Daily Kennebec journal. [microfilm reel] (Augusta, Me.) 1870-1975, 1877-04-28
TContinued from first pagc.I

pfoiuslon Oh plack flngfets anu orlgnt cner-
~ ribbons. She was evidently not at all
one OF the naughty, arrogant danes. who
Cypress meek governesses, but loving
and tender-hearted little woman, who had
been very kind to the friendess governess
and had trusted her children to her care
without asking any questions.ss to her
past life, which she saw was painful Tor
her 10 speak of. She could hardly under
stand the reserved and seli-reliant nature,
SO different from her own; there were
depths in il which she could not fathom ;
but she seemed so pure and good that she
trusted her completely. There must have
been misfortune in her past life; she was
sure that there could have been no guilt.
Mr.. Kingsley led her to Mrs. Ruther-
ford's side. and said. quietly
..Alice, this is our brother's--ths is
Arthur's wife"
After the first bewildered moment had
passed. Mrs. Rutherford comprehended
ALL and thinking of all the misery the
lonely girl had suffered. ciasped her in
her arms, and kissed the pale cheek; and
tears the first she had shed for many a
day, fell from her eyes. And so her posi-
ton in the family was changed; yet she
would not permit Mrs. Rutherford to en-
SakC q INV EONciuNoSs sum W
have the care OF the children as before
There were only two; Wallace. the old
est, his uncle's namesake, was bright
manly little fellow, of eight. and Bessie.
the younger, was graceful, fair haired
little creature, with all her mothers sweet
ness and winning ways. 1t was a con-
slant pleasure to Madeline to watch the
free, Joyous little natures, and through
than, ho SaafpaI aI,noaf IN find har w,iy
back to the freshness of her own child
hood. that had seemed so far away. and
TO conceal all the weary, .ioyless years that
lay between it and the present. SO she
would not give them up to another's care.
Mrs. Rutherford. with eyes made keen
by her love OF her brother. had not failed
to see his love, the love that was now dis
honorable for her who was his brothers
wife. She did not see the struggle for
seli-conquest. but she saw that he had won
the victory. His face was paler and gray
er than of old, but his manner was as full of
quiet, brotherly tenderness to Madeline as
TO bis own sister.
He was going abroad; he had long been
contemplating going in search of his
had heard nothing, and now he felt he
4
to go. And so, In the first dreary Novem-
Der days he went; and the long winter
passed. cherries and lone, but still bright
er to Madeline than any since her child
hood had been, by the clinging love of the
children, and Mrs. Rutherfords sympa-
thizing, sisterly affection. before whose
tenderness Madeline's GOODNESS and re-
serve gave way.
Tkau had Iatfars nftap from, NJ
ley, who was seeking always, through
busy cities, and peaceful hamlets. under
bright and cloudy skies, in glad hopeful
sunshine and dreary chilling rains, for
him who was doomed to be all his life long
an outcast and wanderer upon the face
of the earth. AT length letter came 10
the patient walters at home, saying
that he had found traces of him, and the
next letter, waited for with snch anxious
suspense, told them that he had found h i'm,
but that he could never be found TO them
any more in this world. He had found
him III, dying, at a little wayside inn; he
had recognized his brother, had told him
of his wife, with whom his last thoughts
seemed to be; be begged him to seek her.
and ask her to forgive him for the wrong
that he had done her.
luQ 81 4c ulcu tutIC III u
land, and they to whom he had caused so
much misery wept tears of unteigned grief
for him, and remembered him with the
blessed, merciful memory in which the
dead are ever held, striving to think of
him only as he had been in other days,
and to forget the wretchcd folly and crime
that had darkened his latter years. And
so Wallace kingsley's quest was ended,
but still he had not come home. The
spring came, Joyous and sweet, with
balmy breath, and robes of tender trailing
green; and then summer. with languid
sultry airs, came and tarried until herb
and flower tainted under its scorching sun,
and still he came not.
All through the long autumn and win
ter that followed, Madeline sat by sea-
ward window, watching half-unconscious-
ly for his coming, but she watched in vain
The summer came again, and she stood
one night in her old place on the piazza,
watching the sunset fade into twilight. 1t
was not just the same Madeline that had
stood there two years before; the old
dreamy look had not gone wholly out of
The brown eyes, but it was not so hope
less as it used to be- but there was
CLEAN of hope, subdued patient trust in
them that was not there of old.
Suddenly football echoed on the stone
steps. A football that she knew; surely
the echo of none other could so thrill her
pulses. She stretched her hands out to
him as he approached her, with blind
motion like tired child, as she said SIM
ply:
You stayed so longr
"And you wanted me to come. Made
linep My Madeline, is she not?" And she
was folded in the strong arms that should
shield and protect her always. And so.
after her long dreary night, the day
dawned; bright rosy dawning in sky
where there were no clouds.
And Mrs. Rutherford's governess laid
aside her sodden gray robes for snowy
satin, and hoar-frost lace, and orange