The Dalles daily chronicle. [volume] (The Dalles, Or.) 1890-1948, 1891-05-11

the pr1ln. Old fashioned sofa. the face of
the woman illumined with joy, her eyes
looking tenderly into those of the man.
her hands placed caressingly on his shonl-
ders. In her mind the passing years
had brought no thought of change in
him she loved: she had watched for the
same stalwart young figure. the same
snnny face she had parted from.
Archie quickly took in the situatic 1.
and felt the cruelty of undeceiving her.
Better to le;sye her shattered mind test
firm in the belief that her own Archie
had returned as he had promised than to
attempt explanations. even if she would
have understood them. He determined
to act the part rs well as he was able.
She piled him with questions as to his
health. the voyage, etc., and he answered
with whatever apt fiction came to him.
taking her hands in his and smiling back
into her dimmed eyes.
You seem to have been gone long
time, Archie. How long?' She paused
and put her hand to her head. "A year
was it a whole year? Yes, perhaps as
much as year. 1t confuses me to try
to remember-but therei no matter, you
are here. How long it seems since you
gave me the rose that night and said
goodbyi"
She arose and took down from shelf
behind her an old volume in red and
gold. opened it,carefully it and held it out
to him
You remember how you broke it
from the bush at the gate and fastened
it in my hair?" Her voice trembled with
excitement. There it is, pressed in my
annual, the one you gave me. I have
kept it to show you"
Archie took the book and bent over it
Z On the open. yellow page lay long
stemmed rose, withered and brown with
age, the last gift of the Archie of long
ago.
1T has turned brown while you have
been across the sea and back again
The young girl listening outside caught
the quivering strain in the voice, and
fearing the effect of the unusual excite
ment upon her aunt now appeared at
the door.
Come in, Oracle. come inI l have
visitor to introduce to you" She took
the girl by the hand and led her into the
room This is brother Johns daugh-
ter, Mr.. Armitage. Oracle, this is my
old friend. Archie Armitage, who has
just come from England. We have
been talking over old times" In her ex-
cited JOY all sense of incongruity seemed
lost to her.
The young people exchanged swift
glance of intelligence as they bowed to
each other. and Grace said to her aunt:
Don't you think you are trife tired
now. auntie? Perhaps you and Mr.. Ar
mitage had better wait until tomorrow
to continue your talk? You know you
have not been very we'll
The white haired woman looked
thoughtfully from one to the other.
Yes" she said slowly, sit is probably
somewhat late. | will send him away
shortly. Will you tell your father he
has arrived. dear?'
Papa knows Mr.. Arrnitage is here.
auntie." replied Grace. land 1 will go
back with him across the lawn. To
morrow you'll have a long day together
Yes, perhaps that is best seem
somewhat dizzy It has been so excit
her brow slowly with her hand and sat
down in her easy chair. You'll come
in the morning.
help you dress: but you must get quiet
u.
And, Oracle. I'll put ON my blue fig
ured gown he used to like to see me in,
and the broad garden hat. and we'n have
the morning on the lawn. | shall have
to show him all the old hooks and cor
ners, and we1l have SO much to say, so
much to tell each other"
She looked up at Archie with a look of
exquisite tenderness. and he bent and
kissed her reverently. DO not rise," he
said: ''you are overtired and we will
have SO much to talk of tomorrow. Good
night. He followed Grace to the door,
and as he closed j. behind him on the
picture of the head bent over the
withered rose, ht thought how much
they were alike. the woman and the
flower
When Grace opened the door of the
old wing the next morning she stopped
abruptly. The lamp still burned on the
table, and beside it in the easy chair sat
her aunt as they had left her, but with
closed eyes. and an odd, happy look of
youth upon her face, still holding in her
lifeless hand the stem of the rose, its
fragile petals lying scattered among the
soft folds of her dress and on the floor
about her.-Charles, Edwin Kinkead in
Pittsburg Bulletin.