The National tribune. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1877-1917, 1882-02-04

the fetching of wood and the drawing of water
these lost to his poor adoring mind every base
and mental quality, and were like the offering
of devotee laid tremblingly at the feet of an
angel.
And the time passed all too swiftly for the
work of Mary's hands Besides her ministra-
tons to Sam and her mother her generous
thought for the wretched Traverse family, the
name of Mary Ellsworth, for the gracious help
and sympathy which it implied, was known and
loved in all the villages below; and in times of
sickness or sorrow, or added care, the journey up
the mountain-side was cheap which could pro-
cure day of those coveted services.
1t was the aff1iction of unexpected company
which had overtaken Judge Holcomb's wifeless
home and refractory servants. Mary, with rare
frmness, established there in day her universal
rule of peace Among the other guests was
young actress from New York, the judges niece,
blonde, handsome, magnificent. At evening" as
Mary stood, before her return home, waiting an
instant in the hall, so quiet and demure, with
her dark hair parted in an old, old fashion, and
her sad, lustrous eyes and face breathing that
ineffable refinement which the calm endurance
of some hidden and exalted sorrow alone can
give, the dashing young actress advanced upon
her suddenly, and folded her with an impetuous
gesture in her strong white arms. II love you"
she whispered Il love you. I love you des-
perately!"
The judges own wooing was less imprisoned,
when some weeks afteTward he left his smart
horse and buggy at Mary's gate, and entered the
house.
foyytra 10 of
Mary said this grandiose parsonage, "a good
many years ago, and I've never had any cause
to alter that opinion. In fact, come in here to
say that should like to have you come down to
my house in the capacity of rife"
There was grace, perfect self-reliance, in
Mary's old fashioned manner which relieved it
from any imputation of stiffness, as she answered,
in much the same words that she had used in
addressing Sam some time before, but with such
different tone in the ring of her clear voice
II thank you, but that can never be-" And the
Judge drove away, amazed and disappointed but
most of all sorry for Mary.
Sam was the next caller. He had seen the
smart buggy at Mary's gate. He entered, timid
and hesitating, and sat for some time shifting
uneasily about in his chair. At length, CT
never cared for any girl but you, Mary. II
never could" he repeated, earnestly.
And Mary answered, as she had done before,
"No Sam, 1 don't believe you ever could"
Sam drew his sleeve quickly across his eyes.
"You-you amt goin' to leave the mountain,
are you, Mary?" he gasped. "You amt goin'
to leave the old mountain, Mary?"
"Never!" Mary answered, and, as before, her
tone Quoted and consoled him.
After what seemed a long time, though the
tears were still standing in Sans blue eyes, Il
forgot Mary" he said, meek1y Il came in to
say-you're young yet, and handsome Mary
and if you had better chance don't know
what what We should do without you-but
if you had better chance-you-you mustn't
you know-Mary-"
There he paused Mary did not smile, but he1
heart yearned over Sam as mothers might over
a child who has tried in vain to be good and
brave and unselfish. And Sam went away com
forted.
1t was the third bleak winter since Sans
return to the mountain, and he meanwhile grow
ing weaker and sllier with each successive season
but ever faithful in his inquiries after his pen.
sion at the Bloomington pOst-office. The Bloom
ington boys thought it rare joke to impress
upon his mind that the only reason why Miss
Mary deferred giving him her hand in marriage
was his continued inability to obtain his pension
"Jest wait till you get your pension, Sam,
said Ned Hemingway, the storekeeper, delicately
limiting On this point, "and then see!"
And Sam doubted utterly at first-away down
in his heart doubted always; but as he lent him-
self more and more to the cratic fancy it fired
and consumed his brain.
One night, from the alternate chills and fevers
which shook his Frame Sam fell asleep. Instead
of his lone dark room the road winding from the
mountain to the village rose before his eyes
That road, usually so tortuous and long, was
straight and bathed in light. He traversed it
At the end palace gate, and at the gate white.
winged angel stood, his pension in her shining
hand. Above those peaceful wings was Mary's
face She smiled as she had smiled upon him
| long ago. He woke, and slept no more that
night.
With the morning he put on his wedding
clothes. No doubt or hesitation possessed him
now. There was terrible exultatiOn in his eyes
This time he did not STOP as was his won't al
Miss Mary's house. The road down the mountain
side was tortuous and long. There was no palace
gate at the end no pension. Those who watched
Sans face in this last instance of his ever-recur
ring disappointment say that look came over
it which had never been there before. He rested
on the counter and droWsed and almost tainted