Vermont phÅ“nix. [volume] (Brattleboro, Vt.) 1834-1955, 1879-10-03

ing still
"Ies, my lass, spoke to you, for we've
been courting now matter Of four years"
ooh, john" l cried, bursting out laugh
ing and feeling more at my case, "why,
we've hardly spoken to one another
That's nice" he said, drawing long
breath over. cover again 2"
"Over again 2, What ?" / said
"Call me John, he replied
"Well then, john" cried hastily,
That's right, Prudence but as | was 60
ing to say, not spoken to one another! Well,
how could We always taking our turns at the
tiller as We were? But all the same, my lass,
I've always been counting of you, night and
day, these four years. and looking out and
longing for the time when the Prudence
would come in sight and l could give you a
hail and get wave of the hand back"
l could feel the color coming into my
| cheeks again as | heard him speak, and knew
how anxiously l had looked out for his
barge coming up or down the river and
then l began wondering what it all meant
and soon knew.
Prudence, my lass" he said, eve saved
| ten dollars all my own, and our owner has
| just given me the command of a new barge,
with as pretty cabin in rs you'd wish to
see and so, my lass, | thought I'd ask you
| if so be as now we've been courting four
years, you wouldn't come to me and be my
wife"
mo" I said, mo, and shook my head.
Il belong to father, and | could never leave
him-never."
but you'll have to some day, Prudence"
he said, looking dreadfully downhcarted and
miserable.
NO" said. II shall never leave him he
wants me more and more every day, and l
must stay"
Prudence" he said sharply, 'you amt
playing with me are you ?"
Playing with you =
Yes; l mean you amt going to take up
with any one else, and go aboard any other
| barge-no, no he cried, II won't be so
mean as to ask you that. But, Prudence,
dear some day you may have to leave him,
and when you do will you please rccollect as
John Grove loves you better than aught else
in the wide world, and is waiting for you to
! come :"
''Yes, John" said simply.
"You mean it. Prudence = he cried in de-
| light, as he caught my hand.
"Ycs, John; l don't know anybody else,
| and there's no one rs cares for me-
Hundreds on the river" he said sharply.
Then don't care for them, John, l said
simply; 'and if you like me, and l ever do
-leave-oh, dear what am saying:
sat down on fender and covered my
face with my coarse red hands, and begun to
cry but he took my hands down, and looked
long and lovingly in my face. with his great
honest brown eyes and then he couldn't
| speak, but seemed to choke. At last he gasp
ed out:
"Thanky, Prudence, thanky. I'm going
away now to wait, for you'n come to me
some day, l know
didn't answer him.
"For the time may come. my lass, when
| you'll be all alone in the world and when it
| does come. there's the cabin of the Betsy
Ann, clean painted up, and waiting for you
! just as her masters waiting too"
He went quietly over the side aud cast of
the rope, and was gone before knew i; ; and
| sat there i'll the calm afternoon and evening,
sometimes crying, sometimes feeling hopeful
and with a sense of joy at my heart such as |
never had felt before.
And so that evening deepened into night
with the barge quarter of IL mile sstern of
us, and no wind coming, only the tide to help
us on our way.
1t must have been about ten o'clock at
night, when was forward seeing to the light
hoisted up to keep anything running into US,
| when | heard father come stumbling up from
the cabin, and make rs if to come forward to
| me.
"Pruc, he cried "Prue :"
"Yes, father, coming" I said and then l
uttered a wild shrek, and rushed towards
where the boat hung astern by her painter
hauled her up and climbed in for no sooner
had ! answered than l heard cry and a
heavy splash, and | knew father hnd gone
| overheard.
was in the boat in moment, and had the
scul over the stern, padding away in the di-
rection that the cry had come from but,
though | fancied in those horrible minutes
| that | saw hand stretched out of the water,
asking it were for help, | padded and
sculed about till | was far from our barge,
and then sank down worn-out to utter a moan
! of horror, and sob, "Oh. father what shall
l doE"
rs that YOU Prudence z" said n voice.
"Yes, John, yes" | cried, looking out
through the darkness out of which IA boat
seemed to steal till it was alongside when
John stretched out his hand and took mine.
Quick :" gasped, ''saye him, John-fa-
ther-gone overheard 20
"When you shrieked out Prue p
"Yes, yes, " walled ''oh, save him save
him :"
My poor lass" he said, that's a good
quarter of an hour ago, and the tides run
ming strong. I've been padding about ever
since trying to find you, for l went up to
the barge and you were gone"
"But father" l walled, "father-save
him"
my poor little lass he said tenderly,
"Id jump into the water now if you bid me,
but what can l do, you know, Prudence,
what can | do 2"
did not answer, for did know that he
must have been swept far away before then
and was beginning to feel that was alone
| quite alone in the world.
1t was six months after that deadful night
that one evening John came ashore from his
| barge to the cottage where l was staying
with his mother and had been ever since he
| had brought me there, without seeing him TO
only to wave my hand to him as he sailed by.
That evening he came and looked wistfully
at me and said but little, and at last his time
was up and he rose TO go.
l walked down to his boat with him, and
on the way he told me that he had got leave
to alter the name of his barge, and it was
called the Prudence, too and then without
a word about the past, he was saying good
bye when l put my hands in his and said
| quietly
John, dear. haven't forgot my prom
ise."
"And you are alone now, Prudence, my
lass, he cried eagerly.
mo John, no, / said softly, as the tears
ran down my checks II never shall be
while you live"
Never, my lass never" he cried. "And
youth be my little wife,
Yes, John, yes | promised you"
"When l come back from this voyage ?"
'Yes, John, when you WILL said and
with one long hand pressure we parted, and
l went back to wait another month, and then
| was his happy little wife.
And there seemed no change, for | was
once more on the river or out at sea, leaning
upon the tiller and gazing straight before me,
| with the gulls waling as they wheeled and
dipped and skinned or settled upon the wa
ter while the soft wind gently stirred the
print hood that was lightly tied over my wind
rufiled hair. Only bargeman's young wife
living on the tide, but very happy for John
often points to the great ships that pass us,
with their captains in gold laced caps, and as
he does so he whispers
mot with the best among them, Prue, not
with the best l wouldn't even change places
with king"
And if he is as happy as l, dear John is