Bradford opinion. [volume] (Bradford, Vt.) 1874-1881, 1876-02-12
A Wonan's Story.

1t had rained all day a dull, depressin
down-pour, but now, just as the day wa
ending, the sun saw fit to burst out frol
behind pile of jagged, black clouds an
flood the little planet below with GRIN
son glory. The far-spreading sea shon
like an ocean of flame and all the wes
ern windows of the old farmhouse wer
fecked with the crimson glory.
Janet Stuart stood looking out at tn
radiant western sky, her heart in he
eyes. The rcd light went shifting i
fiery lances through the thick masses G
her blue-black hair and flashed bac
from her deep, strong eyes. She stoo,
there looking fixedly out at the luri
light. her back turned to the pair at th
piano talking and singing softly in th
April twilight.
One of these was Miss Ingestre, thei
London guest, delicate, fairy figure
not at all like Janet's-a delicate rose
bloom face looking out at you through
halo of pure gold hair; the other Mr.
Etheridge.
Now the pair struck out into a duet
Softly and sweetly came across the room
the delicious Italian song, song full
of passionate pain. Out of the western
sky slowly faded the crimson sunburst
grayly crept up the twilight, palely gem
med with stars.
Darkening p Janet Stuart thought
with weary eyes, that never left the
steei-blue sky. "Darkening-like my
lie |"
It faded entirely out, the last flush oi
the dying day. The stars swung in the
blue-black concave, and a pale, young
moon sailed serenely up to the zenith.
And still, while the day faded and the
night came, the twain at the piano never
stirred. Their low laughter, their half
whispered words, their soft singing,
came to the listeners ear; but she
never looked at them. She sat colder
and winter than snow, her hands still
folded.
He promised to love mo and be
true to me always" her heart kept
crying; "and see how he keeps his
word"
In the dark 2" called CHEEKY voice,
and old Mr.. Etheridge came in.
He was the owner of all the broad
acres that spread right and left, and his
nephew, Ernest, was his sole heir; for
his wife had died nine months before,
and there were no children. Janet
Stuart was his adopted daughter, of
course; but she was to marry handsome
Ernest, and reign in the fine old home
stead, where all her happy girlhood had
been spent.
"In the dark, you three young owls!"
called Mr.. Etheridge. "Jennie, lass,
where are you9 Leave off billing and
cooling, and ring for the lamp"
He looked over at the piano, and the
two heads so close together there separ-
ated suddenly. A tall, dark figure rose
from the window.
"I'm not billing and cooling, uncle"
Janet rang for the lamp as she spoke
this, and Miss Ingestre futtered off the
piano stool.
"Oh, so it was you, little Eva, and
not Janet. won't have it. want u
wedding in two months; and you mustn't
cut Jennie out"
The rel blood mounted guiltily to
Ernest Etheridge's face, but Miss In
gestre's musical laugh chimed softly
through the room. Janet sat by the
table, tixedly pale, her eyes bent on
book, but the printed pages danced be-
fore those eyes and Miss Ingestre's
faint, sweet voice, chattering pretty
nonsense, with her blue eyes fixed on
the old mans face, sounded in her ears
like the rushing roar of a waterfall.
By-and-bye some neighbors dropped in,
and there was more singing and some
dancing, and Janet played waltzes and
redowas and quadrilles until the mid
night hour struck; and she toiled up to
her room, too tagged in body and mind
even to think.
But she was up early, for all that-up
with the April birds singing in the
scented trees outside, and down on the
seashore, staring with dreamy eyes over
the dancing sea. How bright it was, all
sparkling in the glad sunlight, with the
saline wind strong and sweet, and the
fishermen singing as they cast their
nets and the noisy children rolling in
the warm sands, filling the air with their
glad shouts.
"Oh !" she thought, "what happy
creatures there are in the world Men
who love, and are never false; women
who trust, and are never betrayed. And
Ito think I should have staked on one
throw and lost I"
A mans step came crunching over the
mans clear voice singing: "O'er
the muir amang the heather" on tke
shrill wind. She knew both step and
voice, but she never turned.
"Janet,' cried Ernest, "I thought
should find You here I know what
heathenish hours You keep, and what
heathenish places yeu frequent"
She never answered; her eyes were
fixed on the far sea- line, her lips closed
in nameless pain. He threw himself on
the sands at her feet, and looked up
with laughing blue eyes in her change
less face.
"My solemn Janet! What has come
over you of late2 Where has your sun.
shine, your sparkle, your youth, your
smiles, your color gomez Tell me what
it is, Janet?"
Nothing you would care to know"
he shifted uneasily, his eyes left her
pale, still face and wandered seaward.
"You know I am going tomorrow,
Jennie2 2"
eyes, I know"
~ wanted to speak to you before
went, Janet; that is the reason why 1
got up at this unchristian hour and look