The Republican. [volume] (Oakland, Md.) 1877-current, 1880-03-20
HELEN CHURCHILL'S LOVER.

HELEN CHURCHILL'S LOVER.
THE silver gray of summer dawn
was spreading itself over the landscape,
rendering soft and indistinct all famil-
lar objects; yet, even seen by its dim,
uncertain light, he looked more like
one grown prematurely old by reason
of hard work or whitening care, than
as if he had merely passed from youth
to age by the ordinary gentle grada-
tions.
His brow was lined, his hair silvered,
and there was a stoop in his shoulders
which told of hard and continuous toll;
yet, Notwithstanding these drawbacks,
there were the remains of youthful
beauty in the well-shaped head and
clear gray eyes.
He had arrived at the neighboring
town too late the evening before to
catch the last train to this little out O f.
the way hamlet, too late to do aught
but seek bed there; but after three
or four hours, the restless craving
to complete his journey so overpowered
him that he rose and pursued his way
on foot. And now with the delicate
light of early morn silvering the birch
es, and dimpling the waters of the
stream, he stood at length where his
feet had not rested for fifteen years.
But these fifteen years, awful as they
had been at the time, seemed but as a
dream now, scarcely to be recalled on
waking, as he stood thus looking at
each well-remembered spot.
There was the quaint, old-fashioned
church, where he could remember
kneeling, tiny boy by his mother
side, and listening half-consciously, as
he stared about him, to the soft voice
repeating the responses. He could see
himself, older still, gazing bashfully
from the high-curtained pew across to
where, beneath marble slabs that spoke
of the virtues of those who slept be-
meath, golden-haired maiden knelt,
inside the church, only the. narrow
aisle between them; outside, all the
wide dividing space that lies between
the village DOCTORS son and the eldest
daughter of Squire Churchill.
With sigh, the wayfarer brought
back his straying thoughts from past
to present, and became aware that the
sun had risen, the birds were chipping
forth an early song, and the dewdrops
were glittering all around-on the rose
crowned hedge by which he stood, on
the sprays of eglantine, and on the far
away green meadows that lay between
the village of Bythorpe and Bythorpe
Manor, halfway up the wooded slopes
opposite.
"At length I am home again." then
he muttered; cat length" throwing
his head back with a certain joyful
gesture, and stretching out rough,
toil-worn hand, as if in token of greet
ing :" at length the years are over
the work is accomplished-the punish
ment wrought out-and l am back to
claim my prize! Ahr'-starting slight
ly, as voice addressed him with a
brief "Good-morning."
Good-morning-sir." Something
in the stranger s appearance apparently
brought forth that SIR" which had
not formed part of the original SEN
tence, hut was hastily added on as he
turned his head to see who had adj
dressed him.
"You are about betimes," the new
conner went on. eft is not many of
the gentry as troubles themselves with
the sight of q summer SUNRISE"
''They miss much" said the stran-
ger, briefly. "Though perhaps to us,
who possibly have seen it nearly every
morning of our lives it is a common af-
fair enoughr'
The farmer looked at the speaker in
hn cd
ately. 81 have not seen it myself for
many years in England. You belong
to Bythorpe," he went on, as if anxious
to divert the conversation from any per-
sonal channels.
"Man and boy, l have lived here
these fifty years. That is my farm -
pointing with a proud, possessive air in
the direction whence he had come;
"Manor Farm"
"Then you are" half escaped
the lips of the other; but the words
passed unnoted by his companion.
"Dick Sisted, of the Manor Farm, -
he repeated. "Mine now, as it was my
fathers before me, and will, please
God, be my sons by-and-by."
"a perfect life, Mr.. Sisted. A home
wife and little ones. What could 9
man require moreP"
"You do not possess themP" ques
toned the farmer, looking up, sur
prised at the energy in the stranger
voice.
81 am not married." he replied
briefly. "But," he fastened to add
fearing his reply might have beer
abrupt, "you know the place, you say
then perhaps you can tell me to whom
belongs yonder house." pointing to
ward the distant towers of Bythorp'
Manor. "But 1T may be am detain
ing youP"
"NO, no." repliedMr. Sisted courte