Waterbury evening Democrat., 1892-01-08
OLIVE,
BY SARAH DoUDNEY.
CHAPTER XVI. nIn LOVEa

OLD LOVES.
 Winter days have come at last; the plane-trces in the old churchyard of the Savoy was stripped of leaves, the ash showed only lattice-worll of bare boughs; but tho grass was freshly green, and the ivy spread it's beautiful tapestry over the bank that sloped sharply down to the chapel walls. The gray tower stood up against n grayer sky, but the sunshine of n contcntcd mind lay warm on Olives life.
 It seemed to be the most natural thing in tho world for Steward Ayl- stone to join her as they came out of chapel on Sundays. They always talked to each other in friendly fash ion; yet on her side there was little reserve, on his great deal of defer cncc. Olive was not girl who wore her heart upon her sleeve. It was very faithful heart, it's deep wounds were even now scarcely healed, and she carried it securely locked up in her own bosom. As to Seaward, he had al- ways been rather grave young man, who had chosen to live his own life and work hard at his profession. But it had never been a selfish life, and the fame that he had won had not been gained at the cost of better things.
 Their talk about Lucy had brought them nearer together than anything else could have done. Her portrait was hanging now on the wall of Olives little room, and its presence there gave her a sense of quiet companionship.
 All was quiet in Olives life now thoughts, friendships, hopes, were all of the most tranquil kind. The calm that had first fallen on her spirit within the chapel walls had never passed away, the chaplain's voice still led her forth beside the waters of com fort" and day after day she proved that it was:
 Better to have quiet grief than a hurrying
 delight;
 Better the twilight of the dawn than the noon.
 day burning bright"
 One day Aaron Fcnlallc came to see her again. He had found work to do, but the wages were small, and he looked sadly wan and wasted. There was no need to tell her that Michael was mar ricd; she had seen the announcement of his marriage in the paper, and no further tidings of him had ever reached her ears. But Aaron had watched op- portunities, and had even hung about old Mir. Battersby's great house at Hampstead to find out how things went on.
 "Why are you anxious to kuow?" Olive asked. ''I think it is best to be n ignorance. Let him alone; we have nothing more to do with him, Aaron"
 Il want to sec whether the wicked will always flourish like the green bay tree" he answered grimly. II am waiting for the time when he will be withcrcd up, root and branch. Hasn't he spoiled your life and mine?"
 No" she said; ''it is our own fault it our lives arc spoiled, not his. We are fools, Aaron, if we will not build a new house because the old palace is q ruin. Are we to waste our time in sitting among tho fragments of shattered hopes and mourning over thcm?'
 "That is just what am doing every day" replied Aaron.
 And that is just what you must not do. Aaron, why can't you leave off breeding over your wrongs? Is your heart so full of hate that there is no room for love in it?"
 He was silent, and she went on.
 Have you forgotten Jane? I hear that Robert Steel Is expected home in the spring. Aaron, the most faithful heart cannot wait and trust for ever if no sign is given"
 His gloomy face flushed, and sudden light glcamcd in lis eyes. The little shaft had sped home al 7t.
 'Instcad of waiting to sec Michael withcred up root and branch-a thing which never will come to pass, hope why not make sure of one good thing while it may still be had? Why not go back to the old village and revive the old love? l wish, Aaron, that you could get some work to do in the country"
 II have never thought Cf trying" he said, struck by the idea.
 Tt would be good for you to get out of London. Promise mo, Aaron, that you will write toyour old acquaintances in Petcrsield. There may be somc- thing for you to do."
 II will think of it, Olivc," he replied
 No, don't think of it-do it. Some how your thinking always ends in