The state republican. (Jefferson City, Mo.) 1871-1896, 1890-12-25

II you'd just put bit of a post-what
do you call it?" he said, coloring like
schoolgirl.
"PostscriptP" suggested. Certain.
ly."
Tell mother" he said, as | took up
my pen again, "that | wish she'd re-
member memo, not that word-give
nv love toto my little girl out there
If she-isn't married" lie jerked out
these words, and turned his flushed face
away from me.
MY heart beat painfully. Was this to
be tho realization of my presentimentf
I could scarcely trace the words of this
cruel postscript, for my hand trembled
violently. ! tried to move the pen me-
chanically, as | would strike the keys
of the dumb typewriter, but the words
were scarcely legible. He took the lat
ter again, and pored over the last lines.
lie seemed puzzled. He held it in diff
ferent positions, and finally said:
81 can just mako 1t out 1t doesn't
look pretty, like the other part of the
lett +. 'Tisn't much better than my
lcft.hsnded scrawl," he laughed, look
ing up "Oh! beg pardon, Miss he
| exclaimed, as he looked into my panied
eyes. II s'posc you're tired. Been
working too hard. I'm brute It'll
do very we'll, l guess.
Now Miss" he said, in gentle tones,
''if you'll direct it for me III be
obliged"
That voice. softened to this pitch, was
not unknown to me and yet Inerved my
self 10 direct that letter with his love
conveyed in it-by my hand, too-to ap-
other. lie had to repeat the request
however, before ! could rouse myself
please direct it to Mrs. Jane StaD-
ley, at Dayton, N. H." he said, slowly
My hand that held the pen rose sud
denly in the air like the arm of one hrsf
stricken with the palsy. sense OF :
dizziness seized me and | fell back
ward, but not far. A strong arm held
me up A glass of water revived me,
and / heard him say: Poor child
She's worn out"
"Are you John Stanley?" l asked as
he raised me 10 q sitting posture.
"Of course Pm John Stanley" said
he, regarding nie with surprise.
] was shaaing with the violence OF an
ague and my face burned as though all
my hot blood had centered there as
said: Il am Annie Sinclair"
Something between groan and
miners shout Of joy at the discovery oi
rich lead OF silver escaped him as
was uncoremoniously gathered tightly
into the grizzly bearskin coat OF this
terrible stranger. What If it were
mistaken There might be other John
Stanleys Oh, yes; there might be
other Annie Sinclairs who worked ten
hours a day on typewriters. | might
not be myself, and John might not
My own little girlI To think I've
got you to write a letter to mother and
to give my love to YOURSELF he ex.
claimed And forgetful how tired l
was he hugged me to his breast again
and again. 1t was like being squeezed
by bear, think. made feeble
struggles to release myself, but could
not make this miner relinqLish his
claim, which he had staked out ten
years ago. ] tried TO convince him that
be had forfeited this claim by neglect;
/ that it was long since outlawed by lapse
of time. 1t was no uss to argne with
) him. at all. l think it was John. who
a irst discovered the presence OF my em.
ployer in the office. He had witnessed
part of the Wild scene His countenance
, was a study. Surprise, amusement and
D displeasure blended there.
I "Its all right Mr.. -. This Is my
s littlo girl. | left her about ten years
, ugo My claim is good yet"
. 81 must congratulate you upon your
r good fortune, them" said Mr.. Brunsley,
taking his hand.
1 ~ want to pay you, annie, for writ
ing my letter." said John, turning to me-
0 II am already paid" SAID. blushing
0 turnel my o ,cs on the hateful type
y writer tho following week an, accom-
j, panied John houle. Edward 4, DoydeA
0 In sloe and LcstheV Repor v