Rensselaer Republican, Volume 25, Number 18, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 29 December 1892 — OLIVE’S STEP-MOTHER. [ARTICLE]

OLIVE’S STEP-MOTHER.

"She is the sweetest, clearest creatHreintheuorldl”said OliveXlgilvie, enthusiastically. ' ' “Humph!” said Miss Jane Barrington. -*‘Peoplc didn’t use to talk soofstepmothers in my day.” “But then, you see,” retorted Olive, with the air of one who effectually silences argument, “there never was exactly such a step-mother before.” “She’s not teu years older than yourself,” said Miss Jane Barrington. “Aud that is the very reason that she sympathizes in all my interests and pursuits so heartily." “She married your poor, dear pa for a home and to avoid the necessity of going out as a governess,” uttered Miss Jane Barrington with acerbity. “It is false!" cried Olive. “She married him because she loved him.” ’•‘ftumph!” said Miss Jane Barrington. “You’re bewitched, I see. You’re under the glamour, if ever woman was. But you’ll have a disagreeable awakening some day, Miss Ogilvie; see if you don’ts —Perhaps you haven’t noticed VI “Noticed what?” exclaimed Olive with spirit, as the malicious spinster paused a second. “Oh. never mind,” said Miss Jane Barringtor, fanning herself and rolling np her eyes .'Tm uot.oii!L ta make , mischief. If you haven’t perceived it “Perceived what?” demanded Miss Ogiivlc, impatiently. “Oh. dear, how Ido "hate these mysterious hints and dark innuendoes' If you’ve got anything to say. Miss Barrington, do say it out and have done with it. If not, PU go down to the river and see how the children are getting on with their stone grotto. Thus driven to the wall, Miss Jane Barrington .said her say, with a relish in the communication which can scarcely be dccri bed. “As I remarked before,” said Miss Barrington, “I am the last one to promulgate idle reports; but it is quite plain to all disiutcrwtec eyes that your young step-mother, the charming widow, whose deep weeds are so exeeedingiy bectming ” "Do go on!” cried Oil’ c, in agony of suspense. “It is quite the gossip of the place,” went on the backbiter, “that Mrs. Hayden Ogilvie is carrying on a lively flirtation with Albert Stanfield.” “With Albert Stanfield! Impossible!” cried Olive incredulously. “Just what I should have said myself,” said Miss Jane Barrington, pious]y, “if I had not been an eye-witness to all her goings-on with her "poor, first husband not yet cold in his grave, and . - “Be silent!" cried Olive, ~sprlngTng to her feet so suddenly that Miss Jane Barrington started backward and tumbled with more precipitation than grace over a square ottoman. “How dare « you utter such slanderous falsehoods? And to me, of all other persons in the world, who owe everything to her loving care, her more than maternal kindness! I despise myself for standing here to listen to it!” ’ And she swept away with the royal face of a princess, her cheeks dyed carmine and hei eyes glittering like • wrathful stars. Straight r.s an arrow she went to the suite of apartments occupied jointly by herself ana her young step-mother at the Crown hotel, a summer resort ol some celebrity among the mountains that wall iu the blue waters of a Cumberland kkr.t The door was open, the soft August breeze blew the muslin window draperies to and fro. aud a piece of embroidery lay on the t;ib!6 with the needle yet sticking in it. 4 folds and the thimble Lesidc it. All the tokens of a recent presence were there, but the room was empty. “She Iras taken her book down to the little woudlaind spring,” said Olheto herscif; and,: she ran down the cool, secluded palli where intermingled sunshine and shadow made a moving chcckcr-wurk at her feet, calling, “Mamma! x|!;erc arc you mamma?” as she went But no answer came. The woodlaud spring bubbled out in cool drops over the ferns that shedowed its pool, the birds sang ovci Lead, and that was ali“Oh, dean!” said Oliva to herscif,” “where can she be?” She wandered along farther down the glen, swinging her r.at by its strings as she walked, her footsteps falling noiselessly on the velvet turf, until sudly she paused,Stricken to the heart as if a barbed arrow had pierced her quiver? In* flesh. For. hidden away by the leafy covert of tremulous birches aud white pines, upon the. moss-covered trank of a fallen tree sat Mrs. Ogilvie, ju her deep mourning rbbes, her face turned wistiniiy upwaru, wnue in an attitude of the itrte.nMkt devotion Albert Stanfield leaned over her. Olivo Ogilvie did nnt mean to listen; sho was an honorable girl, with a keen Sense of delicacy; but all volition •eemed gone from her at the moment. Shu leaned, pale aud trembling, up against a tree, and could not but hear the words spoken within a stone's throw of her. “Believe ms. Albert, I appreciate the U'easute of your love," said Mrs. Ogilvie, softly; "but I do not -k’.ow Whether I am Justified hi accepting * “is^Vra Ogilrfo ”

