Edgefield advertiser. [volume] (Edgefield, S.C.) 1836-current, 1896-12-23


brought my cloak and carried it to its
place, and arranged my slippers and
dressing.gown so daint;ly by my chair,
bringing with her own hands my
chocolate, though there were servants
in plenty to do these things.
''Let her a,one, mother" I would
say. solve is as woll pleased to do it
as am to receive it-au.i what is
done for love is SO much sweeter to
Inc than when it is bought and paid
ior."
81 thought was being paid, said
Olive, meekly. Somehow it did not
often occur to me that we we're her
benefactors. Her benefcent presence
in our house seemed like an actual gift
to us, and so 1t was; gift from
heaven to cheer the lonely old Thorn
field house, making light ard music
and beauty fill its rooms.
Meantime became fiercelY jealous
OF young Tom Effingham, who actually
made love to Olive, though the little
innocent did not know it until Tom
had the insolence to ask me to sane
tion it. was thunderstruck, for he
was handsome boy Il called everyone
boy that had not arrived ct twenty
FIVE years., and possessed q good for
tune. What right had I then to re-
fuse my wards affections to one whose
advantages and really good qualities
made him a fitting match for any one
of the daughters OF our most ar;sto-
cratic families2 Yet who can describe
the pain of thus giving away to an
other being who seems exclusively
your own?
could not speak of it to her yet
but my mothers quick eye sow that
there WAS something the matter with
me, and she wormed out the secret. as
only woman knows how. l. thought
she looked disappointed; but soon she
began to talk to me about Jennie Eff
fngham, Toms sister.
''I wonder you never proposed to
her, Eustnce. She is good girl, and
physicians ought to have wives. Not,
she added, "that you should ever go
from this house to live, and then, if
Iom should marry Olive, we can all
live together"
eat in sort Of silent rage to hear
my own dear mother plotting in this
way. !,
"Jennie Ellingham be hanged, and
her brother with her" ] thundered
out, at length.
There was merry twinkle in my
mothers eye as she begged me not to
consign my friends to such dismal
fate. III did not choose to marry, /
need not hinder Tom Eflngham. Had
told Olive?
"No," ! said, shortly.
"Well, she ought to know, Eustace.
Shall ] tell herr"
1t was aswelcome offer, for truth to
tsall, I could not ask her to be the wife
oil rnothers But my mother cheesss q.
time when slfs knew / was in tho
library and could hear all she said.
When sheltofd her, Olive uttered
cry that went to my heart. She had
Just cone down stairs, and did not
know was within hearing. My
mother set forth all the advantages of
the match advantages which ! could
not gainsay. but of which the emu
meration pierced me to the soul.
A long pause ensued. "Does Eustace
know this?" she asked. My mother
told her how it came about, and said.
what was quite true, that / did not
like to mention it to her. She added
what was not quite true, that l thought
it good match.
Olive did not speak again and soon
left the room, and l went out, return
ing quite late. I found the room
deserted. Ny mother now went often
to bed before came, but had always
left Olive to wait for me, and che had
wonderfully improved those lonely
hours by reading and study. The
lights were turned down, and no sound
was to be heard; but es came near
the fire caught e glimpse of some one
kneeling by chair.
is that you, OllyeF
A smothered sob was the only an:
swer. knelt down beside her and
cruelty asked her why she was weep
ing.
.Has Tom Efingham been hereP"
asked, with savage voice. She softly
answered that he had.
"Then these tears are his, sup
posc?" :.
'They are. indeed" cooI-was it
not9"
started up in agony of soul, that I
would not have confessed to my best
friend.
"olivel I am going away to-mor-
row."
She tried to speak, but could not.
II have had an offer to-day to go to
Europe on business. I was to decide
tomorrow. I have decided.
This was literally true.
She rose and to!tered to the chair
where I sat.
"Going away. Eustacel To leave
us alone?"
Certainly. My mother can bear
it, and Mr.. EffingtIam, for whom you
are weeping, can console you"
"Oh, Eustace," this is cruel. 1t Is
not like you.
She had crept close to my arms and
laid her head on my shoulder. 1t melt
ed my savage mood-this sisterly ten
derness.
"Never speakthat name to me again,
Eustace."
''Never speak it? What, when you
said yourself"
"1 said, or should have said., il you
had not been so passionate. that l
pitied MIR. Efingham, because he
seemed so miserable"
A thrill ran through my heart. Only
pitiedl :.
.srhen you do not love him, Oliver
"Oh, no! 1 tried to love him, be-