The Evansville daily journal. [volume] (Evansville, Ia. [i.e. Ind.]) 1848-1862, 1856-07-30
Gbe 9ailp gournaI
, ONE DAYS SACRIFICE.
BY VIRGINIA P. TOWNSEND.
GcoNchUDED. 7

/ by saying nothing about 1t, Matte. And
now, do you 90 straight home, and dress your
self nicely as possible for the ride" There
was quick rain of soft kisses on the damp
cheeks of Matte Palmer, and Grace ham
mond was gone. -a#fs III 74es :
| am not one of those reader, who believe
that the good doing'' always brings at once
its own exceeding great reward bat rather
that it is oft-tlnes blessed legacy. which the
lpresent bears through darkness and sorrow. to
oower the future. And, therefore, | cannot
assure you that Grace Hammond passed an
especially pleasant day III the old red school
house, which stood at the intersection of the
four principal stage routes from Meadow
brook
i / know that once during the morning sud
den mist dampened her hazel eyes, for the
wind brought the gay rhythm of the sleigh
bells TO her ears, and she heard the joyous
laugh of the young party, as it leaped out, full
and riehs on the frosty air. ..,..,.;,..r
/ For moment the oaken desks, the long
! benches of black, brown ana faxen heads
swan before her, and an '' | wish was with
them = rushed involuntarily to her lips But
the after thought followed quickly, 81 am glad
| Matte is there"
| And when the work was DONE the last seho-
lar dismissed, and the short December day
reaching out its cold arms to the night, Grace
| Hammond knelt down in that little school
room, and thanked the Great Father that lie
had given her strength to make this sacrifice ;;
that she had lived His great, royal law, in
loving that day her neighhor as herself
| 1t was merry company the great parlor of
the old hotel framed in that evening Sweet
breaks of laughter, the effervescence Of youth
and glad spirits, came over rosy lips, and
bright eyes glanced, and graceful figures hut-
| tered about the long, old fashioned room.
| Don't you think it very funny Grace
Hammond is not here, Jane ?" asked a young
| girl, as she came up to the corner where the
village belle sat, her head leaning gracefully
down TO some complimentary speech winch
Charles Munson was that moment making
ner.
| o" Well, | don't know" And the lady twist
ed her diamond ring round her white finger.
d" presume she would have come, had she re-
ceived an invitation"
| There was quick, halfperceptible curl of
the young mans lip, for, notwithstanding his
aifront at her refusal, Grace Hammond was to
his heart what The naughty lady at his side
could never have been.
| Il had the honor of inviting her myself"
was the reply that well-nigh sprang to his lips,
with all his chivalry, 1t was exceedingly diff
cult to suppress it,
/ But Matte Palmer had heard all this as she
stood near, leaning over an engraving of rustic
| life, on whose naturalness Mr.. Hunt was DIS
canting, and her face flushed eagerly as she
turned toward the trio, and her sweet, eareest
voice answered =
Grace remained at home to take charge of
my school to day, so | could come here. It
| was very, very kind of her."
/ Charles Munson's proud face bent on Matte
q look she could not interpret; look of min
| gled light, gratitude and tenderness which she
had never seen there before. ,fy -f
i He understood it all now-the sacrifice she
had made. and the pain it had cost her, and
looking down in his heart, he felt, for the first
time, whose face shone there, serene and holy,
and that Grace Hammond was his souls selec-
tion.
! No wonder his companion repeated her
/ question three times before he heard her.
$50 you prefer school teaching to sleigh rid
| ing, do you, Grace? You know | always
| thought you something OF a blue, but never
supposed you would carry the matter to such
lengths"
! 1t was the morning of the day after the
sleighing party, and Grace was leaning over
the rare exotic which occupied the deep re-
| cess by the sitting room window, now peerilg
into the rich heart of half-opened moss rose,
or cautiously lifting the dellc te bells OF the
clematis blooms sprinked like snow flakes
among the dark leaves She lifted her face
| from the flowers, among which it was half
concealed.
/ "Why, cousin Charlie, good morning. Who
told You l had been teaching?'
| "No matter now. You needn't blush so
prettily about it, though you were very
naughty girl for not telling me the truth, and
letting me go off offended with you" And
| he laid his hand on her shoulder, and looked
/ fondly down on the dropping face, which sur
prise and embarrassment was incarnating with
bushes.
.'Of course couldn't tell you my motives
! for declining your invitation, cousin Charley"
she sa d, uneonsciously pulling off the geran-
i um leaves, and scattering them on the carpet.
1 st would have looked quite too much like
sounding trumpet in my own praise"
you're proud little girl, aren't you, Gra-
eie?'' Bat don't like you any the less for
it' He smoothed, caressingl,, the plaits OF
hair over her fair forehead. Il wonder if you
will be too prou1 to answer the question am
about to ask you?" And, leaning down the
young lawyer whispered it to the girl
7 do not know what the answer was, but
do know they stood long time conVerslnS IN
:; a low tone by the window that morning ANA
when Charles Munson parted from Grace
| Hammond, he casped both her hands In MS
and said; with m ngied tenderness and fsrvency
'May God take care OF you, ny trace"
esNov. tell me all about the ride, Mattie.-
: You know you're not going home until after
tea. so lust sit down, without any demurring-"s ;"
And Grace pushed Matte into the cushioned
arn,ad chair and unfastened the bonnet strings