Vermont phÅ“nix. [volume] (Brattleboro, Vt.) 1834-1955, 1878-04-26
NO. II.


over a welcome as ON that weary day when /
found myself greeted by splendid fire,
cloth that rivalcd the snow, and most excel
lent tea with bannocks and all sorts of home
comforts before me, from kipperod salmon to
home made marmaade.
The next morning was one of unccnsing
rain. Early in the afternoon the old servant,
with evident r. lucts nee, brought me IA mes
sage. A man wished to see me. 1t was Ken
meth. As is usually the case he was COM
petely different from the idea / had in my
own mind conceived of him-tall and fair,
with sunburnt face, and the manner and
appearance Of a man who had seen good
deal of the world-one of natures gentlemen,
in outward semblance at any rate. He came
to see me, and TO tell me of old Mrs Grants
evidently approaching end. Then, with a
lowered voice, he spoke of JEAN and with
frankness said that the position at home was
ntOlerable to her. Without casting blame on
his wife, he showed me that Jean could find
no home with her if old Mrs. Grant died, and
asked me what could be done.
l had often seen the sore need that existed
in childrens hospital near me for just such
n person rs Jean, and spoke to him of It, He
bent his head little, and saw that the idea
of any service so far from him gave him an
acute pang and that he put force on himself,
and was trying to think it was for the best
his wife's people in Australia were not very
respectable, and flash in his eyes showed
| that certain remembrances We're not pleasing.
All at once he flung back his hair, and stand
| ing up, said to me, "You are very kind Sir
and the truth is best. My wifes father is a
ticket-of-leave man. She is very young, and
| does not know the shame"
grasped his hand, and, rs he was leaving.
lie said, DO you know, Sir, why Jean held
| lU pof
father is living he is shut up for a crime,
but they could not punish him. for he has not
| his wits He il n criminal lunatic.'
could not speak for n moment then
said, "Does-Jean know l moan about your
wife"
An angry look cleaned in his eyes, and he
said She told Jean when she was angry the
other day. She is very young" he said, in n
| tone of defence, and went out.
SO this was the story-the higher nature
felt the disgrace and gave up her happiness
and sacrificed herself, and then had to stand
| by and see that the sacrifice had been in vain:
and thought of her murmured words "a
| day will come when we will know the reason
of ALL" Poor Jean
1t was nearly dusk when the faithful old SER
want came into my little sitting-room. Though
| yon man had the sense to leave you in peace"
she began, heres an urgent message for you.
Mrs Grants dying and would fain see you
and such a night" she said, looking out at
the neyer-ceasing rain.
Wrapping myself well up, l hurried off,
contrasting the wet and dreary walk with my
first walk there. Nothing could be more mis-
cradle than this one-in places almost ankle
deep in boggy mud, the heavy rain blotted
out the hills, and wind sent it in slaps against
my face, and countermandcd the use of an
umbrella. Kenneth met me close to the burn.
with the intelligence that the poor old woman
had slept away peacefully and we were talk
| ing together, looking at the torrent of water
pouring down, when we saw the bank under
meath the little plank bridge below the house
suddenly give way. The plank remained
treacherously in its place, supported by sod
of earth only a few inches thick. This is
terrible said Kenneth, as he started off and
ran toward it. He was still on his way, (it all
passed in a very few minutes when the door
of the cottage opened. and his wife, girlsh-
looking creature, with lint-white hair. ran
down. and stepped on to the plank, just as
her husband reached it, He was too late too
save her and, with a shrill scream never
shall forget, she fell with the plank, into the
foaming stream.
| can give no clear or connected account of
that dreadful night. Iremember seeing JEAN
with resolute face, wade in from below aud
reach her and the memory still haunts me of
the two figures struggling in the water, and
Kenneth's face as he tried to breast the tor
rent and go to their assistance. l hurried for
help, and help came. l saw Kenneth carry
ing one figure home, and others tended one
lying on the bank, and in the still, white, up
turned face, l recognized Jean.
Though l was shivering from head to foot
partly with excitement and partly with cold
l did not leave till 1 saw that her eyes unclos-
ed and knew that Jean lived.
l paid the penalty of having been so long
exposed to the damp, and was in bed for sew
eral weeks with rheumatic fever. When re-
covered, heard that Jean was with a neigh
Dor and that she and Kenneth had been al
most daily to ask for me.
Two Summers came and went, and once
more l was in that lovely Highland place
The cottage at Burnside was deserted, and
the primroses and foxgloves realized the poets
idea
Full many flower is born to blush unseen,
And waste its sweetness on the desert air"
But some miles away there is comfortable
farmhouse, where flowers also bloom and
linen lies bleaching in the sun. 1t is essen
TALLY home of peace and kindness is spread
round and is made to reach many far beyond
its boundaries. Here Kenneth and his dark
eyed wife live, their happiness tempered by
remembrance; and her welcome is as kind
and her smile far sweeter and brighter, than
it used to be in the days when l knew her as
''only Jean. BldckWOOds Magazine