The Somerset herald. [volume] (Somerset, Pa.) 1870-1936, 1885-02-18

Jul W bIlIUW UlU1oCk1s toC4 0OWO W6Iu,
on the ground, and sob out like q
very child his 'hea1t's bitterness.
y - 80 y =
Seven long years passed swiftly
by, and Alex Vernon had reached
his twenty-6fth winter. Helen
Hawthornes last words had been to
him a prophecy, for she was now on
her honeward way, and he had At
tanned the position of hesd oveseer
of the works.
my little girl made tho best Sc
lection for me after ALL" Mr.. Haw-
thorne would often say on receiving
congratulations on the efficiency Of
his young assistant.
Occasionally he would read him a
scrap or kind message from his
daughters letters; but Alex received
them all in silence. He had lost
the little golden haired child forever.
She would return : woman, grown
cold, naughty sndy proud, perhaps
refusing to cast even smile across
the vast gulf yawning between them.
One mornine-he had been ab-
sent a week on business-he return
ed to find difficult piece of ma
chinery about to be adjusted in
one of the mills, which required his
superintendence. Directing the
men he saw that not only his eye
but his hand could do better work
than the others, and 80 seizing a
workman's blouse hanging near. he
slipped it on, and in another mo
ment had his shoulder to the wheel.
A half-hour later, soiled and be-
grimed, he heard the rustic of a silk
en- dress and the silvery ripple of a
woman's laugh.
He glanced up quickly.
A CAV party was passing through
the works, with one among them
seeming a princess surrounded by
her followers. The gold still heck-
ed her hair, and the dark lashes
swept the cheek of purest ivory.
Time had made her more beautiful.
She glanced idly indifferently,
among the little group of men, of
which he formed one.
II see no one here recognize, ("
she said. in the old, sweet, soft voice
and passed on. She had come home
then during his absence. He had
seen her. The seven years waiting
were over. What had they
brought?
The machinery slipped into its
place, but Alex Vernon, with II
strange pallor on his face, went out
silently from the mills. Not, as
once before to find relief in tears.
He was a man now. He only knew
that a bitter disappointment, to
which he had given no name had
overtaken him.
Far out into the open country he
walked, with great strides, knowing
neither fatigue nor consciousness
that it was unnatural that he should
not tire.
Suddenly on the road behind him,
came a horses quick hoofs. He
stepped aside for it to pass, but the
rider drew rein at his side.
1T is Alex" said q sweet voice,
quite near to him. II know that l
am not mistaken
And as in q dream he saw held
out to him tiny gauntleted hand,
He looked at his own. Not even
had he washed away the traces of
his recent toll. He would soil by
his touch even her glove, although
the fair whiteness of her skin was
thereby protected.
She saw his hesitation, and drew
back.
Am wrong?" she questioned,
in a little hurt surprise. Il Thought
you would be glad to see me ?n
Pardon mel" he answered; my
hands were stained"
'Oh!' she said.
Then after moments pause, she
added:
"When yon have washed them
clean come to see me.
And touching her horse with a
silver handled whip, she dashed past
him out of sight.
The next week he was invited to
dine at her fathers table. Mr.. Haw-
thorne would accept no excuse.
at is in our country an honor to
be self-made man. / have no
guests of whom I shall be more
proud"
But. when he entered the elegant
ly appointed drawing-rooms, Miss
Hawthorne gave him simply cour-
teous bow of recognition and made
no effort to approach him.
Once or twice during the meal be
found her eyes fastened on his face,
as he was drawn on to speak on this
or that tonic as it was presented,
while one and another mingled in
the discussion, deferring to his opin-
IONS as to those of . man who un-
derstood himself
The ice once broken, he met her
often, but never once had their hands
touched.
He was admitted even into her
circle now. He went only that he
might see her and listen to her voice.
With her. he never forgot tie cold
night. the driving snow, the sense
less. inanimate form she had brought
back to life, and light and conscious
ness. He gave no name either to
his pain or his exquisite happiness
at being near her. He was in the
maelstrom; let it whlrl him where
it would.
The summer cxme, snd on its
wings it broupht the whisper that
Miss Hawthorne was to be married
in the autumn.
The day he heard it be went out.
as once before, 10 walk of the pane
that made his former pain seem
nothing.
Was it fate that, - he turned into
. path leading through the woods,
he deserted ahead the slight, grace
ful figure be knew but too we'll?
She was coming toward him.
In another minute they musf
meet; but even in that minute some