Morris tribune., 1882-09-14

AtilouS mountains, auu INC eCuOeS, ropoatou
again and again till they died away in the dis
lance, seemed almost continuous. 1t lasted
long Peal after peal succeeded each other;
the birds, frightened and bewildered, flew
from branch to branch to sock the smallest
shelter, and sent forth melancholy chirps to
reassure themselves.
By breakfast time the rain had moderated
and the thunder storm was over, and l went
out to enjoy the we'll known pleasantness of
the air after it, and to notice thu damage my
moor flowers had sustained As l stood there
l noticed a figure hurrying toward me with a
plaid thrown over her head. It was jean. She
was looking white, and spoke in o quick and
aStated way. Mrs. Grant was i'll and would
like much to see mas She had had news,
and l saw that the news, whatever it
was, had affected Jean equally. In a
few minutes it was ready, and we walked the
shortest way to Burnside As we came near
the cottage Jean said 10 u low voice. "Ken :
meth Is married-he is coming homes" and,
leaving my side, entered alone. Whittier than
usual Mrs Grant could hardly look; but there
was great distress i'll her keen blue eyes and
IN the helpless, beseeching way in which she
stretched out her hands.
Tell jean she must stay" were almost her
first words; aud it then at once occurred to me
that this coming home might bring about pain
tul compllcalions and that if Kenneth had for
gotten. Jean still loved s Z"
kennettr's marriage had been Il surprise, but
when Mrs. Grant put his letter into my hands
and begged me TO read it, l quite understood
the paint must have caused her. He wrote in
4 sad and despondln-; way-was evidently sorry
for his young wife-fouud it impossible to re-
main there, surrounded by her reatious-besan
several times to send message to Jean, care
fully scratching out what he had begun; and
finally, leaving all uusaid, he ended by hoping
his grandmother would be kind, and make
allowances. 1t was letter written in such
evidently low spirits, and the want of happi-
AZ ma ut Tvs a N / ia
sad TO read
sat long and talked to the old woman. She
told me Jean never would listen to Kenneth,
but even she did not know why. She was sure
she liked him, She thought some one had
made mischief. Altogether, 1t was comfort
to her to talk it over with me, and though
felt utterly Incapable of giving advice, once
the.reserve she usually showed was broken
lCto, she opened up TO me- more of her own
thoughts and feelings than hai ever yet seen
And the confidence conferred her. 3" "'
l went down by the barn side, intending to
speak to Jean, but stopped when | saw her sit
ling, her face buried in her hands. As she
heard my footsteps she raised herself up. She
had 80 sad, so dospalrinS a look that could
not speak 70 her ust then. Her lips parted,
and, raising her eyes, she murmured so low
that l could hardly catch the words: "a day
Will come when we will know the reason Of
all, and went slowly up the bank her head
dropping aud her hands clasped together, as
though endeavorlng TO suppress her excite
ment
When arrived at home found telegram
summoning me- South. The dearest friend 1
possessed had been severely injured in rail-
way accident, and within few hours l was
going to him, my thoughts too fully occupied
to think of burnside.
Winter had come early Storms had already
caused havoc amongst the shipping, and
brought distress to many home. | was plod-
ding my way through the daily cares and
troubles Of my large parish, when one day
received 8 letter from Jean, reminding me of
promise had made her OF doing her favor,
and ent:eating me to get her home ever 50
humble. it did not matter
Her letter distressed me. 1t was written in
sucn evident sorrow-aot word Of Kenneth
or his wife, and of Mrs. Grant, only that she
much thu same.
Perplexei by her letter, still had it before
me when heard hustle in the little hall, aud
my friend Mr. Macvae, the minister OF the
beautiful parish wher3 [ had spent those we'll
remembered summer months. stood before me,
his coat sprinkled with snow his color raised
by the frosty air, and look of quiet happiness
that told me at once his long engagement was
drawing to end. He had come to try and
persuade ME TO take his duty for one fort
night and was delighted TO find small persua-
sion needed.
Two days more saw mo on my way. Not
set ill., 50 long We were in the railway our
progress was pretty good. but with something
like forty miles of coaching through the wild
est scenery and over road that divided
tremendous hills, it became work of the
greatest difficulty. Gangs of men had to &C.
company Us, and every now and then we were
obliged to get out to allow the coach to be cut
out of the drifts. When night came we had to
spend it in miserable little inn, where the
peat smoke, having no proper outlet, made the
air of the room nearly intolerable, and the
only provisions were oatcake, very hard cheese
and whisky. As this last was thing 1 never
touched, was delighted to find that spring
Of clear water rose near the house. and that,
though surrounded by icicles, it was obtain
able. m
Next morning we pushed on to find, as is
often the case near the sea, that the snow had
gwen place to rain, which was pouring down
plttilessly; and never did so rejoice over a
welcome as on that weary day when I found
myself greeted bya splendid fire, a cloth that
rlvaled tho snow. and a mostexcelient tea with
hannocks ard all sorts OF home comforts be-
fore me, from klppered salmon to home made
mlrrnalade.
The next morning was one of unceasing rain.
Early in the afternoon the old servant with
evident reluctance, brought me a message a
mau wished TO see me. 1t was Kenneth. As
is usually the case, he was completely differ
ent from the idea that had in my own mind
conceived of him-tall and fair, with sun
burnt face, and the manner and appearance of
man who had seen good deal of the world
one Of natures gentlemen, in outward re-
semblance at any rate. He came to see me,
am to tell me of old Mrs. Grants rapidly ap-
preaching end. Then, with lowered voice,
he spoke Of Jean, and with frankness said that
| the position at home was intolera Bile to her.
Without casting blame on his wife, he showed
me that Jean could find no home with her if
Old Mrs. Grant died, and asked me what could
be done.
l had often seen the sore need that existed in
a children's hospital near me for Just such a
| person as Jean, and spoke to him Of it He
bent his head little, aud saw that the idea
! of any service so far from him gave him an
acute pang, and that he put force on himself,
| and was trying to think It was for the best
Something l said brought out the fact tina,
| his wife's people il Australia were not very
| respectable, and flash in his eye showed that
| certain membranes were not pleasing. All
| at once he flung back his hair and standing
up, said to me: You are very kind to ME, sir
and the truth is best My wife's father is a
| yticket-of-leave man. She is very young, and
does not know the shame"
| I graspedy his hand, and as he was leaving
he said: "Do You know, sir. why Jean held
| out-why Jean would not marry me? Her
father is living; he is shut up for crime, bu
I they could not punish him, for he has not his
wits He Is criminal lunatic." III ia
| I could not speak for moment, then said
| docs Jean know? mean about your wife,
1 An angry look cleaned in his eyes and he
said: ''Shs iold Jean when she was angry the
other day. She is very young" he SAID, in
| tone OF defense, and went out. 90 n
So this was this story-the higher nature fell
the disgrace, gave mp her happiness and sacri-
| feed herself, and then had to stand by and see
that the sacrifice had been in vain, and though
| of her murmured words, s'A day will come
| when we will know the reason of all" Pool
| Jean! sWt 1855 ~
1t was nearly dusk when the faithful ole
servant came into my little sitting room
Though yon man had the sense to leave yor
in peace" she began, ''here's an urgent mes
sage for you. Mrs. Grants dying, and woulc
fain see you; and such nightr' she said