Waterbury evening Democrat. [volume] (Waterbury, Conn.) 1887-1895, 1891-12-31

color coming and going in her cheeks.
'Only, Michael, what will become of all
the dunderheads?"
"What does it matter what becomes
Of them?'
He spoke with an irritated air of sur
prise, and she could scarcely find cour-
age to speak again.
81 think it does matter. I know it
must be hard for a clever man to con-
slider the interests Of the stupid ones,
and yet /
81 have good deal of patience, OH
ive," said her lover, lifting his eye
brows. 81 will remind you that if we
always had to stop and consider the in
terests of the stupid ones we should
never advance at all. But won't argue
with you! 1t is always waste of time
to argue with woman. I have got to
think and act, my dear, and your part
is to trust me and enjoy the fruits of nv
toll. Most people would say that you
had no reason to complain of your lot.
Some would go so far as to call YOU q,
very lucky girl :
"And they would be quite right,
DEAR" she cried, resting a gentle hand
upon his arm. Don't think that do
not appreciate all your energy and
pluck-don't think that / am not grate1
full for your willingness to work fob
me. Only-only, I am sure we shall be
all the happier if we can honestly tell
ourselves that no one is any the worse
for our success"
He laughed, little indulgent laugh!
"By and by, when we have reached
our goal, we shan't remember the OBJ
cfoa1ac fhof wa n1nornI
path" he said gayly. 'You talk very
prettily, Olive; am pleased to hear
you express yourself so we'll. But
later on, when you have plenty of mon
ey to spend on dresses and kniclz-
knacks, you won't sing the same song.
You will give to charities, of course,
and buy things at bazaars, and patron
ize concerts, and that is all that can be
reasonably expected of you"
He did not see her disappointed look,
She had turned her face away, and was.
gazing across the park with grave, sad.
eyes. She had dreamt of a life that
was to be lived with him-a life full of
deep meaning and brave effort, a life
that was not made up of show and self
seeking. Perhaps she had not counted
much on enjoyment; her pleasures had
been simple and few, and all her ideas
of happiness were conferred in him. But
she had pictured them as working to-
gether, not for themselves only, but for
others welfare also, and in dim wav
she had realized that if we want to
know what kind of life we are living,
we must look for its reflection in the
lives around US.
81 suppose I need not caution you,''
he said after brief silence; s'but it is
important that no one should be told
anything about my plans. Don't dis
cuss my affairs with your uncle Wake;
he is man with whom I can't sympa-
thize, a. man who has wasted his capaci-
ties in an absurdly unreasonable way"
''Of course I won't tell him anything
Olive answered; ''but wish you liked
him better, Michael, for I already love
him"
"Love is valuable article and ought
not to be given away in haste" said
Michael with one of his indulgent
smiles. "But as you are to live under
his roof, it is well that you don't find
him uncomfortable. You will have feast
of books, little woman. All, that pleases
you'll"
OhO 4OOhCo Will dill Gu0 1lSnG OF
youth and Joy in her beautiful face.
SIT seems" she said, ''as if I should
never get to the end of all ny delights
Are you going to take me home now?
Well. Michael, we must go to church
this evening"" =
ITO satisfy you, suppose we must"
he replied. "You women seem to think
that you can't keep good without going
to church.
He was very kind and gracious as
they went homeward, and told her the
names Of the streets, pointing out OBJ
jects of interest with untiring good ma
ture. The Wakes did not ask where
they had been Samuel Wakes own
face frightened when he saw that his
niece looked happy. And then came
the Sunday dinner, and afterwards a
pleasant afternoon spent in a larger
sitting-room upstairs; and Olive and
Michael turned over piles of books to
their hearts content. The shopkeeper
sold secondhand volumes as well as
new ones, and Olive liked the old
books best of all. She was little dis
appointed when Michael said that he
never read any poetry nowadays.
"You used to like some of the verses
in my Christian Year," she said re-
gretfully; 81 have heard you repeat
them"
every likely; but 1 have outlived all
the poetry of life. That only comes to
us at the beginning of the Journey"
he answered.
"And at the close" said Uncle Wake
"Well, I'm not near the close YETI
Michael spoke with high good humor.
but Olive may read as many verses
as she pleases. I have got to think and
work.
81 shall work, too" said Olive, with
a quick, bright glance. 81 must begin
tomorrow"
Michaels brow darkened.
eff had my will you should not do
anything" he cried.
But you cannot have your will, dear
Michael" she answered, gently. "You
knew that I was coming here to get
work; and Uncle Wake has satisfied him
self that NV ra hlo