The Arkansaw traveler., 1888-07-21
THE tEW cURgTE.

"You haven't seen him yet? We'll, that's pity. He's quite catch, am told. Young, handsome and single. Why don't you set your cap for him, Mattie? You've got as good chance as the rest of them, and twenty four is not old, by any means"
 She leaned over the garden gate as she spoke, this veritable village gos- sip. I can see her now, with her great poke bonnet, from which the cluster ing gray riuglets peeped, the keen blue eyes that seemed to read your very thoughts, the trim little figure, clad always in ample skirts of Quaker gray or sombre brown.
 Never was there wedding, funeral or christening in the village without this estimable lady's presence. What a harmless little body she appeared and how incapable of carrying about that wonderful budget of information How nicely she imparted her knowl- edge to her listeners, beginning with, "Well, I don't mind telling you," or, "They do say, but of course you can't believe anything" and ending with, "That's between you and me; it will go no further"
 I was in the garden that morning training some early June roses; my thoughts were not the brightest, scarcely in harmony with nature, which was decked in one of her brightest mantles. It was quite un- necessary for Mrs. Briggs to remind me of my age. I was thinking seri- ouslv of it.. Twenty. six. Not very old, to be sure, and yet not very young to an unmarried woman. I must be content with fewer laurels, less con- quests. 1 must step out of the field, as it were, and leave the romance and day dreams to younger and fairer girls.
 It mattered little to me whether the new curate was young and unmarried, or portly old fellow with wife and grown daughters. At heart disliked this interfering old woman who had broken in on my reverie.
 thanked her kindly for her advice, telling her that at present had no in- tention of setting my cap for any one, not even the curate, so saying went back to my work and the roses.
 "There, Hattie, don't get riled. Of course it's nobody's business if you're going to leave yourself an old maid |; but take my advice and don't spend your time fretting and worrying over Bob Preston, for he ain't worth it, nohow.'
 She shook her head wisely, and was off before had time to recover from ka hn& had old wound, Robert Preston and the past.
 I had tried to guard my heart, to trample under foot the old love. could have laughed at my girlish folly as if it were dream until thought less word had brought back the past, like the dead risen to life again, or a smouldering fire that needed but gentle breeze to make it a burning flame. One by one the roses dropped from my hands. One by one the blind ing tears fell. was only a weak wo- man after all, as, covering my face with my hands, sobbed.
 Robert, oh, Robertl Why were you false?" e
 It all came back to me-that visit to Aunt Martha, where I first met Rob- ert Preston, 6 young student just re- turned from college. l cannot tell you all those bright, happy day dreams; how I loved him and waited for the happy day when he would ask me for that love. He read my answer in my tell tale face before my lips ut tered it.
 So engrossed with Roberts society, took little heed of other matters. scarcely giving thought to the fact that young lady, the daughter of a deceased friend of my annt's, was go- ing to make her home with us. She came. From the moment looked upon her lovely face my happiness was gone. I was pretty girl, fair and fragile, yet one might as well compare . simple little daisy to full blown poppy or . red rose as my frail beauty to this girls exquisite loveli- ness.
 For time his love was unchanged. laughed in my foolish heart at my doubts and fears. At times would find his serious eyes wandering from me and resting admiringly on the beautiful face of Kathleen Lee. No man could resist that wondrous fas- cinatiDg face. She never encouraged him, but the dropping lids, the faint flush, the trembling of the little hands,