Vermont daily transcript. [volume] (St. Albans, Vt.) 1868-1870, 1868-10-03

woman, perhaps, but for one as good
ard fair as Edith Willoughby, he
would not have hcsitatcd u moment.
N.nun thcy came upon the beach, the
waves fairly loapcd into their faces, and
Edith, shivercd and clung half terrili-
cd. to her companion, in spite of herself
~ believe you had best return, now,
and leave it TO me" Mr.. Grey said.
"No, we are almost there. should
never forgive myself if | did, she ans
wered, catching her breath as she spoke.
at is only you | am worried about"
~ am glad to he able to pyou," he
said. And think he spoke the truth
Inside the cottage, poor Grace Pooley
lay on her hard bed, trying to breathe
on title longer if SO the good God
might bring some good friend before she
died, TO care for he orphan boy.
When the door opened, her eyes
frightened, and she raised up little.
"ihe lord blessye for coming! know
he will" she said, AZ Edith threw of
her wet covering, and went towards her
"This is only one Of the boarders, who
came with me" she said, III reply 10 the
woman's questioning look. IL should
have come to-day, had ! known you
were wOrsc.n
She sat down beside the bed, and An
son Grey watched her, rs she spoke III Il
low, tender voice to the grateful woman.
Among the words he could distinguish,
was n promise to see to Jamie; and
when the woman who seemed to be the
nurse came up TO administer something,
and in half whisper asked Edith to
pray with them, he began to think he
was in another world And it was an
other world to him, truly. Surely she
would never dare do that! But she did.
Kneeling upon the bare floor, and clasp
ing her white hands, she sent up such II
prayer fop help and strength al Arson
Grey had never dreamed of hearing be-
fore. In spite of his attempts, the tears
would come, and blind and blur his eyes
so that he lost sight of her, and at last
had TO wipe them off by stealth.
After that night, Arson Grey knew
whore his heart was, but for his life he
dared not approach Edith. She seemed
an immeasurable distance from such as
he; but he cherished the memory Of
her prayer as the one glimpse into hea-
ven for which he should thank God all
his life.
Two or three times afterwards chance
threw them together, and once he walk
cd with her down the beach and past
the very cottage where they had gone
through the storm, long ago-or so it
seemed nOw-but neither of them refer
red in any way to that night; he because
he dared not, and she, because she had
likely quite forgotten it as in any way
connected with him.
Editn's mother was gay woman,
and such she meant her daughter to be,
though for her life she could not
keep her from icrreting out, and help
ing, also, an innumerable number of
forlorn, povcTty-stricken people, who
had no earthly claim upon her, as they
went their fashionable rounds. 1t was
notifying. even eXasperating. but she
was powerless to preventit. They were
to be off again soon, Arson Grey heard;
but he would have missed seeing Edith
had he not accidentally met her, as she
was hurrying up the beach towards
their clearinghouse, on the very day
they left. He could not let her go
without telling her what was in his
heart.
May | speak to you a moment % he
srid, abruptly, stopping her.
Certainly"
!" AS the word left her lips, she saw
what his speaking was going to be.
20, not that, Mr.. Grey ~
Somehow he took courage from the
quick parting of her lips.
Yes, that | love you, and want you
for my wife,
- l am TO be married ChriStmaSW
He turned and was leaving her, when
something made her speak.
Mr.. Greyu
He faced her again, and she saw how
white and stern he looked.
Had l been free, you would not
have asked in vain.n
For days and weeks afterwards, Arson
Grey Rugged the memory Of her look
as she said those blessed words, to his
heart, caring more for that than for
the love and caresses of any other.
Christmas came, but Death came with
it, and Edith's lover went his long jour
ney, leaving his aflianced bride and her
| scheming mamma to console themselves
rs best they might.
In way mysterious to all save Will
! liam Skinner, Edith heard of Arson
Grey's illness, and, as we have seen,
went TO him and had the courage to be-
come his wife.
James Pooley was cared for, and for
years paid an annual visit to his bene-
iactress, who had SO faithfully fulfilled
the trust committed to her.
The people of Burlingame learned
to love the gentle mistress of the old
stone mansion on the hill, and never a
suffering one called for help in vain, as
long as my lady, as they called her,
changed from a gloomy, morose man,
to genial, pleasant one, such as it
does one good to see.
ANECDoTE OF SEwAaD.-One of the