The Portland daily press., 1889-08-12

Woiu ndu come 10 MIN III reply. what hours
of dark suspense lifted their shadows before
him; how the whole world had seemed bleak
and Improbable without her! And in a
season Of weakness, when his wounded
heart could beart no more, he had accepted
the sympathy and comfort nearest at hand
and had finally married Lefty Carew. because
she loved him, only to wake up one day to
find that he owed his unhappiness to her.
Miss Hildreth had indeed answered, had
given Lefty the letter to mail-they had been
Intimate friends in those days, intrustdd
with each others heart-beats- Lefty had
detained the missive that would have healed
the breach. How did he know thisf Years
after 1t tumbled out of drawer of old letters,
and confronted him with its familiar address.
Miss Carew thought she had secured herself
for all time by burning Prue's letter, but she
tossed the wrong envelope into the. CRATE.
Austin Miller had lived his sorrow over
again after this discovery; he had walked
with 1t and wrestled with it without getting
nearer happiness, and had long ago made
up his mind to do without it. But he had
thought 1t due to Prudence Hildreth to send
her word that by an accident her letter had
come to hand five years too late; he said
nothing of Letty's share In the manner, but
Prudence understood all. These memories
had been revived by Prue's hasty note asking
him to forgive the children for breaking up
the pea-hen's nest! Her children, too! He
was at the point Of carrying the note TO his
lips, when his eye fell upon his sermon, "The
mistakes of Christian" and lest this should
be one Of them, he threw 1t into the waste
basket. He looked at the clock he had been
idle two whole hours. "Of what was he
thinking?" he asked himself; "where was
he dritt'ngp an anointed priest, the example
and counselor of sinners9" At least he
could go and thank Prue with clear con-
science; as for the children, they were
| already In bed, technically speaking, and
having such capital pillow fight that they
agreed to get into mischief every day of their
lives, and be punished.
| After that Mr.. Miller often found himself
dropping In, on one pretext or another. at
| The Elms; to ask Miss Prue to play over the
| air of some new psalmody, that he might
join in the congregational singing; to lend
her the latest volume of religious thought
times he came bringing those unruly infants,
with their brown hands full of peacock
| feathers and their little hearts full OF i'm
penitenoe. They and the peacock were now
the best Of friends; he ate from their hand
and endured their petting, which was much
like punishment, with heroism; If he stayed
away they hunted him out and brought him
| home in triumph.
"Those children might as we'll live here"
| said Jane.
And their father, t0o," added John.
"Not a bite Of sweetbread can keep In
the larder; and when they tear their frocks
they goes straight to Miss Prue, and she
mends them before Bridget scolds 'em. just
as if they'd be her very own"
"a fine stepmother she'd be making"
observed John. They'd do be saying in the
village that it's her cap she Is setting for the
parson."
That's just the way of the gossipsl If a
man takes to woman it's always she that's
asserting Of her cap for him. The parson
ought to ask 'em to pick out wife for him
and suit themselves"
"And then there's others who says it's her
money" persisted John, who like fair his
torion, was bound to state both sides; SAN
that he comes here a-purpose to marry her."
"a great deal they knows about it," cried
Jane. Il heered him tell her, with my own
blessed ears, that when he was called to this
ERE parish he never dreamed that she lived
here. They must hev knowed each other,
you see, when they were young afore Miss
Drua int bar la's
and came to live at The Elms; for hear 'em
talking now ond again Of folks that don't be-
long hereabouts. And she says DO you
remember the day we went hither and the
day we went yon9' And he says, 4 remem-
Der, remember and looks away from her
face. thinks, myself, he must have been
an old beau of hers. l secs 'em together a
heap you know, bringing in the tea things,
and the lamps, and pottering round"
'At the keyhole," laughed John,
"And I've never found 'em lovemaking
once, though steps quiet like, John, as you
know, and it isn't like opening door to push
the p0rtiers aside"
j., 1t is true the Miller children were great
deal at The Elms, and gave their father fire.
quent excuse to follow them; and it is true
there were few congenial souls In the parish
and village, and what so natural as that he
should see more or less of his pleasant neigh
Dor, with whom he could journey back to the
past. Indeed they never talked of to-day or
tomorrow; it was always yesterday whose
praises they sang, whose skies they extolled,
whose pleasures they coveted. He was
nothing like a lover. to be sure, except in
,,raforrinu hor cociotu nd xyaf n hon
piness to Prue to see him there, to know that
he would come tomorrow. 1t was toward
night, on one summer day, that Miss Prue,
looking out on the lawn, where the shadows
OF the leaves were dancing, saw Mr.. Miller
unusual sight-coming toward her door. He
had been out of town whole week on bust
ness; Bridget had confded to Jane that he
had 'gone away suddin', after telegraph in
yaller wrapper come for him;" but he had
been at home several days without darken-
ing, or to express her feelings better illumina-
ting Miss Prue's door. Naturally, she
wondered what his errand had been; il he
had had call to leave the parish; and at
that thought her head stood still.
"You have been away" she said after the
first greetings,
Eyes. l hope you did not suffer from
an invasion of young Millers during my
absence"
''We met, but we missed you," she ad-
mltted. II hope your vacation was rest
and recreation to YOU"
MY journey was not pleasure trip. Prue,"
he said. my wife died suddenly at the
asylum on the fifth Of the month"
our wife! gasped Miss Prue. "Your
wife-died-on the fifth of the month! |
Notwithstanding Miller-I thought she
had been dead years and yearsp'
Il thought you KNEW" he returned 81
| thought everybody had heard 1t: 1t was too
sad story to rehearse often or needlessly.
| 1t was in ali the dailes at the time. You
must have been abroad then. Amy was in
| her cradle when Lefty left me-eloped with
| her music teacher. Two years ago she went
| to the asylum, mad as Hamlet. Prue, Prue,' y
he cried, do you think l have hidden any
thing from you? Is not the loss Of 10 years
h@ppi1ooe uHuuyhT 6iIaii iIor ghost divide
us still?"
"And / have been loving another woman's
husband all this time" She said, moving
away from him. Heaven only knows how
lar her Puritan conscience would have car
rled her, but just then Jane burst into the
room. crying:
"It's little Tom Miller-the peacock fell
into the river. and Tom jumped in to save
him-and the birds safe-but Tom-the
cramp took him-John's brought him up the
bank"
And then Jane tainted away. twas hours
before consciousness returned to Master