The Democratic advocate. [volume] (Westminster, Md.) 1865-1972, 1893-09-23

week or two hence-to that gentleman as
is going into the house this very identical
moment.
Daisy looked, eager to see the future
bridegroom. And she saw Paul Heriot,
elegantly dressed, with flower in his coat,
as he passed through the open door
Turning faint, she struggled through
the crowd and entered quiet side street.
The roll of carriages ceased The guests
had all arrived, and the delicious strains
of one of the finest military bands in Lon
don foated through the sunshiny air from
Mr.. Mostyn's grounds. Jewels, splendid
dresses and this magnificent home-all
these things her rival possessed; wealth,
beauty, social position, had been given to
her
From Daisy had been taken her one
treasure-the hope, or, rather, the belief,
that Paul Heriot had learned to. love her
during those happy weeks of Spring; that,
if he had been free, she might have won
him; that he would remember her, yearn
over her, amid all the splendor of his future
life
Had she been mad to think it? That
grand-looking gentleman had little in com
mon with cher Mr.. Heriot," in his rough
tourists suit. lie had passed close beside
her, knowing nothing of her presence. If
he had known, would he have cared ?
Would he not have been angry at her pre-
sumption? The daughter of his landlady;
his little servant-maid; what was she to
him, that she should come to that great,
rich, heartless city merely to get one
glimpse of his dear face and what would
he think of her, had she dared claim his
notice, standing among the street-throng of
curious gazers before Miss Mostyn's door?
Poor little Daisy
And poor George Milbank, hurrying
toward his country home at that very
moment, flushed with eager joy The
grave young rector had interested himself
in his behalf, and that morning the resi-
dent stewart of Lord Blankmore, the great
landed proprietor, had sent for him, and
offered him the charge of most valuable
portion of bis lordship's estate.
He should be able to keep pony-chaise
for Daisy, and to rebuild his house, if she
wished it, by another year. He would go
to her, on the morrow, with the good news.
Perhaps she was pining already for a
glimpse of the moor and the heights and
the rectory woods where the sweet night
ingale sung.
As George Milbank opened the gate
that led to his cottage, he could see the
glow of the fire on the kitchen hearth, and
the tall, thin figure of his maiden aunt, his
housekeeper, going to and fro.
The tea-table stood ready There were
greens and potatoes and cold bacon on a
platter for him, in addition to the usual
toast and tea and eggs, for he had been
kept by the stewart and had no dinner
that day.
Miss Milbank poured out his tea, and
waited on him carefully. But she was a
person of few words, and set herself down
to the patching of his working coat as soon
as his plate was supplied.
When the meal was over, and he had
seen that Ben, the carter had attended
properly to all the animals, George Mil
bank walked down the road, in the still
twilight.
Yonder lay Chelford Woods and Daisy s
home beside them. In another month,
please Heaven, he would come home of an
evening to find, as now a eleap-swept
hearth, snowy cloth and comfortable
meal waiting for him, and with them no
silent Aunt Susan to sit and darn without
speaking, but Daisy, his own Daisy, his
dear little wife, oyerhowing with smiles aud
eager questions, full of interest iu all that
he had said, done or thought during the
long day of absence, quick to appreciate
all his plans for the garden or the house
because they concerned the beauty and
sweetness of his life and her own.
He went back through the fresh sweet
evening silence, unbroken except by the
low note of bird, stirring dreamily in its
nest. He seemed to himself to have been
born anew into fresh world, full of stir
ring life and consciousness. Things that
he had scarcely noticed before, through
three-and-twenty years of rural existence
were now so dear and sweet; the flowers on
the hedge-banks, the cries of the young
lambs aud the answering calls of their
mothers, the birds that sang, and the
clouds in the blue sky and the blessed sun
shine glistening hotly on the leaves and
grass-they all breathed of Daisy, spoke
Of Daisy, and so were bound up, for ever
and ever, with all the memories of this
Summer, at once the happiest, the most
hopeful, the most darkly, deeply desolated
Summer Of his life
Tn London af tha sama bour tba sLv