The true northerner. [volume] (Paw Paw, Mich.) 1855-1920, 1882-11-24

not believed there existed such an one.
His faith in woman was weak. TO this
man, who had grown bitter aga INST the
world and himself. this pure nature was
like the clear, sparkling bubble Of lit
tie brook would be to one parched with
thirst. He drank eagerly of the words
that fell from her innocent lips and
grew refreshed thereby. What
| might his life have been with
such woman ut his side, came
the wild thought. ne knew his folly
and tried to flee from it, but something
stronger than himself held him to the
spot Even if he we're free, could he
she? And yet sometimes he believed
she was not wholly Indifferent. She
knew nothing of him, but somehow he
knew that she trusted aud believed in
him. After while the idea came to
him that he might be able with money
so get a separation from his wife, and
then-Janetl little Janet say you were
the woman my friend loved, would
w yuld you become his wife, if he could
do this?" As Robert Graham spoke,
the pretty flush that had trembled in
Janet's cheeks died slowly away and the
rolf, wistful look crept into her eyes.
Raising them to the pale, earnest face,
every mark and line of which was dear
to her, she said slowly, as If counting
the cost of her words:
"What God has joined together, let
no man put asunder."
Bowing his head, Robert Graham
reverently lifted the little hand that
trembled sli 3htly as it touched his
and pressed il to his lips with the
words:
II am answered, little Janet. Truest
and best of womankind, L thank God
that have known thee"
Then he turned and left her. And
with him all the brightness of Janets
life seemed to depart, and her heart
cried out:
Robert my King! how can live
without vou?" Yet her own hand had
shut out this glory from her life; but
she had been right. To do otherwise
would have been untrue to him, to her
self.
The next day Mr. Graham departed,
much to Farmer Madison's and his
wife's regret.
To Janet fell the task of picking up
the odds and ends that Mr.. Graham
had left scattered about his room.
Something she lifted from the table
and pressed tenderly to her lips. 1t
was the veriest stump of lead pencil,
but it had been his, his hands had
touched it, making it precious to Janet's
eyes.
As she turned to leave the room,
small package attracted Janet's atten-
ton. 1t was addressed to herself.
Hastily undoing it, she brought to view
handsomely bound volume of poems,
in the first page of which was written
in the hand she knew so well:
For little Janet, from her sincere friend,
the author BERT lNGILss.
He, Mr.. Graham, was the famous
poet Bert Ingiiss, whose poems she
had read with such delight; and he had
never told her. Then in crept the
thought in spite of herself:
"And he loves me, Janet Dean" How
she had shown him her poor little verses
and asked his OPP MON of them. What
rubbish he must have thought them !;
yet how kindly he had listened and ad-
vised her.
The weeks slipped by, and months
took their place. Janet grew perhaps
trifle thinner, and the wistful look
deepened in her eyes. The song was
not 50 ready to fall from her lips as
heretofore, but her simple duties were
performed just the same; nothing was
sighted.
Her uncle and aunt were very proud
of Janet's literary ability, Uncle Madi-
son being overheard to remark:
well, now, I'm not bit surprised !;
lass that can make bread and pies
like our little Janet-and her apple
sauce isn't to be beat anyhow-can do
Almost anything. Anyhow, she comes
by it material enough; her father, my
sister Mary's husband, was uncommon
smart wi the larnin', ha' heer tell"
As writer, Janet was succeeding be-
yond her most sanguine expectations.
She often wondered if he saw her
poems, and what he thought of them.
She never knew how much of her first
success was due to the influence Robert
Graham welded in her behalf.
Another summer was drawing to q
close, when one afternoon Janet sought
the cool depths of the wood. All day
there had been a strange longing upon
her TO visit the place where she had
first met the man who had been so
much to her, and was still, despite all.
Back her THOUGHTS Travelled over the
past, as she sa. l.eSth the shade Of the
same old oak where she had read her
first editors letter.
Was she dreaming, or what? A voice
was singing "Orde Braes."
White as the dress she wore, Janet
stood, her hand pressed against her
fast-beating heart, gazing with an in
tense, yearning look in the direction
from which the voice came.
Another moment, and Robert Ora
ham slowly emerged from behind the
trees. With an exclamation of delight
he FASTENED toward Janet and took her
in his arms. For an instant she rested
passjvely within his embrace, then
slowly, but firmly, she put him from