The Vermont transcript. [volume] (St. Albans, Vt.) 1864-1870, 1868-04-24


ter dream from its fiery threads. Sh,
could not sleep. The storm ragged with
out, the winds had risen, and the ole
pines bent twisted in the blast Out il
the orchard huge piles of snow had drift
ed. 1t was a fearful night--a night o.
wreck and terrible disaster. The clock
rang out eleven. Allie took up the
lamp preparatory to locking up, but
some impulse held her back. She placed
it on the table again, and listened
surely some one was outside. She stood
a moment longer, and then she distinct
ly heard the snow kicked off the door
step-the door burst open, letting in the
cold draught of air, Wentworth
Allie was so startled by his pale face
and the demOn-light in his eyes, that
she could scarcely stammer:
''Why, Wentworth, tell me what has
happened?"
Without waiting for a reply she pour
ed out glass of wine, and held it to his
lips. He swallowed it quickly, and then
Allie brushed off the snow, unbottoned
his overcoat, and drew it off, and then
wheeling the armchair to the fire, led
him to it, for at that moment he was as
weak as a child. Then she seated her
self on q low chair beside him, took his
cold hands and chafed them into
warmth-all without saying one word.
He suddenly drew his hands away,
caught Allie with a-quiek movement,
and drew her into his arms, pressed his
burning lips on her forehead, and look
ed into her wondering gray eyes. Allie
half shuddered. She could not imag-
inc what possessed him, but waited I'M
til he should tell her what il was that 50
overp0wered him.
.! lIia darliuo ~ b;- yoipa Al ~ an 4
hard; can you bear to hear what
have to tell you ?''
" Yes" she answered, unwittingly,
"anything.p
"Well listen you were wee thing
when | came here Il rough, awkward
boy oil eighteen. ! took a fancy to you
conference.-the, what if | should tell
you that the man YOU have chung to,
talked to, played with, and watched for
all these Years was a villain. Don't
start-be my own confiding, trusting
Allie little longer You have often
1 asked me about my home. Oh, you
know what it is TO have a father and
/ mother could not tell you of mine
/ | hated to have YOU know that such pa
rents could exist-hated TO tell you that
my home was Il hell, that my father
was a drunkard, and my mother fiend.
3 i
your age ten years ago. | cannot tell
YOU of the schools of vice into which |
was thrown-'twould make your blood
run cold. When / was ten / entered
shipyard. | began to cultivate my self
respect. | borrowed books when |
could not buy. That yard became faith
er, mother, home tome. There my am
bition to own yard-to become a man
of wealth first dawned, and it has grown
with my growth, and strengthened with
my strength. Ar eighteen | was capa-
Die of holding good position, and my
employer learning that his friend, Mr..
Simonson, wanted lad Of my capabiti-
ties sent me TO him. You know the
rest-that next to you love the ship
yard.
Allie, " he continued, you know
you have become part OF my very life
that l have loved you all these years
that through all time-yea through
all eternity shall love yOu-perhaps
it will be some comfort to hear me say
so. How shall | find words to dispel
the dreams Of years Ailiel | have sold
myself fon that shipyard ] have bar
tered my honor and my manliness for
Phineas Simonson's daughter. such
was the condition-don't look 50 white
for Gods sake, Allie.N
Had this girl, instead of listening
mute and mOtiOnless, broken into
storm of words, he might have said
something in selfjustification. As it
was, he felt that he had not counted the
cost He strained her ia his l'oSrt "7
though ne would we'd her there Tor eN-
er kissed her lips a though he would
draw her life into his, and then laid her
gently on the lounge.
A Il
lv despise and hate me? Can you, viii
YOU forgive me ~
Her lips moved but uttered no sound.
She extended her hand. He grasped it,
as a drowning man clutches a floating
timber, then dropped il suddenly, and
was gone-gone out into the storm, into
the darkness. He had fancied the bat
tie ended-it had just begun.
Allie heard him go. oh ! what
night this was. She at last staggered up
to her own room, different being since
she had left il. The iron had entered
her soul; she must bear the burning as
best she may. She opened her Bible,
but culled no comfort there. Would
God forsake her, too? Had He cast her
off as man had? Was this His rod Of
correction? Had she in loving Went
worth forgotten God, and made a crea-
love. inwoven through past years, out of
her heart? She must uproOt it, but how
how So she questioned as she sat
with her face buried in her hands.
There was a sort of triumph in the
thought that Sarah could never know
him as she had known him; then came
a cold heavy aching in her heart as she
realised that their paths must be apart
for ever; that between them lay
chasm which never could be bridged;
he could not come to her; she might
not go to him.
She opened her Bible again, and read
-''When thou passest through the wa
tiers | will be with thee; and through
the rivers they shall not overflow thee
when thou walkest through the lire
thou shall not be burned, neither shall the
flames kindle upon thee, for | am the
Lord thy God, the Holy one OF Israel,
thy Saviour"
She threw herself upon her knees;
God would help her, then. And as the
day broke in calm beauty, as she knelt,
who will say that, in those hours of an
guish, Christ did not bend in sympathy
with her anguish?
Farmer Bird noticed the next morn
ing that his child's voice had touch of
sadness in it, that her eyes looked dull,
and something of her sprightly air was
gone. At breakfast she said very gai-
ly:
"Father, Wentworth has bought an
interest in the shipping yard and is go
ing to marry Sarah Sinonson.n
He looked up surprised.
"Why, Allie, l thought he would
marry YOU"
Dear, honest old mani he did not
know the struggle it cost her to reply:
"Why, no. what made you think
so?n
81 thought he loved you, birdie!'
remark which only caused blush. At
ter the meal was over, as he watched her
clear the table in her dainty way, he ex-
claimed suddenly:
II wonder how poor old Ben is getting
along this morningl / declare L never
thought of him while | ate my buck
wheats this morning. Sam, Sam ~ he
continued, as that worthy appeared at
the door, ''I see yesterday that Ben
Sutton's woodpile was pretty low, take
the old sled and the mules, and cart
load over. Take along bag of buck
wheat and some potatoes"
"Dis mornin', sah?"
"Yes.n
"AIlie had just shaken the crumbs out
of doors for the birds, and folded the ta-
blecloth, which was almost as white as
Z. h.