Vermont watchman and State journal. [volume] (Montpelier, Vt.) 1836-1883, 1879-04-09


the deacon, with prodigious show Of can.
dor. "a roundabout way and hard way.
Is your wife with you ?"
Yes, and the Widow Vance. / have
to foot 1t up hill, you see Horse stepped
on rolling stone back piece and lamed
himself"
"Your load is too heavy let Sister Tor
rey ride with me-"
But Sister Torrey being nervous, like Lu-
cinda before her, and mortally afraid of the
deacon's spirited steed, it was in the end
Mrs. Vance who nestled into the vacant seat.
She was gushing young widow whose nit
igated grief manifested itself in certain CO
quettsh bows Of pale lavender. She pro-
tested that she felt already acquainted with
Mr. Phoenix through her late husband, TO
whom he had been so kind. She would
never cease to be grateful for the many
favors he had conferred upon dear Charles
In the morning the worthy deacon would
have smiled inwardly at this ELUSIVE pane
gyric. This afternoon he hugged it like a
poultice to his aching heart. It soothed his
wounded self-love, and inclined him toward
his fair eulogst, to whom he recounted
pleasant anecdotes of her husbands boyhood.
Indeed, he made himself so agreeable that
she was rather sorry to reach Churchville,
where the whole party were cordially well
coined at the house of Mr.. Zenas Torrey.
A proud man was Mr. Phoenix. He would
not for the world have had his recent disap-
pointment suspected by his wifes relatives
and during those three days of conference he
carried himself with resolute cheerfulness
that sometimes-out of meeting, of COURSE
verged upon friskiness. Mrs. Vance told
Mrs. Zenas Torrey that he was Just splen-
did" which compliment Mrs. Torrey re-
ata ff bir,,x NTH ooto rco mt lo lint
ing that if he thought Of marrying again. he
need not search far for wife. He looked
confused, and hotly discaimed any matri-
monial intention. As to the young widow,
was he not double her age2 Would June
join hands with December?
Alas what an insignificant trihe can turn
the scale of human destiny But for
horses right forefoot Deacon Phoenix might
have returned to his home on the morrow
as he had left it--a free man. 1t was the
lame horse that kicked the beam that de-
cided his fate. On Friday morning, that
meddling quadruped having been found
lamer than ever, the deacon could do no less
than offer to escort Mrs. Vance home. She
could do no less than to accept the offer
gladly. By some mysterious law of Sc
quences, this led to second offer and Sec
ond acceptance, and almost before he knew
it Deacon Phoenix had pledged to escort the
widow forever. When, after gallantly de-
posting his promised bride at her own door,
he was alone with his thoughts, he felt lit
tie surprised at his own precipitancy but
he told himself over and over again what
fortunate man he was-how happy he ought
to be. Contrary to his own usual custom,
he had acted from impulse, and the result
was highly satisfactory. "Highly satisfac.
tory" he repeated to himself, as he passed
the entrance to the cross-road which led to
Miss Olives Somehow his reflections were
less cheerful after that. Perhaps the chilly
rain-storm Just setting in depressed him, or
perhaps it was the empty hearse that he
met face to face-for the best of us have our
superstitions. Certain it is that, as he
alighted from his buggy that evening, with
weariness of limb and limpness Of linen, his
countenance led Mrs. Dubbs to fear the
meeting had not been profitable.
Next morning, thanks to the ungracious
weather, he was aroused by sciatic tortures.
To an elderly gentleman, newly-betrothed to
blooming lady greatly his junior, such an
awakening was peculiarly trying He thought
ruefully of the early visit he had promised
Mrs. Vance. Should the pain increase, he
must defer it indefinitely, or limp into her
presence on crutches-an alternative too
| suggestive of advancing age. Flattered as
| he was by the widows acceptance, he could
not deny that it placed him in position in
some respects irksome. 1t admonished him
that he had no further right to infrmities;
| that henceforth it was his bounden duty to
be as young as he could. The reflection
wearied him the clutching pain wearied
him. Mrs Dubbs afterward said she had
never seen him so nearly out of sorts as on
that evening when she took in his mail.
Among the letters was one that caught his
eye at once:
"Dear Friend" lit ran)-"My poor tired
| father is at rest. He was seized with paralysis
| the morning after you left us, and passed away
painlessly in few hours. How little antiei-
| pated this event when we talked togetherl My
| hands were full then; now they are very empty:
My work here is done II you still believe could
make happy the kind friend who has always been
| our benefactor, should be glad to see you.
Yours, sincerely
OLIVE WAYNE"
Mr.. Phoenix read this missive, re-read it,
shut it into the book of Job safe from pry-
ing Mrs. Dubbs, and drummed uneasily on
the closed Bible What predicament
Must he throw back upon Olive this gift for
which he had so lately sued He writhed at
the thought. Must he thus humble him
self ? Bitterer than all, must he relinquish
this tried friend of lifetime? Having
| TedCueu tubuuu, ieJcCt iiio
mature and appropriate fruits for the rhu-
barb and greens of Spring-time? Alas
yes; he must fulfill his engagement, for was
he not an "honorable man ?" He would
write at once to Olive candid statement of
the case.
But while he idled at his desk on the
morrow Mr. Torrey came to ask the loan of
horse till his own should be in running
order, and the deacon laid down his pen
with sigh of relief.
Feeling that he ought to tell his brother
in-law of his contemplated marriage, at din
ner he led the conversation back to confer
ence and Mrs. Vance.
"By the-way, met the widow this morn
ing riding with John Vance," remarked Mr..
Torrey, casually. "You remember him
the brother next to Charles2 He's just come
from California, with his pockets full"
"Ah?"
"Yes. Shouldn't wonder if he took the
widow. Some say they're engaged already
OF course the deacon knew better than
that, nevertheless he delayed his tender con
fession. And he did not write the letter.
Time enough for that after he had paid
Mrs. Vance the promised visit. The latter
lady had certainly the first claim upon his
attentions.
Unfortunately several days of tormenting
pain ensued, during which the deacon's pa
thence was put to pretty severe test; but
he was at last able to seek the object of his
hasty choice He found her in her door
yard, playing croquet with tall, we'll
dressed gentleman.
$50 happy to see you, Deacon Phoenix !"
cried she, with voluble embarrassment. "and
so glad to introduce Mr., Vance, dear Charles
brother. DO come in"
al hope my tardy coming does not seem
discourteous, Mrs. Vance," said he, in affa-
BILE formality, while the stranger hastened to
suddenly-recalled engagement al have
moi" -
"No-oh no." broke in the widow, ner-
vously
"Ihave not been well. Otherwise, under
our present interesting relations -
"Oh, Mr.. Phenixw interrupted she,
throwing herself upon cricket at his feet.
" Do you know, am so afraid am not the
one to make you happy2 And my friends
say the discrepancy in our ages is too great.
Ought to marry against their wishes ~
"You must decide that question, dear
madam" responded the deacon, with sup
pressed eagerness. The finger OF Provi-