Vermont phÅ“nix. [volume] (Brattleboro, Vt.) 1834-1955, 1873-08-15
. BRATTLEBORO, VT, FRIDAY AUGUST 15 1873.

/
! grave in the love of others but there was
something exquisitely pathetic in the sight
of this little old creature Juggling the heavy
child about, none tho less so for her uncon-
sciousness of it. Once, when she saw
shadow of the thought on my face, "Dont
pity me T. she cried az am too happy for
that Keep your pity for old women that
are not grandmothers
"You set too much by the boy, Margar-
et," said the grandma who had walked out
with her that morning. "What If he should
be taken from you2 ?"
"What if he should he taken from me ?"
she repeated, opening her sunken eyes as
If they had never seen the possibility be-
fore. "Woll, then 1 should go too! 1t
couldn't be for long. But no, no he is as
stout and healthy as he is brightand hand
some. only pray not to be taken myself
until he can spare mev'
Poor old Margaret! 1t was well for her
that she enjoyed herself while the sun
shone, for the darkness was coming soon
enough.
One day, just as little Steve came out of
his BATH and, running away from her, was
tuddlng about the room, his little body
shining with the the water-drops, his curls
dripping in wet, bright rings, there was
heard a mans foot on the step and in the
entry, rap on the door, and the visitor
had come in unbiddcn and stood before
her.
1t was James Falconer.
"I have come for my boy" said he.
Margaret, risen to fetch the child, stag
gered and fell back upon her seat, and
caught little Steve and clutched him close
ly. She trembled from head TO foot but
she Gared at her enemy like lioness de-
Tending her whelp.
~ suppose that you do not deny that ho
is my child ?" said the visitor, no longer
the dark and handsome youth, but a worn
and haggard man.
"He is his mothers child" said Margar-
ct hoarsely; land so mine. There was no
ring on Bessie's finger"
Falconer paused moment and gazed at
the boy and the boy, full of roguish glee
and kindliness, looked archly at him, and
kissed the air after the pretty fashion that
he had. "Yes, he is Bessie's boy fast
enough" said the man. "And he is mine,
tOO, you Will nave 10 uHueTSld1u. anu
have come to get him.
''Go away, James Falconerv' cried Mar
garet, "or 1 will set the law on you -
"There is no law TO set on me- he said.
"There is no law for me, except the law
that gives man his child, born in honest
wedlock."
Margaret blanched as she heard him. Her
heart rose and sank, and sent pulse over
her in hot waves. To clear Bessie's name
from stain! But at such a price! Was it,
was it possible? She look ed at the vanish
ing ambroiype that, framed in its wreath
of dead roses, hung beneath the clock-tbe
bright, beautiful face with the smile.
"Was he?" she whispered presently
twas he born so? Was my Bessie a law
fu wife ?" He nodded. "Do you swear
to it, James Falconer? Will you publish
it in the morning Herald?" She ran and
brought her Bible, over which she had sat
50 many night spelling out the big type
that promised blessings TO the widow and
the iatherless. She held it out at arms
length. kiss the book y she exclaimed,
land swear ii ALL" James Fa'coner bent
his head and kissed the book. "Then you
can take the boy" she said. "But take
him quickly, before it breaks my heart -
And the man went his way with his own.
"O Bessie, Bessie" she cried, as the door
| closed and left her all alone, "you bright
and careless girl, what an awful price have
paid for your good name! have sold
my little Steve his hopes, his future, his
life and soul, TO that man-to that man and
| to evil!'
That night the old grandma fumbled at
| Ma rgaret's latch to come in, according TO
her custom for social gossip in the twi-
| light-Margaret did not answer her. She
| opened the door and saw her lying on the
bed.
'I've had a strokev was all that Mar
| garet said, as the old woman bent over her
-"I've had a stroker'
"God bless me The palsyl Wen have
| the doctor here"
"Oh, no, it's not that" murmured Mar
| garet, "but just the heart is dead within
| me-"
The next day tire poor soul did not at
tempt to rise. She lay there with the
Morning Herald, in which, at last, was
| printed the day and date of Bessie's mar
riage, nearly seven years ago, spread out
upon the pillow, as if in little Steve's place.
| To them that would have ministered to her
she seemed in a stupor till she lifted her
eyes, as wild and suffering as those of
dumb creature in mortal pain. She did
not listen to what anybody said she did not
speak herself; she tasted the nourshment
that was brought and turned away-the
tide of life was ebbing out, and she was
letting go her hold upon the earth that had
| grown 50 worthless to her. She lay in that
hall dream, and whether we came in or out
she neither knew nor cared. Once only
she spoke-sighod rather than spoke.
"That is right" she said. "Punish me /!
punish me well for ever having dared to
doubt my Bessie!'
Blu. Sunday morning, just as the great
first flush of dawn came into the room, and
all the air rippled with the tumultuous
music of the birds, Margaret sat up in bed,
and looked at the morning star sinking
back into the rose and the glory. 1t cast
the shadow of the window sash in long
dark cross upon her bed. She glanced at
the shadow and family smiled-the bright
er light would soon efface the shadow, soon
she would lay her cross aside And the
cross paled, and faded and was gone 4; and
then as a childs voice somewhere in the
distance sweetly and shrlly joined in the
chorus Of the birds, she shivered, and her
head fell forward and dropped upon her
breast-and the dawn came slowly and
softly up and shed II silver splendor round
the poor old head. and showed us that Mar
garet had passed into the fuller day.-Nelc-
6uTypOr Herald.