Vermont phÅ“nix. [volume] (Brattleboro, Vt.) 1834-1955, 1878-09-06

through the foam The eyes of the gathering
crowd were fastened on it.--our very hearts
ceased beating! Could it be possible 1t was
it was o the awful suspense Battling with
the cross-sca, disappearing for an instant, rs-
ing again, nearer it came. Two strong men
waded out into the surf-they threw a rope
thank God it tightened Steadily, steadily,
stout hands drew it in. Once and again thank
God for there was not one but two A wo-
mans form lay prone across the spent swim
mcr's shoulders Gently they loosened the
clingng arms, and Harry struggled, gasping,
to his knees. His gaze fell Oh the face of her
he had saved. The tense muscles of his own
face relaxed; he threw both arms above his
head, and with one cry Of Edith ~ in a
voice of unutterable love, he fell back faint
ing on the sand
When he came to himself again, he was ly-
ing on his own bed His eyes opened won
deringly, then with asudden rush of conscious
ness he tried weakly to rise Faith :" he
said eagerly.
Cod forgive Inc but was cruel had no
pity for him then. could see nothing but
vision OF my sweet girls face tangled about
with sea-wecd, Shiny with the spume of the
murderous sea
Faith :" l answered slowly DO you not
know where Faith is You left her out there
to die your promised wife !"
A great wave of pain passed over his fGce.
The tips of his clenched fingers whitcned
against his palm.
"As God hears ME" he said II believed l
had Faith in my arms"
He fell back and closed his eyes bent
over him and kissed him and the first tears
had shed fell on his face
Some one called my name from across the
passage-way; Miss Gray is better and wants
to see you
went in. Edith lay propped up on pillows
her pale face turned eagerly towards the room
door.
Come close" she said, in weak but
thrilling voice. II wanted you to know
Faith gave her life for me. / chung to the
boat, and heard Mr.. Wiloughby cry out,
Faith, throw yourself on my shoulders and
hold fast, but for your life don't touch my
arms felt my fingers slipping, and closed
my eyes. Then in an instant, my arms were
wrenched away from the boat and clasped vio-
lently about something, l knew not what.
must have tainted then, for l knew no more
till woke in this room and saw my mothers
face"
The tide gave back my little Faith that
night Tendery she was borne up the long
path her light feet had trodden so often ten
derly we took from her the dripping garments
and laid her robed in white, on her own white
bed But no one but Harry and saw the lit
tie letter, soaked and blotted, which lay crum-
pied on her bosom, addressed Harry Willough-
by"
All together we went up with our sad bur
den, carrying darkness to the humble home
which she had frightened for eighteen years
Greater love hath no man than this that
man lay down his life for his friends, said
the white-haired minister, standing with un-
covered head above her grave
Harry returned directly to the city, arrang-
ing with me to send his luggage after him
A fortnight after Mrs. Gray and Edith left me
quite alone.
saw Harry once more, two years after
wards. lie was about to go abroad, and came
to bid goodbye. few months later l re-
ceived paper with the announcement of his
marriage to Edith Gray. He has never re-
turned.
just before he left me he put little box in
my hand. 1T is Faiths letter." he said. You
may keep it 1 have no need, since every
word is written on my heart"
Ny hostess and rose and entered the cot
| tage together. She unlocked the inner draw
or of an antique cabinet, and drew forth a
small, blue velvet casket. 1t opened by n
spring, and on the delicate satin lining lay 4
yellow folded paper, stifTened and defaced by
| the contact of the salt water.
took 1t reverently in my hand A score of
years ago it rose and fell with the last throb
of heart whose love had vanquished death +;
a score OF years the young hand that wrote it
| had mould5rtd into dust, yet these blurred,
| half-illegible lines, held the last words of a
| great soul;
MY DARLING There is something which
| have wanted to tell you, and l write it now,
because if l were to speak to you, you might
| think that / was not in earnest, or that l was
hurt with You for some thing that had hap
| pened, which l am not, nor ever could be, fol
l trust you with all my heart.
II have been happier than 1 ever believed
ANYBODY could be in this world. As long as
live shall be thankful that have had youl
love, even though it was not mine to keep
And am so glad that know surely that you,
yourself, would never take it away from me
Whatever happened you are too noble ant
true for that. But dearest, | am going tC
| give it back to you now not in anger, ah, no
no nor in sorrow-at least, none that yOu
could help-but freely, just as you gave it tC
me- Do not think me jealous. 1t is only
that little while ago l was blinded by hap
piness, but now 1 see clearly.
You are so good that you might ask me t.
reconsider what say but, dearest, do not
for my sake, because / never can, and j
would only grieve us both will Just Civ,
you this little note, and then we will neve
speak of it again, for since the mistake wa
our own we will correct it together, and al
shall be right between us, now and always.
Il am sure you will not forget me. Ma.
God bless you forever, and ever, and L shal
be, dear Harry, till die,
''Your loving sister, FAITH"
Mary 4. p. Stans5ury, IN Sunday Atter
noon.