The Press., 1891-10-08


 and over:
 "'Love, long tried and cherished long, Becomes more tender and more strong"
 There was pathetic ring to her voice which told more than she knew. It did not escape Phil. He sprang up with some of his old-time energy and said, ''I must go to the city tomorrow to see Paul."
 "You must not, Phil; he respects my no, and is content"
 "He is not content" said Phil, stoutly; II know that man now; and was stupid ly content myself. While we were abroad 8 thousand things might have told me his story. Paul must come to us; you need not go away; for here among his native hills he can wolk out his own ideals and leave only when he must"
 "Phil, dear, 1t sounds 8 little, a little," -Maida paused-it was difficult to voice her thought.
 "A little what, sisterp"
 ''As if you were glad to let me go; al- most anxious to have me marry Paul"
 Mot to have you go, dear, that will not be, for I know Paul too we'll, but anxious, yes, more than anxious, delight ed to know that you will receive the lov- ing care you have so nobly given others, and that Paul will be happy with you and you with him. I could not miss you, dear, with such brother; no tinge of jealousy can ever trouble us, for the more Paul loves my brave sister Maida, the more shall love Paul. Come dear, let us go to mother; when my great sorrow came to me and made me speechless, you guided me to her, and now we will go to her to proclaim your joy"
 Again they went hand in hand, as they had done in childhood, and again the mother-love compassed all their hopes and joys and fears.
 Paul did not need a second bidding, and when Mrs. Hale greeted him as "my dear son." he knew that he had won his hearts desire.
 Maida was serenely happy. If "the Blessed" and papa, and dear Phil, and even Bess and MT. Calcott thought it was quite right for her to consider her own happiness, then she would change the mo" of duty to the ives" of joy.
 There was general rejoicing in Shiloh when the engagement was made known. Strange to say, not one adverse comment was made.
 Paul, the now prosperous artist, had been Maida's lover since the day when he had found her weeping over his mothers careless words; but no human being knew his heart, until, he revealed it to her one day, at the old sketching ground at Bubble Brook.
 Nancy and Mir Burchmore were nearly iqsane with joy. When Paul took Maida to them telling them that she would be his wife in few short months, the father laughed and cried by turns as he pressed their hands, while Nancy talked for both.
 Lord love-" said she, 1T have just prayed an prayed for this. Maida, dear, have hankered to have you in our fami- ly ever since come into it myself. There's nothing too good for you and Paul and I don't mind tellin' you that I've had drawn-in mat ready for you these two years," ..
 Shiloh turned out on the wedding day in gay attire. Children came because they loved the girl who had taught them in Sunday-schdpl and had cared for them as babies; old women came heeauset they knew her as loving daughter and con- siderate friend; and old men gathered in groups to say that 'it was all along of her, that Si Burchmore was now good man and happy one;" and the young men said, in audible tones, that "Paul was lucky fellow, and they only hoped he wouldn't take her away out of town" AS for the girls, the young and the old, Maida's schoolmates and younger gen eration, they could not do enough for the squire's daughter. The old church was decorated as never before; the organ, | which Maida had played for two years, giving her services to the parish, was l crowned from highest pipe to base with
 
 bride must stand to take upon herself the VOWS so sacred and tender to every true man and woman, long festoons of white flowers hung suspended from the grim old pulpit, and vines ran riot over the sound ing board, which had not been touched by hand of man for years before. At Glenridge, the mother was watching her child as the family gathered about her for church.
 Mother and daughter had said their own tender farewell until the ceremony was over, when Glenridge would be open to all who chose to come. Mrs. Hale, for the first time in years, wore dainty gown of lilac silk, all the prettier for its contact with the draperies of her movable bed. The slight flush which crept into her checks spoke only of her happiness for herself and children. Her heart ached only as she looked at Phil, who bore his blindness that day as a heavy burden. "Oh, Phil!" exclaimed Bessie, thought lessly, as she threw back the folds of her sisters veil, eff you could only see her; she Is the loveliest, dearest b1ide!" Poor Phil found this speech almost more than he could bear; but his voice had not one tinge of petulance, as he said, "Do not make 1t harder for me, Bess |; this is my heaviest cross since blindness came. Tell me how she looks, Paul " Before Paul could reply, Maida sprang to her brothers side and threw her arms about his neck. The attendants vainly told her that she would crush her dress, but Phil was more than all beside, and Bessie's speech had hurt Maida, for his sake. . ~ ...
 t'I will tell you myself, Phil, darling ; 1t is the same little sister you must always I boa t..~l. !