Richmond dispatch. [volume] (Richmond, Va.) 1884-1903, 1885-09-20
III.

| DT Hl0S 6slhC diC CWIACI
three years Muriel and her aunt lived
their peaceful life--a life Of days each
much like another, but each with its
own duties and cares and pleasures.
In all these eight years nothing was
heard, either directly or indirectly, oil
Muriel's lost love. No word or sign
that he was alive had reached her, and
Iatterly she seldom spoke of him, for
hope was almost dead in her heart, and
she learned to think Of him as dead,
and, perhaps, in company with her
father and mother beyond the grave.
1t was a glorious Sunday evening at
the end of Auguut, and Muriel went to
evening service alone; for the first time
for many years her aunt was unable to
take her accustomed place aslight fall
had resulted in lameness, and, much
against her will, she was obliged to rest
at home.
Towards the end Of the service Mu-
riel noticed that the 'S1uire's pew was
occnpied for the first time for many
wears. For a moment she wondered II
it were possible that the Squire had
returned, but then she reflected that a
stranger in the neighborhood might
have entered it, and when, after the
service. she walked down the aisle, the
pew was empty and the curtains were
drawn, as usual. The autumn twi-
light spread a golden mist over the
waving fields, ripe for the sickle,
and the distant hum Of insects came
subdued and faint through the quiet
air. A stiffness wholly in harmony
with the Sabbath brooded over all.
The royal splendor Of sunset yet lin
cered in the west. Far down on the
horizon it famed clear, bright fire.
Higher it passed-that celestial man.
tle-through all the grades Of scarlet
and purple; through tawny orange,
shading off into mellowest yellow, into
that most beautiful tint, so rare in Eng
lish sunsets, the clearest, brightest. most
ethereal shade Of transparent green,
and in this was set one bright star.
Murel walked slowly along, her
sensitive nature keenly alive to the
beauty and restfulness Of the time.
The glorious strains Of the Magnificent
sounded in her ears, and she thought
surely those words were more than
human; surely, if harmony and poetry
are Of Heaven, that song of praise,
welded to such majestic music, belong
to higher world than this.
Leaning on the stile, in the gray
gloom, Muriel discerned the figure Of a
man; he appeared to be waiting for
her, for he came towards her with a
step that was strangely familiar.
"Good evening; surely you remem-
Der me 2" he said, extending his hand.
1.-THE Squire |" Muriel said invol.
UNFAIRLY then added: This is a great
surprise. hope you have been well
and prosperous these many years"
" As well as | shall ever be, | sup
pose" he answered poodily, and walk
ed by her side in silence.
evil you not come in and speak tc
my aunt :" she said, breaking the 81
lence, when they reached the gate; 81
he walked with her into the dim, flow
er-scented parlor.
AS he talked to Miss Franklin, will
more of his old ease and polish Of man
ner than he bad before shown, Murie
: had leisure, from his seat in the shadow
to notice the changes which the year
had made in him. His hair was yer.
gray, almost white, and was tied at tn
back of his neck with black ribbon
after fashion somewhat antiquatedeye
then. His face was deeply lined, as if hi
: life had been hard and his better ma
ture had had sharp conflicts with tn
evil within him. lie was even NOR
. handsome than in his youth, Murie
t thought, but there was sometimes
S restlessness in his manner, and an I'm
easy motion of his hands when he wa
excited or earnest, that moved her pit
strangely. He was different ma
4 from the one she had known-quieter
y sadder, much older in face and mind.
: After that first Sunday he was FIRE
I quent visitor at the cottage, and sper
>, long evenings initiating Muriel into tn
g mysteries of chess. lie had detel
r mined to render the manor more hsb
It table after his long absence, and di
II cussed all his plans with Miss frankie
@ and Muriel. Here the elder woman
v keen sagacity and prudence were inva
= liable. The Squire, anxious as he WI
If for the good Of his tenants and the in
a provemont of the home of his ancestor
G was profoundly ignorant both of Il
n character and extent of the improv
ments he knew to be necessary in
10 general way.
N One morning he asked Muriel to wa
S with him to the manor, to see how Il
TT work was progressing, and for the fir
rs time he alluded TO her wedding-day.
m "You still wear his ring. You ha,
il not forgotten him in all this time ,"
I'd said suddenly, as they paused in Il
re picture-gallery, gently touching her lie
r, hand as it rested on his arm.
10 NO" she answered quietly; "
" shall never forget him; and his rir
or has never left my hand since he place
il there"
q You are very constant in your low
10 | wonder if you are as constant in di
ID like? ! wonder if you could ever 70
10 give man who had done you an almo
mortal injury-an irreparable wrong?
1t "Why do you ask me such stranI
is question? Nobody has ever offendC
lie me as you suggest. l cannot tell
y what way any one could offend me b
r. yond forgiveness.
Il Muriel was startled at his earnes
p ness; but he laughed uneasily, an
Q changed'the subject by asking her Opt
/. ion as to whether the removal Of an Of
q tree that DISTRACTED the view from Il
dining-room window would be an in
d provement.
t She said, "Yes, decidedly" an
n when she next visited the manor it ha
disappeared, although, when she spob
Of it to her aunt, Miss Franklin ha
q said the Squire valued that old trt
r more than any other on the estate, b,
cause it was associated with the brigh
est memories Of his boyhood and of ii
4 gentle mother he had lost when he We
Q quite . child.