The Vancouver independent. (Vancouver, W.T. [Wash.]) 1875-1910, 1881-12-08
Yes it was hard. Everybody said it

was nard. one, tnat natl Deeu 80 uell-
cately beautiful as sweet pea blossom,
or a wild rosebud, to be so scanned, and
marred, and marked-she, whose foot
steps had been light and swift, to be COM
PEELED to the sad estate of Il cripple for
life. And quite helpless. too, for her
poor old uncle could barely support
herself.
"On the town-on the town, she kept
repeating to herself, in q sort of agony.
Andfhen she would close the poor feeble
eyes, and try to picture in her mind
what the Poor Hoose would be like, and
wonder if Mrs. Handicourt would con-
trive to get her into some private asylum
or charitably conducted "Itome" which
should be less repulsive than the Poor
House.
But Mrs. Handicourt made no effort;
one day carry all came to the door-to
take her away.
Poor Justine made no objections-she
merely shuddered, and let them take her
where they chose.
But it was not to the Poor House-it
was to Mrs. Fontanels pretty Gothic
cottage, where the crimson curtains were
parted, to let in the sunshine, and the
fire glowed like large molten ruby.
"Mrs. Fontanel y
"My dear" said the good old lady
lyon are welcome. Hereafter, your
home is to be with me. Frank wishes it
to be so. Frank has accepted call to
the Church of the Holy Cross In Valin-
Vile, ten miles from here; he will only
be at home on Mondays and Tuesdays, 80
YOU need have no scruples. He wants
me to have a companion in my loreless,
and he wishes you to grow strong and
cheerful You will not pain MS both by
refusing, my dear"
And Justlne's tears were her only an
swer.
Il didn't know that any one in all the
world could be so good" said she.
Upon the next Monday the young
clergyman came home as usual.
Can / see Justne?" he asked. and
Justine herself, leaning on crutch, and
with all her lovely golden tresses shorn
away, came fecbly to meet him.
Justine" he cried, "oh, Justine''
She smile sadly.
Il had my own way, Mr.. Fontenel,
said she, land now you can see what has
come of it,"
mot Mr.. Fontanel," he corrected her,
gently; Frank
ut can never be Frank again. she
said, with little shudder, as she let him
set her close to the window where Mrs.
Fontenel's sweet-scented geraniums per-
fumed all the air. "All that is past"
"Our folly is past, Justine" he said,
tenderly. sour happiness is yet to be-
gin"
But you do not mean
"Sweet Justine" he pleaded, II love
you as tenderly as ever l did. l have
never ceased to love you. And if you
will consent to come to the Nallnvllle
Parsonage as my dear and cherished
wife, our lives will start from new and
happy fountain of love!'
but Mrs. Fontanel-your mother,
hesitated Justine. Il could not leave
her."
The young parson smiled. Was he re-
calling to himself her mad and arrogant
words upon that autumn sunset: "A
strict old Puritan, narrow -ratured
bigot; you are quite right in thinking we
never could get along together" But
if so, his lips were sealed upon that sab
ject.
And you needn't" said he. 1--WE
will all share the Parsonage together"
Thus it was that Justine Conway put
aside her past and entered upon the fu-
ture, purified through suffering. And
from that day lienceforward she never
called sweet old Mrs. Fontanel by any
other name than that of Mother"