The star. (Reynoldsville, Pa.) 1892-1946, 1894-08-08

L nc SUNSET WIS reuuenlnp tnc OLD
gravestones as she planted the last
bulb. Hush Was not that the
sound of footsteps on tho path belowp
She drew back into the shadow of
Deacon Holt's old vault where she had
been used TO play with her dolls as n
child.
II was Willis Harron's voice, and IL
was Letitia Wynne that was at his
side. Letitia, the very spoiled beauty
that had once called her that grave
yard grill"
al would not have her see me
planting flowers here for the worldl"
said Ulrica to herself, the rich pome-
granite hue dyeing her cheeks.
And with n sudden inspiration, she
lifted the rusty old latch of the dis
colored iron gate and took refuge in
the ancient vault.
Almost the next minute Mr.. Harron
and Letitia came down the terrace to
the very spot. From Ulrica's hiding
place among the dead, she could look
ont into the world of sunset crimson
and see the two slim young figures.
She could see the wind blowing
Letitia Wynne's fluffy brown curls
about and the very glow of the red
carnations in Willis Harron's coat.
Somebody has been planting
flowers on old Thomas Graw's grave"
cried Letitia. cts the widow, de-
clare How ridiculous! when all the
world knows that she is just going to
be married again to Captain Stilwell !
But everything is in shocking disorder.
Where's that girl that takes care of the
graves? What horrid business it
must bel But they say she is only
half civilized"
In her place of concealment, Ulrica
felt the hot blood glow through her
veins. She would have given the
world to spring out and confront her
slnnderer, but she dared not.
Willis Harron turned short around
and faced his fair companion. At the
same time he faced the vault door also,
and to Ulrica, shrinking back against
the stone shelves, it seemed rs if he
actually looked into her eyes.
care you speaking of Miss Hop
wood?" said he, coldly. perhaps,
Letitia, 1 ought to tell you that Ul-
rica Hopwood is the girl of all girls
whom l most admire in the world"
"You!' gasped Miss Wynne, 80
pale that even the red sunset could
not light up the chalky whitcness of
her face.
"And not only that," slowly went
on Mr.. Harron, "but l intend this
very day to ask her to be my wife,"
"Willis, you are not in earnest?
That strange, eccentric girl?"
''That is the very reason," he said.
81 love her because she is SO unlike
the other women-the shallow, selfish
favorites of society whom l meet.
And assure you, Lefty, 1 never was
more in earnest in my life?"
And now it was that Ulrica Hop
wood was amply avenged for all the
sights and taunts she had suffered at
the naughty beauty's hands.
Miss Wynne burst into a shower of
tears.
"Willis," she cried, "I thought
fancied-oh, l don't know what l
thought l am a little hysterical, /
think, walking here among these dis
NAL graves-or, perhaps, overtired.
And all this is so sudden !"
In an instant, MS it were, the sun
dropped behind the horizon; the
landscape, which but now had blushed
the most celestial carmine, was dull
and gray again.
The two pedestrians were gone, and
Ulrica leaned her cheek against the
stone ledge of Deacon Hollis last
resting place, in sor. of delirium of
happiness.
She looked around on the rows of
graves, the solemn, arched vaults.
Was it possible that people could
die and leave this happy, sunshiny
world?
Oh, what gust of pity overwhelm-
cd her heart as she thought of all
those, dead and buried, to whom life
and love were but a forgotten dream
Her pulses whirled ioyously; her
eyes shone; a sort of rapture pervaded
her whole being. 1t would almost
seem as if her young vitality must in
spire the dust of all those dead-and-