Pittston Gazette

              ";LBiL"".'"'T»01 Newsoaoer in the Wyoming Valley PITTSTON, LUZERNE CO., PA., FRIDAY,-JANUARY 29, 1892. A Weekly Local and Family Journal. I me. Only—only, 1 am sure we snau be all the happier if we can honestly tell ourselves that no one is any the worse for our success." because she kad nothing to do. Idleness is a sign of riches. If she had been a busy working girl she would have escaped George Burnett." flaud. but slie was happy aim conn- heart," she added, trying to brighten him "And don't lose confidence in eyes, but the glory of the gardens was gone. The gates of her Eden had closed without a single note Of warning, the bright spirit, who had been singing his sweet song in her ears, had soared far out of reach. Her golden hour was H /d GDA1U|Te|*"£/.BKEST Duty \ rfi ***  jSfl-RftHDQUDNEV J&M *\J W Isip** 5v*l*r./YuCAIl«£— dent still "GETTIN JINED TOGETHER." "Well,' continued the benign man, "I've heard that all these things can be overcome by strength of will power. They say that imagination lias u good deal to do with it. Suppose you imagine that your tooth doesn't ache the least bit." Nothing of importance happened in these days of early summer, whilC* Olive sat wreathing (lowers in the Regent street shop. The routine of her business life was seldom broken. One customer, who had ordered the spray of yellow roses, came in and wanted more, lie seem to require a great many bouquets and sprays, and sometimes the young lady in brown tweed came with him, but more often he was alone. The flowers were packed in tin boxes and sent to Seaward Aylstone. Esq., Cecil street. Strand. * Tk« EtIi4«h«« Waat Against Klin aad He laughed, a little indulgent laugh. "The wife isn't always wrong," said Samuel, who had been listening with fi«T* W • p t. "By and by, when we have reached our goal, we shan't remember the obstacles that we cleared away from our path," he said gayly. "You talk very prettily, Olive; I am pleased to hear you express yourself so well. But later oil, when you have plenty of mon-D ey to spend on dresses aud knickknacks, you won't sing the same song. You will give to charities, of course, and buy things at bazaars, and patronize concerts, and that is all that can be reasonably expected of you." When I was about two miles out of town it began to rain heavily and a woman came to the door of a negro cabin and called to me to "scratch in yere 'til de wetness is ober." I found that she was a widow with three or four children, and she had a caller in the person of an old darky who had seen at least seventyfive years of all sorts of weather. He was blind in one eye. humpbacked and lame, and he didn't look able to lift a peck of potatoes. After some general talk the old man turned to the widow and said: rather a sad smile. "And the foolish father was the chief person to lDe blamed. It was my fault. Olive. Poor Jessie was a delicate-looking white thing, pretty in her way; and I thought -she was too fragile to go into a business. George Burnett took her for an heiress, I suppose. He believed that 1 could afford to keep her, and her husband, too." over. "I am sorrv that I have disappointed you." she said at last, fler voice was aa musical as ever, but there was a touch of proud patience in her manner that irritated him more than pettishneas would have done. Clever as he was, high as he had risen, lie had failed of late to make her acknowledge his superiority. And he knew that he had not spoken truly in saying that she was the same girl of the old Eastmeon day*. She was, in some respects, a different Olive, far more cultivated, far mors beautiful, and with a slow growing consciousness of her own worth. "And suppose yon imagine that you are the biggest fool in New York!"' hotly exclaimed the woman as the tooth gave * jump which lifted her a foot high. The benign man muttered, "Um! I m!" and went to the end of the car and sat down and began to read a newspaper. —New York Evening World. "You are fortunate, Olive." sighed Mrs. Wake. "Michael isn't courting you for what he can get. He loves you, doesn't he, Samuel?" If Olive had forgotten the existence of Aaron ("enlake. Jane ChuHock's letters must have recalled him to her mind. Hut she had not forgotten him, and had asked many questions of Mieliael about their old friend She had soon discovered, however, that Michael hated to recall early associations, and his answers were so curt and unsatisfactory that at last she dropped Aaron's name altogether Still, it vexed her sorely that she had no news to send to Jane, for although there 'find been no openly avowed engagement, everyone in lOastmeon had known that Jane Challock and Aaron Fenlakc were lovers true In a village it is not easy to do one's courting unobserved. The birds of the air toll the secret; the trees whisper it: the stream babbles of it night and day Aaron's unspoken love w.is freely discussed by all his old neighbors, and poor Jane's unuttered hopes were the property of all her girl friends A PHeoim Appeal. [OONTIKUKD.] broad space of sward in front ot her, she was feeling more like her old self. Aud surely if Michael had not loved her he would not have been so anxious to tell her everything! He did not see her disappointed look.1 She had turned her face away, and was gazing across the park with grave, sad eyes. She had dreamt of a life that was to be lived with him—a life full of deep meaning and brave effort, a life that was not made up of show and selfseeking. Perhaps she had not counted much on enjoyment; her pleasures had been simple and few, and all her ideas of haj-iiness were centered in him. But she hqg pictured them as working together. not for themselves only, but for others' welfare also, and in a dim way she had realized that if we want to know what kind of life we are living, we must look for its reflection in the lives around us. Under the main entrance to one of oar churches a poor woman, shivering with cold, and holding a baby in her arms, appealed to the charity of the passers by. "Ize gwine ter ask he 'un 'bout it." "Shoo!" CHAPTER VI. THE FIRST LONDON 8UHDAY. Samuel nodded, and added, mentally "As much as he can love anyone." "Yes, I ar'! He "un orter know. Will yo' un abide?" "Why, your infant is of pasteboard!" said a gentleman, as he tapped it nose, which sounded hard and resonant. Olive woke up in the morning as fresh and bright as ever; but she was a little disposed to undervalue her freshness and