The Tiffin tribune. (Tiffin, Ohio) 1868-1887, 1870-05-06

> INey NOulu the sunny Nllldst COLI
If mon, but she was Is necessary to eve
- the boys as the common, and wOUl
S have been missed as much.
|. Pm sure / don't know how to max
: a heroine out Of the happy little mil
: woman. This tragedy of the whit
V bones buried in the mildewed crevic
t was apparently quite forgotten
/ Neither that nor life's renunciatio
n had made her cheeks hollow or lie
/. eyes hungry, or filled her heart wit
u vague longings. Yesterday was yes
4 terday with Bart, dead and buried
0 She worked harder than any of tn
= men about, and lived palmer; it NIGH
| be for that reason her skin was a
r fresh as a child's, and her spirits a
/ high-that she slept a. light as one
tOOeand her laugh was just as ready
: OF course, nobody compared her &
: the pale, genteel girls who sang in tn
! choir and read MOOre's melodies, ant
[ were village bellies; even they callet
her coarse, standing weighing grain
with her strong arms barred her care
4 less blunders, her keen enjoyment o
! fun, and her anxious interest in he
[ neighbOrs that gushed out in thou
/ sand odd, affectiOnate ways. On,
r would have thought her heart was biz
and warm enough to take all the
neighbOrhOOd in, and that she haC
! done il.
People wondered at times what she
did with her money. What was the
truth about that gold buried in the
mill? Was it true that she never gave
Laurence a dollar? Laurence had
opened a grocery in the county town
on borrowed capital, and was starving
in il, he said. But when Bart heard
this gossip abOuther she said nothing
. In truth, the women even did not be-
lieve it, and the men swOre when they
heard it; they were tired of Laurence
both Of his brillIancy and his shiftless.
ness, and they resented any imputa-
ton against Bart as they would one
against their wives, or their sugar
beets or shOrt-hOrns, or any other sta
pie institutions of the county. Fol
Bart was the heaFt-and handspring OF
the community, though neither she
nor they knew il.
\ Now the little black eyes set in
Squire Langley's yellow, leathery face
were keen they did not watch Bart
for nothing every Sunday night when
hc uAoppcd III Win lut OiO hOIulIl lOt
a chat over a pitcher of mulled cider.
'It was no treasure which she found
in the mill. She's had hard measure
of some sort to bear, and it's not want
of feeling that keeps her up at such
high-water mark, +" he said to his wife.
ats what she calls her religion. And
she looks for Kirke toeOme back. She
thinks that as long as she does the best
she knows and trusts i'll the Lord,
He'll give her the desire of her heart.
There's religion for you! As if He
had nothing TO do buttO provide young
wimmen with husbands! It's the
god Of this world she wOrships, tell
you. But Bart's good girl, carnally
speaking. Pve nothing to say agin
her" with sudden change of tone.
He rode up earlier than usual on
Sunday afternoon. He told what he
saw in class in great wrath afterwards.
1t was harvest time, and Bart was sit
ting on the freshIy-cut stubble, while
Cashley's children piled the hay on
top of her. The cripple, Alick, one of
those Farrells, whom some whim had
made her bring to the house when she
opened the mill, sat in the sun OH an
other hayeock, enjoying the fun, while
his mother, with her half-witted
daughter, in their Sunday clothes,
were going about through the hedges
looking for stray Blackberries. The
Squire, scowling, refined up his horse
is this the Sabbath, my brethren,
or it not ?" 49,
at is our day of rest. You know /
don't understand your Sabbath of the
churches" said Bart, shaking of the
hay and coming up TO him. Joe, the
sickly little two-year-Old Cashley,
hung 10 her skirts. She took him up
more tenderly than any mother
Eyes with a differing keenness from
old Langley's might have noted how
in the last year her old love of chill
dren had grown into something curl
ously passionate and mastering i'm the
woman. "JOe and Alick and must
have our day in the fields, as He did
long ago." strOking the boys hair and
nOdding down to Alick, who nodded
gaily back. The Squire meantime
wondered if the Farrells had money,
glancing from the cripple's pale, hign
featured face down to his cOmfOrta-
BILE clothes.
Could Bart have taken such a burden
in the house without a fair profit >,
But there was no knowing; she was
a queer one. XII
"pvegot something TO tell We, alone,
Berthy," dismOunting and tying his
horse TO the fence. llPnt down that
child and come along to the house. -
He looked down at her as they walk
ed with as much speculation as he
could compel into his sOggy brain
She was sObered by his words; the
ordinary laugh was gone from her
face; in spite of solid figure and the
hOmely features, there was a certain
sweet, compelling power about her-a
wholesome, healing, genial influence.
Whether it lay in her steady eyes, or
low cordial voice, he did not know;
but it was there. Even he felt it.
i'YOu're d woman now, Bart, and
reckon you've made out your road
pretty clear to the end, criss-crOss
or straight as you pleased, and
you think God is going to humOr you
i'm it.n
al think it will end right for me-"
There's one change I've come to
tell you OF to-day, then, and maybe
there's another not far behind. Lar
renee has been down to the village to-
day. We've cODSecFated him to a
great work. He's in the house now"
Before he had done speaking, Lau-
renee came to the door and hurried to
them. A full suit of clerical had TAX
en- the place of the high-cOlOred, artis-
tie blouse in which he was used to
frame the wonderful beauty Of his
sensitive face. i
"Now stop, Berthy," laying his
hand on her arm. Laurence kin tell
his own tale. But I've word, Ber-
thy, to YOU" hurrying the words out
before Laurence should take take them
from him. Like most people of his
caste, he dearly relished Il bit of ill
news, and he wanted to see how Bart
would meet this immOVable bar i'm her
projected path, which would prove her
religion lie. She trusted the Lord
to give her every good thing; just as
he fed the robins. He was going TO
leave her now nothing but sackclOth
and ashes in which TO repent of her
sins.
'"There's news come from Kirke,
Berthy," he said.
"KiIke?" She turned with her
hand on the gate, flush of color and
light in her face. How suddenly
young and fresh she was! The Squire |
almost relented, taking i'm the whole |
figure before him-even to the Sun |
day dress of white muslin dotted with |
rOsebuds. "Wimmen were wimmen, |
even if7' they ran a fiOur-ingmill, he
thought.
But Laurence had no mind that |
the old man should experiment on his
sister.
"GO in, Brother Langley; go in
Ny wife is waiting for YOU" he said,
rs he came up. Il will follow with |
Bertha" And then, after he bad |
talked of indifferent matters as they |
walked up the path, he told her that,
by the way, Kirke was married, stop |
ping to pat old Pluto as he said it, and
Keeping his back turned toward her. /
"G0 i'm, sis, dear" he went on, hasti-
ly. "YOu have your supper to look /
after. Don't bother yourself with Sa-'
rah. Pll come presently. l have
some affairs to talk to you about. u
Laurence Muller was hard, penur-
iOus husband, his wife said, and
testy, unjust father; yet the tears
would rush to his eyes at a strain of
music or a line Of pOerty. For the
same reason he was tender with Bart
Ifa1 ont Of har I