Waterbury evening Democrat., 1891-12-29
happiness,

such thoughts as these. A stronger,
moro self-confident woman might have
led Aaron out of his gloom by the force
of her will. But Jane, gentle and tim
Orous, could only sit beside him in the
shadow of his own fea-5. And yet how
we'll She loved him! How impossible it
seemed for her to go on living without
him,
1--WE must have patience, Jane" she
said at last, in her sweet voice. Il
suppose she added, with d sudden
smile, that you never give thought
to your first lover? You have quite
forgotten Robert Steele?"
Robert Stcclel'' James tone was al
most scorrful. HE was only boy.
Olive"
He was Il boy when he went away,
four years ago. But if you could see
him now, Jane, you might have more
respect for him. There was the MAX
ing of . fine man in Robert
lie was a bright lad enough" Jane
said, indifferently. but who would
think twice of lads fancy? 1t comes
and goes like butterfly. Aaron is the
only man I have ever taken into my
heart, Olive, and l thought-aye, be-
hgrtd-that he loved me-"
"Bclicvc it STILL" Olive replied. cat
any rate, believe it till have seen him
and talked with him"
All Olives simple arrangements were
completed before April came to an end,
and it was decided that She was to go
up to town on the first of May. Mi
chacl had fixed on train that would
get to London at six in the evening; at
that hour nc could meet her convenient
" and take her to Uncle Wakes house
The first of May came on a Saturday,
which was the best day for Michael,
and so it was all settled, and everybody
seemed to be satisfied.
On Friday evening, after the last
stitch was set and the last thing packed,
Olive kissed Mrs. Hooper and whispered
| that she would go alone to the church
yard and say good-by to Lucy's grave.
The fresh gurglo of the little Neon
made music in her as she turned to-
wards the village. She was happy, in
tenscly happy in the strong hope and
confidence of girlhood; the prospect of
the journey and the beginning of city
life did not dishcarten her in the least.
And vet She was conscious of anew and
strange affection for everything that
belonged to the life that she must leave
behind. She felt herself clinging to the
simplest and commonest t. .ings, looking
lovingly at the cushions OF velvet moss
and bright little ferns that grew on the
/ stones of the old bridge, watching the
i. rush of the swift water with dimmed
eyes.
The churchyard is lifted high above
the hamlet, and narrow path runs
across it to the steep hill that towers,
sentincl-lil5c, above the church. 1t is Il
quiet place, free from all sound of ac-
tive and stirring humanity, and the
fresh April lights and delicate shadows
fall tcndcrly on the gray stones and
grass. The sun was just going down
when Olive stood by Lucy's grave; il
was Il calm sunset, clear and golden; &
soft wind scented with violets blew
cold and sweet from the west.
Standing there, and looking down
upon the mound, she felt that she ha6
never loved her friend better than she
did at this moment, and yet she shed NJ
tears. Death is not always disunion
there is a parting which stems to leave
us with deeper, more intimate lnOwl
edge Of the one who has gone before
There are certain questions which arc
answered, or answer themselves, il
silence and absence. Much of Lucy's
history, now unknown to her, was YET
TO be revealed, but the influence o
their long companionship was still {
living influence in Olives mind, and Il
was teaching her many things.