brightness. She had nothing "better to wear than her village bonnet and gown, and to-day she was goinjy to church with Michael. The girl's heart •was very tender and humble; a «f disapproval from thr* eyes ahe li*ceu would make her utterly miserable. She was living in a world of feeling, and only doing her part in the outer world mechanically. "You know," he began, "how rapidly I have been rising ever since I went to Battarsby's works. Old Battersby is breaking down very fast; he has not been the same man since his brother died. It was after the brother's death , that Edward Battersby was taken into •ptfc-tnrrship, and when bis father dies he will be the sole representative of the firm." He always preserved a vivid remembrance of his own youth, and nothing would have induced turn to meddle with the course of a lot* affair Hut was this a true love affair? One person was in love with himself, and only wanted a wife to feed and nourish his self-love; the other was clinging fondly to an ignoble being, tricked out in a fancy costume of her own making. True love dtvells among dreams and fitful lights and shadows; but its dreams take a definite shape and come to life, and then it is not afraid to stand face to face with them. "You don't appreciate me," he went on. venting on her the pent-up anger «f weeks. "Any idle fellow, who had not two ideas in his head would have suited you as well as I do. You ask for nothing better than common enjoyment, cheap holiday pleasures, such as any working-man can give his sweetheart. And I have been toiling and racking my brains to win money and a high social position for us both!" "Doan't bodder!" "But I'ze gwine ter." She fidgeted around, and he got up and sat down and cleared his throat and finally asked: "Oh. I beg your pardon, monsieur. It is so cold; I left the real one at home." —Progres de Gail lac. HE LOOKED AT I1F.B 6EAKCUINGLY. yourself. Jane will wait years for you, dear. Aaron; I am sure of that. How I wish I could do something to comfort "Say. bos*. I'ze been axin Llbbie 'bout our git-tin' jined together." Pictorial Phrairi. "Shoo! ole inan— how flighty!" she exclaimed as she waved him away. "You mean about getting married?" I asked. you:" Olive wa® Honestly trying to give him her fuU attention, but all this was not very interesting. Two girls went tripping by; they wore golden-brown frocks and straw bonnets adorned with but- "You may need comfort for yourself yet, my gill," he said, in a quiet "Michael," she said gently, yet bravely, "you are saying things that are not true. No one could ever have suited me as well as the man I have alwaya loved. And I am not unambitious; I, too, have dreamed of a higher life, and have striven after my ideal in my ewi "Dat's it. Her husband's dun dead, an she's powerful lonesome without a man." Uncle Wake glanced at her now and then as they sat at breakfast, and there was something in her face that sent his thoughts straying back into the pas*. Some one else used to look at him with brown eyes like Olive's. WheD she spoke her voice was an echo of *nother voice that had been hushed for years. The little wan woman who poured out his coffee was almost forgotten; all the light and color of his li*e had died out with the death of hi* first lore, the wife of his youth. He had married his first wife because be had need of her, and 1 had taken Jils second because she had The words liannteil her after he was gone. She sat alone by the window and watched the golden lights fading from the housetops; and it seemed as if the falling dusk had east a gloom over her own spirit. All the pain and sorrows of others* lives were pressing upon her own life. All her vague doubts were taking definite shape, and menacing her future. She was almost sorry that she had sent for Aaron, and yet she knew that she had acted for the best. voice I W' ■ "ST: "I suppose I need not caution you," he said after a brief silence: "but it is important that no one should be told anything about my plans. Don't discuss my affairs with your uncle Wake; he is a man with whom 1 can't sympathize, a man who has wasted his capacities in an absurdly unreasonable way." tercups that looked as if they had been freshly gathered from the water meadow at home. She could not help wondering how much their costumes had co6t and sighing for a buttercup bonnet. Then another girl came by with her swain, and her dress was perfectly enchanting. This curious, unsuccessful old man understood Olive very well, and as the days went on he saw that she suffered from feelings that were many and complicated. She was always trusting and mistrusting; doubting and longing to believe: unquiet, because the truth that was in her would not let her be satisfied with shams. Very gladly would he have toiled for her, and spared her all necessity of work. But he knew that work was good for her—that the world was good for her—that the sight of many faces and the sound of many voices would help her along that difficult. unseen path which every one of us must tread alone. "Now, Moses, what yo' talkin sich giddiness fur?" she protested. wav." "It's de troof, Libbie. Jist fadin right away 'kase yo' haven't got no husband. Dese yere chill en jist crvin all de time kase dev hain't got no fadder. Pore leetle chill'n!" Aaron Fcnlake had always been a 6hy. slow fellow, one of those unlucky men who fail to express their feelings by look or voice Ik» had often scowled at Jane when he had meant to smile sweetly but Jane preferred his frowns to the smiles of other men. and in lier heart she did not envy Olive for having won the magnificent Michael, so dear was poor gloomy Aaron to her. Olive herself respected Aaron and liked him, not only for his demotion to Michael but for the steadfast honesty that s'ie had always found in him No, she .lid not believe that he had changed to Jane. Men of his stamp do not change, but they sometime# despair Aaron might lose his hope but he would never forget his love "In your cnvn way, yes; but sot in my way," he answered quickly, with am angry glitter in his blue eyes. "Of course I won't tell him anything," Olive answered; "but 1 wish you liked him better, Michael, for I already love him." "Perhaps not quite in your way, Michael. I cannot believe— I never hare believed—that succogs is the sole object of existence. Nor do I think that success alone ever yet made a man or woman happy. George Eliot says that "Daddy, Ize dun tole yo' dat you's too