The Penn's Grove record., 1885-08-01

causes Mi. Bars 10 raise his head IN
surprise from his employment. while a
perfect volley of baTks from every dog
great and small, resident on the Den
premises resound through the house.
drowning even the fury of the wind
and the rain, and rendering old Isaac's
voice perfectly inaudihle when, a few
minutes later, he puts his gray head in
at the library door.
"Tis a lady, Mr.. Adrian, SIR" he
contTives to say, after sundry futile
attempts to make himself heard. II
told her we never see no visitors here
in the ay.time let alone nine o'clock
at night; but she was that determined,
like all women, that | was forced to
let her have her way. She says she has
a message from little miss az used to
come here from the cottage down yon-
der, and that she must see one of the
masters. She be half clemmed herself,
| do believe, sir, she looks so mortal
bad, and she be dryIn' herself now by
the hall fire"
Hastily putting the old mar on one
side, Mr.. Barre steps out into the hall
- a great dreaTy place vaulted like a
church, and SO large that the blazing
fire and the u lamp that Isaac has
deposited upon the square oak table
leave more than half of it still in
shadow.
On the hearth stands a slender figure
clad in a black gown that falls in straight
heavy folds to the strangers feet. The
woman's face is turned from Adrian as
she bends over the fire in an attempt
to pry the dripping fur-lmed cloak OF
which she has just Invested herself; but
there is something in the grace of her
attitude, the pose of the small head,
that strikes HIM as c~uriously familiar.
At the sound of steps behind her the
stranger looks round quickly, and the
two stand face to face.
He recognizes heri In spite of her
wasted bloom, her lost girlhOod, Adrian
Barre knows that he is looking now
upon the woman who has always been
the one woman in the world for him,
though twelve years before he flew from
her side full of rage and spite, allowing
a breath of idle gossip to part them,
and, without considering what he might
be causing her to suffer, settled him.
self down at home. where he has spent
his life since in trying Intellectually to
stamp her image out of his heart.
OF course it is she-Mildred Darrell
when he knew her, but Smith, Brown
or Robinson now, no doubt, with some
brute OF a husband in the background,
and Freda their child No wonder the
little ones gray eyes and yellow hair
appealed to him SO strangely Why, she
was Mildred's very image-Mildred as
he met her first; a lovely innocent crea-
ture of nineteen, living her simple life
in the tiny PyreneaA village where he
was idling away a month or two before
travelling into Spainl
He has the advantage of her however
If every line of her delicate pathetic
face, sharpened by anxiety, worn with
sorrow. If familiar to him, IS he stands
gazing silently at her, he has evidently
become a stranger to her.
In the grave bearded man whose hair
is already deeply streaked with gray
Mildred Leslie finds no trace of the old
love who deserted her so suddenly and
completely, giving no opportunity of
an explanation that would at once have
cleared away the cloud between them,
but leaving her instead with every hope
shattered and all faith in manly truth
and honor gone. Possessed as she is
with only one absorbing idea. one over
whelming dread, Adrian Barre is to-
tally u~nrecognized by her; and it is as
one i'll a dream that he stands and lis
tens to the sweet familiar voice as she
begins timidly-
'ESir, will you pardon the great lib
erty l have taken in coming here to-
night? am In great trouble; my lit
tie girl" She pauses, falters, then
begins again-'Little Freda, to whom
you and your brothers have shown such
kindness during the winter, lies very
ill with fever. This afternoon she be-
came conscious for the first time since
delirium set in. She asked to see you.
She is very, very weak, and the doctor
Says-he says"
Striving vainly to force the dreaded
words, the poor woman looks up, and
for the first time her eyes meet Abrams.
The next moment he is holding her,
white and ~senseless, in his strong arms.
"Freda," whispers Adrian Barre
some two hours later, as he sits, a
strange visitor, beside the small bed at
the cottage which contains a very frail
and shadowy Freda indeed. ''you must
make haste and get well as fast as ever
you can, for mother has promised that
you and she will come and live with me
when you are strong enough, and am
in a great hurry to have you hotht'
To this Freda, smiling family as she
chances mp at her mother, who is bend
ing a very April-like face over her dar-
ling's pillow, replies that she will try,
and then asks
evil mother and the little bear a
ry, and live happy ever after like the
good prince and princess in the fairy
talep"