The Portland daily press., 1877-01-06

passed through forced Itself upon MISS van
Andeu's mind like a revelation. On her
right hand sat Horace. She thought OF the
innkeeper's criticism Of him; but when she
measured the sweep of the low broad fore
head, and saw the clear, intelligent glance of
the deep-set eyes, she declined to subscribe to
that gentleman's estimate.
SIS that specimen of the Yankee school,
marin of whom we hear so much?' thought
Miss Van Anden, as her attention was next
attracted by pale little Hattie Melvin, whose
blue eyes were bright with admiration CT the
beautiful young lady who sat opposite her.
why, that child was intended for Fifth
avenue belle. What graceful little form to
hang a dress of fleecy lace upon! l shall
think the world gone mad if l fin 1 that little
mouth can copjugate Latin verbs"
Then Miss Van Anden began to inquire
about the scenery of the surrounding country,
and the conversation flowed on about the
woods and hills, until Sukey, whose curiosity
could not be restrained a moment longer,
came in from the kitchen and peremptorily in
formed her master that them cows ought to
be MIXED immediate" and the patient old
man went ont to do her bidding.
And now the days flowed on very peacefully
for Miss Van Anden. She wandered about
through the lovely valleys, toiled to the sum
NIT of the oldmountain, aud traced the path
of the tiny streamlets as they led her on
through the tall forests of pine and hemlock.
Sometimes the little school-mlstress was her
companion. Miss Van Apden's curiosity
was soon satisfied about the Latin. The
knowledge of it was very imperfect, and the
blue-eyed "school-marm" was waging most
unsuccessful war with the towheaded igno-
rance over which she presided. When rainy
days locked Portia in the house, she invaded
the shabby sitting-room, with its wilderness
nf hOnEc Thora hOnks nvprvyubpra n
worn and ragged dress most of them, but
hiding whole mines of wealth within their
shabby covers. Sometimes their mysteries
puzzled her in spite of her thorough mental
training, and then she would ask assistance
in her difficulties from the grave young stu
dent who had mastered them long ago.
One day, the minister of the parish in
which they were living went away to spend
his vacation, and Horace Weston took the
vacant place. In the morning Portia strolled
ever the familiar woodland paths; but when
evening came, she determined TO invade the
little village church for the first time, and
hear Horace Weston preach. AS she entered,
the simple congregation were singing, and
soon the hymn was concluded, and every ear
listening attentively for the first words from
the lips of the young minister. Quietly he
arose and announced the single text that was
to be the subject of his discourse. As he
looked about on the faces beneath him, Por-
tia saw in his face beauty she had not
dreamed it could possess. There was light
of inspiration in the luminous eyes, an ear
nestness in the trembling motion of the we'll
cut lips, that lent to the simple words he used
power and pathos they had never possessed
when she beard them recited by the white
robed priest beneath st. Thomass lofty dome.
1t was the old old story he had to tell-the
30 years of patient suffering that opened the
gates of everlasting joy, the opportunity
offered to all to enter therein; but it told in a
way that reached Portia Van Anden's heart
as no words of the kind had ever done
before.
The weeks passed by. Every Sunday found
Miss Van Anden in the village church, listen
ing to the teachings that flowed from Horace
Weston's lips. The problem of life seemed to
grow clearer; a simple faith and trust was
springing up in an arid heart, and Jacob Van
Anden's wealth was no longer glittering
burden, but mighty engine with which to do
a glorious work.
But all this time the little school mistress's
cheeks were growing paler and paler; and,
one day, Portia Van Anden found little
form lying upon the smooth turf of the
orchard, while bitter tears were raining down
upon faulty sketch that proved on eXamina-
ton to be likeness of Horace Weston. And
at the same time Miss Van Anden learned
Hattie Melvin's miserable little secret, great
light broke in upon her own heart, and she
knew also that she, too, loved Horace Wes-
ton with the whole strength of her passionate
nature.
That night, when the evening devotions
were ended Miss Van Anden went to the
little melodeon in the shabby parlor, and
sang again, my soul shall flee as bird unto
the hills;" but this time it was not che plant
OF weary heart. 1t sounded more like a
bosanna OF thanksgiving. For what rocked
Jacob Van Anden's heiress of that pale
checked child on the grass?
But Horace had seen her, too, and Horace
had lifted her from her Lowry position and led
her gently home. Then, when Miss Van
joyous numbers, was finished, he followed
her out under the starlight, and sad:-
Il have come to say 'good-by.' 1 shall
leave here, Tomorrow: and by the time I re-
turn, you will be goue."
1t sounded like a stern, dismissal, and as
such it was intended; but Portia Van Anden
saw the lovelight in his eyes, and, in a voice
that quivered with sudden agony, asked
him:
"Why must go?''
$50 that may learn to forget you, and
gather strength to repair the mischief have
DONE"
''But tell me first, tell me-"
@No, will not.'
But Miss Van Anden has the answer she
Graves, in the clasp that leaves its mark upon
her crushed hands.
Then she fed to her own room; and while
the soft hours of the summer night wore
themselves out wretched woman paced up
and down the narrow limits of that shabby
chamber. The moonlight cleaned on her
white robe with ghostly light, and her long,
no. 20 of
around her. All night long she searches for
a way out of the darkness that encompasses
her.
At last one thought, so impossible that
despite her misery it makes her smile, flashes
across her mind. But she will try. She will
not yield her one chance of happiness. her
only hope of heaven, without struggle
Then she falls upon her knees, but no prayer
comes from her lips, only the words: ''Hor-
ace, cannot lose you"
In the morning Miss Van Arden is leaning
over thebale little school-mistress who re.
clines in the only easy chair the house pos
sesses. Inwardly the proud heart is asking
If this Insignificant girl shall stand between
her and her love. But the question is vain
one. Portia knows that Hattie Melvin's
affection and Horace Weston's sense of what
is right and honorable have formed barrier
as insurmountable as was the two-edged
sword that shut out Eve from Paradise.
"Mrs. Weston" calls the young lady, after
a prolonged gaze at the dropping girl, ''this
child is sick, or will be so If something is not
done for her. Suppose I were to take her
away from that crowd of young ruffians, who
exhaust her strength before she has taught
them ANYTHING whatever, and take her to my
home. l have home, you know, although
have never told you anything about it,"
The plan is soon arranged; and just as
September is hunting UP his pigments of gold
and crimson to naint the trees the two Girls