ole," she objected. "I have made myself useful to Edward Battersby in a hundred ways," Michael went on. "There is no need to tell you how I have managed to slip into his confidence. He is a weak sort of fellow, and his brains are not half as good as mine. He is glad enough to use me and I let myself be used, but only to serve my own ends by and by." Olive glanced at him and saw a smile of self-satisfaction hovering round his 'mouth and a gleam of triumph in his blue eyes. And all at once she remembered that Lucy Cromer had not admired Michael's eyes, although she ha». admitted that their color was beautiful. Lucy had said that they were cold, 'and the remark had made Olive quite angry. She hardly knew why such foolish words had come back to her at this moment, but they pained her a little. "Hn! How ole was I?" "Mighty ole, daddy—mighty ole. You's dun 'bont ready to die." ■A SLIGHT ACQUAINTANCE. —Life. "Love is a valuable article and ought not to be given away in haste," said Michael with one of his indulgent smiles. "But as you are to live under his roof, it is well that you don't find him unendurable. You will have a feast of books, little woman. Ah, that pleases Von!" CHAPTEU VIII. need of him. "LT/CE SWEET BEI.I.S JANGLED OUT OF TCNE "Hul H'ar dat woman talk! Bom, I want yo' to decide dat questun. Jist look me all ober «n' say how ole I was." Michael came in when breakfast was over. And if in Olive's eyes he had seemed imposing on Saturday night, he was truly magnificent on Sunday morn- Two young faces were sheltered under the light shadow of some larches in Kew Gardens. It was a Sunday afternoon; Sunday groups were scattered all over the grounds, and the man followed their movements with a look of disgust; but the girl, sitting quietly on the grass, took in all the beauty of the place with pure aud simple delight. The sun of paradise seemed to be shining on these golden paths; it was one of those momcuts when a poor daughter of earth has caught a glimpse of that old garden where God's first pair of lovers rejoiced together. They had talked a little, but silence seemed to suit them best. It was a rare thing for Michael Chase to be silent; but there were matters in his mind that he did not care to discuss with his companion. He had been kind—languidly kind perhaps —but Olive was well contented. He had spent some hours in her company without finding a single fault with anything that she wore, or said, or did. She could enjoy the bliss of sitting by his side in peace. This she thought, was the sort of happiness that she had always waited and longed for. Flowers, the soft shade of trees, summer sunlight. and the presence of the man who was the sole king of her heart. What more could a woman desire? But she did not give voice to her joy. If you talk about happiness it is too apt to desert you. It is an unrestful spirit, who always hovers over us with wings outspread, ready for an instant flight. AND HARSH. I took him over to the window where I conld get a jjiDod look at him. and as I scanned his features I realized that he must be a very old man indeed. She settled easily and naturally into her place in Burritlge's flower shop, and all Lucy Cromer's predictions were fulfilled. It was only with Michael that Olive was nervous and shy; with other people she could hold her own modestly and quietly, yat with resolution. The ceaseless roar of the great street soon ceased to be confusing. She sat steadily at her work behind the counter, bend ing her small brown curly head ovei the fragrant blossoms. There was always a great deal to do. Wreaths and crosses for the dead; bridal bouquets; sprays and graceful trailing clusters for ball dresses. Her deft fingers did wonders with flowers, arranging them among many shaded leaves and delicate maidenhair. The window was filled with specimens of her handiwork; passers-by paused spellbound; the charm of her fancy gave a new beauty to the fair, frail things that she touched with dainty skill. She looked up with all the light of youth and joy iu her beautiful face. "Do yon want my honest opinion?" I asked, as we sat down again. "It seems," she said, "as if I should never get to the end of all my delights. Are you going to take me home now? Well, Michael, we must go to church this evening." "Sartin, boss," he hopefully replied, while the widow's face wore an anxious look. One day when June was drawing to a close slie wrote a little note to Aaron Fenlake and sent it to Battcrsby's works. She asked why he had not ljeen to see her and told him that he would find her at home any evening in the week. Sundays excepted. On Sunday she belonged exclusively to Michael, and some instinct warned her that he did not want to be intimnte with Aaron. Yet, submissive as she was in most things, Olive felt that a tried friendship haCl its claims and that something was due to Aaron Fenlake. It pained her to think that Michael did r.ot^cknowledge that claim, and then she soothed herself by fancying that he had shown his gratitude and good feeling to Aaron in ways unknown to her. But that was not enough; she would be kind also, and she must see Aaron for Jane's sake. "Well, then, as near as I can judge, and to the best of my knowledge and belief, yon are at least eighty years old, and perhaps five years older." "To satisfy you, I suppose we must," he replied. "You women seem to think that you can't keep good without going to church." "Jist like I dnn tole yo, daddy!" exclaimed the widow; and she pounded her knees with her fists and laughed long and loud. "1 shall be able to wind him round my finger soon," he continued. "You see I have always held myself well in hand. Smiles says: 'It may be of comparatively little consequence how a man is governed from without, whilst everything depends upon how he governs himself .from within.' The man who rises is the man who has learned the secret of self-government. Now Edward Battersby would never learn that secret if he were to live a hundred years. He lets himself be swayed by every whim that seizes him. He gratifies every passing desire and runs after everything that attracts his eyes. I have a purpose, Olive, I am treading the road that leads up to it. and I never turn aside from my path for a single in- Btant." He was very kind and gracious as they went homeward, and told her the names of the streets, pointing out objects of interest with untiring good nature. The Wakes did not ask where they had been. Samuel