The Laurel Bush: An Old-Fashioned Love Story

e minutes have departed, followed by the good wishes of all the household, from Miss Mac

with a slight change of color. For she recognized the handwriting

No time like the pr

lac

mbling, for she was touched by the persistence of the good rector, and his faithfulness to her, a poor governess, wh

d have saved me. Be satisfied that there is no cause for you to give yourself one moment's pain." (How she sobbed over those shaky lines, more even than over the newspaper lines which she had read that sun-shiny morning on the shore!) "Remember only that you made me very happy-me and all mine-for years; that I loved you, as even at my age a man can love; as I shall love you to t

r gratitude to this good man-the only man who had loved her-and her affection for the two girls, who would soon be fatherless;

fourteen years, the family grave, where he was to be laid beside his wife the day after to-morrow. His two daughters, sitting alone together in the melancholy house, heard Miss Williams enter, an

r all the respect due to "a near and dear relative." The tenderness with which he had arranged every thing, down to the minutest points, for them and herself, even amidst all his bodily sufferings, and in face of the supreme hour-which he had met, his daughters said, with a marvelous calmness, even joy-touched Fortune as perhaps nothing had ever touched her in all her

y house in the village, until they could decide where finally to settle-Miss Williams had scarcely a moment or a though

he did so, by-and-by she began strangely to enjoy it, and to find also not a little of motherly pride and pleasure in them. She had not time to think of herself at all, or of the great blow which h

wad be a sin," burned itself into

children now," was her continual t

e's mind recur to an idea which had struck her once, and then been set aside-to write to Robert Roy. Why should she not? Just a few friendly lines, telling him how, after long years, she had seen his name in the papers; how sorry she was, and yet glad-glad to think he was alive and well, and married; how she sent all kindly wishes to his wife and himself, and so on. In short the sort of letter that

shaken so that she had to copy it three times. But the address, "Robert Roy, Shanghai"-all she could put, but she had little doubt it would find him-was written with that firm, clear hand which he had so often admired, saying he wished she could teach hi

e which had impelled Mr. Moseley to write and say, "Come and see me before I die," seemed impelling her to stretch a hand out across the seas-"Have you forgotten me: I have never forgotten you." As she passed through the church-yard on her way to the village, and saw the rector's grave lie s

college, and had begun to discover somehow that the direct road from Oxford to every where was through this secluded village. I am afraid Miss Williams was not as alive as she ought to have been to this fact, and to the other fact that Helen and Janetta were not quite children now, but she let t

she did not look forward to the answer from Shanghai, if indeed any came; nevertheless, she had ascertained what time the return mail would be likely to bring it. And, a

now-that he might be dead-made Fortune stand irresolute

s head clerk in a firm here, doing a very good business in tea and silk, until they mixed themselves up in the opium trade, which Mr. Roy, with one or two more of our community here, thought so objectionable that at last he threw up his situation and determined to seek his fortunes in Australia. It was a pity, for he was in a good way to get on rapidly, but everybody who knew him agree

d and lost. What might not have happened to him in five years? But she

time, my only clue to Mr. Roy's whereabouts being the branch house at Melbourne. I can not think he is dead, because such tidi

person. She was a governess in a family named Dalziel, living at St. Andrews. He said he had written to that family repeatedly, but got no answer, and then asked me, if any thing resulted from my inquiries, to write to him to the care of our Melbourne house. But no news ever came, and I n

in reading a stranger's letter, and the length of

nd forty, tall, dark-haired, walked with a slight stoop. He had, I believe

h an old maiden lady, talking of a character in a book. "He reminded me," she said, "of the very best man I ever knew, whom I saw a good deal of when I was a girl." And to the natural question, was he alive, she answered, "No; h

lliams, when she had read through and wh

hat in all human probability Robert Roy was alive still some where, and hope never could wholly die out of the world so long as he was in it. His career, too, if not prosperous in worldly things, had been one to make any heart that loved him content-content and proud

ak, and human hearts a

s piteously as fifteen years ago. But the tears which followed were n

d! Had she been the man and he the woman-nay, had she been still herself, a poor lonely governess, having to earn every crumb of her own bitter bread, yet knowing that he loved her

