Waterbury evening Democrat., 1891-12-26

Our old vicar took him in hand and
helped him, and lent him books. Then
he went to be clerk at Petersfeld, and
and there he became acquainted with
German who taught him his language.
French he had learned already from Mad
emoiselle, who lived at the vicarage; in
deed, there is scarcely anything too
hard for him; and then came letter
from Aaron Fenlalze, who is foreman
in Battersby's works in London He
told Michael that Battersby wanted
corresponding clerk, and advised him to
try for the post. And he did try and
got it,
"Who is Aaron Fenlake?'' Lucy
asked.
''Have not told you about Aaron?"
said Olive, whose eyes and cheeks were
bright with excitemeht s.He is the
son of old Fenlake at the inn. A quiet,
slow fellow, but as good as gold and as
true as steel, and devoted to Michael.
Those two were always friends when
they were little boys"
And they are friends still?''
Lucy put the question in languid
voice, but there was something in
Olives answer that aroused her atten-
ton.
YES" the girl said, family, and with
deepening flush. sob! yes, they are
friends still.''
Lucy watched her and saw the signs
of inward tumult in those delicately
cut features. She understood that
Olive was determined to defend her
lover at any cost, even the cost of her
own convictions. She was just as GER
tain that Michael had given his friend
the cold shoulder as If it had been plain
ly avowed, and she knew that Olive
could not think of his conduct to Aaron
without pain.
"Ah! remember that you said some
thing about this Aaron and Jane Chal-
lock" she remarked, after pause.
aaron is in love with Jane" Olive
answered; 'sbut he is too shy to ask her
to wait for him. wish he would speak
out for James sake"
Lucy, with her proud, impatient
nature, had wondered sometimes at
Olives sisterly feeling for the Challock
girls. There was no one in the village
who had not been surprised at the
second marriage of Olives mother,
the widow Winfield. Why a woman
with her natural refinement should
have taken rough Tom Challock was
mystery indeed; and yet such mysteries
are found everywhere. Tom was a
widower with two daughters of his
own, and the girls seemed to take more
kindly to Olive than he did. For in his
coarse way he let her see that he did
not want her under his roof, and she
secretly longed to find shelter else
where. By and by, perhaps sooner
than she dared to expect, Michael
would have made home for his
promised wife; but, meanwhile, the
waiting was as hard as Tom Challock
could make it. And already Lucy
Cromer had suggested that it would be
better to go away and earn her own
bread far off than live in her step
fathers cottage.
"Have you said anything to Michael
about my plan?" Lucy asked, after an
other pause.
"No," replied Olive, with a sigh.
'sThe time was so short, you know; and
if it came to nothing he would be disap-
pointed. All! if it could only be carried
out, how happy should be, Lucy!'
81 believe it will be carried out"
Lucy said, quietly.
Her eyes were gazing through the lit
tie window at the bit of evening sky
that could be seen under the heavy
thatch. The sun had gone down, leav-.
ing that pure and peaceful light that
belongs to the evenings Of early spring,
and Lucy seemed to gaze as if she
could never have enough of it's beauty.
One or two slight tendrils were outlined
darkly and delicately upon that clear
background, and once or twice they
trembled little at the breath of soft
wind. Olive sat silently on her stool
by the couch, her hands were clasped
round her knees, her heart had gone
out after her lover, travelling away