Wake's own face brightened when he saw that his niece looked happy. And then came the Sunday dinner, and afterwards a pleasant afternoon spent in a larger Bitting-room upstairs; and Olive and Michael turned over piles of books to their hearts' content. The shopkeeper sold second-hand volumes as well as new ones, aud Olive liked the old books best of all. She was a little disappointed when Michael said that he never read any poetry nowadays. A MONKEY WRENCH. —Harper's Bazar. The old man stood np, looked at me reproachfully ont of his one eye and then shuffled ont of doors without a word. He fell down getting off the doorgtep, and he tripped over a root and fell down again at the gate; and as he went off up the road he humped over so far that he did not appear to be more than three leet high. Half an honr later the rain ceased falling, and I followed him. Half a mile np the road I came to a fork, and the old man stood there under a tree. A very haughty, reserved looking and elegantly clad lady sat in one of the middle seats of a western railroad train, with her elegant belongings beside her. At Peterville, a long, sallow, hatchet faced woman in a green and black calico dress flounced to the waist and a yellow sunbonnet lined with pink boarded the train, marched down the aisle past several empty seats and plumped herself down by the side of tlie "blue blood" lady, carelessly sweeping that lady's belongings aside and saying calmly: "I guess I'll set here so a* to have company. Groin fer?" Didn't Know Maggie. IX KEW GARDENS. *wc can only have the highest happiness, such as goes along with being a great man, by ihavlng wide thoughts, and much feeling for the rest of the world as well as ourselves.' " One day some one came into the shop and ordered a spray of yellow roses. Olive was as busy as usual; but when he spoke she looked up He was a well built man, slightly above middle height, and he was looking at her with a pair of thoughtful gray eyes, dark and rather lethargic. He had a clear, gentle voice and slow manner, in which, however, there was not the slightest affectation. Nothing in his face was remarkable; the skin was bronzed, the features irregular, and a tawny mustache drooped over the mouth. Yet HE WAS TRULY MAGHIFICEST. k»pr- flis clothes were fashionable and Unmistakably new, and he wore a flainty "buttonhole." Uncle Wake purveyed him with quiet amusement, Dnd watched to see the effect of all this Splendor on Olive. The effect was certainly depressing. "George Eliot was a mere dreamer, with the gift of telling her dreams in good English," he cried, impatiently. "I suppose that idiot, Samuel Wake, has been giving her books to you, and making you more sentimental and cloudy than you were before. Why don't you read Smiles and clear the mist away from your brain?" She had posted her note on Monday, and on Tuesday evening when she was sitting alone in the room upstairs, Aaron came in. He paused awkwardly on the threshold, and Olive rose and went to him with an outstretched hand and a bright face. "Daddy, which road do I take to goto Kelley's?" I asked. He looked at me for a moment and then came shuffling out to the road and replied: "You used to like some of the verses in my 'Christian Year,"* she said regretfully; "1 have heard you repeat them." "Boss, I woa't tola ve' ihIBb 'beet da roads!" The girl looked at her lover doubtfully and shyly. Samuel Wake knew, almost as if she had told him in words, what was passing in her mind. All his life he had been intensely interested in other people's lives, and now he understood what Olive was feeling, and what Michael was not feeling. He saw that she went unwillingly upstairs to get ready for their walk, and he was sure that she would return with an anxious look, afraid of being seen a second time in that countrified bonnet. "You are wonderfully strong, Michael —father always said so," cried Olive, speaking straight from her heart. "To Bsnvsr." "Very likely; but I have outlived all the poetry of fife. That only comes to us at of the journey," he answered. "Oh, I am glad to see you at last!" she cried in her sweet voice. "Why have you been so long in coihing?" Some one passing by the couple under the larches said to himself that ♦ he man was not half worthy of the prirl. Her face, with its rich, sunlit loveliness, had haunted Seaward Aylstone for many a day; and now he came npon it unawares, plowing out of the soft gloom of the trees. He had come down to Kew to study certain effects of light and shade, and then almost forgot the purpose that had brought him there. "I have read Smiles, Miehael," she replied quietly. "And I am weak enough to care more for the Robert StepliensoB who took thought for little children and birds, than for the great inventor. The very side of him that you thiak lowest, seems to me highest. Remember I am not depreciating his splendid energy, I only mean that it. was not the noblest part of man. nor could it, without other qualities, have made him really great." "But why?" "Km* yo' hain't no friend of wins!" "Ton air? Whsr# you from?" "Boston." "I should lose all my strength if I dk. not watch myself," he replied. "You don't know how it weakens a man if he slackens his hold on self just once." "Bwtoni Wall, I do declare! I was born in Varmount myself, but I ain't never been back since I left there thirtynine year ago the third day of next month. So yon air clean from Boston?" "I am" (icily). "Lived there long?" "All of my life." He looked at her in an odd, constrained way. "I didn't know where you were living," he said, bringing out his words with a risible effort. "No, sah! No, Mh! Can't stuff dat down me, sah! If yo' was a friend ef mine you'd a tole dat widdsr dat I was only twenty-seven y'ars ele, sah—'zactlt twenty-sev»n las' wsek! I dean' know ntiffin 'bout roads, nor Kellty, nor body! Good day, sah!"