News and citizen. [volume] (Morrisville, Vt. ;) 1881-current, 1882-02-16
HIS REWARD.

ting-room of Mrs. Brownell's comforta-
able old house at Brownell Ledges.
The windows south and east COM
manded an extensive view of the sea,
whipped now into the maddest fury by
wild northeast storm, and the gale
howled and shrieked like million de-
mons let loose from Pandemonium. 1t
ratified the easements viciously, and
drove the rain in binding sheets against
the panes. 1t hooted ieeringly down
the wide chimneys, and walled in de-
spairing minor key about. the caves,
while down upon the rocky headland
the waves roared in continuous revolt.
We were cozy enough in the big sit
ting-room, though. Our good hostess
had highly satisfactory way of max
ing things comfortable for us. Accord
iugly, as the blank northeast storm in
creased in violence, driving all the glow
of summer from the August day, she
had removed the board from the old
fashioned fireplace, and the cheeriest
fire that ever gladdened the heart of
shivering mortal now cracked and
snapped between the shining brass
andirons on the hearth.
Mrs. Porter sat at a south window
white apron for eight
year old Flossie, who was amusing her
self with wild little black kitten on
the floor. Pretty Angie Porter, fresh
from boarding school, and the Dayton
twins were doing worsted work at the
other window. Mr.. Porter, Judge Kent,
Bert Sheffield and Edgar Landers were
playing whist at the centre table, while
little Mrs. Kent looked on smilingly
over her husbands shoulder. At the
piano, which had been sent from town
for the season, sat Austin Wilder play
ing, as only he could play, snatches OF
pathetic melody, sad little Scotch airs,
wild German waltzes, which wove them
selves weirdly in and out of the beat of
the storm.
In my snug fireside corner, I, the
little old maid of the party, sat and
watched Kate Rexford. She stood at
one of the east windows, beating a half
unconscious accompaniment to Wilder's
music with her slender fingers. She
was dressed plainly enough to-day, in a
close lifting black cashmere, which fell
in heavy, trailing folds about her per-
feet figure. A knot of cardinal-red rib
bon was pinned in the filmy lace at her
throat, and one of the Jacqueminot
roses which Wilder had brought from
town the night before was fastened in
the shining braids of her hair. Her
face-well, it was face for man to die
for-clear, and dark, and glowing, with
the sweetest, tenderest, proudest lips in
the world. A firm, round chin, oval
cheeks carmine-t tinted, and eyes that
were magnificent in their soft fire under
the black lashes.
just now those eyes were fixed in
wistful yearning upon the shifting black
mass of waters, and the red lips dropped
rather disconsolately at the corners.
This mood, had noticed, always came
upon Miss Rexford in a storm like this,
and it puzzled me somewhat, for it
seemed to me that if ever a girls lot
was prosperous it was Kate Rexford's.
Beautiful, wealthy, idolized by her re-
latiyes and ex-guardians, the Kents,
with all the best men of her set at her
feet, why shonld she be dissatisfied? 1t
was problem over which puzzled
long, for, as you may have suspected, I
rather enjoyed interesting myself in the
business of other people.
Miss Rexford was something of
riddle to me, however. In all the four
years that I had known her, it was only
during a storm on the coast that that
strange, wistful, unhappy look would
come into her face; and finally made
up my mind that it was because of some
unpleasant memory-possibIy an un-
lucky love affair, which would account
for her refusal of one eligible man after
another until she had gained the reputa-
ton of being heartless. She had re-
fused Austin Wilder the year before,
and he, poor fellow, had lacked the
stamina to leave her, but followed her
Ike dog everywhere, until think an
times she positively despised him. Ye5
he was so grateful for pleasant word,
SO pleased when she accepted flower
from him, that it seemed rude and un-
kind to treat him coldly.
Toward night Mrs. Brownell came
into the sitting-room with the news that
q vessel had broken up ON the rocks at
the other side of the point, and some of
the fisherman were bringing man,
who was washed ashore, up across the
marshes to the house. In moment our
quiet party was filed with excitement.
A couch with blankets and hot bricks
was drawn up before the fire, and Mrs.
Brownell ran for her camphor bottle,
while Judge Kent brought out small
flask of French brandy.
When the man was brought in Kate
Rexford, standing beside me, uttered a
half-repressed cry. 1 knew by her
that she had seen the man
before. He lay dead weight in the