The Democratic advocate. [volume] (Westminster, Md.) 1865-1972, 1892-10-15

''Oh, how well she knew that old story
the poor little story which Miss Grace ha,
worn threadbare by almost constant repeti
ton; and, worse than all else, how wei
practical Miss Farnham knew that all tn
romance founded on that story had been
sad mistake so far as Oliver Dean was con
cerned She knew too well that out of al
Miss Grace's long ago admirers this hand
some young ne'er-do-weel had never for
moment cherished one serious thought o
love for the girl who had, all unknown t.
him, given her young heart into his care
less keeping.
She had loved, and he had gone away
as is too frequently the manner of the
contrary individuals who people this per
picking world of ours-and there most as
suredly the matter should have ended; but
no, Miss Grace, through all the quiet, un
eventful years which had worn away since
that all important summer day, had still
obstinately cherished calm, unalterable
belief that Oliver Deane would come back
again to her, and this belief was founded
merely on a few thoughtless words which
he, at leaast, had forgotten as soon as they
were uttered.
"Wait till have made my fortune, he
had said half-laughingly, "and then | shall
come back to this sleepy little village and
look for wife; and you, Oracle, must be
waiting here for me"
Poor Miss Grace For the sake of
these few words she had turned aside from
the giddy paths of Irritation which possess
such powers of keen fascination for the
young and fighty; for their sake she had
suddenly sobered down from a gay and
careless girl into grave, sedate woman;
for their sake she had chosen to live life
of single blessedness: and now-more pite-
GUS than all besides-she, as an old, faded,
worn out woman, was still clinging with
resolute foolishness to the belief that some
where or other, near or far, her truant
lover was toiling late and early for her
sake, just as faithfully as she watched late
and early for his coming. She would far,
far rather have doubted her religion than
the fact that Oliver Deane was coming soon,
very soon, to redeem his promise.
When she was younger she had fretted
with all the natural impotence of youth at
the tardiness of her lover; her bright face
had grown pale and sad as she waited for
the news of him which never came, and
her merry brown eyes had ofttimes grown
dim with tears at the weariness of their
useless watching; but then as the years
crept on, instead of losing all hope and
resigning herself to the inevitable, Miss
Grace, strange to say, grew still firmer in
Was Close at hand. All the world might
be false, but Oliver Deane would never
break his werd to her.
So as every hour, every day, week,
and year passed over her head she
reioiced. for they seemed to bring him
nearer. She possessed one Keepsake of
this supposed lover of hers, wee painted
miniature -enshrined in Il large and
abominable gold and turquoise locket--
which showed that Oliver Deane had been
quite handsome enough to turn many
Urls foolish head. 1t made him out as
having frank, manly, Saxon face, with
irreproachable features and fine blue-gray
eyes, and bright golden hair and moustache
which might have almost explained Miss
Grace S otherwise unaccountable weakness
and folly.
This, then, and a few careless words had
fed the fire of her love for years-poOr
Miss Grace
81 still am sure" observed Miss Grace
after a long pause, and with an involuntary
SIGH. .that Oliver Deane will soon be here
now"
Rubbish exclaimed Miss Farnham
vigorously; then in an argumentative tone !:
''It is improbable-impossible that such a
thing should occur; and, besides, even if
he did come to see us, just consider how
changed we should find each other. Think
what his age must be, and how altered he
would be to when last We saw him.
"No matter what his age or appearance
NAV be. Stella" answered little Miss Grace
with gentle dignity, "0liver Deane will be
the same to me always.
"H'm!' grunted Miss Farnham con-
temptuously; "but perhaps you have not
considered whether you may always be the
same to Oliver Deane.
'"Yes, dear, l have considered" calmly;
"and as | have trusted Oliver all my life,
since my early girlhood, cannot bring
myself to doubt his faith and the strength
of his love now. He will come again, and
we will be the same to each other as we
were on the day when we parted in the
lime walk"
CHAPTER II.
The lime walk was, needless to say, Mis-:
Grace's favorite haunt 1t ran along be
side the tall garden wall which shut off the
high road from the Misses Farnham''
grounds, and here the two sisters wer'
wont to stroll together under the shade o
the trees, or else sit sewing or reading oil
the little rustic bench down by the garder
gate.
And it was while they sat here one cain
summer evening that the sound of quick
firm footsteps fell upon their ears-foot
steps which came on and on up the quie
high road towards them.
Miss Farnham stitched on serenely, in
different to either the footsteps or thei
owner, but Miss Grace laid her work dow
beside her on the bench and listened anx
iously, her head bent forward, and her tw
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