The age-herald., 1897-08-11
.tead of -ai1 yeaTs Eince Il 5 the weddfna

stead or SIX years since the wedding day.
 "They have good husbands and happy homes only wish their father''-- This was so unusual that Grace looked at her mother, and Mrs. Leconte checked herself. "You are going down to the rectory, hope, next week. Gertrude is always anxious to have you, and August in London is very trying. !"
 Certainly, but on one condition, mother-that you go too. It would be such joy to Gerty, and you must have some change"
 Perhaps will little later, but I never leave London in August I have, always been very strong, and like a. quiet time then. "
 Mother and Mrs Leconte turned at the passion in her daughter's voice "why will you not allow any of us to. share your remem brance and your g1 .ef? We know why you shut yourself up alone in August, and now, when there are just you and l, it hurts me that may not be with you, if it were only to pray-or weep. Would it not be SC ale help?" And Grace took her moth er's hand, very rare caress
 You are often in my thoughts, Grace, after long silence, land am concerned about you, for you have sged beyond your years. Are you well?"
 "What question. materi You know that have the health of donkey-saye headache now and then that gives me an interesting. pallor You forget that I'm getting to be an old maid-nearly 8O."
 "Is it really that-I mean, do you not feel lonely? It is a contract, aud wom- ans heart was made to love, but if it be so do not-I can't explain myself-thera are many in this world to love-, and at any rate you will never know the sense of loss" g,.aaa.a ''- z
 That is the postman's ring. And Grace made for the door, 'ePerhaps Frances will have written from Loeb Awe. We need some highland air. '
 There was only one letter, but it was not lightly brought up stairs, and after Grace had given it to her mother she went over to her favorite seat at the window, where she could see the patch of green that now had lost it's freshness in the city heat.
 1T know that hand. It's-of course from Mrs. Palgrave, George Lennox's aunt. What can she Dear me, this is very sad.''
 Are you there, Grace? Did you know George Lennox was so ill2'
 Frances told me that be had over worked himself" And Grace's voice was so quiet that any one except Mrs. Leoonte would have suspected some- thing.
 "Overworked, poor fellowl It is far worse than that. His aunt writes:
 George used to go agreat deal to your house in the old days, and I am sure you will be sorry to receive the bad news of this morning. heard he was lying i'll in his rooms and insisted on his coming to Haslemore to be nursed. For years past he has been looking pinched and sad. In spite of all my husband said to him he would take no pleasure and seemed to have no rest except in work. We were mortified at his appearance. He was worn to shadow and his hair turned quite gray. We did our best to cheer him., but it would have made you weep to see him smile. Our doctor said it was an entire breakdown, and that he feared the worst. His nervous system was in such a state that when he saw your photograph or Grace's-I for get which-he burst into tears. That night he announced his intention of go- ing back to his chambers, and no per suasion could keep him. He left us on Thursday, and on Sunday morning he was found dead in his chair. But the expression was one of sleep. It is lamentable tragedy, for if George had only married and had some one to care for him he might have been alive and well today Her kind regards, and so on What fine fellow" said Mrs. Le- conte. He was in every way so hand some, well bred and ablel Did it ever occur to you, Grace, that George Len nox had fancy for Frances?" -u
 "No, mother; never," said Grace, hardly knowing the sound of her voice.
 "Very likely am wrong, for have not been quick to notice those things as some mothers are, but I remember that
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