The Prince George's enquirer and southern Maryland advertiser. (Upper Marlborough, Md.) 1882-1925, 1896-11-06

held one Of them in my hand, and
laughed at its old-fashioned, touching
prettiness; but | was not thinking of
it-l vas thinking of Dick-Dick--
Dick-and there was a lump rising in
my throat.
Il wish | could wear sandals and 90
to the squire's ball, and be adorable"
| began incoherently y-and then all at
once l burst out crying.
1t was very foolish. and | was ready
to kill myself for giving way, but tears,
having once begun, are hard to stop.
They fell fast upon the little bronze
sandal which | still held, as ! knelt be-
fore the open drawer.
My Aunt Priscilla rose. heard
the 1routrou of her silk gown across
the floor us :he came to me, and tried
to murmur incoherencies about my
headache, but something in the clasp
guessed part, at any rate, ofmy secret,
and presently l told her.
She sat very still-we had gone over
to the window-seat.-an as | knelt
silently beside her when my miserable
little story was finished. she smoothed
my hair for some time without speak
ing. When | looked up, she was gaz-
ing straight before her. and her eyes
were misty with tears. laid my hand
gently on hers, and she turned to me.
"My love- she began-her voice
shook a little-'I counsel you to have
patience, not to judge hastily. Iou
are on the threshold of life God grant
it may be a happy one. DO not, l i'm
plore you, throw away your chances
Of happiness recklessly. You may
she paused-''I do not say it is so, but
you may be doing this young gentle
man, who says he loves you, griev-
DDS injury, through not trusting him
enough
suppose made an impatient move
ment, for she continued, hastily:
Il am not advocating blind trust,
my love,-merely the reasonable trust,
for the want of which | threw away
my own joy, and earned lasting sor-
row in its place
raised my eyes to Aunt Priscilla's
face wonderingly. The gentle old
voice was gone. The last words were
uttered almost in the tone of a young
and passionate woman, and her face
was working strangely.
There was a pause When she spoke
again, it was calm y as was her wont.
My life's romance is very ordina-
ry story, my love. 1t was long ago.
1t would not interest the rising sener-
alton, but your story has reminded me
of so much, so very much, that belongs
to my youth. :
She said the words deamily. as
though she were thinking aloud, and
know that the eyes that gazed through
the halfopened blinds at the sweet
williams and boy 's-love in the plot be-
Ia 4 h,
but scenes from that youth of ''long
ago"
''No woman ever had such Il lover
as mine,' she said, presently, very
gently and drondly. The young gen
tleman of the present day, my love,
are not as they were in the olden time,
when was young; and my lover was
the most gallant of all. In my foolish
pride and haste, | believed he was not
true to me. Appearances were against
him. les-they were against him.
she mused; that was my only excuse,
and poor one, when | let all the
kindness and tenderness of our two
years of betrothal go for nothing: and
refused to have patience, though he
swore that in time he could explain
everything. Well, my dear, he went
away to the wars-to fight the French.
| heard of him from time to time-he
bore himself like the gallant soldier
and gentleman that he was My
aunt drew herself up in stately fashion,
and the color deepened on her dear old
wrinkled checks. 'When the fighting
was over, she continued, presently,
she remained abroad, instead of COM
ing home and marrying, rs every one
he expected he would do. Then my
father died; We moved away from our
home in SomcrSctSllire and came here.
WAS forgotten But did not forget
my love. In my young days young
latltS tli not Jalk ABOUT tnclf broken
hearts and analyze their feelings, rs
from the novels Of the present day |
gather is the fashion nowadays. 1t
would not have been considered mai
denly or modest-nut oh, my love,
may you never have to bear the pain
did for years. Her voice was a
little tremulous.
"Nay, my child''-aS my eyes filled
, with don't be sorry for me
now. Age brings not forgetfulness-
but quietness, at least. Life burns it.
self out, you know, in time, and, though
the ashes are not rosy, at least they
are no more flames"
The room was very still when she
ceased speaking The shadowed vine
leaves danced noiselessly on the white