The weekly register. [volume] (Point Pleasant, Va. [W. Va.]) 1862-1909, 1885-06-10

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love me, Lily, though she scarcely
knew what love meant. aWell;' 2
and be sighed heavily, u had bet
tor have stayed herel l kept my
secret, thinking she would be here
last night to give me welcome
home; but you know now why my
heart was not at your party, Lily,
though / was so glad to meet old
friends"
Mrs. Hale had no word to ex.
press her deep sympathy. She
pressed her lips softly upon the
handsome face, shadowed by her
story, and Frank, returning the
mute caress, rose and left the room,
1t was agony to wait now. Better
to have the final wrench and 60 on
his way again without the lost
hope. He nerved himself TO see a
slantternly woman in a squalid
house, and by the time he reached
the cottage to which Lily directed
him, he would have scarcely been
surprised if he had met Ruth in
rags, selling matches or begging
pennies.
But the little cottage before
which be paused, at last, though a
sufficiently strong contrast to the
WellfOrd place where he had last
seen Ruth, looked cOsy and home.
like. The garden was neatly kept
and well filled with late fall flow.
srs. An old woman answered his
knock, and ushered him into a
tiny parlor, where the plain furni.
ture, cheap carpets and inexpen.
sive ornaments we're in exquisite
order, and where a little cottage
piano stood open in one corner
Before he had waited a moment a
little figure in a print dress and
linen collar, with short glossy Curls,
and q fair sweet face, came into the
room.
He forgot his sister, the painful
story, everything hat the fact that
Ruth was there. A graver, paler
Ruth than the one he had left, but
the one women in the world who
could stit his heart to its core.
"Rutbl" he cried, springing for.
ward, and then drawing back, fot
there was no welcome in the face
he loved, only a look Of Suppressed
pain,
"Ruth, are you not glad to see
me9" he cried.
"Gladl" she murmured, and then
the forced calmness broke down
and the tears rained down her
cheeks. "Gladl" she cried again,
"oh, Frank, l have lost every
friend, and you will go, too, when
you know ALL"
~ have heard" he began.
"You have heard Of my stingi.
nes, my miserly habit-yes, 1 see
you have, and yet you are hereH"
"Because l am sure you have
some good reason for your conduct,
Tell me you are not changed,
Ruth"
al scarceIt know
"When we parted" he said, "you
knew the hope in my heart, Ruth,
Tell me now ifthe love you promis.
ed me is mine7"
at is all yours, Frank, but"
and she drew back from the EN-
brace he would have given-"you
may throw ii away when you hear
my secret. Ihave hidden it from
every one but you, but to day l am
freed from a bondage Of six long
years, and you have a right TO hear
what l shall confde to no one else.
You will not bettsy my sOrrowful
secret, Frank9"
"Whateyer trust you put in me
shall be sacred, Ruth" he answer.
ed, gravely, awed by 4 sOlemity
upon her face and in her voice.
There was silence in the little
parlor for some moments before the
low, sweet voice was heard again,
Then steadily, without falteting,
Ruth told her story' ~.
"when you left me, Frank, a
careless, happy child, the shadow
Of what 1 must tell you now had
not fallen across my life, / knew
that ! was an orphan, and that my
mother died away from her home
aud friends, But / was still a
mere baby when Uncle Wellford
came for me and took me home.
They called me Ruth Wexford, and
/ never thought Of my right to the
name till my uncle died. Upon
bis death bed he told me the story
Of my mothers life, She was mar
ried against the Wishps Of her
family to a man whose only crime