The morning call., 1891-07-15

home. They reached the park. Ada Grand
monts residence being near Olives, the
latter had but few steps to 90 alone before
the door of her house closed softly upon
her, and soon appeared light in her cham
Der window.
Twice Rowland sought and found oppor-
tnnlty to follow Olive in the same way.
She was always accompanied by Ada. The
temerity which enabled these choieely bred
young girls to repeat this walk night after
night. in all kinds of weather, was equaled
only by the wonder of their doing 1t. They
did not seem to attract any atten ton, to be
conscious Of danger from insult, though
their light gliding steps carried them past
many spots of peril. Their manner,
though Observant, was reserved. No,
through all these strange nightly jaunts,
Roland never doubted Olives motives to be
innocent-their object pure as unknown.
but he was lost in perplexity.
be had not yet revealed what he had seen
to Olives father. He wished first to dis
cover more. and was sure he should, when,
on the fourth night, retracing their steps
precisely over the same route, the girls over
took man, and, passing with him into one
OF the houses, were lost to sight. 1t was
rather poor lodging-hois Here they re-
manned for over an hour.
The next evening they met and sought
the same house, which they entered. Then
Roland went to Mr.. Seton and revealed
what he knew.
"You are sure she went this way, Ro-
iand?-down this common street-and at
this late heur?'
Quite sure"
And went into this poor place?-is
there now?"
Yes. Mr.. Seton. Will you rng?'
Mr.. Seton rang at the door of the poor
lodging-house. A shabby maid answered
the summons.
You Just admitted two young ladies'" he
said: Where are they?'
No. 5, sir; Mr.. Aubert's room, SIR"
She pointed to door down the passage,
and unceremoniOusly left them.
The door was evidently unintentionally
ajar. for low voices within were earnestly
talking.
Not now, when you are sick. Victor?''
No, not now, when | am sick. Ada.
You cannot say that he has ever expressed
wish for my return"
Mr.. Seton caught his breath at the two
voices.
mo, but know father is heart-broken
at your absence. Victor. He would give
the world If there had been no quarrel.
Dear brother, don't refuse! let IN. tell him
you are here. Ever since Ada believed she
saw you from her fathers carriage, coming
down this fOrlorn street. we have searched
Tor you with that hope-tO urge you back
hope. We searched and waited SO long
dear! but could not give you up, while Ada
was so sure you had come into one of these
houses. Oh, Vlctori have you not suffered
enough. trying to gain livelihood for which
you have no trainng-aluost starving-ill,
now-have you not endured enough, my
dear brother, to come back home and ask
| papa's pardon for your own heat and dis
| respect. forgetting his anger? If he were
harsh, he loves you-" She broke down
| crying.
He loves you, my son." added the father,
coming into the room. LET NE ask. your
pardon for my
mo, no, fatherW cried poor, pale Victor
Seton, springng from the bed; and they
| We're all crying together-all five, | believe,
but there was no uninterested observer to
| make record.
1t was true, as Olive had said, that Victor
had no training for life of poverty. He
was almost starving us a music teacher.
His first experience of the worlds hardships
had been bitter indeed.
Father aud son had learned lesson. At
Il and 81 years OF age both had learned the
same, and passion no longer dominates the
Sections. Love rules instead, and not one
OF the large and increasing family is more
dear than the sister and daughter who
brought about the reconciliation with such
difficulty. Large. because while Mr. Seton
had never withheld his consent for Olive
marrying Roland. he as will ngIy gave it for
the union of Victor and brown-eyed, faith
full little Ada-and the children of all rise
up and call them bles sed.-Selected.