The Democratic advocate. [volume] (Westminster, Md.) 1865-1972, 1897-09-18

to elicit from those even most nearly allied
to the lovers and who, when the first eclat
Of the affair is over, are apt to regard its
heightened existence with something of
impotence, not to say contempt Dick
and | have been engaged an immense
while, four years before mother died, and
he was ready and waiting for me when
she was first taken i'll, nearly year before
that.
don't see him often. He is civil
engineer and too busy to pay frequent Wis
its to our quiet village, but during this
one his patience has been tried more than
usual.
Is there ever a gayer, gladder time in
all the year or !; gayer, gladden. morning
than this when | rise and look across the
frothing snow of pear blossoms and mead
ows paved with golden buttercups to the
red roof of the village inn, half hidden in
elm trees, beneath which Dick lodges ?
Perhaps he may be striding across those
meadows now to pay us an early visit and
bring me bunch of violets. He has done
so once or twice, but father doesn't like
visitors at breakfast, and I'm afraid Dick
has found it out At any rate he does
not come today, and so go down to break
fast, give the orders for dinner and am
just going to assist my little sister through
her laborions efforts at wading up the scale
on the piano when the maid brings me.a
letter which she says has just come from
the inn, and see it is from Dick
How thankful | have been since then
that | left Maude and went away to read
it by myself, for even the first words seem
to daze and dazzle me 1t begins, My
dear Cecily, and then | sit and read and
reread the rest over and over again, how
long | never knew, with eyes that see,
yet see not and heart which beats, yet
refuses to comprehend Dick is gone, and
this is what he tells me
When he went back to the inn he found
letter awaiting him from the contractors
for that Canadian railroad of which he had
told me before. 1t was a liberal offer,
aud he was still very hot and angry On
the spur of the moment he sat down and
accepted it, and then, in the act of sealing
the letter, repented him of what he had
done Perhaps he remembered how long
we had loved one another and what bitter
pain parting would be. At any rate he
put the letter in his pocket and came up
to the vicarage to tell me again that if |
would marry him in June he would still
accept the smaller appointment in lieu Of
this, or, if that were really impossible,
would arrange to come back from Canada
in the autumn, make me his wife and take
me back with him.
Well, you guess what he found -? \
whole family laughing and making game
Of him, hooking at the pain which had
driven him away, the love which had
brought him back, my laugh-heaven
help me, mine-the loudest in the party,
my hand aiding in the jest which was
amusing a set of thoughtless boys. "And
so, he wrote, ] went away, and | write
this now to bid you goodby My eyes
have been opened at last, and see only
too plainly that the years which have only
intensified my love for you have withered
yours at the root that my visits have been
WEAKNESS, my fidelity jest Perhaps
some day may live to be thankful that |
have learned this lesson even so late but |
cannot do so yet, nor can | bring myself
to the useless pain of meeting you again.
| go back to my old lodgings at once and
sail for Canada this week. Would to
heaven you had told me the truth which
sends me from you before, but | do not
blame you for not doing so. You were
always gentle at heart, and | believe you
could not bear to hurt me to my face. =
And then he babe God bless me and signed
himself, .Yours ever faithfully, Richard
Meredith
| cut the nseat and serve the pudding
that day at dinner, and, though | cannot
say one word, there must be something in
my face which frightens the boys, for they
stare at me with wondering eyes and are
strangely good and quiet. never break
down once or rise until the meal is quite
ended aud then at last | escape, and as |
write to Dick the tears which have been
frozen till now break forth like rain and
blot the words as fast as they are penned.
For of course [ answer him. | have
read-in novels-of girls who, when they
have hurt OF angered their lovers, are too
proud to write or say one word for pardon,
but am not like that. | love him dearly,
i'll as may have proved it and stupid and
shy as have been Of showing my affection
by outward signs | am too sure OF his
love for me to let any false shame or mis-
understanding rest between us, and so
write and Just tell him the whole truth
about that luckless scene, tell him how
dear he is to me and beg him humbly and
with tears to forgive and love me still, not
to give up his journey, elf he has accepted
the post | know that cannot be- but at
least to come to me before he goes and say
goodby and to take my promise that at
whatever time he wants me will be ready
to be his wife, whether he can come back
for me or | have to 90 out to him. Other
women have done that much for men who
love them, and why not | for Dick, who
has waited for me longer than many lovers
already and signs himself mine faithfully
still 2"
So my letter is finished at last, and |
walk across the fields myself / will not
trust it to any other hand) to put it in the
post.
And do wait, wait patiently indeed,
but with daily lessepipg hope, daily
failing heart, for Dick does not come, nor
is there any answer to my poor, tear blotted
letter. Suns rise and suns set. Dick
has left me- His love, tried perhaps be-
fore to stretching, snapped before the forced
merriment of that foolish laugh, and be-
cause he had not the heart to say so he
has held his peace and gone-gone for
good
1t is spring again now, the second spring
since my lover left me. Twice already
have the fields been red with peoples and
and the deep woods brown with falling
leaves. Twice have we dressed the church
with ivy and holly and hung big bushes of
mistletoe in the vicarage hall
[ have come up to London to buy summer
dresses for my sisters and on other domes-
tic business, but these duties have been