—New Tnrlr Evening World. "Yes, I am, too; of coarse I am." "And at the close," said Uncle Wake. there was something in those hearylidded gray eyes that made Olive think of them again. "Well, I'm not near the close yet." Michael spoke with high good humor. "But Olive may read as many verses as she pleases. I have got to think and work." Olive looked "at him almost with reverence; his words sounded so good and wise and brave. A few moments before, when she had caught that fleeting expression of triumphant cunning on his face, she had felt a cold little doubt creeping into her mind. But that look was gone, and now she saw the There was a lady with him; a well made woman, not beautiful, but distinctly thoroughbred. She wore a jacket and gown of brown tweed, and the plain costume seemed to adapt itself to,all the easy movements of the wearer. She too looked at Olive; and the girl's quick ear caught the sentence that the man said to her in a low voice. * It was something about Dante's Matilda, "who on the edge of happy Lethe, stood frreathinjj flowers with flowers." "Yon did not know? Then Michael must have forgotten to give you my messages." "I shall work, too," said Olive, with a quick, bright glance. "I must begin tomorrow." "Did you really send messages to me?" ne asked eagerly. "I» that so? Borned there?" She came back with just the look that he had expected to see, and Michael instantly made an exasperating remark. Yes; it was the same face that he had seen bending over the flowers in the Regent street shop, and it had seemed to him that one of his vague dreams of beauty had suddenly, taken shape and become a reality. But this was the first time he had ever seen her out of the shop and its surroundings, and all her charms seemed doubled and trebled to-day. Her lips, scarlet as japonica blossoms, were parted in an unconscious smile. Hitherto he had only beheld her grave; now she was quietly, yet girlishly gay. Until this moment he had not realized how young she was, nor how new the world appeared to her. That frosli delight, that untroubled belief which only comes once in a lifetime, these glorious follies of yoilth. were hers still. "Well, I do declare! Now I ain't a mite o' doubt but you've some - time or bumped agin a own niece I've got i Boston. Mebbe ver well quaintj her. Her narnn's Maggie Smith, dhe's my sister Sary's youngest. I wer seen her, but I've got a pho-5f her, and I tell ye she ain't be» one when it comes to puttin on An I tell ye she's smart! As as ever they make 'em. She's got "Yes." Michael's brow darkened. "If I had my will you should not do anything," he cried. "Indeed I did," she answered, "and I have been thinking you quite unkind." The sparkle of wrath had died oat of Michael's eyes; but his face expressed a cold contempt. A G«n«r*nt Hmbaad. He looked at her again very searcliingly, as she stood illuminated in the evening light that touched her brown hair with gold. She was wonderfully pretty—prettier than he had ever seen her yet; it was as if she had suddenly bloomed into fresh sweetness and brightness. Iler altered style of dress had something to do with her new aspect; but Aaron, being a man, could not be expected to understand this. He did full justice to her beauty, but he took no pleasure in it. And yet when she spoke again and drew him gently to a seat by the open window, he was touched by the tender gentleness of the face. There was a look of humility in the liquid eyes that softened liim. "'What *r« tod joinf t» ri-mr  wif# for her birthday?" "Haven't you another bonnet. Olive?" he asked. "That did very well in the train, but it does not do for this morning.""We are wasting time here," he Mid, frigidly. "1 will take you back to your uncle's liou.se, Olive; and then I will go home to my own room. This hot day has given me a headache." "But you cannot have your will, dear Michael," she answered, gently. "You knew that I was coming here to get work; and Uncle Wake has satisfied himself that my employers arc respectable people. Besides, I don't want to be idle." "I am sorry," she said gently, with a deep blush. "I am going to buy some new things to-morrow." They departed, and Olive went on with her wreathing. Often, in a silent fashion, she talked with the blossoms as she picked them carefully out of the scented heaps before her, and confided her thoughts She was anxious and remorseful in an instant, ready to blame herself for not having seen that he was suffering. She had been wrapped in a happy dream under the trees, and all the while he had been sitting by her side, feeling weary and ill! And then she had worried him with her talk, and made th* headache worse. "If I were a young man I should not look at the bonnet while that face was ,inside it." This observation came from Uncle Wake, and Michael passed "it over in contemptuous silence. A few minutes later the young couple went out together into the sunshiny street, and Olive was utterly dispirited and disappointed.Michael turned back to the books with a dissatisfied look, and Samuel Wake began to point out the merits of some quaint old engravings. Then came tea and the young pair set out for Westminster Abbey. £ gold chain and six rings in the photograft, and a silk dress, and sha'a :le itself. I reckon like as not yon her. She's lived t'ner# fj re years, j Maggie Smith. Know tier?" o not, madam." " To the lily bells tender. And (ray heliotropes." And they in their turn breathed out fragrant memories of her childhood and early girlhood; of the plants that her father and mother had tended in their cottage garden: at the May garlands that the village children had carried from door to door; of the nosegay that Michael had brought her one summer morning, his first love-gift. Simple meinories indeed, yet they helped to keep her spirit fresh and sweet, and cherish her old love for the humble country home that was now so fpr A slight rain had fallen, and Michael laughed at Olive's enthusiasm for the showery lights shining everywhere and and the thin clouds blown by soft winds across the crowd of housetops and spires. She was silent when they drew near the abbey, and her hand clung closely to his arm. They were late, the service had already begun, and a great wave of music came sweeping towards them. The girl bowed her head and hid her tears: already she was realizing that she must not let Michael get too many glimpses of her inner self. Of course he loved her Did he not speak confidently of the future life that they were to live Together? Hut what sort of a life would it be? •11, I'll tell you what you do. you go back you jest hunt d t»ll her you met her Aunt Jinny on the train, and you'll be all right "Oh! Michael," she said, rising, and looking at him with a glance that few men could have met unmoved; "I am afraid I have been selfish. It wu for my sake that we came here, dear; and you have paid dearly for the pleasure you have given me. What can I do for you?" "My dear girl," said Michael, after a pause, "you must really begin to study your appearance. You