke to mo
without constraint, and rs glanced OF
her there was worn little smile on her
face that seemed b say, "See, i am
getting over it" and the look that WAS
30 awful TO me was gone. Still there
was such utter sadness under her pathetic
attempt at cheeifulness that my friend
could not help crying rs she wished her
goodbye, and excused her emotion by
Leslie's resemblance to a school friend
now in India.
Very dull was our journey home. Les
lies far-away, unchanging gaze as she
looked at the scenes that bad socharmed
her two days before went TO my heart.
The ferns in the cone basket were our
only distraction, and | rejoiced that the
delicate fronds required such constant
care and attention to preserve them
from damage. Mrs. Wyatt met us,
bright and hopeful as we parted. |
read her disappointment as she looked
at Leslie, though she never spoke OF it.
The days went on in their old tranquil
fashion. / WAS always ready to ride for
] had given up let.cr-writing. Mr..
Harrington was with us frequently. and
| liked his chiyalrous, almost reverent,
admiration for Leslie. | do not think
she was conscious of it but she had
some regard for him SO her uRcls's great
friend aud often talked with him plea
sanity.
She would not hear Of anv festivities
on her coming Of age, not evena treat to
the school children. She was very calm,
and knew she had decided upon her
course In life; but her settled sadness
assured me that she did not expect to be
happy.
When her biIth6ny dawned my first
thought was, viii she marry him in
spite Of all ? BY sweet old lady's hand
shook when she took her cup at break
fest. Sir. Wyatt's pink forehead was pale
with apprehension. We were all in dread
Of what Wa might have 10 hear Leslie
Derrant had row absolute power TO dis
pose OF herself and her fortune as she
pleased.
There were many gifts for her. the
fairest from Mr.. harrington, a beautiful
china basket full Of flowers She only
looked az those of her uOcle and aunt.
After giving them warm thanks she still
fingered near them with white, rcsoute
face. We all felt she was gathering
strength 10 speak her decision. | could
hear NV own heart beat. This tense eX-
pcciancy was more than the old man
could pear. He pushed back his chair !;
the sound reused her.
"Uncle," she cried, 81 am going to
DO as you wish, and YOU must let me
grow Old under your roof. ."
my darling, God bless you!" Ho
caught her in bis arms. Her head rested
upon his shoulder. | looked into her
flco, and / knew that if there is grief
that kills such grief was hers.
We clustered round her ; she gave one
hand TO her sunt, the other TO me. She
wished to show us that the words she
hal spoken were to us as well as TO her
uncle, 30 include US in her loving, CRATE
| iul thanks. We spoke lncoherent words,
but she understood us. We were 30 Ie-
joiced, yet So Borrowiul.
Later she took Inc to her room and
showed me q copy Of letter she had
| sent to Charles Pencil.
She told him quietly and firmly that
| she could not marry without her uncle's
consent, that she had no hrpe Of obtain
ing it, aud after much thought had de-
cided that they must part She regretted
/ that she had come as a disturbing intlu-
/ ence in his life, trusted that he would
soon forget her, the duration OF their
! friendship having been SO short, and that
he would DO happy himself and give
much happiness to others.
at is a beautiful letter" l said.
But If he writes or comes 2"
81 will not read his letters. | will
not see him, she cried passionetely.
Mr.. Pencil did write. Ireturned bis
! letter unopened. Leslie was always pale
and sad. She tried hard to keep up an
interest in people and things, but the
effort was beyond her strength. Her
attempts at cheeriulness were most
touching her health was falling /;
/ she chung to me, and when l pro-
posed TO take her abroad, consented
at once. Her uncle and aunt were
glad that she should go with nae. She
made her Will and said what a pity 1t
was a girl should have SO much to leave.
She told no one how she had disposed OF
/ her property. Her uncle and Mr. Har-
rugton accompanied Us to tho vefse.
She said something very kind and gen
tie to the latter at parting. She had
learned TO understand his love and to
know something OF tho loss she had
made through the wilfulnoss of her own
| heart.
We passed the winter in the South,
moving from one beautiful place TO an
other III the hope Of finding interest or
amusement, but she drooped always.
IL cannot uproot my love- she said
TO me. at will not die until ! do"
And l knew that its death would come
soon. / sent for her uncle and aunt, and
they came and stayed with us until the
end. We buried her in little foreign
cemetery that she had fancied, and
Philip Harrington wasone Of the mourn
ers. and strewed sweet flowers from his
home upon her grave.