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Show jy A DEAD LOVE. B By Dolores Watts. M Milford was the quaintest ami slccp- i icst little town imaginable. Quaint, Hl ( because the houses were all beautiful H in old-fashioned simplicity and the H atmosphere was freighted with a H pleasing and soothing quietness. One H of the weekly events in Milford was B. the -meeting of the sewing society H, whose members were as prone to gos- H sip as people in small villages gencral- Hy ly are. They assembled every W,cd- H nesday afternoon to sew for the poor H and indulge in a little gossip between H f.Jtitcljes. It was between stitches HA " , at one of the meetings that Mrs. Con- K way, wife of the village, attorney, Vl astounded her hearers with the news K v that Boniface Stone, the only doctor H Milford could boast of, had fallen in H1 love with a young girl and was go- M ng to marry her. M Grace Dudley, who had been hem- Bj uving bibs, dropped her work in her M lap and gasped, "Mrs. Conway!" M "Dr. Stone in love with a young H girl," said Sara Moore, "pray, who Mf may she be?" "It would not be quite so horrify- M, ing if he would marry one of you girls M here at home, but the idea of a man M , 'of forty falling in love with a girl m of twenty and a stranger at that, is B positively shocking. I tcii you 1 HV ' have no use for strangers. How do Hj we know who we are accepting into Hi our select society? It- is enough to Hm make old Madame Stone turn over in H her grave," and Mrs. Conway shut Hl her scissors with great firmness and Hj" threaded her needle. Hjj "It runs like a romance," continued His she, ticing a knot in a way to display !' her diamonds for "Mrs. Conway was very proud of her diamonds. "It was while passing through a college hall Hi ; from seeing a sick patient, that he Hi first met this Circe. She wore a Hj, white dress and a red rose was fast-Hi fast-Hi cued in her black hair. We all know Hj that tlic doctor is very fond of red Hl t roses and it must have been the rose Hj I that attracted him at first, and then Hj i . he was so impressed with her gray Hat, eyes that he inquired who she might Ha' be and was told that her name was Ha' i Giuevra Roberts, that she was an Ha orphan and had been scut to the col-Ha, col-Ha, lege by a wealthy relative." Ha' "What a sentimental name!" chimed Hj in Ruth Stanley. Ha "Ilcr parents must have been sen- Ha I timental for giving her such a name, ' H j added Mary Allen. Ha! ' ill "I have heard that she has no Ha1 fj name," whispered Mrs. Conway in a Ha. j confidential manner, "that she docs Ha' H not herself know her rerfl name. Why (some say she belongs to the royalty, that her father had blue blood in his Hj) I1 veins, that he loved a sweet girl op- Ha J. ' posed by dynastic consideration, and HlfT t lint Ginuvra is the ill fated opal of HJ I their ardent love." I ' "Ah, well," said Sara Moore, "who- I ' ever she is, she holds her head mighty high, like a Bourbon lily, and as calm." "'What's in a name?," quoted Grace Dudley. "The doctor fell in love, inquired about her, and what next Mrs. Conway?' "Well, he managed to visit that patient pa-tient quite frequently and met the young lady in question. Of course I do not know all about the affair, hut his vacation was unusually long, and to make a long story short, he asked her to marry himi, she accepted him and now you have the news in a nutshell." nut-shell." Then Mrs. Conway assumed the air of one who knows all about everything. The remaining part of titc afternoon was spent in talking of Gincvera and Doctor Stone, till twilight twi-light fell and the feminine work was folded away and each one returned to her respective home thinking that strange things happen in this world. When a boy, Boniface Stone lo,ngcd to study for the pulpit, but his father die'd when he was most needed, leaving leav-ing but a small pittance to his widow and child. It was a great disappointment disappoint-ment to Boniface to have his hopes so blasted, but he worked at anything he co.uld find to do, until old Doctor White gave him the use of his medical medi-cal books and assisted him in his studies. Boniface studied earnestly and laboriously. His mother was so proud of him. Cftcn when hope wavered within him, a kind look from her and a word of encouragement, led him on, until he was able to go to college and achieved the success which comes after patient toil and study. When he rturncd to Milford, a new sign was placed by that of Doctor White, and final.ly, when Dr. White died, Dr. Stone took charge of his entire practice. lie -was a favorite with all the women, wo-men, old and young. His amiability and politeness made him the envy of those who were not so fortunate as to possess such traits of character. Many a mother would gladly have seen her daughter wedded