The Democratic advocate. [volume] (Westminster, Md.) 1865-1972, 1907-06-07

cit seems that women don't; at all
events, YOU don't" he said, lightly.
'sIsn' t it terrible bore to travel along in
the same rut, day after day, week after
week, as you do, Miss Ellie?'
A wicked little sparkle was in her eyes.
''Not half as great nuisance as to do
nothing as you do. "
"But | was brought up not to have
anything much to do, you see. 1t makes
difference y
She fixed her pretty, thoughtful eyes
on his handsome face.
ooh, you are a rich man, then. [
thought, somehow, you were not. ~
He laughed-just the merest bit vexed
at her sincere frankness.
erich? No, am not, unless you call
three thousand year fortune
Il don't earn half that, yet | call my
self rich," Ellie said, quietly. "But per-
haps you expect to inherit a fortune, Mr..
Chamney?'
"You saucy little catechist! No, I
can say that 1 do
''Then, Mr.. Chamney, you mean to say
that you will be content to 60 on, so long
as you live, idling away your time in what
ever amusement pleases you for the mo-
ment, and, having no good object to ac-
complish, no healthy discipline of daily
employment, just because you happen to
possess enough to feed and clothe you?
There was a sweet, interested kindliness
in her manner, in her words, that robbed
them of all sting, and-Sydney Chamney
looked almost reverently at her.
'I-never really thought of it. But
and flush Redeemed his handsome face
"suppose | confess what I do expect
what l did expect to do, mean. Will
you promise you won quite-despise me?'
She smiled gravely.
II can tell you more truthfully when |
have heard what you have to say. What
is it?'
He looked earnestly in her sweet, wo-
manly face.
II did intend to marry fortune, Miss
Ellie
A painful flush surged over her cheeks.
She shrank further away from him.
II knew itv' he said, impetuously.
ssDidn't l say you'd despise me? of
course, l knew you would, when you heard
what had in my mind, and I deserve to
be despised. But don't forget I also said
had given up the idea, although she was
one of the most lovable girls imaginable
if all that her friends said of her was true,
which | do not doubt. She would be a
prize for any man, even without her
riches
A silence between them followed, dis
turbed only by the soft clang of the sleigh
bells.
Then Chamney broke it
"Why don't you ask me what has
changed my mind, Miss Ellie?'
A swift, radiant look in her eyes was
instantly hushed.
because think you would tell me if
you wanted me to know" she answered
readily.
II do want you to know. 1t is you =
81? l? Why, Mr.. Chamney, how
when have impressed you To-
He interrupted her eagerly.
s'There has not been an hour that have
not been conscious of your influence upon
me, Ellie Your words, your daily toll,
your cheerful acceptance of the duties de-
volving upon you, have shown me not only
what selfish, worthless fellow l have
been, but what self-reliant man | pur-
pose to make Of myself. Hitherto, in my
absurd stupidity, l have regarded myself
as destined to be saved from an honest,
manly, workaday life-a sort OF glorlhed
idiot, to whom fortune must somehow come
with no effort of my own
He paused, and Ellie looked up, almost
wistfully, to say:
81 am so glad"
$50 am I! am eager to begln-to be
of some use somewhere. What shall
do. Ellie? Cut wood, or turn farmland,
or what p
Ellie smiled-gravely enough, but it was
a look that stirred his very soul.
"I have heard you say you read little
at law. Take that up, throw all your
resolution and energy into it, and make
mark, and-a fortuner' she added, with
a little, merry laugh.
Chamney reined the demure pony in at
the schoolhouse gate, and assisted Ellie
out with careful consideration.
sIt has been such delightful drive,
she said.
cpd no idea we were so near the school, J"
he answered, with laugh. cit hasn' t