The Lake County star. [volume] (Chase, Mich.) 1873-current, 1874-09-10

| VI TIC IlpHt Ont.
His winsOme Ruth! How could he
give her up to any one? And the faith.
er's eyes would rest fondly on his child
as she moved deftly about the old house,
relieving her mother of many household
cares. She was, indeed, the household
fairy.
Ruth was out in the garden. The
April sunshine streamcd warmly down
on the beds where Ruth was busily ell
gagged pruning, clipping, and tying up
the plants. She loved flowers dearly,
and was never happier than when tend
ing her fragile darlings. She was lean
ing over, gathering handful of sweet
violets for the little vase on the parlor
mantel-piece, when she heard footsteps,
and Dorcas Jones' familiar voice:
"Weh, Ruth, here you are, sure
enough, tending to your flowers. What
luck you do have, child. AS for me, it
seems as if never have any at all.
Either forget to water them, and the
sun scorches the poor things, the chick
ems get into the garden and pick 'em to
pieces, or Jowler and Tib get to frolick-
ing, and just play the mischief with
them. Anyhow, l don't appear to be
much of hand with them. left Mary
Jane tending to the apple jelly, and
came over to tell you about poor Alice
Hillary. / know you hadn't heard.
Yes, Amos has lost his wife. You know
the doctor told him some time ago she
had heart disease, and was likely to go
off sudden like. And, last night, as they
were sitting at the tea table, she put her
hand to her side quick-like, gave little
gasp, and before Amos could get to her,
she was dead. Well, we are all poor
sinful creatures. May we all be pre-
pared for death when it does come. And
there's Amos left to take care of his lit
tie girl; but Nellie is sensible child
for such young one. All, well, so it is!
Thank you Ruth, l will take few Of
them violets, and be going, or Mary will
let the jelly burn. Good-by, and tell
your mother l hadn't time to come in"
Amos grief was undcmonstrative.
Yet he really sorrowed for his wife, the
mother of his child. The unhappy years
were forgotten, and he remembered her
as she was when she gave herself to him.
His mother, who had been widow for
many years, came and lived with her
dear boy, as she called him, and his home
became peaceful, well-ordered one. His
little Nellie was bright and beautiful
child. She had inherited her mothers
rare beauty and her fathers frank, no
BILE nature, and promised to become
everything father could desire.
OF course people talked about the
young widower, and wondered who would
be Alice's successor. But Amos seemed
in no hurry to take unto himself Sec
Ond wife.
Two years had Alice slept the dream
less sleep of death, when rumor began to
connect the names of Amos and Ruth,
as in times of yore. There was some
foundation for it. Amos would call to
talk over the news with Friend Miller, or
bring Ruth a new magazine, or help
about her flowers. There was always
something to be talked over, or consulted
about.
And then it was very convenient to
stop in after meeting on First-day. OF
course, Friend Miller would invite him
to stay and dine with them. And when
dinner was over the old people would
doze away in their chairs, and Ruth and
Amos would entertain each other.
1t was lovely evening in August.
The two friends sat on the little vine
covered porch. The full moon threw her
silvery light over the scene. The air
was laden with the delicious fragrance of
heliotrope, roses and jasmine; gentle
breeze Just stirred the branches of the
tall trees, that stood like sentinels before
the old stone mansion. A sweet calm
pervaded all things.
Amos and Ruth had been talking quiz
etly and earnestly of life and its respon-
sibilities, death and the unknown future.
How was it that they had touched on
such themes? And now an eloquent ST
lence had fallen between them. The
moonlight fell softly on Ruth's brown
tresses, made fairer still her pale, pure
face, cleaned Whitley on her muslin
robe, and fell in great patches OH the
broad porch steps.
Amos gazed at the quiet figure, and a
great tide of love rolled up in his heart,
and once more the old, yet ever new,
story was told, with thrilling, passionate
earnestness.
Has thee no answer for me, Ruth,
d arest2 Say thee will bless me with
thy love, and let the years to come prove
the strength and depth of my devotion"
And Amos drew the little hand away
from the blushing face. Their locks met.
In that one glance Ruth's love was re-
yealed; and drawing the unresisting
figure to his arms, Amos thanked heaven
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