The Portland daily press., 1878-09-28

had been manager of village etiquette. indis-
pensable at wedding, fair or funeral. She
had a claim to speak with authority in church
matters, different from that of pastor or dea-
cons, but quite as distinctly recognized by the
people.
''The Holts and Burwells are talking of
applying for pews," she said triumphantly.
"The good cause moves"
Mr.. Harbour bowed. The blood mounted
to his cheek with pleasure.
''With the Clevedons, we shall then have
all of the best people in Kerr's Ford" she
continued. sTts quite right! With such a
church and such preaching we ought to fill
our pews with certain class"
Mr.. Harbour skilfully separated himself
from Miss Hyde. Her vulgarity and snob-
ishness annoyed him. Yet he was just as
pleased as she that the influx to the church
was to be of 'certain GLASS;"
Mrs. Wilcox next seized his arm. 'See
the postoffice, Mr.. Harbour; an arch of ever
green, paper flowers, colored lamps-you un-
derstand the design? Lille Bassett inside in
white muslin and blue wreath-oh, it will be
charming. You have done so much to ele.
vate our aesthetic tastes and love of the beau
tiful! sit in the church now on Sunday,
and look up at the carved arches and the
stained glass and the crimson cushions, and
remember the days of poor dear Mr.. Stone,
when we worshped over the market-house
The old gentleman was always so busy with
those dreadful miners at Coalport that he
had no time 10 think of cushions or carv-
ings. They used to crowd in and fill up
some of thu best seats in church. Dear
knows, beautiful church would have been
thrown away on them!'
Mr.. Harbour glanced at her sharply. Did
she intend covert sarcasm? But no !; her
tat, good-natured face was smiling and placid
as ever. 1t was natural that she should wish
to see the best seats filled by people of posi-,
tion rather than grimy coal beavers. But he
he told himself that they were all alike
souls for whom Christ died.
There was sudden movement near the
door, hush of the clamor to decorous ST.
lence; even Miss Hyde lowered her strident
tones to wel-bred murmur; the Holts and
Burwells were coming in and with them Sarah
Clevedon. She was an erect young girl, with
brown, earnest eyes, dressed more simply
than any other woman in the room. But
people rarely remembered Sarah's dress OF
anything about her but her eyes, the mean
ing OF which always strangely remained will
you after she was gone. Mr.. Harbour
watched her as she passed through the room,
detained by one eager group after another
Was it possible that she did not know thai
since she was child she had been regarded
as princess by these tradesmen's wives and
daughters. simply because she was born an
heiress? Could it be possible that she did
not see how vulgar and coarse-grained they
were? She did not seem to see it. They
were her friends whom she had known and
loved since she was baby; it did not occur
to her TO criticise their minds or manners
any more than to quarrel with the beeches on
the village street because they were not oaks
When she sat down beside little Miss Maddox
the tailoress, there was Difference, almost
approaching humility, in her manner. True,
the poor little deformed woman was almost a
saint, thought the clergyman, but what fine
instinct taught that reverence to the girl 2
He never had felt it himself. How delicate
and rare she was, this lady of his love! With
all her cordial sweetness, no one could be ia.
miliar With her. She would have held a
prince as far apart from her as she did poor
little Sam the cobbler.
Presently, he went up and joined her, 60
ing from stall TO STALL The effect upon him
was curious. Grab-bag and post-office SLOWLY
sank to their proper place in the universe
even the rose-window, for which all this
mighty bother was made, no longer appeared
TO be the end of human life and action: il
was in its place useful thing. But its place
after all, was small one. Yet Sarah had moi
said a word concerning grab-bag or rose win
dow. Was it because she was so simple and
true that this hurly-burly appeared to him
paltry and foolish?
He left the hall, walking beside her down
through the low-lying meadows towards
Cievedon Place. He remembered the furry
and fever of the last few days as man might
who had ended long race aud found mean
inc q orr iyh htg he
this woman he could leave all vulgar fever
forever below him and rise to the height on
which she dwelt. To see Sarah Clevedon
among these other women was like hearing a
noble song sung in the chaffering market
place. They reached the gate and passed un-
der the great elms to the house, which was
old, and not without certain statelness of
af1uence and comfort.
sit imports good deal in the character OF
womaD," said Mr.. Harbour, continuing his
thoughts aloud, so have been born to an in
heritance like this, haunted by the legends of
an honorable family"
Sarah looked at him with surprise. "I am
very fond of the old house," she said simply,
land believe the Clevedons were honest
folk.''
Mr.. Harbour WINGED at this as though he
had been cut to the marrow. He had gath
cred some flowers to give her as he walked -
white Stars of Bethlehem veined with pale
blue. He let them fall suddenly. He felt as
though his hands were tainted.
But it was impossible that she could know
Why should she ever know? He was not
guilty because his father had chosen 20 be-
come thief, and his brother brute. Why
shoEld he bear their punishment? Sarah had
neither parents nor kinsfolk to ask trouble
some questions. She was her own mistress.
If he married her, perhaps when years had
passed, when their lives and souls had grown
close together, sitting by the fire some win
ter evening, he would dare to tell her the
shameful story, which would then seem
vague and unreal as dream.
70 be just to the man, he loved Sarah very
sincerely, and he was nearer to her Just then
than ever before, and sore tempted.
His eyes while he reasoned were fixed on
the top of the bill they were very fine speak
ing eyes. Sarah had no doubt that the spirit
was now lifted in high communing; he was a
veritable st. Augustine in her eyes; she was
apt to make saints and heroes out of every-
day people, but for this hero and saint she
could find no halo too bright. If he had only
fieshly thoughts enough to think of women
to feel the need of friend, a sister-suddenly
the eyes fell directly on her face which burned
and blushed under the unexpected passionate
gaze. His chin quivered, his eyes filled with
tears. She turned her head from him, know
ing that the eager pleading look followed her.
What was this? Did he love her?
"How still the woods are," she said hur-
riedly;" 81 think we shall have a storm be-
fore morning."
Mr.. Harbour did not know what she said.
He knew she trembled, and shrank back from
him. Her hand, large, firm hand, by the
way, was resting on the stie. What if he
should take it in his own? Tell her
Her hair fell loosely from her hat, one soft
curly lock almost touched him. He took it in
his fingers. Since his mother died he had
never touched woman's hair. Sarah
turned at the movement, and their eyes met.
''Miss Clevedon-" dropping the hair, and
stepping back, his fingers nervously raised to
his chin-"surely you understand? You
know that L"
The gate at the moment clicked behind
him, and quick step sounded on the gravel.
A man, bloated with drink, the fumes Of the
last glass strong about him, stood before
them.
care you the Reverend Nicholas Har-
bour?''
1t was his brother John.
Nicholas did not speak.
The poor wretch, looking at Sarah, took off
his rag of cap, with a grace which Mr..
Harbour never possessed.
II beg your pardon, Madame, but my bus
mess is pressing. l shall detain Mr.. Harbour
but a mOment,o He moved nuicklv awav