The Middlebury register. [volume] (Middlebury, Vt.) 1850-1882, 1874-03-24


departure aud subsequent words with
Eric Kent at the door. When she re.
turned he pulled cloud of smoke into
ascending rings, and asked with yawn
How long has that fellow been here p
But be questioned the desert air. as she
had taken up book and left the room,
apparently not hearing the question.
The Summer passed away and Con.
stance Everett had seen nothing ofsMr.
Kent save in passing the shop one day
be had raised his hat to them, as the
carriage bowled along the road. =,
1t was probably the latter part Of
September when Cyril despsiriDgly an.
nounced that he had speculated in oil,
aud lost everything,
Il suppose the news will be all over
town tomorrow, and people will flock
here to buy and look at the horses !"
Not word OF her shock. The place
must be sold, and there is no one willing
to buy it," he went on irritably, except
in shares, aud then we can never repur.
chase
The place mus. he sold privately"
Constance replied.
How cold and unreasonable you are
NOT continental do you care whether
l lose my sadde.horscs or not" he
growlcd, as she left the room and or
dered her ph@ton and drove rapidly to
Hatherton. The first person she met was
Mr.. Shippen. He promised TO advertise
the projected sale verbally. Days went
by. and Cyril walked around the place
gloomy, cross, and hopeless, There is
nothing but an auctioneers sale !" he
said to Cobstsncc-"We must have mon.
ey, and there has not been u single offer
yet"
Two days after red flag was flying
from the massive gateway at Oaklands-
Constance had taken refuge with her
friend, Mrs. Whitney, at the Rectory.
As Mrs. Whitney, Cyril aud Constance
we're standing in the hall talking, Ship.
pen drove up
line sale has been stopped by pri.
vate purchaser he announced Am 60
lng to see who he is.
Cyril flew up the stairs perfectly jubi.
liant. Just then Louis Whitney ran up
the steps.
Oh, mamma who do you think has
bought Oaklands ? Mr. Kent, and he's
not going to live there | heard him tell
Mr.. Hollingsworth.
Constance tapped on Cyril's door
Come in.' She entered he was evi.
IDENTIFY preparing to go to Oaklands.
Cyril she said in husky voice. i
know the purchaser.
you do who is it?" he said, eagerly
coming forward. She handed him card,
and npcp it, in his own handwriting, he
read the words: Eric Kent Plebian."
You could have heard pin drop, the ST.
lencc was so intense. Cyri's face had
changed to IA deep, dull red, and he was
unable to meet the clear, challenging eyes
OF his sister. He sat down like one 10 "a
dream, Constance left the room. bat
she quickly returned and put her arms
around his neck. He pushed her aside.
"l'll ask Shippen to buy it Of him"
Cyril :"
lie stalkcd angerily out Of the room
Later, note was handed her: Dear
Miss EVertt--You doubtless know that
have bought Oaklauds As | leave for
England on business, beg that you and
your brother will at eas. be tenants there
until | return. With sincere sympathy,
Eric KENT
A year elapsed, aud one day Cyril road
over to llatherton to dispose of his only
horse. Suddenly the animal SHE'D at Il
piece of futtoring paper, and threw him.
When he opened his eyes it was in the
face Of one whose loving, fearless heart
belonged to the universal brotherhood.
Eric Kent was in his old place at the iron
works again, it seemed, and he had found
this man insenssblc in the road.
Six months after the accident, Con.
stance and her brother were seated meath
the grand old trees at Oaklands, bat by
his side there lay pair of crutches. lie
arose to 60 to the house, when manly
generous voice exclaimed:
'Cyril-brother--leiu on me- and Eric
Kent and Cyril Everett walked away to.
gether. |, was some time before the for
.ner returned, md found Constance had
wandered toward the shady knoll near
The spring house.
Il think Cyril will be better in the
FALL Miss Everett
i think he will be, then. where there
is no Sickness
You know this, then p he said, bat.
tliog with his emotion.
Yes
He is fretting tonight abou: leaving
you alone in the world--aud. Constance
| asked him to leave you in my care. il
you-coud-if you can love me?'
She stood motioDless; at last she said
1t is pity, not love, that prompts thi.
We iusulted you-snd you"
Constance, my dearest love, do you
still let that paltry wcrd 'plsbeian' ranklc
in your breast Are We not all plebeian,
IN certain sense. and does our Heavenly
Father cease to love US
She bowed her head upon the hand.
that clasped her so tightly, and kissed
them. He drew her shawl around her
and led her toward the little arbor. where
Cyril, from his room window, beheld them
earnestly talking, and his tired, anxious
heart was at rest.