The Wellington enterprise. [volume] (Wellington, Ohio) 1867-188?, 1884-03-12

which, beng an upper chamber, one
could see the sen. Here Philip found
her darning linen-layender-scented
lnen-one morning, and what he told
her on the sub ect of his luckIess love
was told then, and Of his future plans,
hopes, or wishes.
When at last he rose to go she rose,
too. She was handsome, stately ma
tron, strikinglv like both Philip and
Grace; homely in speech and manner,
yet dignitied because of her own in
ward dign ty and worthiness-a brave,
pious, simple Yorkshire woman OF
Wenslevdale, and a woman whose pow
erful will and upright, simple character
she had happily transmitted to more
than one OF her children.
ut is a sad thing, my son." she
said, "bnt you are ri sht not to shirk it
be 'ause OF that l feel you have told
me simple, unexa ggerated truth"
son my honor, mother, as / have
learned truth from you.n
And l. as your mother, tell you that
you have done nothing in the matter
for which your consc .ence need prick
you. And if you can not stay at home
and live it down, 90 away an1 live it
out. There is difference, Philip"
81 know there is"
"Go, then, and take my blessing with
you, and remember that whether you
are at home or abroad your mother
prays for you on her knees night and
morning"
He bent his head, and she laid her
hand upon it, saying: "God bless you,
Philip" and he went out. His mother,
looking forth from the window of the
pa nted chamber, saw him soon after
ward wandering out through the farm
yard into the fields, and across the
downs toward the sea.
"My brave lad, and must you go,
too?" she sollo luized; "and because
wicked hirt thought you not good
enough for her conceit. He goes to-
ward the sea-they all 90 to the sea who
have been born near it, when they are
in trouble. used to wander there my
self in times of trouble and look across
it till my eyes ached. The father used
to do the same, and every girl and hoy
of mine have taken their bits of troubles
to the sea; now Philip, with his great
grief, must 90, too. Heaven help him,
and send him sa e back to me, at peace
and in charity with all men,"
y y y
The days flew by. Philip had to bid
good bye to the sleepy farm, to the roll
ing downs, to the grim ruin of the
ancient Abbey of St. Ethelheda which
glared from the high ground of the
east cliff upon all the surrounding land
and sea; to the old red town of Foul
haven, crowding up the cliff on either
side of the river; to the two old stone
piers between which the fishing boats
went ever sailing in and QUITO all
these he said farewell, and was gone,
whether ever to return who should dare
to sayP
A brief visit to Grace at Irkford, who
told him that Mabelle was tossing in
fever, unconscious of all around her,
and that she, Grace, was nursing her.
"Good girl!' said he, absently
'Nurse her kindly. Grace, for ter she
leaves you she will only have h r sister
to protect her, and the tender mercie;
OF such as she are cruel"
He sm led somewhat contemptuously
as he spoke. Ora :e was so overwhelmed
at his near departure that she coulC
hardly speak.
"Oh, Philip, come back againh' she
imp.ored, between her tears.
"Come back again! Probably Ishall
Don't cry, little sister, Goodbye
Look after Mabelle. for my sake"