ought to have been better dressed for my sake. We may meet some of the people I know. Sometimes on Sundays I have even run up against Edward Battersby himself. Of course he would expect me to introduce him to you, and what would he think of that bonnet and gown?" The young mau by her side, short, slightly made and blue-eyed, inspired Seaward with sudden and unutterable detestation. The young man's eyes had a cunning and complacent twiukle in them, and they were set too near together. Yet he was what women call "nice looking," and had a fresh complexion and fair, curly, hair; and his clothes were really very well made and carefully—too carefully put on. It was clear that he did not belong to 'Arry and his friends, and his face pave evidence of sober and decorous living. But Instead of respecting him for his virtues, Seaward Aylstone only disliked him the more for them. It was wrong, it was unreasonable, but it was human. There is a certain form of moral excellence which never fails to be exasper- "I never received any message." he said, still pazinp at her. "I should have come sooner if I had. I thought you wished to forget old times." Mag after that, for she thinks a heap of me, anil you jest say 'Jinny Sip**' to Mag and she'll neighbor with ton from that time on. Lemme see, what street do you live on in Boston?" "I'll have her air c**hioB replenished."—FapillonOlive looked tip suddenly. "Why did you think that?" she asked in a tremulous tone. '•Nothing'," he answered, as coldly as before. "I shall go to my room and rest. Mine is a hardrworking braid, nnd anything in the shape of a dispute always disturbs me." MICHAEL SPEAKS OF HIS PL ASS. An amusing experience is told by one of a party of young people whose chaperone was hastily replaced by a delightful womau. whose ideas of the onerous duties were, to say the least, unique. It was at the seashore in Maine. The party were greeted each morning, and anxiously asked at intervals if they were enjoying themselves, but otherwise were allowed entire freedom. One lovely evening a pretty girl and her escort went to the chaperone. Th» Chap*roil* Appr*v»d. "Beacon street" (proudly). same strong, earnest Michael who had won her father's respect years ago. "Well, I can hardly say." ne looked down awkwardly. "But perhaps it won't do any harm to tell you that it was Michael's fault," he added, a deep flush mounting to his forehead. "He treats old friends as if they were dust. He gives himself airs, and walks past me as if I were a gate-post. Take heed, Olive; a man who forgets his friend may be faithless to his sweet- "Well, Mag waits on the table in a resterant down on the wliarf. I'll bet you've cat there many a time, and seen Mag and never knowed her. Now, next time you go in there to eat you ask for Mag Smith and say you're a friend of her Aunt Jinny and Mag'll hug yon right there, you see if she don't."—Detroit Free Press. Nowadays, with all the stores of Uncle Wake's shop at her command, she spent a great deal of time in bookworld. And the books filled her mind while her fingers were busy, and kept her brain so happily occupied that she missed many undesirable things which she might otherwise have seen and heard. While she set cluster beside cluster, she thought sometimes ot Ferdita at the sheep-shearing, offering posies to the shepherd's guests; or perhaps of N.ydia, the blind flower-girl of Pompeii, weaving her chaplets in the Thessalian fashion; or of those heaven- away "but yon know, Michael, that you wished me to come on a Saturday. If I had arrived early in the week I could have got some new things ready for Sunday.".**- "I am sorry," poor Olive repeated, "I rule while I seem to be ruled," he said, meeting her gaze with a smile; "and if I succeed in carrying out all my plans, the firm will one day be Battersby & Chase." "Dear Michael, if any words of mine have disturbed you 1 am more than sorry. As to disputes, we will never have any more. "We are always one in heart, are we not?" Here in the solemn old abbey, with the misty arches overhead and the waves of music rolling over her, Olive's heart was throbbing with awe and gratitude. much had been given already; she hail been led out of a narrow world into a wide one: here were chanting voices and deep organ-notes expressing all that wordCcould not say! A flood of feeling overwhelmed her; she was worshiping and giving thanks in her tears and silence. And Michael "Why not have bought some better things before you started?" he asked irritably.She drew a long breath, and there was a child's wonder in her eyes. The idea seemed so stupendous, so grand! As she spoke she clung to his arm for a second, trembling, and with her heart beating. He disengaged himself at once. "Perhaps you think this is a preposterous notion. Olive. But listen, my dear girl. I am working hard at an invention of my own. and I believe it will soon be perfected. If it is perfected I shali persuade Edward Battersby to give it a trial, and 1 um firmly convinced that it will answer the purpose for which it is intended." heart." It Might H»t« Been Worie. "Michael, have you forgotten what kind of place Eastmeon is?" His unreasonable words provoked her. "Have you forgotten that I have been living miles away from any town?" "You must not say such things," said Olive, flushing in her turn.  is preoccupied—that's all. I am very sorry that he slighted you. Aaron, but it must be unintentional. He is absorlDed in his own concerns. He is clever, you know, and his brain is always at work." "People are looking at ns," he said. "Do remember that we are in Kew gardens, and not in Eastmeon fields! I am in no mood now for scenes and sentimental ta'.k. Olive." "Can we go out rowing, Mrs. V they asked timidly. Two Irishmen who had not met for years ran across each other, and after a period of handshaking adjourned for some wet congratulations. The pair were quite unconscious of his scrutiny; the young man was too much self-absorbed to notice him, and the girl was too happy to be observant. He went his way. feeling unaccountably soured, and left them still sitting in their shadv nook under the trees. ating. "I see no objection," was the answer. "We've been!" was the unexpected response from the culprits, adding, "We forgot to ask."