Iron County register. [volume] (Ironton, Iron County, Mo.) 1867-1965, 1886-02-04

Our story commences in a Quiet lane
In the garden of Devonshire-in a mar
row, quiet lane, where, in the summer.
the lowered hedge-rows on either side
smut out from view the pretty home
steads IN the rear. and where, in the
winter, the naked branches threaded
the AR with snow lines Enthusiastically.
ana the sharp, thin twigs Were WHITLEY
nghted up with pearl-drooping ewes of
iclcie. A quiet, narrow lane. luxuri-
ahtiy dotted IN the spring with violets
anu Iofget-me-nots, and in the drowsy
summer, when the hum of bees could
oe 1aintly heard in the tangled bush of
honeysuckles and wild roses. dreamilv
delicious with fragrant odors. A quiet,
narrow lane, at the end of which came
suddenly and quantity into view a shall
low reach OF noble river, with taste
OF the salt sea on its lips. where the
clear waters lay calmly in their rustic
shelter, while on its bosom glowed the
shadows of its gardened banks. A
quiet, narrow lane, wherein a thousand
new graces perpetually unfolded them
selves, and where Nature made holiday
In every season of the year.
1t was the evening of a sharp, win
try day in December, so near to Christ
mas that the sun threw golden man.
tie on its holly-crowned head, and well
coined its advent with fiery splendor.
The old elm that had stood outside
Stephen Winkworth's house for more
Christmases than Stephen Winkworth
could remember blushed crimson SYM
pathetically, and the tips of its
branches caught the light of the
glowing sun and there impris-
oned it until the grayer shadows
usurped its place. The light touched
the form of Stephen Winkworth him.
self, as he stood at his door, watching
the declining day, and it fingered low
ingly at a window above his head, at
which n girl sat motionless, looking
out upon the scene. Stephen Wink
worth was by no means pleasant fig
ure in the landscape, and did not show
in his face any sign of gladness. The
happy season which brought joy to SO
many hearts brought none to his; for
in all the three hundred and sixty-tive
days of the year he held not one in
tender remembrance. Bitter, morose
and discontinued. he stood on his
Threshold at war with the world and
with himself. stephen, the woman
hater," his neighbors called him; they
might have added man-hater also. for
all the love he bore his sex. His spir-
itual influence for unkindliness was very
strong. 1t was enough to make one
bad-tempered to look at the surly
wrinkles in his face, and people, with
out knowing why, felt an inclination to
snarl at each other when he was in their
company. He was not an ungainly
man, and was still in the prime of life;
strong and sturdily built was he, and
blessed with good health; fairly we'll
TODD, also, from a worldly point of
view. But, with all these advantages,
he had never been discovered in an act
of kindness, and not a human being in
the world would have felt inclined to
say: ''God bless him!'
Only on one occasion throughout the
year did he of his own free-will associ-
ate with his neighbOrS, and that was
Christmas-eve. And only in one house
in all Devonshire would he have been
welcomed. and that house was Marley
combe Lodge, the residence of Reuben
Harrild. Harrild Id he had been
friends in their youthful days; and in
one of their boyish condolences had
pledged themselves, never, if circum-
stance permitted, to spend Christmas
apart from each other. That Stephen
Winkworth had not broken his prom
Use came from no active exercise of
sentiment; it was more a mechanical
than an affectiOnate Offering to a
friendship which now existed but in
name. The house of Reuben Harrild
was within view, and Stephen could
see the reflection of the dying sun in
each pane of glass that shone like
fiery eye upon the landscape. No
softening influence came upon him as
he gazed upon this solemn splendor.
With deep-set lines in his face, and
with form immovable, he stood like an
image carved in stone-stern. impas-
sive, relentless and unfeeling.
Toward him approached two persons,
with that brisk motion of the body
which betokens enjoyment of sur
rounding and inward influences. He
was not conscious of their approach,
but the girl at the window above saw
them the moment they appeared round
the winding path in the distance, and
a look of eager love, of love without
hope, of love in which there was pain,
flashed into her eyes. With parted
lips, and flush on her usually pale
face which did not come from the sun
sets glow, she watched their forms
grow larger and more distinct as they
emerged out of the deeper shadows.
From the Younger of the two came a
cheerful greeting to Stephen Wink
worth.
..Good-evening, neighbor. Fine
weather this for Christmas"
The speaker was a good-looking
man. some five-and-twenty years of
age, William Fairfield by name. He
was farmer in the neighborhood of
Warleycombe, and although compara-
lively a new man in the locality, had
been cordially welcomed upon his own
merits into the society of his fellows.
The farm he now owned had been be-
uueathed to him by relative who had
stood to him in the position OF par
emit; and William Fairchild, who, at
about that time, was looking round for
a pursuit, thought he might as well try
whether the life of a country farmer
would suit him. 1t threatened at the
outset not to suit him at all; he was
naturally daring, impulsive and am
bilious; and after a trial of few
months he had serious thoughts of
seeking his fortune elsewhere, when he
was thrown into the society OF Reuben
Harrild's daughter, Laura. Between
the two an attachment had sprung up
sufficiently strong to bind William
Fairfield to Warleycombe had it been
infinitely less attractive than 1t was
and he was now regarded as perma-
nently settled upon his farm. William
was accompanied by singular-look-