The Roanoke times. [volume] (Roanoke, Va.) 1890-1895, 1892-09-01
A LOST LOVE.

onc VI Ino WeaitnleSt inhabitants OF Elm'S
Cross, the expectant heiress of his fortune
and possessed In her own right of $4,000.
In such circumstances it may be SUD-
posed that she attracted not little the
attention of blushing striplings and spccu-.
lative mammas.. These were, with the ex-
ception Of one family, of her own society
for Mr.. and Mrs. Hargrave were Quakers
OF the old school and confined themselves
almost exclusively within the circle of
their friends. The exception was formed
by widow lady and her son, the former
an early intimate of Mrs. Hararavo, now
living on u small annuity, from which she
contrived TO save little every year to paw
for her boys outfit in the world.
Richard Temple was well calculated to
be the object of u mothers dotinQ affec-
ton; he was fine, spirited, generous.
handsome lad. two or three years older
than Martha, of whom he was the play.
mate in childhood. Richard looked upon
Martha as his sister till he began to feel
as personal injury the admiring looks
that were thrown upon her from under the
broad brims OF the young Quakers, and the
affection of the boy was suffered to rIpen
into the love of the young man.
Whlle this process WAS going on with
Richard. In Martha the wildness of child
hood sobcred gradually down into the de-
mure circumspection of the Quaker girl.
But nevertheless when Richard came
one day to bid her farewell before his ex
odus into the world, her heart was too full
OF the memories of her childish years to re-
member it's new conventionalism and she
stood before him with her hands crossed
upon her bosom, gazing in his face with a
look OF girlish fondness that was made
still softer by the tears that stood trem-
bling in her beautiful eyes. He was tn
proceed to London, to be completed in his
Initiation into mercantile business. and
might he absent for years, and Martin felt
the separation rs her first serious distress.
Richard was old enough to be aware of the
nature OF his own feelings.
AS the moment of parting arrived he
drew her toward him with both hands.
his arms encircled her waist, and-bo,v n
happened l know not, for the thing was
wholly out of rule-his lips were pressed
to hers. The next moment he started
from his bewilderment; his eyes dazzled:
Martha had disappeared. He did not know.
when in the morning the stage coach was
carrying him from Elm's Cross, that n
young girl was sitting behind n blind in
the highest room of that house WATCHING,
the vehicle till it was lost in her binding
tears
am unable to trace the adventures of
Richard Temple in London. but they ap
pear to have been comparatively fortunate.
since mt the end of only three years he was
a Junior partner in Il young but respecta-
bic firm. He had seen Miss Hargrave sew
eral times during the interval, but need
not say that their intercourse had entirely
changed its character.
AT the end Of the three years l have
mentioned Mrs. Temple died, and Richard.
now alone in the world, and with tolerable
prospects i'll business, began in due time
70 ask himself, with quaking heart and
flushing brow, whether it were possible
for him to obtain the Quaker girl for his
bride. After much cogitation on this sub
Ject, his characteristic daring prevailed.
and addressing to Martha an eloquent his
tory OF his love, accompanied by frank
statement OF his affairs and prospects, and
solicitation for permission to WOO her for
his wife, he inclosed the letter, open. in n
briefer one to her father, and dispatched
the Hateful missive.
The reply came from Mr.. Hargrave. 1t
was cool, calm. decisive. He hoped friend
Richard would speedily forget what, to ~
rational minded person. ought to be hardly
a disappointment, and when his fortune
permitted it select from his own demon
ination wife of hi, own degree. This in
soieIt letter, rs the young man termed it,
had no effect but that of rousing the fierce
and headlong energy of his nature. He
knew Martha too well to believe that she
had any share in such production, and
he wrote at once to Mr.. Hargrave to say
that bis daughter was old erSugh to de
eide for herself; that on the following day
he would present himself at his house in
Elm's Cross in the hope of hearing his
fate from Martha's own lips, even if in the
presence of her father and mother.
When Richard Temple passed across the
Dutchlike lawn of the house he felt his
heart die within him. When the respect
able middle aged servant marshaled him
up stairs to the drawing room he followed
the man with Difference, as if he had some
thing to say in the decision.
Martha entered the room alone, and
shutting the door glided composedly un
to Richard and offered him her hand as
usual. The clasp, though gentle, was pal
pablc.
Martha" he said. did my letter sur.
prise you? Tell me only that it was too
abrupt-that it startled and hurried you
Was it not sop
NAY, Richard"
Then you knew, even before dared to
speak, that loved you. Do you know of
the reply my letter receivedf"
Yea, Richard"
And you sanctioned it?"
"In meaning" but here her voice slight
ly falteredI ''if the words were unkind, be
thou assured that they came neither from
my pen nor my heart"
Then was deceived in supposing-for
l did indulge the dream--that my devo-
ton had awakened an interest IN your
bosomF That interest belongs to anotheri"
81 never had dearer friendship than
thine" said Martha, and raising her eyes
TO his she added, after a pause, in the