The Benton record. [volume] (Benton, M.T. [Mont.]) 1875-1879, 1876-09-29
Selected Story.
Honor Rewarded.

She was crooheting something out of
soft scarlet and white wool. Milton Eth
eredge sat watching her, pretending to read
the journal al the same lime. She was
looking very charming in her buff muslin
dress, with pink ribbons at the throat, and
looping back her brown hair.
Prate as We may Of the unimportance Of
dress. it more or less influences the destiny
Of us all, Venus herself would be ugly in
a tattered gown, and only imagine Apollo
in a swaIIow-taiIed coat with bright but
tons. Annie Hunt'cy knew the yulUe Of
dress-and what is more she knew how to
attire herself in just the manner most be
coming to her, She was not so much pret
tier than dozens ofother young ladies, but
everything about her was i'll harmony, and
people had fallen Into the habit Of calling
her beautiful. She had clear, wild-rose
complexion-tolerably regular features
soft brown eyes, and brown hair that was
struggling continually to break into curls
and ringIcts so natural to it.
Milton Etheredge-grave, silent, wise
lawycr-wondered within himself howlons
he had loved this little Annie. He could
not remember. Six years ago she had
come to them-the dying bequest Of Mrs.
Etheredge's best valued friend. The good
lady had been mother to her ever since,
,and Milton had played the part OF kind
elder brother. Annie was eighteen when
sne came to Grayhead- she was now twen-
ty-hve. Yes, he Vas sure he had loved
her for six years. She had made every
thing SO different. Her pretty ways Of ar
ranging curtains, and flowers, and books,
and knick-kuacks, had frightened up the
stately old house wonderfully. Milton
thought it was strange how he and his lady
mother had ever managed to live without
her.
SO he sat aud looked at her as she made
the shining steel lIushin and outthe bright
Heecy wool Not that he thought Of ever
being anything more to her than he was
now. His love was quiet yet-lt had not
reached that passionate Stage when it viii
not be subdued by any obstacles. lie was
old-forty at Ieast-and it would be child
ish for him to hope she would ever link her
young fresh life with that Of a man whose
hair was already getting gray on the tenn
pies.
But there was something more to des
troy the hope, if he cad dared to indulge
it. At one time, perhaps, he had INDUCED
it, but not now. Annie Huntley had had
her life romance as well as other women.
1t had been sweet 1T ffst-painfully bitter
at last. 1t had made her smile grayer-
her color more hceliug-her manner at
tines subdued ana sad-so Etheredge
thought.
Annie and Leigh Richardson had met
under somewhat romantic circumstances.
He had saved her frol4 drowning at Cape
Nav, when she had ventured beyond her
depth and, after her removal to Graymead
he had followed her there and located him
self in the practice of his profession-the
law. lie had been a constant visitor for
two years. People began to speak Of them
as belonging to each other3 and Mrs Eth
eredge had, with woman's peculiar de
light begun to anticipate the wedding sup
per and the bridal troSSeau. Etheredge
had looked on with dull pain At his heart,
for which he felt half angry with himself.
Surely he ought to rejoice that Annie
would be 50 happy, for Richardson was IN
every way estimable, and was rising rapid
ly in his profession.
Suddenly, however, about two years be-
fore the opening Of our story, his visits to
Annie ceased, and he began a violent fiirt-
alton with Nellie Seymour, the belle Of the
village. Annie did not die ON account Of
it-she did not even nope, as girls gener-
ally do when crossed in love. Her man
ner was little more subdued, her laugh
came less frequently, but she was not heart
broken. She put aside the sympathy Mrs.
Etheredge would have offered her, quietly,
and gave her confidence to no one. Some
times she met Richard, but the exchang-