“No—stop!” said the widow, reso-l lately, motioning him away as he would have drawn nearer to her. ’ “Are you not premature? Have you reflected how very, very brief a period of time has elapsed since Mr. Ogilvie was laid in his grave?” “I have forgotten nothing,” the ardent lover made reply. “Nor do I deem it any disrespect to the dead in that I would fain extend the tenderness and protection of my love over the one who was dearest to him in life. Say that you will grant my prayer. Give me but one word of encouragement and I shall be happy.” ■I must have time for reflection," Mrs. Ogilvie answered, hesitatingly. “Time! time!” Stautied impatiently retorted. “You have had time enough already, surely." “But this is a matter of such vital important, Albert, you must rest contented iflpromisc you your answer tomorrow.” •‘You w ill not forget the truth and sincerity of my love—the deep loyalty of my heart ?” “I will le.nembcr it all, Albert; only let us return to the hotel now. Olive wijl miss us and it grows toward sunsot. ’ 21 So they passed on, and Olive, waiting in a sort of dull, dead passivenesa for them to disappear through the green wilderness of the leafy dell, took her languid way back to the hotel. ‘•Ami I believed that he loved me!” she kept repeating over and ovev to herself. “I allowed myself to be duped by the tender tones of his voice, the dark light of his eyes! Oh, what a fool—a fool I have been! Yet if it had been any other hahd than hers to dash the bright cup -from my lips! Oh, mamma! mamma! And I loved and trusted you so entirely?” Poor Olive! It was like a new phase bf life’s bitterness aud treachery to this petted darling to find out that there were other hopes, and joys, and interests in the world clashing sharply against her own. She sat down and looked helplessly around Here was the bright tracery of filoselle embroidery that she had commenced but a few short hours ago; it did not seem to her as if she could ever touch it again. There was the unfinished novel; she did not care a penny now whether the hero and heroine got married or not. “I’ll go and live with Aunt Sarah,” said Olive to herself. “It will be a monotonous life,’ but—but it’s all that’s left me uow. I don’t care for much variety or brightness." “Olive, darling, where are you?” It was Mrs. Ogilvie’s voice, Mrs. Ogilvie’s footsteps, -and; although Olive would have fled from her presence, it was too late to do so now. The young step-mother came up to her and seated herself at the girl’s side. “I have something to tell you, Olive.” Olive shrank away from the arch, questioning gaze of her step-mother’s eyes. “1 know what it is,” said she faintly. “You are going to be married."k “I? My dear child, what could possibly put such an idea into your head? You are the one. who is to be married, if you can bring yourself to say ‘yes’ to the suit of Albert Staulield.” - ' “Mamma!” “He has been urging me for permission to address you this long time, but I have scarcely dared to consent, knowing how recent a date has elapsed since the death of your dear father. But perhaps I have no right longer to object. He loves you tenderly and truly. He would lay down his life for you, and I believe him to be worthy even of myGlrrc; - Shall Itell -him you will. listen favorably to his suit?" Like a burst of renewed sunshine after the blackness of a thunder-shower Olive’s face grfcw brilliant, and throwing her arms around her step-mother’s neck she sobbed out: “Mamma! mamma! I have been so wicked in my heart! O mamma! can you ever for- 4 give me?” And then she told her story. “Go to Albert, my dear,” said her step-mother, smiling. “He will convince you presently that all is right with your heaii aud his." This was the end of Olive Ogilvie’s tribulations. And she still firmly persists iu her belief that she has the best step-mother in the world. And Miss Jape Barrington is rather disappointed than Otherwise.—A. Y. Evening World.