Mineral Point tribune. (Mineral Point, Wis.) 1869-1938, 1880-04-22
AN UNEXPECTED MEETING.

It was small, one-stCry frame struc-
ture, presenting some Of the character
istics of a cabin or cottage built only a
little way from the road, and approach
ed from it by narrow wooden bridge,
under which meandered, in temperate
seasons, gentle stream, but which, in
the fervid vigor of the summer, and the
rigor of the winter, was dry and silent.
Away down in the meadow, behind
this sentry box, was a large farmhouse,
with a colony of smaller buildings
springing up about it, and back of these
woods, rising precipitously to the brow
of projecting hill.
In summer time this homestead of
Farmer Gilman was smiling, shady
place to look upon, as was, indeed, all
the country in which nestled the hamlet
of Fairbank, distant a couple of miles
away; but now that the iron letters of
winter were upon everything, it looked
GOLD, cheerless and uninviting
1t had been showing all day-snow
was everywhere. 1t was on the rich
pasture lands, on the closely shaver
meadows, on last years tillage; it main
tanned precarious existence on the
roofs of houses; it rendered sightless
gaps in broken roads, and lent treach-
erous expansion to highways; it, in
short, blotted out the ordinary land
marks, and was one great, white, staring
eyesore on the face of the landscape.
Night had come on, and with 1t in
creased activity on the part of the storm.
It was bitterly cold, too, and there was
an edge on the air like knife.
1t was night to enjoy grateful meal
and comfortable fireside, and this was
what May Seton was preparing for her
fathers return In the little cottage by the
roadside.
The ample stove was aglow with the
cracking wood-fire; the bright lamp
light illumined the neat decorous little
kitchen; the old easy-chair wore a look
of expectation rs it stood by the table
TINT awaited the burden of the substan-
tial supper. and the blue-eyed rosebud
herself was blithely singing snatches of
ditty, as if in defiance of the gloom and
storm without.
For dozen years and upward May
Seton had occupied this same abode
with her father, and had been his sole
companion and housekeeper.
About that time George Seton had
made his first appearance in Fairbank,
bringing with him little else than fair
sweet child of four or five years old, and
carrying about him an Air of suppressed
suffering that silenced inquiries, albeit
that 1t somewhat excited curiosity. But
this curiosity was satisfied and turned to
sympathy when it was learned that the
stranger had recently buried his partner,
and that the golden-haired child he so
tenderly cherished was motherless.
George Seton had not furnished Fair
bank with this information III so many
words. From the day Of his arrival to
She ti,ae whereof we write, he had never
opened his lips on the SUBJ act OF ante
cedcnts.
Abraham Gilman, or old Abe, as he
WAS more universally called, to distin-
guish him from II younger Abe, had once
asked George, when they We're working
in the field together, if he was not
widower like himself, whereat Abe's new
employe had bent his head, and then
maintained silence so impressive that
the fact was taken for granted and never
after discussed.
As for May. if questioned on the sub
ject, she could only tell of big town
and n large house, and fine lady that
used sometimes to kiss her, and who
one night, she was told by her father,
mad died and was buried away for ever
more.
"Six o'clock, y cries May, stopping her
warbling to laugh up III the face % the
old clock that chimed the hour.
"Six o'clock, she laughs, rs she turns
the fragrant rashers in the oven and
casts searching glance Mt the table to
see that it contains all her own home
made daintics. Father will be here
presently. | wonder if Abe will-Hush,
YOU naughty thing" she adds, under her
breath, and pressing her hands to her
rosy mouth. rs she hears crrlnching
sound drawing nigh.
The sound draws nearer TIL II stops
outside, when, there is scrapmg ana
stamping Of feet, and then the door
opens, aud fragrant, warm smell, and
bright CLEAN of light and n smile of
delicious youth and innocence stream
out in the face of the night and salute
the intruders.
The first to enter is q man, tail, and
slightly bent, with thin, aged face, and
fair, long beard, plentitully leavened
with gray hairs. He bends down, with
an air not quite in keeping with his
homely garb. and impresses a fervens
kiss on TIE sweet, upturned face that
creets him. He then steps aside with
courteous movement and discloses the