The Portland daily press., 1884-12-25
Isabelle's Christmas.
BY ARTHUR ALaAR.

written for the PREss)
It was almost Christmas tide, and glorious
weather, cold and clear, with no severe wind,
but blood qnickening power in the air and
gladoess in the sunshine-such season of
cheerfulness as often follows the tempests of
early winter. For several days fierce storm
had beaten the bay to fury and swept over
the islands, leaving in its wake such fall of
snow as had not been known in the locality
for many year. The Morgans, situated as
they were at the head of Swithin Cove, with
in the sheltering arms of densely wooded
promontory and high, bold bluff, had not
felt the extreme might of The hurricane. nor
were now in the plight of their more exposed
neighbors-almost buried in drifts of snow.
The house was large and selid-bnilt, more
commodious and comfortable than the aver
age of island dwellings, and though walled
about by natural barriers of defence, neither
shut away from sunshine nor limited in the
breadth or diversity of its seaward view.
The windows of Aunt Salome's chamber,
the pleasantesthoom in the house, looked up
pom prospect beautiful and soIitary,-far
reaches OF water, lying still and blue about
the winter changed islands, under sunshine
of unusual intensity and clear, deep-toned
sky; but though Aunt Salome lay where
she could look upon this joyous, yet peace
full scene, there was trouble on her tranquil
old face, and her eyes rested instead on
something Within her window-something of
more interest to her than natures inanimate
pictures.
By the bedside, in low wooden rocker,
sat girl of, perhaps, nineteen years, with a
fair skin slightly tinged by the active blood
beneath it, abundant, though rather negli-
gently arranged, hair, and large, womanly
hands. which were plying the darnng-
needle. Her eyes, shaded by the lashes of
her downcast lids, were full of tears that
fell as she worked, and the dropping of her
mouth bespoke grief and little effort at self
control. The old lady was watching her si-
lently, with sorrowful gaze, but when the
tears dropped faster and faster, and the
bead bent lower over the mending, she said
in gentle tone, the sweetness of which lin
gered after the words were spoken:
Isabelle, ask yourself if you're don' what
you'd uphold other folks in doin'p Dearie.
you know it amt no lack of sympathy for
you, but that it grieves me sore to see YOU
breakin' down under your cross"
The girl dropped her work and s,mote both
hands against her face, with q sharp sob
that ended in burst of weeping. 81 can't
help it! The thought of it, is cor stantly
with me. know haven''t been as charit
able as ought when 9th ers have had such
trouble, but l was wrong. 1 did not COM
prehend o, we loved each other so! You
don't realize, Aunt S,'lomy. Think of Noel
under that cruel sea! o the treachery of it'll
When we loved IL! loved it! hate it! l
shall never wan'G to look at it againp'
Aunt Salomf4 put out her hand with ges-
ture of copAfort, and the girl, seeing it
through Der tears, threw herself on her
knees Were 1t could reach her head to
stroke soothingy down the soft light hair.
"De,arie, who holds the seas in the hollow
of his handP'
Isabelle checked her passionate sobs, and
With beseeching look into the kind eyes
resting on her, began, brokenly, steadying
her voice as she continued:
''Don't judge me hardly. 1t isn't like any
other loss. He is my lover; he has no one
but me, and +"
'Yon've got many another who needs
you, Isabele''
''Just at this time, ,"-pursuing her plea
sat this, of all times, when he was on his
way to me! How could l face Christmas
with any heart? 1t is his birthday; it is the
day we pledged our love; it is the day we
we're to join hands forever You don't
know what it is; you can't guess what it
means. dread it! long for it to be
past'
An almost imperceptible tremor disturbed
the calm of Aunt Salome's reply
"IC's day of sorrowful anticpations to
many poor soul. but it's day given for re-
joicin' and kindly thought for others. It's
the Lords birthday; it's the day God