Iron County register. [volume] (Ironton, Iron County, Mo.) 1867-1965, 1889-11-28

guests tomorrow, but he and BeSS gen.
orally received Thanksgiving letters, and
she set so much by getting them the
night before. ''Thank-offerings" she
called them.
Going quietly downstairs and shut
| ting the hall door noiselessly behind
him, he tried to avoid Bessie. He didn't
care to see her just then; there were
painful memories keeping him company.
His sister meant to be kind always, he
thought, but she was sort of strange
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 John
paused while he answered in the affirma-
tive.
Bessie came closer to him then and
looked into his care-lined face intently.
Something she saw there appealed to
her sisterly affection. She put her arms
about her brothers neck and whispered,
brolenly: 'Never mind, John; it will
be all right by and by
''Bess pities me!'' almost sobbed the
behind him and he turned into the or
chard path.
Perhaps Thanksgiving memories had
been crowding in ON Bessie's heart; per-
haps the thoughts of something sacred,
of which John never dreamed of, ring
and a promise unfulill9d, had something
to do with the caress under the gray No
vember skies.
CHAPTER II.
It wasn't far to the village, just over
there beyond the little white church
where, four years ago, Muriel Trowbridge
played the Thanksgiving anthem.
And he would walk across the mead
ows; he wanted to be alone with neither
beast nor bird to see. Out there beyond
the hills the sunset burned and f1ared
like huge bonfire against the Novem-
Der sky, and the winds tossed the dead
leaves about his feet with shivering
moan. The sleepy quail piped in the
stubble in monotonous way, but John
Anderson didn't mind.
When he came to the stile he sat down
to dream bit. Somehow Bessie's part
ing words, together with the western
cleaning, had lighted up his twilight
hour amazingly.
His eyes wandered away to the great
white farmhouse showing up through
the shadowy valley. Yes, she loved
music, Muriel did, and sang so sweetly.
Hank! Was that little melody she
used to sing coming up across the brown,
deserted meadows? No; it was only
memory, and he remembered that he
was sitting alone on the stile in the
gray, cold twilight of Thanksgiving
Eve.
Bessie went slowly into the house aft
her brother and knew that he was on
turn to the sitting-room fire and the
book she had been reading, however;
no, she went directly upstairs, took a
box from her secretary and, going over
to the window in the cleaning, sat
down.
'sMay be Ashley is dead" she said,
sadly; ''may be the Indiaman went down
somewhere with all on board, as was
rumored; may be it did,
The ring CLEANED family in the dusky
light as she put it on her finger. "Be
true, Bessie; be true" the bit of paper
said. 'I shall always remember that
my love is waiting for me with heart
as brave as my own"
Bessie didn't read the crumpled note
tonight. There was no need; she knew
every word by heart long ago. For six
long years they had lain, the note and
the promise, waiting their verifcation.
After few minutes thought Bessie
returned her treasures to their hiding
place, and, brushing away few tears
bravely and hopefully, went downstairs
to wait for John and the letters.
Up the well-worn pathway leading to-
ward the valley home came pair of
light, flying feet; but John Anderson did
not hear, so he kept on dreaming.
By and by lady wanted to pass. He
rose and stepped aside, hat in hand.
For moment the woman paused on the
stile, and then, with q glad cry of recog-
so Johnr' and Muriel Trowbridge
buried her face on her lovers breast.
The long, desolate four years rolled
away; the fact that she had been silent
fell back, and nothing was remembered
but that she had come, his own, dainty
Muriel.
.Muc1el, SAID ne, rapUurOuSly, my
long-lost lover
ST have run away from guardy," she
said, in a frightened tone, clinging to
him. ST was SO afraid I shouldn't find
you. dearr'
If there was any thing more required
to unstring John Anderson's self-posses-
sion, it was Muriel's tears, as she ended
her little confession with sobs.
'sHe was opposed to your loving me
and wouldn't let you write; and so you ran
away and came back to poor, faithful
John?" he said, caressing her.
"Yes," came the answer between the
sobs .sGuardy wishes me to marry his
nephew, and he took me off to Europe
to make me forget you, he said. But I
won't wed Tom Walton, never!'
NO. said John. you'll marry plain
John Anderson if you choose and no
man on earth dare Interfere
Then he kissed the tear-stained face,
and all the pain went out of his heart
as he whispered something in her ear
which dried the tears and prompted a
little ripping laugh, something like
that he used to hear. to make music in
that long-silent world of his.
And Bessie waited and waited. Twice