The free press. (Poplarville, Miss.) 1890-19??, 1892-05-26

Henry Wilmer, and took possession Of
a handsome house and shared the
large income Of q wealthy husband.
Daisy was one Of my bridesmaids,
and looked lovely in cream-white
cashmere and richest lace, though !
fancied look of pain came into her
soft brown eyes at the formality with
which Fred filled his position of best
man, avoiding rather than courting
the opportunities offered to pay es-
pecial attention to Daisy.
1t had hastened my wedding little
that my father and Fred had most
favorable offer to go togetherto Sacra-
mento to open branch business for
the firm who employed Fred. There
seemed to be every opportunity for
making money, and they We're both
anxious to avail themselves of the
offer. So the old homo was broken
up, and a week after my wedding
father and Fred started for their new
home.
On the last evening, Fred took me
a little into his confidence, not frank
ly and fully as he had in many less
important matters, but letting me
guess much Of the love filling his
heart, the pride binding him to
silence. By such half-confidence, /
felt sure that Saul Metcalf's great
wealth and his own uncertain pros
poets kept him from letting Daisy see
the love he cherished, almost without
hope, for he thought she only felt the
sisterly affection Of long intimate
friendship for him. Even this little
he would not have told me, but he did
not dare to trust himself to make q
farewell call, and intrusted to me his
message Of imperative business pre-
venting his saying goodbye in per-
son.
"Daisy will think you very unkind
not to spare her five minutes" said.
"You do not understand" he an
swered, impatiently. 81 am not un-
kind; l am only miserable. There! !!
don't want any pity. 1t is all right /;
but there are some things fellow
cannot stand and not betray himself.
To bid her farewell, for years, per-
haps, calmly. quietly, as mere friend,
is beyond my strength"
"But why not tell her you love
her?"
"Who said loved her? Don't be
romantic. I am not going to figure in
Saul Metcalf's eyes as fortune.
hunter. Just tell Daisy l cannot get
round, and say goodbye for me-"
And before l could answer Fred
was off.
The next morning Harry and Ibade
my father and brother goodbye for
an indefinite time, and, as it proved,
my parting from my dear father was
a final one. Two years later he died.
and it was six years before Fred re-
turned home, and then only for brief
visit to me, in the winter.
1t was at the very height of the
fever for art embroidery, and my par
lors were crowded with specimens of
work-gifts, many of them; some the
result of my own industry, though
most of my own efforts went to adorn
the persons Of my first-born, Harry,
and my wee baby girl, Nettie.
challenged Fred's admiration for
all my pretty trifles, until l led himto
most elaborate affair in hand-painted
satin, plush bands and chenille fringe.
"This," said, sis the gem of my
lot of art work. You would never
guess that was only common wood
en- milking-stool, would you ? Just
such stool as our grandmothers used
in the country years ago. Did you
ever see lovelier painting, and such
fine embroidery as there is on the
plush bands ?"
"Who gave it to you p Fred asked,
trying with brotherly good nature to
seem interested.
II bought it,"
IL should think you had enough
without purchasing any" my brother
said, laughing.
eyes; but this was to help an old
friend. l bought it of Daisy Metcalf.
You remember Daisy ?" | continued,
not noticing the sudden pallor In
Freds face. She does this sort of
work fcp etora &, Nau Xnrk hut