The Maryville times. (Maryville, Tenn.) 1884-1944, 1889-12-04

serious, for as he talked he felt her
hand tremble on mis- arm and noted the
changing color on her fair face.
In the cold, dull cleaning he had left
her at her uncle's door with his first
warm, passionate kiss on her lips but he
had never seen her since. And was it
not curious that he could thus drop out
of her life and she not mind? John re-
membeDed how happy they both were
that night, and felt that it was.
And there had been such dark page
turned down over that golden-lettered
one that not ray of loves sunshine
had ever been able to pierce its gloom.
81 want you to visit me, certainly"
she had said in answer, land shall write
you when to come as you DESIRE" Then
added, after a moments hesitation,
''about the holidays look for letter of
invitation"
Well, John Anderson walked on air
until the time Of the expected letter.
People remarked how bright-looking he
had grown to be; he could hardly be
called ''plain John" any more. But
some of the mothers OF the neighbor-
hood who had manageable daughters,
guessing at the reason of this change,
were cruel enough to wish that he might
never hear from that ''city tlirt" again.
And the years rolled on, and the letter
never came. The envious matrons were
satisfied, and the girls of Folly Mill so.
ciety nodded and smirked, but plain
John Anderson grew palmer and farther
away.
Once, only once, Bessie had grown
cross and said hard things. He was
speaking Of his great passion for music
and his longing for higher aspirations
than to only SOW and reap and nothing
more; and she had reminded him that
he had "tried once to fly higher than
his homely wings allowed Of"
Wincing under this sore thrust, he
never mentioned the subject so near te
his heart again.
Well, he must 60 to the village te
night. OF course they wouldn't have any
guests tomorrow, but he and Bess gen
orally received Thanksgiving letters, and
she set so much by getting them the
night before. "Thank-otferings" she
called them.
Going quietly downstairs and shut
ting the hall door noiselessly behind
him, he tried to avoid Bessie. He didn
care to see her just then; there were
painful memories keeping him company
His sister meant to be kind always, hi
thought, but she was sort Of strang'
sometimes.
Nevertheless, halfway down the walk
under the great pear tree which stretched
its naked arms up toward the silent
cleaning heavens, she met him.
"Going over to the village?" she asked
in voice kindlier than usual, and Johl
paused while he answered in the afiirma
tive.
Bessie came closer to him then ant
looked into his care-lined face intently
Something she saw there appealed t.
her sisterly affection. She put her arm
about her brothers. neck and whispered
brokenly: "Never mind, John; it will
be all right by and by"
"Bess pities mel" almost sobbed tn
great, strong man, as the wicket clicke,
behind him and he turned into the OF
chard path.
Perhaps Thanksgiving memories ha'
been crowding in on Bessie's heart; pei
haps the thoughts Of something sacred
of which John never dreamed Of, rim
and promise unfulfilled, had somethin
to do with the caress under the gray NJ
vember skies.
CHAPTER II.
. 1t wasn't far to the village, just owe
there beyond the little white churc
where. four years ago, Muriel Trowbridg
+ played the Thanksgiving anthem.
And he would walk across the meat
ows; he wanted to be alone with neitht
beast nor bird to see. Out there beyon
the hills the sunset burned and fare
8 like huge bonfire against the Noven
l Der sky, and the winds tossed the dea
leaves about his feet with shiverin
IL l.. ~