a to read some "pretty poetry," especially Longfellow's, which they had a fancy for-little did they think, those two happy creatures, listening to their middle-aged governess, who read so well that som

ss Williams was the head went on in its innocent quiet way, always pla

r gave as his absolute fiat that they must cease to live in their warm inland

it was, at any rate: he remembered the winds used almost cut his nose off. And it was such a nice place too, so pretty, with such excellent soc

age of seven," she suggested, smiling. "Why are you

cottage, which she had left him, the youngest and her pet always, was now unlet. He meant, perhaps, to go and live

t warm for you till you can claim it? Y

er. In fact, I have already written to my tru

th, as she afterward found; but evidently the

ne-long dead. To walk among the old familiar places, to see the old familiar sea and shore, nay, to live in the very same hou

willingly bury it out of sight forever. But others have no fear of their harmless dead-dead hopes, memories, loves-can sit by a

to her girls next morning that she thought David Dalziel's brilliant idea had a great deal of sense in it; St. Andrews was a very nice place, and the cottage there would exactly suit their finances, while the tenure upon which he proposed they should hold it

etimes with pleasure, sometimes with pain-at the very thought of St. Andrews, and as if to see herself sit

drawing them down there. Miss Williams's new duties had developed in her a whole range of new qualities, dormant during her governess life. Nobody knew better than she how to man

ng it "jolly fun," and quite like a bit out of a play, that his former gove

oy taught all us boys, you know; and we'll take that very walk he used to take us, across the Links and along the sands

ime. The cottage was so sweet, the sea so fresh, the whole place so charming. Slowly, Miss Williams's ordinary looks returned-the "good" looks which her girls so energetically protested she had now, if never before. They never allowed her to confess herself old by caps or shawls, or any of those pretty temporary hin

nst the fresh, exhilarating air, strong as new wine; the wild sea waves, the soothing sands, giving with health of body wholesomeness of mind. By-and-by the bus

the "pretty" poetry her girls were always asking for-read steadily

e worst turns the

k minute

rage, the fiend

ndle, sha

ll become first a

ght-then

y soul! I shall

God be

ng bit of woman's life) she now began yearningly to look. To meet him again, even in old age, or with death between, was her only desire. Yet she did

and behavior; though-as he carefully informed the family-now twenty-one and a man, expecting to be treated as such. He was their landlord too, and drew up the agreement i

ess were not half wide enough open to the fact that these young folk were no longer boy and girls, and that things might happen-in fact, were al

shut her door against, even if she had thought of so doing. But she did not. She let him come and go, "miserable bachelor" as he proclaimed himself, with all his kith and kin ac

into one maddened channel, where they writhed and raved and dashed themselves blindly against inevitable fate. For the first time in her life this patient woman felt as if endurance wer

grown till its branches, which used to drag on the gravel, now covered the path entirely-she overheard David explaining to Janetta

lliams? You will have to superannuate it shortly, and return to the old original let

through the thick barricade of lea

ere I used to put all my treasures-my 'magpie's nest,' as they called it, w

ty" still, though cropped down to the frightful modern fashion. Secretly she was ra

to the very last thing I hid here, the

lliams slightly sta

it in the sun, and then put it in my letter-box, telling nobody, for I meant to deliver it myself at the

le to the very lips, but her veil was down-nobody saw. "What sort of

r that somebody had dropped, perhaps, in taking the rest out of the box. It could not matter-certainly not now. You

d was that safest, easiest thing-now grown into the habit and refug

e had never seen it-never answered it. So, of course, he went away. Her whole life-nay, two whole lives-had been destroyed, and by a mere accident, the aimle

r that it has been done for us either directly by the hand of Providence, or indirectly through some innocent-nay, p

w moments that she stood with her hand on David's shoulder, while he drew from his magpie's nest a hete

ple would say! Dead and buried, though." And he laugh

t her for the world, and her determination was made. He should never know any thing. Nobody shoul

our hand down to the very bottom of that hole, a

long-closed grave to see if the dead could possibly be cla

. Something David pulled out-it might be paper, it might be rags. It was t

Miss Williams, ho

it a moment, and then scattered it on the gravel-"dust to d

me perfectly mad for golf, as is the fashion of the place. The proceeded across the Links, Miss Williams accompanying them, as in duty bound. But she said she