—Boston Herald. "Long time since we met, Clancy, isn't it? Great lot of things have happened since then," said the first. He had really forgotten it for the moment. They walked on together in silence along the Strand, and when they turned into Trafalgar square Olive almost forgot her annoyance. She stood still with a brightening face to look at the great stone lions asleep in the sunlight, and the foam and sparkle of the fountains. Other people looked at her as they went by, and half smiled at the fresh delight that shone in her brown eyes. Michael hurried her on. "Yes, yes; his brain is always at work; I know that well enough. And it's all for self that he works—mark that. OliTe. He meaus to pet on, and he will get on; and he doesn't care who falls as long as lie can rise." She looker! at him again once, steadily and wistfully, with eyes that seemed to read him through and through. Then she walked on quietly by his side, pale, but cairn: and troubled him with nemo re loving words or inconvenient demonstrations. "What is the purpose, Michael?" she asked, eagerly. m  w. Didn't l)»ri Leavi "Yes, indeed. Look at myself. Sura it's married I am," replied Clancy. But if Seaward Aylstone had lingered a little longer in their neighborhood he would have seen a change in the lovely face that had been so bright with innocent joy. Olive's cup was so full that it brimmed over at last. Instead of preserving that spell of blissful silence unbroken. she was unwise enough to 6peak. I'll « ! m | "Yon don't tell me? Have you anything to show for it?"' asked O'Grady. "The saving of labor. If my idea carried out we (shall employ about ball as many bands as we do now. We have too manv men lumbering about the works and pocketing our profits. What I want to do is to sweep away tbe dunderheads and keep only those who have intelligence. I happen to know that young IJattersby. well off as he is, always wants more money than be ha* gut. Think what we shall gain in the saving of wages! Yon don't understand business details, my dear child, but you can grasp iny meaning." "Faith and I have that. I've got a fine, healthy boy, and the neighbors say he's just the pictnre of me." Olive sighed, then looked up again. "I don't know how to talk to you," she said. "You had a Ijetter opinion of him in days gone by." The Sunday throngs were crowding all about them; fathers and mothers with tlicir children, girls walking happily, sometimes noisily, with their sweethearts. Their voices and laughter seemed to come from an outside world in which Olive had no part. She scarcely knew whether they were phantoms or living people; only Michael, with his cold set face, was miserably real. He would not look at her, he did not speak, and they reached the station aad got into a train in silence. O'Grady looked at Clancy, who wasn't built 011 the lines of a prize beauty. "Ah, weil, what's the harrum so long is the child's healthy?"—Buffalo En»uirer "Do try to take things calmly," he implored. "That brute who has just passed tm was actually laughing at you. In London, people don't go into raptures in the streets." "I didn't know all that was in him in days gone by," answered Aaron, lifting his gloomy eyes to hers. "He's a juggernaut, Olive—that's what he is. Don't let him crush you under his wheels. As for me, it doesn't matter much. I'm only a poor fellow at my "Michael, is not this a perfect day? Is it possible for us ever to be happier than we are at this moment?" ConUftoai in Their Case. Mr. Noopop—Doctor, is insomnia contagions?The curl of his lip answered her even before his words caine. Her question had broken in upon the great plans that he was making for the future: and, in truth, success was so near that he had a right to think of using it. It was no vague vision that he had been conjuring up. the goal was all bnt gained, and already he was building, in fancy, the palace iu which he should take his rest. Rest! The word had no real •meaning for him, the longings in his heart could never be stilled, never be satisfied by the attainment of his first desire. Poor Olive's little speech stirred up an angry scorn within him. lie had ljeen striving with all his might for grand tilings, and anv of the commonest pleasures in life were good enough for lier. There was no need for a second warning against raptures. With such a wet blanket hanging over her Olive was not likely to enjoy any more sights that morning. She walked on dejectedly by his side, and asked herself if this was the life she had dreamed of? Must she always live in a dreary state of self-repression, forbidden to rejoice? And this was that first walk together which ■he bad longed for so blindly; this was "tbe distant and the dim" that she had "been so "sick to greet!" Dr. Paresis—Certainly not, sir. made yon ask that? What "Yes, oh, yes," she answered, a bright color coming and going in her cheeks. "Only, Michael, what will become of all tlie dunderheads?" best." "I am not afraid for myself. lie is always good to me," she said, with a little flash of womanly indignation. "My only concern is for you, Aaron. You are out of health and out of spirits. I hope yon haven't forgotten Jane." Mr. Noopop—Because I notice that when baby is troubled with insomnia my wife and I invariably catch it too.— Life. CCONm*URID ) Mother—Now, children, which ons took that cake? You two were the only ones in the room. "What does it matter what becomes of them?" Nothing Kxpveted. •USDAT JlFTERNOOX, A Broadway car wa3 temporarily detained by a block of traffic at Fulton street, when an old man, who had a seat close to the front door, got up and looked out on each side. Then he opened the front door and looked out that way. Then lie tiptoed down the aisle and queried of the conductor on the rear platform : Ivy—Tommy took it, my own eyes. I saw him with lie spoke with an irritated air of surprise, and she could scarcely find courage to speak again. by her side stood perfectly unmoved, wishing that they had not come. Accounted For, IN BURRIDSE'S FI.OWER-8IIOP. "Forgotten her!" The red flush mounted to his forehead again. "Is Mother—Why didn't you come at one* and tell me? Customer—Seems to me that razor is rather dull. Barber—Mought be, sah. It was to a' pahty la»' night, sah.