The workingman's advocate. [volume] (Chicago [Ill.]) 1864-1877, 1874-12-19

j joyful "Thank you" Ahe took them from
/ the smiling old man, and ran back TO give
Mira. Carlyle her letter. She then ran
quickly up stairs TO read her own, which
wss long one, written in good spirita,
though Guy spoke Of the danger to which
his company was exposed. Maggie read
| it through three times before she turned
TO the war news Of. the paper. She eager
lily run down the columns till her eyes
were arrested by . paragraph containing
Captain Arlyle, Of the =, dangerous
tly wounded"
What she had dreaded SO long had come
Iically-not feeling surprised hardly feel
ing glad that matters were no worse
He will die-he will die Oh, If
4 could be there to nurse him !" she thought
\ 4hslplsaslE, with blrst Of tears, taking up
Ishis bright, hopeful letter. -. ~
my dear, what il it 7" asked Mrs. Car
lyle coming into the room. She took up
the paper and read the paragraph which
Maggie pointed ont, with quivering lips
Poor child-poOr little girl But do
not cry so, Maggie 1t is all for the best.
He will be home sooner. Never fear,
N"Ssio ivy 10 SSAOne Ho VIII SoOh ~
cover"
And Maggie, who was naturally Of q
very hopeful temperament, smiled through
her tears, and tried to believe that it was
all for the best.
"Now, dear, said her aunt, after a lit
tie sorrowful pause, must tell you the
news my letter contains. 1t is from my
lawyer in London. He tells me that Mr..
Carlyle has met with great losses through
the failure of some banks, and that he has
returned from abroad and taken q situa-
ton in London rather than make any dim
! mutton In my income, or mortgage any
part of Abbottslyn. Sorrows never come
singly, you see, Maggie my dear, she add
| ed, with sad smile. Mr.. Spencer
has told me this, thinking that | would
like to know it, and | am glad am
glad p
She paced the room once OF twice i'll an
excited way very unusual with her. Mag
| gie sat by the window. in her anxiety for
Guy, hardly understanding what her aunt
had said.
Maggie" said Mrs. Carlyle, stopping
in her hurried walk, would you mind leav-
ing Abbottslyn n
8 No, auntie. not if you wish me to do
so, though love it dearly, replied Mag
lgie, wonderingly.
"Then listen to me, dear-I will leave
Abbottslyn. i cannot stay here while my
husband tolls for living IL thought
had learnt to forget him, Maggie. How
little we know ourselves
"Where will you go, auntie !" asked
Maggie.
81 have little money of my own. We
will 60 away to some quiet place where we
can live upon that, and | will get some
teaching or something.
But | have money said Maggie
ahyly; y.
"You are not of age yet, dear, and, if
you were, l would not let you touch it for
me. No, Maggie, we will live thousands
tM~BUrse tfvo and dte-'wfrnour fuxurfes
end. Mr.. Carlyle can come and hive here /;
and, vheu Guy comes home and you are
married, you will come back again.
"Aad leave you, suntie r.
ss'ss Of course. said Mrs Carlyle, with a
sad gaile. SNOW, Maggie, work is the
| panscsa fpr all diseases, especially for
heartache 20 you must come and help me
dear, to pack our things and arrange,
and win write to Mr. Spencer and tell
him TO acquaint your uncle with my de-
cision."
Mn. Carlyle was a wonderfully energetic
woman, and before evening she had ar
ranged al their things, decided on going
10 Remington, q little village in Dorset,
written to Mr.. Spencer, and bade farewell
| to the Rector and his wife, who were the
only dear friends she had Next day she
land Maggie left Abbottslyn.
4 "When shall | see it again !" said Mrs.
Carlyle a the carriage whirled them to
Ethe station, and she caught farewell
kglimpse of the gabled house, with the green
1awn aloping to the sea Shall ever
BEE it agalnf All, Maggie, how little we
know what our future fate may be =
81 viii be q prophecies, Aunt Eleanor. =
bald Maggie, with a smile. You will
bone back to Abbottslyn again.
I. Remington was little village Nesting
Town between two great hills, with river
Nashing past it. 1t was a pretty, peaceful
Aace, with an ancient church having an
7sd rectory by its side. Mrs Carlyle
Nd stayed there once in her childhood,
ahd the memory of its quiet beauty had
mnde her choose it now. /, was little
cnbngsa the houses ard the church, and
the green hills above were still the same,
btf the people-ah, what changes a few
I'm had worked Aunt Eleanor could
In& recognize single face in the village
Were shs had known every one but fifteen
v1ars ago. Even the names over the shop
(trs were changed, and new sign creak-
ed from the tree near the village inn.
Sh had no difficulty in obtaining neat,
rel ectAble lodgings, and their 6rst even
in Kalmington was passed very hap
ply hough both. their hearts were very
saH g.
1he lnzl1lady ives possessed Of full
sham bf eaxiosity, and she tried, by q
strs mem that had cost her q good deal
Of 6n<ht, 10 discover who her lodgers
~ suppose, a'am, she asked as she
|resnoyed the breakfast-cloth the next
moeuing, "you are the new schoohnis-
trsssf'
| ksNhat makes you think 50 r asked
MmzCarlyle, with . smile.
dunno, nam only, as they want a
nsw mistress at the schuol, thought you
miRht b her-that's all. No offence,
hope ma'mr.
Certainly not" said Mrs Carlyle,
turning away to speak to Maggie.
TIA woman left the room, sorely annoy
cd s0h,sing bAffied, and Mrs. Carlyle went
up st2rs to put ON her things:
fam going to make call at the Rec
torv. maggie" she said I" shall not b
Gh&eame back with very bright face.
"&acgle, allow me 10 introduce. you tt
the sdhoolmistress Of Remington"
"Anntie. You don't mean TO say -"
"Iho, my dear. am going to teacl
che i1Feniles in Remington parish school
The rrtors wife know very well-sh'
iwas old denizen Of the village 50 q,
oths{ ksfsrence was necessary. And be
gin mF duties tomorrow"
con anntie, ahan you like them CAl
| 4 h~lwkru ~ aakad MaOCiA aaCnrlv