Williston graphic. (Williston, Williams County, N.D.) 1895-1919, 1900-07-26

been very deep. Neither, I fancy, had
hers for me.
.'Time will prove,' said, slowly. II
doubt if She"
''She does" said Maisie.
HAS she told you 500"
"Yes."
l frowned. ss.You have not told her
about the letter." She shook her
head. "Then never will. 1t is use
less your asking me to do So"
81 do not ask you to. am not
brave enough" She buried her face.
II want them to think well of me-" she
cried, piteously, "when-when-I-"
"Oh, Maisie, don't!" Tne tears were
in my eyes.
"But you will be good to her? You
will make it up-won't you? You need
not tell her about me-only say that
you are sorry and want to be friends.
Then you can be engaged again, and
and some day Her lips quivered
Marry herr" She nodded. "But if
I no longer care for her? If know
that T can never love her as I could
love? My dear little playfellow and
friend, 1 am not half SO fond of Lucy
as am of YOU
'Ah!' She looked at me with big,
deep eyes. II am only child. There
are different kinds of fondness, dear
Fred" The, wistful affection in the
child's face touched me to the heart,
and I kissed her frail h3hds.
sect better, little one, and see,"
said, brokenly. Then we sat in silence
for long time, holding hands.
II am getting sleepy, Fred" she
murmured. kiss me-" I kissed her
several times, and she went smilingly
to sleep, with her cheek against my
arm and her hand in my hand. Mrs
Dormer came in, but I sat motionless
for an hour, till the child's grasp re-
Taxed, and 1 could draw myself away
without awaking her.
II shall come tomorrow morning.
I whispered. Her mother nodded con-
STRANGELY, and went out on tiptoe'
Lucy met me at the bottom of the
stairs.
II have something to tell you," she
said, IF you will spare me minute
I bowed and followed her into the
empty dining-room. She sank into an
armchair by the freside, and I stood
by the mantelpiece, looking down up
on her. It seemed strange to be so
near to her and so Indifferent to the
fact. For one thing was clear to me
that if I had ever really loved Lucy
Dormer, I loved her no longer. We
were quite unsuited to one another,
and if I married her it would mere
" be useless sacrifice of two lives.
II treated you badly" she said, alb
ruptly. I raised my eyebrows. After
Maisie's confession there seemed no
reason for the admission.
"There were things" said, slowly
"that needed explanation"
"Some things are beyond explana-
ton"
perhaps they are better left So"
Zone can ask forgiveness" There
was faint note of entreaty in her
voice. I fidgeted impatiently with a
little ornament on the mantel shelf.
If I asked for forgiveness she would
give more.
IF one desires forgiveness" said,
at length. It sounded brutal, but it
might avoid worse things.
':Oh!" she cried, II do
sYou!" I said, with astonishment.
s'You! What have to forgive you?'
She toyed with her handkerchief.
81 thought Maisie would tell you.
The child was always fond of you."
So she knew.
''Maisie has told me- said, grave
ly. "Lucy, it is right to be frank. I
have discovered that my little play
fellow, child as she is, has the best
love that I can ever give to anyone"
She looked at me in surprise. Then
she laughed scornfully.
81 see," she said. "You want an ex-
cuse. You might invent one without
taking my poor little sisters name in
vain"
'It is no excuse" I said, firmly. We
looked at one another for a minute in
silence.
"Then," she said, II did not hurt
you. I am glad" She stamped her
foot passionately. mo, no, am not.
I am sorry-sorry, do you hear?" I
shrugged my shoulders.
'"There is no more to say?" sug-
gested.
''No more to say she echoed faint
ly. I walked to the door. "Fred!" she
cried, abruptly, II must say it. Listen
to me, if you will not forgive"
"Forgivc?" I asked. ''What have 1
to forgiven She looked at me in ap-
parent bewilderment.
do you not know that never told
my people of your explanation? That
let all the blame rest on you?"
"My letter." I cried. my letter."
"The letter you sent to Maisie?"
"She gave it to you?"
"Of course she gave it to me-" said
Lucy, opening her eyes wide. "Why
not?" I ought to have known. My
brave little girl!
"Maisie told me that she never gave
you the letter, Lucy; that all the
blame was hers" I walked to the win
dow and looked out for time in 81
lence, broken by Lucy's sobs.
'She told you-that--just to-screen
me-" she said, brokenly.
Eyes" I could not say more for the
moment. Presently I walked back to
the fire. "God bless her!" I said, soft
ly. "Let us say no more about it, Lucy,
and be friends for her sake.'
Lucy wiped her eyes and looked into
the fire. Then she spoke with her eyes
averted from me.