The record-union., 1897-12-25
TOO LATE.

Each on his own strict line we move.
AND some fnd death ere they find love;
From the twin soul that halves their own.
And sometimes. by still harder fate.
The lovers meet, but meet too late.
| my heart Is mine!-True, true! ah, true!
Then. love. thy hand! An, no! adieu.'
1t was beautiful day, in that love-
liest Of all seasons-early spring. The
whole air was heavy with the perfume
OF fruit blossoms, and all nature was
bursting forth into fresh young life.
Under an apple-tree in full bloom sat
young man and maid, so full or
youthful dreams, anticipations, and
longings that they seemed to make a
natural and perfect finish to all Ma
! lures young beauties. They were in
| earnest converse ton, and on the face
| or each was a very perceptible shade
OF sadness. For it was a day OF part
ing, and on the morrow each would be-
gin new page in life's history. So
far their lives had been almost insep-
arabic, but now there seemed every
probability of their drifting apart.
| For eighteen years Margaret Hazel
| tine and Wallace Graham had been
near neighbors and the closest friends;
as babies, children, and in the dawn
of young manhood and womanhood
they had been ever together. To say
that they had grown up as brother and
sister would be insufficient to express
their true relation to one another. There
existed between them that peculiar
bond Of sympathy and congenialty that
is seldom found between members Of
one family, but occasionally develops in
a very strong degree between friends
especially of opposite sex. These two
young people had played together,
studied together, read and discussed
the same books, upheld the same ideals.
and in short We're two minds with but
a single thought" To-day Wallace
had come expressly to say good-by. He
was going West to make his fortune"
he was full of bright hopes for the
future-a new field was opening before
| him, wherein We're planted all sorts of
plans and ambitions. So enthusiastic
was he over what he was going to gain
that at this moment he could not fully
realize that which he must in a meas
ure lose
But the girl beside him, what Of her?
Did she fail to realize what this sep
aratfon must mean to her? Was this
interest of his one with which she could
not fully sympathiZe or could she put
aside her own feelings entirely, and
think only of him, and what good
! things the future might have in store
for him? She received the news al
most as a mother receives the news
that the young son, whom she has
watched over so carefully, must leave
her and go into the world to fight life's
battles for himself, unaided, except by
that Divine Power which watches over
ALL She was to be deprived of what
seemed to her half the goodness of her
life, for who could take the same in
terest in her that Wallace did? And
did she not need him to urge her on
with many branches of her work?
Cheer up, Mag, I'm not going away
forever. When / have made my for
| tune I'll soon be back to my dear old
home, and you shall show me how to
spend 1t. Won't that be nice? I'll
| build hospital, with a special ward for
| the old women, where they can talk
over their ailments to their hearts con-
tent without disturbing anyone. You
can be head-nurse, too, If you want.
Then the free library we have so often
wished for, we can build that together;
You can save up the money you get
from nursing, and I'll make up what's
wanting, and We'll have the dearest lit
tie library in the country"
do hush, Wallace; you know from
this time I shall have no interest in
any of our big schemes. How can I
keep the work going by myself? and no
one else in the village can do what you
do. What goods Dick Howard? OF
1 course he's a nice boy, but he's not
half the man that you are-why, he
can't keep his mind on anything serious
for half an hour.'
Now, old girl it's not fair for you
to pitch into poor Dick, Just because
| I'm going away. He's one of the best
| fellows in the world, and always has
been one of your most devoted slaves.
If I'm any better than any of the other
fellows in the village, it's only because
you've made me so. If you'd take al1
the trouble with Dick that you've taken
with me in six months he'd throw me
completely in the shade"
| "Oh, well, it's no use talking to you
| men. You have no feelings; one per-
| sons as good as another to you! In
| six months you'll be so interested in
your cousins and their friends that you
| will probably have forgotten all about
| us and our little village! But you're
a dear boy, and I'll let the future take
care Of itself and just live in the pres
ent, and try to. make myself real nice
for the next two hours"
And she succeeded. The next two
hours fairly flew. May listened with the
greatest interest to all Wallace had to
tell her about his own affairs. Then
he gave her innumerable instructions
about the carrying on Of their work,
| for, he said. he wouldn't hear of having
any of their work dropped. What
would the old women do without their
little social gatherings each week? And
the sick people without their minister
ing angel? Dick had readily promised
Wallace to take up his work as much
as possible, and the village poor would
very soon learn to love him or any ons
who helped ''the dear little LADY,"
And so the time went, and both tried
to be very brave.
/ Wallace walked hurriedly down the
| garden path but before he reached the
gate he turned back and walked to the
| house.
ooh. Mag, may speak to you again
| for one minute, please?"
Mag ran out to meet him with a very
sad little face.
There's one thing I forgot to say
to you" he said. BE good and kind
to Dick for my sake-but not too good,
| for / don't believe ] should like to be
thrown quite in the shaded"
| And his great. honest, blue eyes filled