to Dr. Stone, but the doctor was content to sip his coffee with only the kind face of his mother smiling at him across the table. Their home was quaintly furnished and Madame Stone took infinite pleasure in caring for her flowers and making the surroundings surround-ings cheerful. When his mother died, Dr. Stone remained at the old home and no one ever dreamed that he would marry. It was a seven flays' wonder when he married Giuevra and brought her home as triumphantly as did John Aldcn the maiden Pris-cilla, Pris-cilla, although they came in a more modern conveyance which was the doctor's newly painted Stanhope. To be sure, Giuevra was young and not a "wordly woman." She was only twenty, but she loved Boniface with her whole heart. She had never known a real kindness in her life except ex-cept when she paid for it, and Dr. Stone was so good, that she believed him, trusted him, loved him! She was just beginning' to taste the sweetness sweet-ness of life. Mrs. Conway and Sara Moore were among the first to call on her and they could not blame the doctor for loving her, although Mrs. Conway confided to Sara Moore on the way home, that it would have been better had he chosen among the home girls for a wife. As time passed by, Giuevra Giuev-ra ceased to be looked upon as an interloper. in-terloper. Her life seemed to her like a lovely fairy tale and when her little boy was born she declared he was the dearest child that ever lived. She stood in the doorway one morning looking after Boniface, who had started on his professional calls. "Boniface," she repeated softly, "dear kind Boniface. How appropriate is the name to his noble, manly character." char-acter." After lingering a moment she went to the garden and gathered a cluster of roses and placed them on his desk in his study. How fond he was of roses! They gave such a cheerful aspect to the darkened room and he always observed them with pleasure, for did not their presence tell that Giuevra had thought of him? He had often tqld her of the pride his mother had taken in caring for all of the flowers, and it pleased him to sec Ginevra devote so much time to their culture. To her, the roses were very lovely. They appeared so queenly, so dignified and then Boniface Boni-face loved them, but it was the bleed ing hearts that excited within her the warmest admiration and pity. Stooping Stoop-ing over them she would whisper, "Podr little bleeding hearts! Wliat cruel fate has caused thy tender hearts to burst with grief? Will thy heartache never cease? Must thou at forever keep the secret and let fall thy pearly tears in silence? Surely, soinewhere, sometime thy tender hearts will cease to ache and then will come rest, divine perfect rest." Or to the cockscomb she would say, "Ah, you brave little warrior, thriving thriv-ing so sturdily! Do you think only of your own ambition? Truly you are conscious of the brightness of your comb which puts to shame the short lived beauty of the moss." Similar words were addressed to - all the flowers; to the lilies and to the violets, but the lilies were so pale that all praise failed to bring a faint color to their blanched faces. Not only among flowers did Genev-ra Genev-ra 'bestow her attention, but among the sick and sorrowful she was an angel of mercy and her kind eyes revealed re-vealed the true soul wc find in all noble nature. She belonged to no clubs, no societies, but she lived her life each day in doing her duty to all who needed her. The villagers were very fond of her. The little prejudices pre-judices they had felt towards her at first had vanished as mysteriously as a circle on a stream. She had charmed charm-ed them all with her sweet personality and they became attached to her as she visited the sick and smoothed away the pain from weary brows. Finally the time came when their son Cyril went to college and his letters let-ters were a source of enjoyment to his parents. The brown autumn, the I white winter and budding spring had coinc and gone twice, and thrice 'each one appearing if possible, more beautiful beau-tiful than the last in renewed loveliness. loveli-ness. To the doctor the time had made marked changes which Gincvra observed with pain. Exposure's in all sorts of weather were telling upon ,. liitn physically, and his hair about the ' temples was quite gray. It was when he complained of not feeling well, that Gincvra thought how lonely, how unbearable life would be without him, but she kept up courage and cared for him in her sweet, soothing way. Then it was she proved her woman's love most strong, most true. Cyril studying so patiently to crown his father's ambition, was shocked to receive news of his illness and his summons home. With a heavy heart and fears for the worst he returned home so differently than he had anticipated. His