Oxford Democrat. [volume] (Paris, Me.) 1833-1933, 1878-07-09

pot. Ii she comes sooner well have her
out here In hurry. Wish to goodness
she would
The Southern winter blossomed royal
ly. Bees held high carnival in the nod
ding spikes OF the white sage and now
and then breath of perfume from the
orange groves in the valley came up to
mingIe with the wild mountain odors.
Brice worked every moment with feverish
ealnestness, and the pile OF gnarled
roots on the clearing grew steadily
larger. With all her loyeliness nature
failed to woo him. What was the ex-
quisite langour OF these days to him, but
SO many hours OF patient waiting? The
dull, hungry eyes saw nothing OF the
lavish beauty around him, looking
through it all with restless yearning to
where an emigrsnt train. with its dust
aud dirt and noisome breath, crawled
over miles OF alkaG. or hung from dizzy
heights.
Tomorrow tho 81, neighbor. |
reckon she'll oe long nuw directly"
That 5 a tact What a ratlIor time is
The days had been hong TO Joel. "We'Il
go in tomorrow, and il they don't come,
you can stay and watch the trains awhile.
She won't know you Brice; you've
picked up amazingly"
II think likely Louisyil know ne If
she comes"
Rut she did not come. Joel returned
the following night alone, having lett
Brice at cheap lodgings near the station.
Numberless psssers-by must have noticed
the patient watcher al the incoming
trains, the homely pathos OF bis face
deepening day by day. The dull eyes
growing shade duller, and the awkward
form Il trifle more stopped with each sue
ceeding disappointment.
1t was two weeks before he reap
peared on the mesa, walking YEARLY
like a man under load.
IL reckon there's something wrong,
ma'am. come out 10 see II YOur man
'ud write me letter. | hadn't been
long at Plattsvills, but worked spell Tor
a man named Yarnell; ike enough he'd
look ii up little. ain! much ut writin,
and I'd it all writ out carefully like, YOU
know The mans voice had the old un
complaining monotouy.
Joel wrote the letter at once, making
the most minute inquiries regarding Mrs.
Brice, and giving every possible direc-
ton concerning her residence. Tnen
Brice fell back into his old groove, work
ing ieverishly, in spite OF Mrs. Brandt's
kindly warnings.
81 can't stop, ma'am the settin'
round I'D kill me.
The answer came at last, a business-like
epislle, addressed 10 Joel. Mrs Brice
had leli Plattsville about The time desig-
mated. Several OF her neighbors remem-
bered that stranger, well-dressed
man, had been at the house for nearly a
week before the departure. and the two
had gone away together. taking the
western train. The writer regretted his
inability to give lurther information, and
closed with kindly inquiries concerning
his former employees health, and an
earnest recommendation OF him 70 Mr..
Brandt.
Joel read the letter aloud. something
some sturdy uprighlness OF his own. no
doubt-blinding him to It's significance.
"will you read it again nelghbor, for
Pm not over quick.
The man s voice was revelation iull
OF unutterable hurt. like the cry OF some
dumb. wounded thing.
And Joel read it again, choking with
indignation at every word.
Thank ye, Deighbor. I'll trouble you
10 write line thsnkin' him; that's all.
lie got up heavily, staggered little
as he crossed the floor. and went out into
The yellow sunlight. There was the long
sun-kissed slope, the huge pile OF twisted
roots, the rude shsnty with IFS Chamber
ing vines. The bumming bees IN the
sage went ON drowsily. A more cultured
grief might have swooned OF cried out.
This man knew no such refuge; even
The relief oil indignation WAS deuled him.
None of the thousand wild impulses that
come to men smitlen like him lifted
across his clouded brain. lie only knew
to take up his burden humbly and 20 on.
If he had been wiser could he have
known more?
No one spoke OF tho blow that had
fallen upon him. The sympathy that
met him came in the warmer clasp OF
hard hands and the soitening OF rough
voices, none the verse certainly for its
ouietness. Alone with her husband.
however, Mrs. Brsndt's wrath bubbed
necessarily.
"lrs q crying, burning, blis'ermg
shame, Joel, that's what it is | suppose
its the Lords doings. but l can't see
through it."
IF the Lords up to that kind OF busi-
ness, Barbara, don't see no further use
for the devil. was the dry response. JoePs
religion was as free from any theological
,imidlty as child's and quite as simple.