The Canton advocate. [volume] (Canton, D.T. [S.D.]) 1877-1897, 1878-04-02

cent Of particulars, Or Elmer Westcourt's
name.
Mrs. Pemberton talked so much, so
often, of her darling, cher blessed boy"
her only son, John, who, to her, fulfilled
every dream of manly excellence and
perfection. And Blanche used to won
der often what the quiet home would be
like when Mrs. Pemberton's son came
into it. She used to wonder how it
would be possible for her to endure the
presence of any one who would in any
way remind her of mans perfdy and
heartlessness.
But if their lives-her life-was to be
invaded by man. Well, after time,
she grew to be ashamed of her morbid
cowardice of feeling, and resolved, with
stern determination that was pitiful,
that John Pemberton-an odd, strength
full name to her-should not interfere
with the duties of the quiet life she had
chosen, and which, although she was
hardly conscious of it, was leaving its
impress on her discipline, and patience
and nobility on her nature.
Nevertheless, the pain-the very Bit
te1ness of woe-was not removed Her
fathers death she could, in the ordinary
course of nature, have got over. Loss
of wealth, position, and summer friends
would, after time, have been as trife
to her.
But Elmer Westcourt's detection! So
long as she lived, it would hurt her with
that keen, sick pain, which some women
do sufer-women with great purity and
trust of nature, who can no more i'm
agine deceit and cruelty in one they love
than themselves are capable of it. Truly
it was her darkest hour.
To her Elmer Westcourt would always
be the one who had power to touch her
heart. To her he would always be the
beloved, though not the lover-the one
above all others, although unworthy,
strangely paradoxical as it was.
So Blanche tried her best and bravest
to enter into Mrs. Pemberton's spirit of
welcome for her son. She beautifed his
room, that for more than year had
stood alone in its inoccupancy. She
baked delicious cakes, and arranged
toothsome bills Of fare, and went
through the whole house, leaving every
where the impress of her artistic touch,
that delighted Mrs. Pemberton so thor
oughly.
"John will appreciate it 50, bless his
dear heart! Blanche, I never wanted
anything in all my life as l want my
boy. And do, do Blanche, make him
feel so, so far as you are concerned, that
you may make him welcome; will your
! Up in her room, hours after, Blanche
remembered particularly what dear old
Mrs. Pemberton had said about her con-
tributing her share toward welcoming
and pleasing the coming guest, and as
she stood before the glass, brushing out
the long, lustrous hair that was full of
sunshine, she thought how far past the
time it Has when she could be pleasure
or a pride 10 anyone.
She thought how worn out she had
grown to be, how aged and old womanish
her fierce, ceaseless fight with fate had
left her, and she smiled YEARLY at the
idea of her being even thought of when
John Pemberton came.
I think Blanhce really thought it was
so-that she was worn or faded, when,
instead of her old-time radiant, spark
ling beauty, she saw a sweet, subdued,
serious loneliness, which others recogniz-
eG and admired if she did not.
She had never, in all her flush Of
beauty and wealth and happiness, made
a fairer picture that she appeared that
day, after she had dressed for Mrs. Pens-
berton's sons homecoming.
She wore white, with delicate blue
ribbons, and her lovely hair Twas piled
high on her head in a golden confusion
Of fossy pufs, and tender rings, and
fossy braids.
1t seemed strange to Blanche that she
could not possibly take an interest in
the coming of this gentleman-she who,
not so very long ago, had so thoroughly
enjoyed a Irritation. She wondered
why, in spite of herself, she was so list
lessly Indifferent, and honestly tried to
catch the infection of Mrs. Pemberton's
excitement of joy.
The old lady had put on her best dress
"a rich, rustling silk-to do honor to
her sons coming, and Blanche thought,
as she went into her parlor, that she had
never seen a sweeter tableau of placid,
aged beauty, and happy old days, than
Mrs. Pemberton offered, in her lace cap
and gray pufs, and pale face lighted by
such glad eyes.
Chow your son ought to worship such
mother!" she said, with warmly
graceful little impulsiveness-a charac-
teristic Of other days, to which she sci
dom gave way now-"Mr. Pemberton
surely does"
Mrs. Pemberton Jumped up from her
chair at the sound of carriage wheels at
the door.
"He has come! Oh, Blache! But
whatever possessed you to think his
name was Pemberton? Why, John is
my first husbands SOM"
And Blanche slipped out of the back
door as the gentleman came in the front
one-.went away upstairs again, leav ng
mother and con to the sweet sacredness
of their glad meeting.
In all her life Blanche had never felt
so lonely as in that half hour she spent
upstairs, knowing how entirely forgot
ten she was. She was not selfish either,
but it seemed as if all the trouble she
had ever known came surging its wave
of keen remembrance over her.
She realized as she had never done be-
fore how pitifully alone she was in the
world; and then into the midst of the
narrowing thoughts, the tears that had
left her heart but had not yet reached
her sweet, sad eyes, into the midst Of the
desolation of her young life, came Mira
Pemberton's Vice, quick, glad, exultant,
as she called from the foot of the stairs:
"Blanche, Blanche, do come down!
There's mystery can't quite under,
stand. Come here!" d"