Rawlings Institute - Hits and Bits Yearbook (Charlottesville, VA)

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cemetery. Not stopping to look at a stone or a flower, she walked rapidly until she reached a grave Qthe only one in the sectionj with a tall white monument and marble curb. She placed the roses at the foot of the grave, knelt by the monument and wound her arms around it. As I stood near her I heard the sad strains- Aml guide and guard my aching heart! My aching heart ! My aching heart ! I advanced a step, and when I read the name on the monument I remembered having heard Guy mention it, and his explanation was, 't He was a playmate of my and Dollie's childhood 5 we were very fond of him and still miss him. He has been dead for over four years. She knelt, her cheek against the marble, her lips moving slowly, one arn1 around the monument and in the other hand the locket. It was a military button-that was all ! When she saw me her look of reproach made me waver. Never before had I realized the power of those large dark eyes which she fixed upon me. Her lips trem- vm 9 ' bled and her arm clutched the monument more 4 closely. My sensation was terrible, I felt as if I had intruded upon the feast of a virgin 3 I was as wicked as Aeteon, as vile as Clodius ! '40, Dorothy! Dorothy, forgive me ! It was wrong for me to come, but-ah, you do not, you cannot, know what it is to be mad with love l 1 fi ,wt 1- ,YQ .u 4' 'C I :I X ! f f. .1 lf .1 i Q , 1 P Wi fi? 'fi xii: sa Q ' if I .wwf I ' gffwibl V A its ' .eg .f.:,M,, No, I do not know. Her eyes met mine, she pressed her lips to the monument. I do not know?,' Her voice was low and sad, and every few moments I could hear her sob. ft Please leave me ! she cried desperately. U May we not walk home together? f' Leave meg please leave me, it is all I ask ! I left her-I left Lydia-never to return. I Her sweet, pure life lasted for two years after that, and then she went to join her old playmate in a fairer land. Guy, poor H boy, wrote: ' My darling Dollie! Ah, you know how I shall miss her! The sunlight, the joy of my heart! Her last request was, ' Let me rest by the side of my old playmate, whom I have never tor- gotten or ceased to love.' N -'f Now I am an old bachelor. I loved Dollie i when I was a mere boy. I cherish her memory now. True it is that she did not love me, but 13, it is also true that she did not try to win me, but it was her noble soul that won me, and that soul was none the less noble because it did not throb Q 'K for me. VT

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I took a volume of Tennyson and started for the rustic bench in ft Madison. Just before reaching it I saw Dollie seated there, diligently reading a volume of Moore. I saw her mark a line, then raise her hand to her lips. As she made this gesture she saw me and slipped a locket in the neck of her dress, and the gold chain disappeared in the frill of lace. As she sat there in her modest white dress and her little fluffy cap against the background of wild roses and ivy, I could not be strong and brave, but sank on the bench by her side, simply gazing, for what could I say 1' She rose. Grapevines hid the bench from the house, the terrace hid us from the street, so Nowf' thought I, ff we are alone, out of sight and hearing of every one, she shall listen to me I Her cheeks grew crimson. She forgot that the book was open at the place she had marked, and I saw, to my surprise, that the line was- f' For her heart in his grave is lyingfl She closed the book and said : ' It is almost time for tea-3 I must get fresh roses forthe table. I hope you will enjoy your reading here as much as I have. f' May I not go with you ? I should enjoy that far more. O, Mr. Lloyd Parkhurst, Jr., might scratch his fingers I You read, so you can tell Guy and me about it when he comes home. Ah, how much more I wanted to tell her what I felt! She knew it, and that was why she wanted me to tell her something out of a book. Horse-show week had passed 3 another week had passed, and now the third week was passing rapidly. The morning was damp, and I did not wake until she was leaving. I heard her step near my door, and when I looked through the library windows the pink and white of her costume was blending with the pink and green of' the rose-vine and ivy, and in an instant she had vanished behind ff Madison. I took my book and began to read whe1'e I left off the evening before: A daughter of the gods, divinely tall, And so divinely fair. I read no more, but watched for her to return. YVhen she came she looked tired, the two baskets were empty, the dark rings under her eyes showed that she had been weeping, her hands trembled, and, not seeing me, she sank on the sofa and buried her face in the pillows. For a moment she seemed to struggle for composure, but soon she rose, walked out of' the hall, and there was no trace of thc struggle of a flew minutes before. She allowed me to listen to her music, she read to me a little from Ruskin, but when I tried to draw her into conversation the household duties soon took her off' to the dining-room. It was Sunday morning, the clock in the hall struck four. I rose and was ready to start when the light foothills were heard in the hall. Dollie, as usual, had her two baskets, one of roses and one covered. I followed her closely. After turning the corner at the eourt-house she went to the back door of a small, dingy, frame house, emptied the contents of the heavy basket and placed a few of' the roses there with the provisions. So that was where I lost her on the first morning. I had never heard her speak of her charity work, but it was evidently her custom to provide for this poor family. I followed her farther and soon reached the x

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