noble father who had always been a kind companion com-panion to him, was dying, and his mother ah, his mothcrl What a blessing it is we can find relief from our sorrows in helping to bear the burden of others I He saw his mission mis-sion clearly; he would make his mother moth-er glad she had so good a son. With fervent heart Cyril was thankful that his father had been so good a man. He was worthy an epitaph such as was given to Euripides. Cyril's dread fears proved too true, for when he reached home, Dr. Stone Iliad passed quietly and peacefully away, and the villagers would receive his services no more. The sympathy of all the people in Milford' went out to Gincvra. She lost all her old vivacity. The sunlight sun-light no longer appeared happy to her. Indeed, she never noticed whether or not it were shining al-I al-I though its golden rays fell into the; house as pleasant and coaxing as ever before. She seldom heeded the singing of the birds, except to recall a time when she and Boniface had been together. A profound sadness had taken possession of her soul. Even the garden which he had admired ad-mired was neglected and presented an appearance of utter desolation. There was no use now to look after the (lowers. They were dead, Boniface Boni-face was dead and she was waiting. When she looked into his study and beheld all his books as he had left them, she would put her hand to her r head and vaguely wonder if she were "' going mad. There came into her eyes, a look of silent suffering which one never forgot. Her only pleasure was to be alone in the twilight, that hour when a weird quietness and a 1 delicate melancholy fills the air with j the fragrance of dead days. i Sitting alone, one evening at such i an hour, watching the dim light- fade t from the horizon, she was thinking i of Cyril and her heart throbbed with fervor as she thought of her boy, for m Rev. Cyril Stone would always be My 1J' ' just "her boy." Not far away some one was singing in a tenor voice to the accompaniment of a guitar and as she caught the notes she listened eagerly for the words. They were now very distinct, but perhaps they were sung by one who little knew of the deep emotion, the words had power to create. , "The mind has a thousand eyes, The heart but one, Yet the light of a whole life dies, When love is gone." The rmisic grew fainter and fainter; the last light had died from the horizon. hori-zon. Gincvra clasped her hands loosely together and sighed wearily, "When love is gone." II. Rev. Cyril Stone completed his theological studies and bore his clerical cleri-cal calling with a mild and fitting dignity. dig-nity. Surely could his father have seen him, his fairest dream would be fulfilled. And who can say but from some happy realm, he did behold his son, so like him in appearance. When he returned to Milford he was grieved to see his boyhood home neglected. With his mother he visited visit-ed the garden destitute of flowers. It reminded him of a beautiful woman without smiles. His mother had told him the flowers flow-ers were dead, but as he stooped and carefully removed the dead vines and briars, he found new shoots making their appearance -and the crocuses were quite ready to bloomi. "My little mother," he said to her smilingly, "they arc not dead, they have only been resting. See how many flowers arc budding to bloom the daffodils and all. W,c shall have our garden back in renewed beauty for the flowers arc resurrecting." His enthusiasm was so like that of his father, that in him Gcnevra saw Boniface over again and a faint gleam of sunlight was slowly stealing back into her life. Cyril Stone delivered his first sermon ser-mon in the little church at 'Milford, at Eastertide. Eastcrtidel What an amount of tenderness the words create! When all that is lovely in life returns, when the very sunshine seems to penetrate into each heart and awaken with a little thrill, a love that has been put carefully away. All the people in M"ilford turned out to hear the Easter sermon, and as Gincvra beheld their boy and heard his clear, mild voice, she knew she had been doubly blessed. Through the stained window she saw the outline out-line of a white stone which guarded her dead love. Dead, tout awakened by her son, by Cyril. She heard the trembling notes of the organ, as the white slender fingers of the organist moved over the keys. She knelt down as in a dream and a prayerful sigh came from her soul as she heard the lover voice praying so earnestly. "Oh Lord, support us all day long of this troublous life, until the shadows shad-ows lengthen and the evening comes and the busy world is hushed, and the fever of life is over and our work is done. Then in thy mercy grant us a safe lodging and a holy rest and peace at the last, through our Lord Jesus Christ, Amen." |