—Good News. "I think it does matter. I know it must be hard for a clever man to consider the interests of tbe stupid ones, and yet—" "I'm glad it is over," he said as tliey were coming out. "Another shower, and a heavy one, too. After all, Olive, it is a good thing you have your old bonnet on; it will stand wetting, and I have not seen a single acquaintance all flay." — ly flowers which St. Dorothea sent to Theopliilus after her martyrdom. And all the while the roar of the great world was going on, and the endless procession went sweeping along palatial Regent street, while one quiet maiden dreamed her dreams and wove her garlands in peace. that likely? I'm not one of the forgetful sort. Only I daren't think of-her too much, because there are thoughts that drive a man wild. When I'm lonesome in my rcom at night her dear face comes before me and makes my heart ache with a bitter, gnauing pain." Ivy—'Cos I was afraid he'd eat it al) np while I was away.—Once a Week. !♦ seemed to her an Interminabel walk, and yet her limbs were not weary. They got at last to the Marble Arch, and her heart revived a little at the sight of grass and trees. Michael ied her to a bench, and they sat down. Satisfactory Explanation, She Refused to Imagine. A tramp with his arm in a sling called on Mr. Manhattan Beach for a quarter, alleging that his arm had been injured in a recent railroad accident. "I have a good deal of patience, Olive," said her lover, lifting his eyebrows. "I will remind you that if we always had to stop and consider tbe interests of the stupid ones we should never advance at all. But I won't argue with you 1 .It is always waste of time to argue with a woman. I have got to think and act, my dear, and your part is to trust me and enjoy the fruits of my toil. Most people would say that you had no reason to complain of your lot. Some would go so as to call you a (very lucky girl." • "And they would be quite right,1 dear," she cried, resting a gentle hand upon his arm. "Don't think that I do not appreciate all your energy and pluck—don't think that I am not grate- Lful fojr.youE to rwork low There was a woman on a Second ave nue surface car the other day with her face tied up with a handkerchief, and directly opposite was a benign looking citizen who was on the watch to extend consolation to some poor suffering fellow mortal. He hail scarcely noticed the woman when he leaned forward and inquired: "Yes, sir "Have we come to a stop?" J CHAPTER VII. J- AJIONO FLOWERS. / Mrs. Wake was ready to aeccompany Olive to the flower-shop on Monday morning. Pale and shadowy as ever, the little woman was quite equal to the occasion, and even spoke a few words of encouragement to her companion. She did not forget Lucy Cromer, that dear friend who had once sat in this very place, busy with the same dainty work that she was doing now. Little as Olive knew of Lucy's story, she had guessed at some of its details, and felt that a weary, passionate heart had throbbed over the flowers in those days. Why had life been made so bitter to Luoy, and so sweet to Olive herself? Why had the one been taken and the other left? This bright girl, young and undismayed, thought pityingly of her who had leant upon a broken reed, and rejoiced proudly in the trusty staff that supported her own footsteps. The time of loneliness and desertion was nigh at "Oh, Aaron! what do you mean?" cried Olive in distress. "Jane would not pain anyone—you least of all! Why can't you two be happy together?" "Going to stop long?" "Five or ten minutes." "Under such circumstances is any* thing exacted of anybody?" "How do vou mean?" '-'But yesterday you had your other arm in a sling," said Mr. Beacli. "We won't go to church this morning," he said. "I confess I'm not a church-going man. I like fresh air, it clears my brain and strengthens me for the week's work; and now we can talk quietly, Olive, and I can tell you about Bometliing which has been in my mind for nearly two years." ; "I am not quite such a fool," lie said, "as to mistake a lazy hour in the sunshine for perfect happiness. I f this Was the best moment that life could give me I should not care to go on living. Olive, you have no aspirations. Yon do not want to rise, you do not sympathize with me in my effort to succeed. It is disappointing, very disappointing to find that you are just as commonplace and unambitious as you used to be at Eastmeon." "Well, suppose I had; don't you think a feller's arm gets tired of being tied up all day? Besides, I have got concussion of the brain and can't remember half the time which arm was broken. "-»• Texas Si ftings. A Carious Suggestion. "Happiness is for other people who have got brains," said Aaron, bitterly. "They've lowered my wages, Olive, and they've taken away my hope of making a home for Jane. You'd have thought, perhaps, that Michael, who's so much with Mr. Edward, would have said a word in my favor. But if he did say anything it was against me." "Why, shall I sing or make a speech or do somethin to interest the passengers an keep 'em from gittin figlitin mad ever this thing?'' "Toothache, ma'am?'' She nodded her head. "Michael Chase doesn't want you to work," she said. "But yon will be all the happier for an occupation, Olive. I ■wish we had found something for our Jessie to do. We kept her here, mooning about the house and going for aimless walks; and so it came to pass that the idle young woman met with an idl® young H» tkousrht she had money "Too bad! Ache very bad?" She nodded again. She prepared herself to listen. After all, it was silly of ber to be unhappy because he had found fault with her rustic ways. She supposed that training was always rather a painful process. Here, with the tender green of the young foliage quivering overhead, ijnd the Jlaj resting op the "No, sir. All you have to do is to wait." A certain gentleman who was decoffcted on the 14th of July last went to the registrar's office to get a copy of his certificate of birth. When it had been banded to him he read it carefully, and blandly smiling said to the clerk, "Couldn't you add Chevalier de la floa cTHwmwr?"—Petit J ounwl, ,, "That's all, eh? All right—I'll sit down agin." "I know how to pity you. I'd about as soon be knocked down with a club m to have the toothache for fifteen minutes, I suppose you've tried peppermint, paregoric, camphor, hot salt, whisky and all that?" Olive grew very pale. "Oh, Aaron," she answered, faintly, "I am afraid you are unjust. Michael cannot have sooken atrainst yo\j, But don't ]of}« For an Instant she did not reply. There were the same velvet glades, the same rich foliage, the same blare of flame-colored blossoms before her And he tiptoed back and sat down very carefullv on the edge of the seat and held his breath until the car moved on again,—New York Eyeniny World, Sb9&94494«n!fe .v~*- - -