The Princeton union. [volume] (Princeton, Minn.) 1876-1976, 1892-11-10
81 must, if she will go with you
willingly Evremont said, broken

81 must, if she will go with you
willingly Evremont said, broken
".
The June afternoon was bright, the
June roses hanging in asvivid clusters
as they had that morning q week be-
fore, when Olive Evremont had pelted
Vance Whitney with them. But Olive
herself as she came out under their
dropping fragrance, and entered the
waiting carriage, was driven away to
her future home, the grand, gloomy
house in whcih Vance Whitney lived
had changed very much in that short
week. She looked pale and ill, poor.
child, and there were great dark rings
about the soft, bright eyes. Vance
Whitney led her into the house with
stately and ceremonious politeness,
as though she had already been the
wife he meant her to become.
Have you learned already to hate
me, Oliver" he asked.
tI don't hate you, SIR" she said,
timidly lifting her soft blue eyes to his;
'I'm just sorry for you, and m
afraid OF you, too"
He was touched. Old and tender
memories pressed upon him in aHood.s
You are complete mistress here.
| Olive. am a lonely, sad man, but /
mean to try to make you happy"
And that was the beginning of that
strange adoption of Olive Evremont
| by Vance Whitney.
He kept his word. Every indulgence
every qualification that money or
| the most watchful kindness could pro-
cure for her, Olive had She saw her
own family, too, often as she chose,
! though never in the presence OF her
strange guardian, and she grew in time
quite at home in the grand house
which her coming seemed to fill with
sunshine. N.Y. :@@
AS Olive. grew older and recognized
slowly what that fate was to which
she was destined, she grew silent and
shy, and uncommunicative, even with
! her mother. ra*1 #
At eighteen she was as much love-
! lier than Olive Lester, her mother, had
been: as moss rose tree is lovelier
than it's palmer sisters whose stems
are unsheathed in velvety emerald.
1t was another June afternoon when
Vance Whitney sought her presence in
the pretty boudoir. She expected
him.
| She lifted the silky black eyelashes,
and dropped them again quickly at
sight OF him, not noting that he look
| ed like man who had passed the night
in watching. S- = .
"Olive," he said, taking her hand
gently. a.
| But she drew it away from him.
| He shut his eyes a moment, and his
face whitened little Then he went
on:
II have learned to love you in these
years as [ believe man never loved
woman before. Till lately, thought
nothing could make me yield you.
But will not have aloveless wife. My
child, you are as free as though you
had never seen me-"
He put q sealed envelope in her
hand, directed to Ernest Evremont
and said, "The carriage waits your
commands" and he left her.
"Free from that hateful bond-free, !"
she murmured, dashing the tears from
her eyes, and wondering what made
her heart sink so. "Now for home
dear, dear home." .- rs
But she cried all the way, try as she
would not to. ="
They were surprised somewhat at
home to see her, but glad, and heard
her story with varied emotions.
Ernest Evremont, as he dropped up
on the flames the little paper to which
he had wrongfully, and to SUCH lasting
punishment, Iput another's name, drew
! !, 10 III, ~ L. L.
Suddenly she lifted her beautiful
eyes, dim with tears, her little hands
extended in entreaty: :.
| "Papa, mamma. Pm going back.
Come with me to tell him what I
never, never cam"
Vance Whitney sat in his lone dark
library, just as he had sat ever since
he saw the last glimpse OF Olive enter
ing the carriage-his attitude hopeless,
his eyes seeing only vacancy.
| Mrs. Evremont could hardly see
him for tears; his desolate life had
. been living reproach to her. :.
''Vance," she said gently, her voice
broken, my little girl cannot be hap
py away from you. She wants to
come back ana live with you always.
May she?"
He turned with flash, voice|essly
extending his arms. A slender little
figure glided from the shadows by the
door and nestled in them, sobbing., =.
'You don't love me?" he question
en- incredulously, holding her close.
eyes, do; DO; I do; but if you
hadn't sent me away from you, Pm
afraid l should never have found it
| out" * L
So the old pain and wrong were
swallowed up at last in overwhelming
joy,-C. c. III New York News.