Staunton spectator. [volume] (Staunton, Va.) 1849-1896, 1895-12-18

you ledVo you uS uulfaIuMeieu as d plIu
of the air.
Give made my arrangements for
starting the day after Christmas, and l
mean this Christmas shall lie the jolli-
est sort of one. What's TIE use of fret
ting over what can't be helped?"
So Christmas was kept in the old
home as nearly as possible as it used to
be in the old days before the war,
when the quarter yard rang with the
jollity of hundreds Of dusl7y participa-
tors in the revelry Of the big house.
On Loulou's plate was a most mystic
rious package. But as written on it in
Dabney's hand were the words, 'fNot to
be opened before have gone, F" she hero
ica1ly put it aside and bent her energies
to making that Christmas day mem
orable one to all of the tribe of Fair
child, which has many ramifcations.
Major Duke drove to tho little rail
road station six miles from the planta-
ton gates "to see the boy off, He and
Dabney, with Dabney's luggage, filled
the numbering old coach very full. Ray
mond had staid behind, conscious Of not
being wanted.
"You have plans, dear boy?" the old
man said, looking wistfully into the
handsome, manly face by h S side.
"No, sir; I can't say that I have"
ga destination at. least?'
"None. suppose it will be heads I
lose, tails I win, in the untried field
before me.
| (Which sounds reckless. -
"No, sir, not exactly. 1t just means
that I am not going to whimper at ev
cry backset. -
81 think" said the major, producing
a sealed letter, "this may be of service
to you at some juncture. y
Dabney put out a repelling hand.
"Not money, sir?"
"No. No one knows better than you
do how impossible it would bo for me to
! help you with ready cash to any amount.
| 1t is simply your credentials. You may
| never make any use of them at all. But
at any time when your simple personal
statement might be discredited this may
stand you in good stead. %
And while the old warrior was slowly
| driving back to his home, pondering the
things that had come and gone since he
| had taken Dabney into lis paternal
keeping, and Dabney was whirling
away on the little narrow gauge rail
road with his already forgotten creden
tials tucked into pocket of his travel
| ing bag, Loulou was shut up in her own
room wrestling with the many knots i'll
| the strong twine which Dabney had tied
about her Christmas present.
The weight and size of the package
| had already excited her livel:est curios-
| ity. As it stood revealed it las scarcely
less mystifying-a miniature chest Of
| drawers i'll gold lacquer ware FIVE draw
ers, each one labeled with date. Five
Christmases ahead she would be at lib
erty to open the bottom drawer. A note
| of instructions from Dabney lay On top
| Of the cabinet. 1t said:
''The key that is i'll the top drawer
will open it alone. Yen will receive, on
| four successive Christmas ewes, the keys
| as they fall due. If a Christmas day
comes and goes without a key reaching
| you, you may know that the man who
has loved you, and you alone, has ceased
to live. My daily messages are i'll the
| drawers. 3"
Loulou drew cut the first drawer with
feeling akin to reverence.
How many hours he must have
spent cullirg these tender flowers Of
prose and pcesy and delicately transcrib-
ing them on the filnliest of paper for
/ her perusaii
How could she forget him, with those
| dear messages whispering to her daily?
| She stood the cabinet on her dressing
table, surmounting it with q photograph
of Dabney. The key to the one drawer
| she wore about her neck on slender
cord of silk.
Could any ono but Dabney ever have
devised so cunning a scheme for con-
slant intercourse? The secret of the
cabinet was all her own Only its pretty
| polished black and gold exterior was
open to comment from others.
And as the days waxed into weeks,
and weeks into months, and months
into years, enough of them to bring
three tiny keys to Loulou, Raymond
Fairchild laid bolder siege TO the heart
he coveted so passionately.
My uncle and aunt are growing old.
Soon you will be left without protector
in the world -Four Christmases ago
/ Dabney left us and never word since.
Either he is dead or his heart has wall
tlered away from yours. Marry me,
Loulou, if you would gladden. the declin-
! ing years of those two dear people"
And to Raymond's persuasive tones
her father added his: Marry him, dear
child, and make me harry. Raymond is
handsome and good. has been the
| prop of my declining -. Dabney has
forgotten US, or be would have written. ;"
| And Loulou, with starry eyes and trem-
bling lips, would simply say, "Wait"
To her mother she said more, "1 love
Dabney so dearly that to think of Ray
mond as my husband would be in my
| eyes sin"
Novemb ber was biting the last OF the
autumn flowers black with its frosty
breath Yet little while. and her fifth
| key would come! Perhaps Dabney with
it!
And Oh that same November day
Dabney, conscious of having lost his
way in the lonely country road, turned
aside to ask for shelter at the first door
he came to,
He was afoot and despondent. 1t had
not been easy for a man trained to moth
ing in particular to accomplish any
thing. All his bright hopes of ultimate
ly enriching the dear old folks at home
were as withered and lifeless as the au-
tumn foliage about him.
For two years now he had been a
briefless young lawyer. He was going to
try his fate in nearby town, where
partnership in an assured business might
be worked up to. But his jaded beast
failed him in the cleaning of raw
day. A glimmer of light from the win
dows of large country house, set far
back from the road, gave him courage.
He pressed toward it to demand that
hospitality Virginian never refuses.
He found himself in an odd house
| hold, white haired spinster, once
| handsome, now fragile and palpably ill,
for hostess; two seryitors, black, faith