Oxford Democrat. [volume] (Paris, Me.) 1833-1933, 1910-03-01

he had alone with Carroll, Orde
arrived at more intimate plane
of conversation with her. He
came to an understanding Of her un-
questioning acceptance of Mrs. Bish,
ops attitude. Carroll truly believed
that none but herself could perform
for her mother the various petty offices
that lady demanded from her next OF
kin and that her practical slavery was
due by every consideration Of filial af
fection. In his hotel room he broCded
over the state Of affairs until his
thoughts took very gloomy tinge in
deed. To begin with, In spite of his
mothers assurance he had no faith
In his own cause. His acquaintance
with Carroll was but an affair OF
months, and their actual meetings
comprised incredibly few days. Orde
was naturally humble minded. 1t did
not seem conceivable to him that he
could win her without long court
ship. And superadded was the almost
intolerable weight of Carroll's ideas as
to her domestic duties.
Nevertheless, at the very moment
when he had made up his mind that II
would be utterly useless even to In
dulge in hope for some years to come
he spoke. II came about suddenly and
entirely without premeditation.
The two had escaped for a breath OF
air late In the evening. Following the
conventions they merely strOlled to the
end of the block and back, always
within sight of the house. Carroll was
in tired aud pensive mood. She held
her head back, breathing deeply.
Its only little strip, but it's the
stars" said she, looking up to the sky
between the houses. They're so quiet
and calm and big"
She seemed to Orde for the first
time like little girl. A wave of ten
derness lifted Orde from his feet. He
leaned over, his breath coming quickly
Carroll" he said.
She shrank back.
mo, no. You mustn't" she cried.
She did not pretend to misunderstood.
"It's life or death with me" he said.
81 must notv she cried, futterng
like bird. II promised myself long
ago that must always. always take
| care of mother.
"Please. please, DEAR" pleaded Orde.
| He had nothing more to say than this,
Just the simple incoherent symbols OF
pleading, but in such crises it is rather
| the soul than the tongue that speaks.
His hand met hers and closed about 1t.
Don't you care for me. dear? asked
Orde very gently.
81 have no right to tell you that" an
swered she. II have tried. oh, so hard,
to keep you from saying this, for l
knew / had no right to hear you"
"You do care for mer' he cried.
They had mounted the steps and
stood Just within the vestibule.
Carroll" cried Orde, tell me that
YOU love me! Tell me that you'll marry
mer'
1T would kill mother If should
| leave her." she said sadly.
"But you must marry me-" pleaded
Orde. "We are made for each other
| God meant us for each other"
ut would have to be after a great
many years." she said doubtfully
"Good night. Come to me tomorrow.
She slipped inside the half open door.
Orde turned away and walked uT
the street, his eyes so blinded by the
greater glory that he all but ran down
an inoffensive passerby. Then as the
first effervescence died more gloomy
view Of the situation came uppermost
To his heated imagination the dead
lock seemed complete. Carrolrs devo
ton to what she considered her duty
appeared unbreakable. And then hlf
fighting blood surged back to his heart
The fever of the argument courseo
through his veins all that long night