Freeland tribune. (Freeland, Pa.) 1888-1921, 1893-08-07

| JeStiHS HSlu6 ana tOlu uef my love
there in the quiet corner behind the
people who were watching the dane
ers, had not Mr.. Adlow came up and
claimed her for the waltz She left me
with a merry glance over her shoulder
and joking entreaty for her little
old-time lover" to change his mind.
Not many days after made an excuse
that took me from New York, and
went as l have stated, to visit my old
home.
"And now" said to myself while
is coming here? What has changed
her plans? The party was to be at
Long Branch by this time. l cannot
understand it,"
The next day was rainy, and spent
it roaming over the old house to solve
the puzzle of Grace's coming. OF
course, she could not know that / was
there, because / had kept my destina-
tion secret, and because had she
known it, she would not have come. ]
felt that could not long remain with
her among those pleasant scenes of our
childhood without telling my love, and
the relations which she and Adlow sus-
tanned toward each other forbade such
q declaration.
In the old farmhouse was a room
which had irresistibly attracted me as
boy. 1t was q long, narrow com
partment, in which were preserved
several ancient pieces of furniture,
some curious prints, quaint records
made by my grandfather while he had
been a squire, and many other inter
esting relics. One of the pieces of
furniture was large cedar chest
which had been, in my childish eyes,
n veritable casket of wonders. Often
had little Grace and played in this
room, and revelled in the curiosities
of the chest, which embraced several
old-fashioned playthings, coat my
great-grandfather wore in an Indian
fight, with bullet hole in its sleeve, a
number of arrow heads, several moe
casins, tomahawk, some camp uten-
sils, and four queer, little half-con-
structed inventions at which my great
grandfather had worked. Much of that
long gloomy day, so filed with my
| IiCul Dtl DlSAltly w oCtuDN
by re-exploring this curiosity chamber,
and once again examining the contents
of the old chest and discovered that
my interest in it, though of different
kind, was as strong MS it had been in
my boyhood.
At train time easily persuaded
Uncle John TO let me drive alone to the
station. Grace came, and her sur
prise upon seeing me was unbounded.
"Whv, what are you doing here,
Ralph ?" she asked, walking toward the
carriage.
frustrating" replied, evasively,
as helped her in.
After | hal started the horses, /
turned to her and asked soberly:
"What has brought you here, Grace?
l though you were in Long Branch.
"Excuse me, Ralph" she answered
with q confusion which I pretended
not to notice, 'but don't wish to tell
you-at least not now"
every well" said, 'I won't ask
you, but l will leave tomorrow, can
not stay here with you'll"
I stopped the confession and che
looked at me in that same odd, ques-
tioning way.
"Why not?" she asked, after short
silence, and regaining her jesting tone
with an effort, 'I'm sure it will be very
amusing to run about our old play
grounds. We have been unexpectedly
thrown together here and might enjoy
recalling some of ur-foolishness. /
don't see why you want to run away"
Her merrimeut and Adlow's relation
ship to her made it impossible for me
to give my true reason but it was well
the rain had brought darkness early,
for my face would else have betrayed
too much emotion. was silent mo-
ment, and then said:
"I'll tell you why, Grace. / don't
think it is just to Mr.. Adlow. Every
one knows how attentive he has been
to you, and although your engagement
has not been announced, we have rea-
son to believe it soon will be. l re-
spect Mr.. Adlow and will not remain "
"Still the same careful boy you al
ways were," she answered, laughing
"Don't bother about Mr.. Adlow. If Il
choose to roam once more through
these beloved scenes with such an old
friend as you, he shouldn't object
Now, you will stay until l say you
should go, won't you?"
She looked at me with such an ap-
peal, that l readily yielded.
Days passed-blisaful days-and
Grace was adorable. loved her more
and more, and saw more clearly that,
for the sake of my future happiness, /
should go away; but she was so merry.
and still so unconscious of my true
feeling, that remained, and fearing
to cloud her pleasure, feigned equal
Rayety. So surely, though, as the
days were passing, felt that my re-
straint could not last long.
One sunny afternoon, walking down
a quiet lane, shaded by the orchard
trees on each side, / said:
"Grace, l must go away. You haven't
told me yet to go, but 1 must. We
have been as candid and frank as true
frianda sbould ba but thara ia-5ona