The Grange advance., 1874-12-29

upon her white herchief-the brooch
containing the picture Of Isabella in
her bridal dress and veil. This vision,
of his beautiful, innocent. and happy;
love filed his cup to overAowing. Hp.
made no sign; he stood as if struck
into marble; yet within him his soul,
writhed and cried in bitter pain and
shame.
But grandmother Bright. bless her
heart, hadn't bit Of an eye for trage-
dy. She was not conscious of anything
unusual and, after she had seated her :
self, spread ont her skirts, and folded
her hands III her lap, she said serenely,
'Now, Oliver, don't stand on our &C
count. You see we're comfortable. I
suppose Isabella must have seen Us
coming up the road. You might as
we'll tell her, though, not to 20 to max
ing great preparations for us. We
came to visit her, and just take cup
of tea. that's all.
Oliver fastened his wide starring:
eyes upon her, and said slowly, in a.
strange hollow voice, as if something
else spoke through him, isabella is
dead this many rear!'' At this.
Grandmother Bright gave a little cry
Of surprise-not Of horror. She never
showed any such feeling. When she
inquired after people, and was told that.
they had left this world, she felt as if
they had gone unexpectedly to Boston
or Hartford, and her principal feeling
was sympathetic curiosity. So now,
after moment Of decorous silence, she.
began, SOLVER, what did she die of -
Here Aunt Pickerell came out sud-.
den and strong. Something in the ap-
Pearance of the unhappy man indicated,y
l suppose, struggle between remorse,
and hardened denial of sin. At any
rate, whatever put the fancy into her
head, she rose stif1y: pointed her fore
finger at him, and said with startling
emphasis, ''Where is Abel, thy
brother -
Oliver shuddered at the words, and.
charge they implied !; but he never
took his eyes from the picture of Isa-,
bella, on the bosom Of Grandmother
Bright. eyes," said he, in the same.
strange, Involuntary tone-the voice..
as 1t were, Of that buried men, Dry which
had just found resurrection in him, and,
was speaking through the door Of its;
tomb-~''yes, her blood cries out against
me. She died of my selfishness and
hate, and of the loss of Grace, which
was my fault, too. All mine. all mine.''
Grandmother Bright was perplexed
with this reply, until she heard the loss
of Grace alluded to. Then she saw
her way clear, and said brisk]y, "Your.
fault; Of course, it was. Isabella
would never have let the child 20 away
In that manner. But men are thought
less. l suppose, now. you actually sent
her, with nothing to her back p
He bent his head in confession; and
she continued, with gentle determina-.
tion to give him good lesson: snow
she's lost. Amt ye sorry she's lost,
Oliver! Don't you wish somebody d,
find her and bring her back %
That broke Oliver Newman all to
pieces. He uttered such terrible, pas
sionate, wailing cry, and burst into such
tempest Of sobs and tears, that for a..
moment or two his paralyzed visitors.
could do nothing but gaze upon him
with amazement. 'The mans crazy!'
said Grandmother Bright. Gas keb-
uchadnezzar!'' said Aunt Pickerell.
Presently he began to call upon his
daughter to return and forgive him.
20, Grace, Grace! come home, come
home to me - Then the door opened.
and on the Threshold stood the child
(Nraro N,,c1a1 H.
bright'eyed, innocent and brave aud
fair of countenance, the image of her
mother, she stood and looked upon the
company.
Grandmother Bright was more per-
picked than ever; Cor Oliver suddenly
ceased his outcries and gazed upon the
newcomer with unmistakable awe, as
if she were ghost out of the past.
There was dawn;ng joy on his express
sion, too; but overshadowed yet with
trouble and fear.
"You called me p said the sweet
voice Of the child. 1t was the very
voice, too, of his lost darling. All.
how his face softened as he gazed upon
her! how the wrinkles and hard lines
seemed to disappear If this was a
miracle, and Grace had come back to
him, child, to begin again, and give
him chance to be wise and tender
parent, then he would go back to his
younger manhood, too. A smile Of
unmistakable love stole over his face.
He stretched his arms to the child,
and she went to him with her eyes
fixed, at first in serious inquiry, and
then in perfect trust, upon her face.
So Hope was clasped in the arms of
Memory, while Love, in the person Of
Grandmother Bright, looked benign]y
upon both.
Then Grandmother Bright quickly
slipped out of the room, and beckoned
Aunt Pickerell to follow. When they
had successfully started on their re-
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