The Arkansaw traveler., 1885-03-21

would nave it SO, 'Next to your Heavenly Father, maybe, the old man said, but far beyond all other things and it is well that it is so; so your mother loved your father, and so the happy wife must
 And but for Harry we had all been happier than mortals often are, Harry met Annie and Arthur at the gate, as he approached our cottage the third day 4fter Arthur first came and there was an angry scowl on his handsome dark face, which he seemed not to care to hide when Annie in her sweet voice said, Harry, this is my friend, MT. Arthur Penfeld Mr. Harry Hobby, MT. Pen6eld = schoolmate and playfellow from our earliest days'
 Harry took the preferred hand coldly, and made his stay short with the lovers, saying his business lay with old John Seacliffe. Whatever that business was, it did not turn to Harry's liking, for 1 heard him say as he was going out that old aequaintances ae were safer trusted than strangers, and that my grandfather had been traitor to him.
 "' could hardly be that, since was never your friend in this natter said old John Seacliffe, coldly.
 "'Enemies let it be, then with an old man near the grave, and that fddle-mak- ing dreamer of brother, and stranger no one knows aught of, pretty Annie may need good friend some day. said Harry, with a deep scowl between his heavy black brows.
 You forgot one other friend,' said old John.
 "'Who is that2'
 Her mother in heaven
 Very well-a ghost more or less is not much to help or hurt. take itp said Harry, with laugh. Perhaps there is company enough here without me- he added.
 (" As you will,' said old John.
 "'So Harry went away, with an ungra- cious goodnight to Annie, and no word at all to Arthur or myself, and Annie's face was troubled for time.
 "The sweet summer, full of love and happy days, went by, and Arthur was to leave us for a little while, only few weeks at the farthest, and then was never to part from Annie more. It was grand fathers birthday; he was 84, and yet a straight, active, hale old man, with all his senses nearly perfect, and he looked likely to live to see an hundred as Arthur shook hands with him and bade him goodbye at the gate that evening, and walked along the cliff with Annie, to bid his true-love adieu where only waves and stars could hear.
 It was dark when Annie came back to the gate and kissed her betrothed good night. was in my little workshop, busy with violin just beginning to lift it's voice in mysteries, and grandfather was dozing in his wide armchair on the porch, and Annie slipped in silently, and went to her own little chamber to be alone with her own sweet thoughts for time.
 "We never forgot any of the triAes of that night, for when Annie left her room to answer knock at the door, she called to grandfather then touched him, and found that he was not sleeping in his chair, but dead.
 The caller was Harry Hobby, whom we had not seen for many days, and he stayed only long enough to be sure that John Seacliffe had indeed died, as the righteous die, full of years and with smile on his face before he said he would send aid, such as could be given us, and then went away in the darkness.
 "And we wondered greatly when, soon after, as the sexton of the old church came in haste with the doctor, who could not bring back the dead, to hear the pass ing bell begin to toll the eighty-four strokes, one for each year of old Tohn Seacliffe's life. Presently the sexton left to see who was at the bell-tower, though the day came when we remembered he seemed in no haste to be gone; and afterward he gave out that he had gone to the bell-tower and found the door locked, and indeed that the key had never left his hand, and yet the Bell tolled all the same eighty-four solemn strokes, and then was still and all this caused wonderment in the village.
 Kind friends came to perform the sad last offices given by human hands to hu- man clay, and John Seacliffe slept with his kin in the little church-yard.
 "Days, weeks, months passed, and there was no word from Arthur Penfeld.
 "After grandfather's death, affairs at the cottage went on much the same, save that Annie's hours of reverie came more oitSu tuau oCtOLS ana laSteQ longer ana thrice ia the dead of night, when sup posed Annie asleep in her own chamber, and the cottage door fast locked she had been led home by late passing villager, from the door of the bell l-tower.
 Each time, when questioned her as to her errand there, she told the same story-in her dream it was summer time again, and she had walked with Arthur to the bell-tower, as he had wished to say something to her there which he could tell in no other place; and each time the door had been locked, as indeed it al- ways was and Arthur, in the dream, had been much troubled, and said he wished to say important things, which could be told nowhere else, save on the broad slab which covered the old tomb directly un- derneath the bell.
 Annie and often talked of Arthur. Annie never seemed to think of him as absent she was not unhappy; always in her reveries she wore tender smile on her face. and she would often tell mo