Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1889-09-21
GREAT-AUNT SARAH.

She was knitting in . somewhat lsisursly
fashion before . comfortable Ere in the cid
wainssstsd parler right under The portrait Of
her Great-aunt Sarah. A. she sat there no one
could fail to be struck BY The likeness between
the living and the pictured face; in both the
same delicate oval shape ana colorless tint,
the same clsar-cut aristocratic nose great gray
eyes and sensitive mouth. the same finely
arched brows black as the hair which shaded
| them. But with these outward features the re-
semblance ended. Miss Frances Latimer's had
nothing of the fire, the indomitable energy
and power of the older face; there was more
patience, gentleness, and, if less pride, more
soft and womanly dignity in the expression
| and bearing of the younger woman. With her
| slight, tall figure bent little forward in her
high, old-fashioned chair. her long white fingers
moving gently about the coil OF wool on her
lap, Miss Frances, for all her thirty-three years.
was a young and attractive picture enough.
| Her thoughts were wholly retrospective and
| tinged with little melancholy. She still wore
| mourning for her Great-aunt Sarah, the last
| near relative she had in the world, the woman
| who had taken her as pititul little orphan to
| the old ancestral home, and had been all the
| father mother sister and brother the girl had
ever known. The proud, stern woman had
| idolized this child. the last member of one of
| the oldest families in the county and had
thought nothing too good for her darling. All
| that care and money could do had been done
| for the little Frances; her education had been
OF the best. above her natural abilities. indeed.
and it had left her well-bred gentlewoman
with delicate and somewhat artistical tastes
| rather than a cultivated and brilliant genius.
| As the girl grew to womanhood her social posi-
tlon. the fact that she would be something of an
helress, and, perhaps more than these. her
dainty charm OF person and manner, brought
several suitors for her hand. She was gracious
and kindly to ALL but her heart remained I'M
| touched. and old Madam Latimer was well con-
tent to have 1t SO. Her own married life had
been none of the happiest; she had had no
children and the current idea was that this dis
appointment had embittered her husband
against her. Be this as it may, it is certain
| that his death left her with a soured. warped
Judgment of men and matrimony, and it would
have needed strong feeling on the part of
Frances and superexcellent qualities on the
part OF her sultor to reconcile the old lady to
her marriage with one of the despised sex.
Birth, fortune, looks, morals and manners must
ali be or the best In the man lucky enough to
win Frances. As year after year went By and
she reached her twenty-fifth still unmarried the
neighbors began to despair, when suddenly her
fate met her in the shape of a penniless
sailor, the youngest son of a country squire
OF no great social pretensions, who came on
| a visit to his cousins, the vicar OF Latimer
and his wife, and who fell head over ears in
love with the daughter of the Great house at
first sight of her on Sunday in the family pew
Frances, for her part, had seen tall, CON-
handing figure, and a plain. frank face. re-
deemed by unmistakable intellect. and pair of
extremely beautiful. kindly eyes. and had little
by little allowed herset to be won by finer
nature and cleverer mind than any that had yet
paid court to her. The relations between the
Great house and the vicarage were all that
was pleasant aRd cordial; Mr.. and Mrs Gra-
ham spent at kst one evening every week with
Madam and Miss Frances or vice versa, and
common courtesy demanded the extension of
welcome to their guest, the young lieutenant
Then Frances had her district to visit and this
necessarily eIfsailed running into the vicarage
on the way and asking advice from the vicar
or good Mrs Graham. OF these opportunities,
1t is needless to say, Jack Fanshawe awaited
himself literally, and yet with such happy tact
that Madam Latimer never even suspected the
state of affairs between the young people; so
blind are We when We most need our eyes
Ii good Mrs. Graham had her supicions she
kept them to herself. Jack had not taken her
into his confidence and as yet his love making
though serious enough, had been of tacft.
undemonstratiye character upon which one
could not easily dogmatiZe. She did not see
how he could very well speak plainly; his posi-
ton as penniless sailor, with nothing to look
to outside his profession, made it impossible
His prospects in his profession were bright
enough; he had always succeeded in every
thing he undertook from his first attempts to
walk and talk, but his expectations were hardly
proportionate to Frances Latimer's birth and
fortune; But in reasoning thus Mrs. Graham
overlooked the very qualities which had
hitherto been the main factors in Fanshawe's
suceess-a simple directness of purpose a
quiet knowledge of his own power and strength
OF will, and fine youthful scorn of mere
worldly obstacles.
Jack, though a modest man, had some reason
to thinks that Frances cared for him, and he
was not going to leave Latimer without secur-
ing. if possible, the greatest desire of his life
the woman he loved. The night before his de-
parture he and the Grahams dined at the Great
house. He had had telegram that afternoon
calling him home but neither Mrs. Latimer
nor Frances had any idea OF his intention of
leaving.
He determined to speak to the latter some
time during the evening. and as usual fortune
favored him. Owing to some little contretemps
in the kitchen dinner was delayed for half an
hour and as the evening was fine madam pro-
posed stroll about the garden and look at
her roses, OF which she was justly proud. The
garden was bounded and crossed by walks
hedged in with old yews some 10 or ~ feet
high, and down one of these alleys, out of sight
OF the elders, still appraising roses on the lawn
Jack contrived to lead Miss Latimer. The
sunset was still red above them, and
the air was sweet with the scent of
lavender and roses Into the bosom of
her simple white gown Frances had fast
ened a deep red carnation; it was the only
touch of color about her. As she moved SLOWLY
down the walk, her soft skirts trailing behind
her, she looked so like some lovely, innocent
angel that Jacks purpose fell before q sense of
his own shortcomings and a reverence for her
purity. All his bold plans crumbled to moth
ing but a confused feeling of impotence a
tongue-tied helplessness very foreign to his
nature. He paced beside her, looking any
where but at her. Frances made no effort to
break the silence between them (she was al
ways quiet person., and at last in sheer des-
peration he said abruptly:
Il am going away for good tomorrow"
"Going away!
The sudden uplifting of her startled gray
eyes, the touch Of surprised pain in her voice,
the rush Of color to her pale face, BETRAYED
Frances secret. Another moment more and
she knew that she had betrayed herself. In an
agony Of shame she moved away from him. but
the brief sight Of her face as she turned un-
locked Fanshawe's tongue. - =, g.
He caught her hand and drew her toward
him with gentle force.
MY darling little girl-Frances! tell me you
love me before 60. Tell me may hope. I
never, never can tell you how much / love you,
how l worship and reverence you. Frances,
speak to me. Don't keep me in suspense" he
added, his eagerness lending touch Of COM
mand to his voice.
For all answer Frances lifted her sweet
proud face, pale now with feeling too deep
for shame or bushes, and looked him straight
In the eyes. For a moment he held her SO and
then caught her in his arms.
1t was night Of heaven to both and how