The Old Gray Homestead

by Frances Parkinson Keyes

"There's one thing you're overlooking, Mr. Stevens, which I should have had to tell you to-night, anyway."

"What is it?"

"I'm not worthy of tying up Sylvia's shoes—much less of marrying her. I've been straight as a string since she came to the farm, but before that—any one in Hamstead would tell you. It was town talk. I can't, knowing that, act as I would if I—didn't have that to remember. It's all very well to say that a man—gets through with all that, absolutely—I've heard them say it dozens of times! But how can he be sure he is through—that the old sins won't crop up again? I love Sylvia more than—than I can possibly talk about, and I'm afraid—afraid that I won't be worthy of her, and that if she gave in absolutely—that I'd abuse my position."

Uncle Mat glanced up quietly from his cigar. There were tears in the boy's eyes, his voice trembled. The older man, for a moment, felt powerless to speak before the penitent sincerity of Austin's confession, the humility of his bared soul.

"As long as you feel that way," he said at last, a trifle huskily, "I don't believe there's very much danger—for either of you. And remember this—lots of good people make mistakes, but if they're made of the right stuff, they don't make the same mistake but once. And sometimes they gain more than they lose from a slip-up. You certainly are made of the right stuff. Perhaps you will go through some experience like what you're dreading, though I can't foresee what form it will take. Meanwhile remember that Sylvia's been through an awful ordeal, and be very gentle with her, though you take the reins in your hands, as you should do. I'm thankful that she has such a bright prospect for happiness ahead of her now—but don't forget that you have a right to be happy, too. Don't be too grateful and too humble. She's done you some favors in the past, but she isn't doing you one now—she never would have accepted you if she hadn't been head over heels in love with you. Now write your letter, and then go to her. But to-morrow I want you all the morning—we must look into the acquaintances I spoke about, and the investments you spoke about. Meanwhile, the best of luck—you deserve it!"

Austin smoked thoughtfully for some minutes after Uncle Mat left him, and finally, roused from his brown study by the striking of a clock, went hurriedly to the desk and began his letter. Before he had finished, Sylvia's patience had quite given out, and she came and stood behind him, with her arm over his shoulder as he wrote. He acknowledged the caress with a nod and a smile, but went on writing, and did not speak until the letter was sealed and stamped.

"Sorry to have kept you waiting, dear. Now, then, what is it?"

"I've been thinking things over."

"So I supposed. Well, what have you thought, honey?"

"First, that I want you to have these. I've been going through my jewelry lately, and have had Uncle Mat sell everything except a few little trinkets I had before I—was married, and the pearls he gave me then. In my sorting process, I came across these things that were my father's. I never offered them to—to—any one before. But I want you to wear them, if you will."