The Irish standard., 1892-02-13

tatters of the Virginia creeper were torn
from the cottage walls, and no gold and
russell leaves were left for Olive to
weave into garlands; but there was al
ways plenty of ivy for her quick fingers
TO practice upon. And then, too, there
was other work to be done: in the long
evenings Mrs. Hooper and Olive sat and
sewed together, and grew font. of each
other in their loneliness. The wind
moaned and whistled round their little
dwelling: by and by the snow fell, and
they felt themselves cut Off altogether
from the great world. But these dreary
days passed away. and Olive woke one
morning to find that the wintry earth
was full of promise of spring.
Michael was looking forward eagerly
to her coming His letters spo|S, OF the
glorions future that was opening out be-
fore them both AS usual, he had a
great deal to say about himself, and not
one word of Aaron, although poor Jane
was hungering for news
''Aaron has not written to me for
long time,'' said Jane, with tears in her
ewes. ''Oh, Olive, shall be glad now
when you are gone to London. You will
see him. and ask him why he neglects
old friends"
you shall know everything, Jane, .
Olive answered. "Only keep brave
heart, dear. don't think Aaron viii
be reserved with me. The sight of an
East1neon face will thaw the ice that
has gathered round his heart"
God grant it may be SOL Jane
sighed. "But ! have thought lately
that my old dream would never come
true. I have thought that perhaps
was not meant for Aaron, nor Aaron
for me- Maybe i should not make
him happy if we were married; am
easily depressed, and should feel just
as he felt; all his moods would be
minc.''
Olive was silent for a moment.
Through all her anxiety to insure James
happiness. there he'd sometimes flashed
such thoughts as these. A stronger,
more 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 fears. And yet how
seemed for her to go on living without
him!
eve must have patience, Jane" she
said at last, in her sweet voice. Il
suppose" she added, with a sudden
smile, that yon never give a thought
to your first lover? You have quite
forgotten Robert Steele?''
"Robert Steele!' James tone was al
most scornfu]. He was only boy,
Olive
"He was 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 a fine man in Robert
HE was q, bright lad enough" Jane
said, indifferently. But who would
think twice OF 81 lads fancy? It comes
and goes like q butterfly. Aaron is the
only man ] have ever taken into my
heart, Olive, and | thought-aye, I BE-
Heuetz-that he loved me-
s'Believe it STILL Olive replied. cat
any rate, believe it til, have seen him
and talked with him.
AL 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
chael had fixed on train that would
get to London at six in the evening; at
that hour he could meet her convenient
ly and take her to Uncle Wakes house.
The first OF May came On Saturday,
which was the best day for Michael,
and so it was all settled, and every body
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 gurgle Of the little Neon
made music in her as she turned to-
wards the village. She was happy, in
tensely happy in the strong hope and
confidence of girlhood; the prospect of
the journey and the beginning of city
life did not t2ishearten her in the least.
And vet she was conscious OF new and
strange affection for everything that
belonged to the life that she must leave
behind. She felt herself clinging to the
simplest and commonest things, looking
lovingly at the cushions Of velvet moss
and bright little ferns that grew on the
stones of the old bridge, watching the
rush of the swift water with dimmed
eyes.
The churchyard is lifted high above
the hamlet, and a narrow path runs
across it to the steep hill that towers,
sentinel-like, above the church. 1t is a
quiet place, free from all so1tnd Of ac-
tive and stirring humanity, and the
fresh April lights and delicate shadows
fall tender1y on the gray stones and
grass. The sun was just going down
when Olive stood by Lucy's grave; it
was calm sunset, clear and golden; a.
soft wind scented with violets blew
cold and sweet from the west.
Standing there, and looking down
upon the mound, she felt that she had
never loved her friend better than she
did at this moment, and yet she shed no
tears. Death is not always disunion;
there is a parting which seems to leave
us with deeper, more intimate knowl-