News and citizen. [volume] (Morrisville, Vt. ;) 1881-current, 1888-03-01

| by an unsteady footstep coming rounC
the corner and up the street. 1t was
Mr. Hall. Mary saw him, too, and ran
| down to the door.
"Hain't yer been abed ?-hic !" he
said, leaning against the side of the dool
for support.
"No, Harry, DEAR" she returned: 81
sat up to let you in"
CHOW, Many" he exclaimed, 81 want
you to understand that you've got tc
mind me; when [ tell you to go to bed
you've got to 60" And, raising his
fist, he struck her on the forehead,
Mary reeled against the stair railing and
l had opened my lips to scream, when
1 saw her recover, and, saying few
words about "police, " coax him into the
house.
/ leaned back faint and sick for a mo-
ment, and then my blood boiled through
my veins like lava. To think he had
actually raised his hand and struck his
gentle wifel "No man shall ever have
the chance to treat me thus, [ exclaimed,
passionately.
The next morning stepped to tn
door to bid Mrs. Hall good-by. She had
handkerchief tied around her head;
she looked very pale, and said, with a
pitiful little smile, that she had sew
ere headache. Poor, weary-hearted,
trouble-laden soul, how my heart bled
for her!
Five years passed away. I Frequently
had letters from Mrs. Riley, and in one
of them she said that the Halls had
moved away. Many times during those
years had the pale, sweetly patient face
of Mary Hall been in my thoughts.
1t was a sultry day in August, and
party of friends and myself were on our
way to the country for a week or two.
One of the party, Harvey Dalton, had,
in the few weeks of our acquaintance,
become dearer to me than anything on
earth. He had wooed me in such bold,
straightforward, manly fashion, that odd
and cOld-hearted as [ was called, [ could
not help loving him. There was, as yet,
no engagement between us, although
Harvey had told me his love and asked
for mine in return. On the afternoon
in question we had left the cars at /,
and were jolting over rough road in an
old country stage toward our final des-
tination, In one corner of the stage sat
a man beastly drunk. The driver apollo
gized for putting him in with us, by say
ing that be pitied his family and wanted
to take him home. The sight of the in
ebriate brought back all my old horror
and lOathing of drunkenness; and, like
a flash, came the recollection that several
times l had seen Harvey drink wine, and
once [ had smelled something stronger
in his breath.
| tried in vain to answer the merry
sallies of my friends concerning my
noodiness.
At last the stage stopped and the
lriver appeared at the door saying he
would leave our drunken friend here.
[ glanced out; it was a miserable hut;
Il the yard were several ragged chill
lren playing, and at the open window
at woman, her head bowed upon her
rms, in an attitude of despair.
The noise made by getting her hus-
and out of the stage seemed to rouse |
er, and she raised her head. l could |
carcely repress a scream, for in her
unken, wasted features / recognized |
larry Hall.
GLOW much further have we to goa"
asked, eagerly.
"Half a mile, Miss" returned the |
river.
'.Then let me get out. 1 can walk
nat distance; that lady is a friend of |
line," said in husky tone, for [
ould scarcely keep back the tears.
"Shan't wait for you?" asked Har-
ey, tenderly.
s'No, but you may come for me in an
our" answered.
The stage drove off, leaving me stand
lg by the little broken gate, and Mary |
as looking at me curiously.
"Mary," said, walking toward her, |
nd holding out both hands, "don'tyou
now me?"
"Laura Miss Avery - she sobbed, |
glorious light illumining her wan face.
oh, how good of you"
/ will not dwell upon our CONVERSE
ion for the next hour.
At the end of that time Harvey came |
Or me, and left Mrs. Hall with asmile |
pom her lips, for somehow [ had in
titled hope into her broken heart.
Harvey and | walked some distance |
n silence; at last Harvey said hesita-
ingly:
Laura, can't you give me an answer
[ knew what he meant; [ had been |
linking of the same subject; and l ans
rered, with forced calmness:
Eyes, Harvey, l can give you an ans
yer; it is no. L can never consent to
ave my life made what Mrs. Halls is"
felt him tremble, strong man though |
lc was, and his face was ashen pale.
81 know what you mean, Laura" he |
,asped; "but I cannot take that answer
o-night; will see you again in the
There was not another word spoken |
until we reached the house; and then |
Harvey pressed my hand and whis-
1ered:
''Pray for me, Laura"
L did pray for him as L never prayed
or myself, for in those hours when L
hought I had given him up forever,
earned the depth of my love for him.
t was pale face and sad heart that |
took down to the breakfast table the |
lext morning.
NY friends rallied me about being a
,oor traveller, and / saw Harvey look |
at me. After breakfast he |
lrew me aside and whispered:
'sDon't you whnt to go and see Mrs.
Hall 2"
OF course I said yes, and we were
OOn on our way there.
81 have q strange story to tell you,
aura" said Harvey, abruptly breaking |
long silence. 81 went down to Mr..
Halls last night, after l left you, and to
ny infinite astonishment [ found he was |
ny half brother; he was always dissipat-
d, and ran away from home fifteen
,ears ago; and we have not heard word |
rom him since. And Laura, seeing
lim such wreck has opened my eyes,
md from this time, God helping me, |
will never touch ardent spirits more. |
lon't ask any promise from you, Laura,
,nly wait for me until l can feel sure of
myself. Wont you, darling?"
Reader, that was ten years ago, and
or eight of those years have been Har
,ey Daltons happy wife.
Harry Hall, through his brothers. in
1uence, has reformed, and he, Mary |
md the children, now live in cosy lit
lie cottage just across the way.
PLEASURES OF DUTY.-Busy Father
Ny daughter, 1 must take an early
rain tomorrow, the alarm clock is out !
IF order, and some one will have to sit
I'D SO rs to wake me. Dutiful Daugh-