The Forest Republican. [volume] (Tionesta, Pa.) 1869-1952, 1881-02-23

| sell Than TO accept Kindness from sister,
who was not in afiuept circumstances.
Thus began my governess life, which
am thankful to say, has been such q
succt ss that / am now able TO live in
comfort ann to put by mite for rainy
! day. / have not scent much in travel
! ing, though my kind friends, the Cow
entry's, sent me many invitations. Per-
| haps | am little proud, for / think
could not mix in their society with lust
the same pleasure as in former days.
However, they are unchanged to me, and
always will be, feel sure.
The clock had just struck nine. What
a time have sat here ruminating on
past time! and the postman is not come
! yet. Valentines day-that is the reason
OF The delay, no doubt.
Here he comes around the corner, but
what time he stops at each door! The
| i've little dwellings to be visited before
he gets here will Cake, l should think,
another quarter of an hour, at this rate
of going. Well! you will not be detained
long here, my man. Sarah shall bring
the breakfast
Another ten minutes; he is here |!
Sarah puts two letters into my hand,
and strange coincidence one of them
is in the handwriting of my old friend,
Constance Coventry.
Constance Baintree she is now; she
married Charley two years after my last
| visit. And bright, merry Kate is dead |!
My second letter, being evidently a
! business one, claims my first attention.
1t is from the mother of my eldest pupil.
She is going abroad, and wishes my
charge to accompany her. My three
other pupils are at present in scarlet
fnuar NV honHo 1ryS1l ho ofx1f M baf
shall dop Look for temporary en-
ploymentP should like to take holi-
day, but know of nowhere to go just
now.
Now for Constance:
"We have just come home from
abroad, she writes, and are settling
in our new home, though il is a
wretched time of year. do want you
so much to come and see me. Perhaps
my reasons are partly selfish, for he
will not see company yet, and / am
dreadfully dull and lonely, but / know
that will be no Craw back to you"
She then goes on to say good deal
that is kind, and adds in postscript:
g / said we were alone, but forgot tC
mention that an old friend, or rather ac-
quaintance, is with us whom dare say
you will remember in by-gone days
Mr.. Bargiu! We came upon him at
Basle, when Charley was dangerously
ill, and his kindness 1 shall never tor
get, am SO sorry that ever laughed
at or teased him, dear Ethel; he saved
my husbands life! Do come"
That is all. And what strange sup
plement to my meditations of the past
hour. How the old familiar names re-
call the old days. am at Barfield
again, young and happy as of old! Con-
stances invitation is a tempting one.
should like to see her again in her new
home; and MIR. Bargill ? ! smile a.s
remember the valentines, and l think
on the whole l should ike to see him
again, tool 1t is decided. l will 90
and sit down and write to that effect.
Three days later, at five O'Clock on a
cold winters evening, | am driven up
the avenue at Braintree, trying hard,
through the dusk and the drifting sleet,
to catch glimpse of my friends new
home. A double row of stately lime
trees on each side of the drive is all that
| can see, and as we draw nearer Iper-
ceive fine old Elizabethan house nearly
covered with ivy and creepers. 1t has
been the home of the Braintrees for
many generations, and has Just descended
to Charley from an uncle.
A bright light streamed forth when
the door was ONened, and Constance
stood in the nall ready to receive me
with open arms. In q second / was in
a cozy little room with bright fire,
where lay her husband, looking not
much older, but pale and delicate from
his recent illness.
Constance led me to my room, and on
leaving me, said
1--WE have just few friends coming
tonight, dear; you won't mindP I'll
send you my maid" and without wait
ing for an answer, she was gone.
did mind" but there was no help
for it. Constance was always fond of
society. dressed mysel IS well as my
limited wardrobe would allow, and she
presently returned and escorted me to
the drawing-roOm, where about fourteen
persons were assembled; but among
them all not one face was familiar TO me
save that of my host.
l quietly ensconced myself in a win
dow recess, where ] was partly hidden
by O curtain. My eyes wandered for a
moment rather anXiously over the group
in vain hope that | might discover
Mr.. Bargill, but in vain. No one was
known to me there.
Dinner was announced. The party
paired OFF. AS / sat wondering who my
partner was to be, Constance touched
the arm OF portlv-lOoking man who sat
with bis hack to me, engaged in earnest
conversation. He rose at once, and she
led him up 10 me.
AN old friend, Ethel. MIR. Bargill,
you remember Miss VaneP"
Was it possibleP Was the fne-look-
ing man before me the ''shy curate" of
former daysP No need to ask if he
remembered me. He gave q start. and
colored visibly, when she uttered my
name, and then saw plainly the resem-
blance which had failed TO detect at
first. He recognized me at once. too.
/ saw that, and it was no small pleasure
to think that times raVages had not
altered me IN his eyes, ut lesst beyond
recognition.
/ went into the dining on his
arm, and after the first few sentences
our conversation never tagged. then
discovered how in mind as we'll as ia