The Ebensburg Alleghanian. [volume] (Ebensburg, Pa.) 1865-1871, 1866-10-18

the world, felt swelling up in his heart
fountain of sweet waters-and then, when
| he would have slaked at it his souls thirst,
beautiful and deceitful as a mirage IL
vanished. and his heart, lacking its sweet
ness, turned to desert waste.
For not all his gold beguiled the little
girl he loved into wedding. She looked
into his face with her pure, honest eyes,
this Julia Winsted, and told him some
truths hard to bear. He was old for his
forty-two years, and she told him so;
hard and cold, used to living by himself,
selfish even In his wish to bind her youth
to his stern, middle age. Receiving his
proposal of marriage as an attempt to buy
her freshness and beauty, with her pitiless
plainness of speech she made him feel 1t
| all.
The next day she left the house, and
since then he had never seen her. But
he had never forgiven her. She stood in
his memory as.bis enemy-his one enemy,
for curiously enough he had made no
other in the course Of his long life. But
toward her his resentment was as keen as
on the day when he had been so stung by
her indignant refusal to give him her hand,
when, as she said, he must known in the
very nature of things it was impossible
for her to give him her heart He re-
membered her pitilessly we'll If he hao
been an artist, he could have painted the
dun gold of the long, fine hair, the violet
eyes which the curling lashes shaded, the
red lips with their naughty curve. He
had never seen her since but he laid on
her memory the blame and burden of his
solitary years. But for her, he thought,
he too might have been husband and
father-not living thus, unloved and
uncared for, his lonely life.
| Unloved and uncared for The words
struck bitterly on his ear, and he repeated
them over and over to himself, thinking
the while thoughts new and strange
What hac he dome did he or some invls-
ible presence at his side ask the question
what had he done that any one should
love him? Had he ever unselfshly tried
to make one human being happy Had
there ever been day or hour in which self
] had not been the centre round which all
his aims revolved? He pushed away his
letter with Honorable on the cover He
| began to doubt whether, after all, his life
| had been a success. What single good
deed had he to be reckoned up in the days
when by his works he must be justified or
condemned? ? And now he was an cid
man-tor the first time he began to feel
that-and it was too late. All, it must
have been q suggestion of the still, small
voice that seemed to penetrate his heart.
"Not too late, 0, never too late to begin
to live for God and good %
But what could he Do?
"Go and see the widow Mafit,'' tho
I ork
would be a beginning. If you find her
suffering you can help her."
He was acting on new impulses, but the
resoute strength which had helped him
all through life, hurried him on now;
and in half an hour he was at the door of
| Mrs. Mafit's fourth story-room. Answer
ing his knock, she did not know her
visitor, and stood as if waiting to hear his
errand.
"I am your landlord" he said, in tones
which no emotion seemed to make other
| than stern and then she stood aside and
asked him to walk in.
He stepped into the bare, comfortless
room. A fire dull for want of fuel flick
cred on the hearth, and before it, trying
to warm his slender fingers, bent boy
of about twelve. Mr.. Richmend's eyes,
in their comprehensive gaze round the
room, rested on him, and remained fixed.
He was slight, fragile boy, who might
have passed fer younger than his years,
save for the expression of maturity on his
thoughtful countenance. But those violet
eyes over which the long lashes eurled,
the dun gold hair falling softly round the
peusive face-whose were they2 He had
never seen such since the day he parted
| with her-his enemy. He turned at last,
and looked at the mother. She remained
quietly awaiting his pleasure-a woman
| of at least forty, worn by sorrow and
! touched by time, yet with certain proud
grace In her manner, as she stood in the
same attitude in which she had stood
twenty years before, on day he could
never forget. For ttis was his enemy !!
He would not have known her, perhaps,
save for the golden haired boy-but now
he saw all her old self in her changed
features. She was waiting to learn his
pleasure-what was his pleasure? Before
today he could have answered this ques-
tion unhesitatinely to humiliate her--to
see her starve-to push her to the last
extremity-to be revenged upon her by
any and all means for the light esteem in
| which she had held him Now-would
any revenge of this kind satisfy him p
Vaguely as something heard afar off some
words came back to him-he thought he
had heard his mother read them in his
boyhood.
i off thine enemy hunger feed him, if he
thirst give him drink !'
His heart throbbed strangely, but he
kept all emotion out OF his voice.
i "I hear your rent is not ready, Mrs