The Washington critic., 1888-02-11

room. "I could curse my destiny i'll
did not mean to conquer it," he cried,
stopping short in his walk.
"Yet if ! had said tonight, 'Jacinth,
be my wife, wait and be patient until
] have earned enough to support you
in comfort why then she would still
have had to go away, and there would
have been the misery Of waiting, for
her as we'll as for me. Now ] alone
bear the sorrow of parting the fear for
the future, and" he paused and
looked silently out Of the window
into the darkness, "and the hope"
something seemed to whisper. "Yet
she shall be my wife," he cried,
"some day, with Gods helpl When
| can make her happy, when poverty
shall not drag her down as 1t has my
mother. l can work, and, by Heaven
/ will," and he stretched out his
strong arms like young giant trying
his strength.
"Yet suppose" he thought Of "a sud-
den, "she sees in the meantime some
one she can love, free from any prom
Use to meP" He stood still and
pondered. "Then," eadded gravely,
then shall have kept the sorrow
out Of her life with the'hope."
So Malcolm Dunston took Fate into
his own hands.
II
In dreary, shabby New York
street, Jacinth Macilvaine looked out
of an attic window and watched the
forest Of chimneys that stood out
against the steel blue of the spring
sky, and for once she was idle.
1t was shabby, whitewashed attic,
with dim window, bare floor, and
the cheapest of furniture. In corner
hung q couple Of gowns, elaborately
decorated and boldly proclaiming
themselves sham, capped by two
equally impossible hats.
Ten years ago, on just such day,
/ sailed for Scotland" Jacinth
thought, as the afternoon crept away,
"and now / am thirty instead Of
twenty, and Eve is as old as / was
then; but we are so different" she
added, glancing at the wardrobe
hanging against the wall.
"After all, it is good that I have SO
little time to think" she murmured,
with faint smile, when an uncere-
monious hand ratified the broken
door-knob, and then the rattler shot
in with q celerity which astonished
even her airy self. A wonderfully
pretty young person, in dress that
proclaimed itself as near relative TO
those on the wall, and over her arm
she carried q cheap and jaunty little
jacket, while the hat which dangled
In bar ho ,, Il xyoo o1,1,, Jaon~ot.,.J ,t,,k I,
sham feathers. Miss Macilvaine, jr.,
had d way Of always S'55ss ififiig ifiifiig tsiiy-but-
ton gloves about her shapely wrists,
and philosophically ignoring the holes
in the fingers.
"From Aunt Sally" she remarked,
unconventionally tossing letter to
Jacinth, pirouetted about once OF
twice in the very wantonness OF
spirits, slammed the shaky door, and
was gone.
Yes, it was from Rothmere. They
had not once forgotten her during
these ten long years. "Come to US,
Jacinth, child" Aunt Sarah wrote
The same old story repeated every
year, with loving persistency. But
every year new baby, or an illness
and an invalid, fretful mother, had
tied her down to duty, and so she re-
fused, with pretended cheerfulness.
"But Eve is old enough now to take
your place." Aunt Sarah wrote, "and
We long for the sight Of you. Be
SIDES. we are old women, and wht
knows when --" for q moment ia
cinth's eyes filled with unaccustomed
tears. zone has q duty to perform
even to ones SELF" she read, "and il
is the only one you have neglected
We send you check, so that you can
not have any excuse for not coming
The letter fell in her lap, and for 6
moment her heart leaped with joy al
the thought Of seeing them all again
and perhaps-why not?-seeing hin
once more, and for q moment She
grew faint and dizzy with longing
Then came the awakening.
Deliberately she placed before her
self her faded image with the toucf
Of care on her forehead; the prin
lines of her gray gown, the dawn o
old maidhood, to which she sur
rendered without struggle.
"lf should see him again and low
him, for l am so weak, so weak Oh
Jacinth, what is there in you that h,
should care for? Old, even for you
age, and careworn and faded. Better
you poor thing, the quiet of you
daily life, looking forward to no hope
than such unbearable pain"
For moment she sat quite still
when of a sudden she saw one Of he,
sisters gloves lying on the floor
Why not Eve instead of herself
Was she not as much Aunt Sara
niece? To transplant her out of
six-buttoned, ragged existence, int
the purity and peace of Rothmere
\ would be worthy of any sacrifice. Is,
"She is so pretty" Jacinth thought
with fond admiration, Just as tn,
door flew open and Eve skipped in.
"There it is" she cried, and pickle,
up the kost glove; then, giving d shak
to her founees, prepared to skip on
once more. ~. ~
Eve, wait a moment; I want {
speak to you.p ~.
| 1T just can't wait, for promised +
| walk in the cemetery .,-
EYES admirers being mostly ricl
in hope, but poor In purse, tokens Q
their devotion were mostly confne
to these lugubrious strolls, when the
did not take the form Of ice cream.
\ "My dear" Jacmth said, putin
her arm about her sister, "would 20
like to 90 to Scotland on visit ~
"Do they really want me, old girl 2
| Eve cried, in glow of delight. The
Jacinth explained that she hardl
cared to go God forgive her the tib
and Eve should go in her stead,
father and mother were willing.
| "Oh, they'll let me CO." Eve cried
in rapture, and scampered toward tn
door. But as she reached it she ra
back and flung her arms about Jacint