Bridgeton pioneer., 1885-06-18

! there. Sometimes, father, l think peo-
| pie know the value of everything be-
| longing to them, including unsei6sh-
| ness and all their other virtues. Now
/ do not scold me for being uncharitable
/ and hard. | say that to you, but to him
l will be charming; interested and ap-
preciative of everything, including
sketches and mseltishness."
/ Mr.. Loraine's only reply in words
was, L am glad you judge me more
kindly than you do the words;" but for
few minutes his thoughts did not
wander away to the subject of the new
book. which was engroSSing him at pres
ent; they remained with the tall. slender
daughter, by whose side he was walk
ing. Sometimes now, as he found him
self growing older and his hair grayer.
the thought would flash across him that
if he could have seen her proud and
happy wife. with children clingine about
her, the future would not have seemed
so gray and dull, to which one day he
would have to leave her.
But though l used to wish she might
not leave me have never influenced
her, and l would always have done any,
thing for her happiness. 1t is she her
self who has ever been unwilling to
quit her home. She is capable of love.
l know it, but somehow it seems that
no man has ever been able to touch her
heart" But his thoughts being thus
turned to the subject he sighed, when
at the library door he paused and enter
ed it.
What a sigh, father. That is forbid
den" Kissing him. Are you going to
write tonight? You ought to be too
tired for that, but you grow two years
I
ing. two years older"
"We shall soon be the same age at
that rate. Come in and light my can
dies"
when does Mr.. Carteret arriye?" she
questioned, the taper in her hand.
Tomorrow about five. I promised
we would send to meet him."
She made no comment on his words.
but. having lit the candles. returned to
the drawing-room.
Back there. she stirred the fire into a
brighter blaze. then recommended her
walk to and fro. noting as she walked.
now and again with satisfaction. some
familiar object that after the months
absence 1t was pleasure to see again:
but at length pauSing in her slow walk.
she sat down in the wide armchair on
the hearth-rug. and pursued her train
VI lIlOu-Il VIII GN CS llAt(l Oll lllt ulb,
as if she read story there.
As she sits thus. her hands lightly
clasped on her knee. the lamplight
above her shows the changes that time
has brought to her. 1t is different wo-
man from the one in the white dress
who faltered out her heart-broken fare
wells in this very room. The face is
thinner than of Old and the lamplight
shows gray hairs in the dark head: the
gray eyes are a little harder. a little
colder, and the grave mouth smiles less
often than it did. The world wieh its
disappointmentS and troubles has
way, hardening to those who have to
fight many of its battles. and nearly five
years have gone by since ESmevon Lin
denheim said in this very room, If I
regain my freedom | will return. if not
| will write:" and he had not returned.
had not even written. One little note
had come from him to Mr. Lorraine
posted from Berlin, thanking him for
his kindness, telling him of his arrival
so far.
Il am arranging for leave to 90 home
at once" \ message of remembrance
to his daughter. and that was all. From
then till now silence so great. that not
one word hadreached herlistening ears.
Pride, passion, bitter jealousy all war
ring in her deSOlate heart. all telling her
that the silence meant he had failed.
and that he could not, or would not,
write and say so.
But | would rather know it. far
rather. though | said should under
stand" And, mingled with the thoughts
of her despair, would come remem-
branceS of her own words. Y Ou will re-
turn to her. and then this will seem an
n v /.
come back. What is fortnight in
mans life? For you it will be all as it
was before"
What is it," she would cry. leaning
out into the cold wintry night from the
window where in the moonlight he had
told her of his love. what is it? Tell
me where you are. what you are doing"
And in the pain and grief of those win
ter nights the gray hairs We're sown. the
soft mouth forgot its smiles. Months
had passed, months of which each day
had seemed written in fire across her
life, days of which the mere memory
now would bring back the pain. Some
times the sight of the familiar room. or
OF some slight object therein. would
catch her eye, and, reminding her of
that vanished time, make the whole
scene SO real that it was impossible to
DSi4CNO lliCiU DlotIh uIOllllS ana wears
stretched between then now. Tonight
returning after this short absence fbe
place was alive with memories. and.
looking into the fireglow, her story
seemed written there.
Il am glad to be back" she said soft
ly; then, rising, walked over to the un-
shuttered window, and, openingit. look
ed out into the wild night 1t was not
cold. The strong west wind was driv-
ing dark clouds across the sky:now and
again mOmentary CLEAN of moonsnine
showing through the blackness. the
trees beneath bending hither and thith-
er in the gale.
"Am | ever glad"- altering the form
of her sentence. After all. what diff
ference does it make? Here or there.
it is always the same thing-onlv at
first one always imagines every change
must be for the better. If only knew"
-wringing her hands together: IL think
anything would have been better than
this terrible blank. Five years, Yes. it
will soon be five years. And not to
know whether he was faithful to his
promise to her whilst I had his heart,
or whether he gave it all back to her
ms love, everything. Why not, why