The Irish standard. [volume] (Minneapolis, Minn. ;) 1886-1920, 1892-03-19

/! Never mind, granny" her grand
daughter said. ''You cannot restore
Lucy 10 life; but you can carefully re"
fra;u from, meddling with other lives, IN
| the future"
| CHAPTER XVI
| OLD LOVES.
| Winter days have come at last: the
plane trees in the old churchyard of the
Savoy was stripped of leaves, the ash
showed only lattice-work Of bare
boughs; but the 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 a grayer
sky, but the sunshine of contented
mind lay warm on Olives life.
| 1t seemed to be the most natural
| thing in the world for Seaward Ayl~
stone to join her as they came out Of
chapel DC Sundays. They always
| talked to each other in friendly fash
| ion; yet on her side there was a little
reserve, On his a great deal of defer
| ence. Olive was not a girl who wore
her heart upon her sleeve. It was a
| 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 Sea ward, he had al.
| ways been rather grave young man,
! who had chosen to live his own life
and work hard at his profession. But
| il had never been q selfish life, and the
Came 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 it's presence there gave
her 81 sense of quiet conpanionship.
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 hats never passed
away, the chaplain's voice still led
her 'sforth beside the waters of com
fort;" and day after day she proved that
it was:
'sIsetter to have quiet grief than hurrylng
delight;
Better the twilight ct the dawn than the noon.
day burning bright. p"
One day Aaron Fenlake came to see
her again He had found work TODD,
but the wages were small, aud he looked
sadly wan and wasted. There was NO
! need to tell her that Michael WAS mar
ried; she had seen the announcement
OF his marriage in the paper, and no
further tidings Of rim had ever reached
her ears. But Aaron had watched op-
! portunities and had even hung about
old Mr. Battersby's great house at
| HanDstead to find out no w things went
! On.
"N'l,y are you anxious to know?'
Olive asked II think it is best to be in
! ignorance. Let him alone; we have
nothing more TO do with him, Aaron.
II want to see whe ther the wicked
will always flourish like the green bay
tree" he answered grimly. Il am
| waiting for the time when he will be
withered up, root and branch. Hasn't
he spoiled your life and mine?''
No. she said; sit is our own fault
if our lives are spoiled, not his. We are
fools, Aaron, if we will not build a. new
house because the Old palace is a ruin.
Are we to waste our time in sitting
among the fragments of shattered hopes
and mourning over then?'
"rhat is just what am doing every
day." replied Aaron.
"And that is just what you must not
do. Aaron, why can't you leave of
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? hear
that Robert Steel is expected nome in
the spring Aaron, the most faithful
heart cannot wait and trust for ever ii
| no sign is given"
His gloomy face flushed, and a sudden
light CLEANED in his eyes. The little
shaft had sped home at last
"lnstead of waiting to sec Michael
withered up root and brahch-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? / wish, Aaron, that you could
get some work to do in the country"
81 have never thought Of trying" he
said, struck by the idea.
sit would be good for you to get out
of London Promise me, Aaron, that
YOU will write to your cid acquaintance
in Petersheld There may be some
thing for you to do
ST will think of it, Olive he replied.
z mo. don't think of lido it. Some
how your thinking always ends in a
kind of melancholy dreaming. Write to
Jane, and tell her that you want to
come back to the old shirer'
He looked irresolute. She sprang up
and got pen. ink and paper.
There she said, dipping the pen In
the ink, and putting it into his hand
| 81 will stand over you resolutely till
the letter is written
And she laughed soft, merry laugh
that seemed to come ringing back from
the past
He had never heard her laugh since
she had come to London, and the sound
recalled their early days as nothing else
had ever done. Once more he was a