Idaho news. (Blackfoot, Idaho) 1887-1891, 1890-01-04
at is a sad story. Is she living

Stllis austen dSheu-
s.No; she died six months before /
left Charente," Tessa answered.
..Madame and had been away for a
few days, and when we came back
they told us she was dead. We went
up to the convent in the evening.
There was great trouble there; the
girls were all crying bitterly, and in
the chapel the nuns were weeping and
praying. and Madame cried, too; but
was glad
..Glad--why?"
sob, because l had been so sorry
for her! My heart used to ache so
when saw that hopeless look on her
face; and knew it must have gone
then. Sister Mary took me into her
cell, and | was right-it had quite
gone. Her face looked very white
and worn and wasted; but the look
had left it. There was even faint
smile on her lips. They had crossed
her hands upon her breast and placed
a cross of flowers overher heart; but |
took it away and placed it low down
on the mattress beneath her feet.
Why should they put cross when it
had fallen from her for evermore? So
l took it away, and l placed a crown
of great, white, starry Towers just
over the place where it had lain on
her heart. Sister Mary was kneeling
by the bed crying passionately; but /
could not cry was far too glad.
And, while we were there, a little
robin, which she had trained to come
morning and evening for its food, flew
into the room and perched itself upon
the bed and sang-Oh, never heard
anything like its song before it was
so beautiful, so full of happiness and
hope! And l could not help
thinking Tessa went on, with visit
full look in her eyes, ''that the robin
knew and was glad as well. p"
A short silence, which neither of
them cared to break, followed the last
words. Tessa stood, with her hands
clasped loosely together and thought
full far-otf look ON her mobile face,
watching the sunset clouds. While
she had been speaking change had
passed over the sky. The vivid blue
had faded into softer gray green
tint; the streaks of vermillion and
orange were almost lost in a dark
purple cloud; and clear and dark
against the primrose sky the fir-trees
lifted their tall heads. Tessa's dusky
head had caught CLEAN of gold; her
face was flushed, her eyes soft and
luminous.
Austen felt his heart beat with de-
light and wonder as he looked at her.
Even to his practical unsentimental
mind there was something very pathet-
ic in the picture she had drawn of
! the dead nun lying in her cell, with
the wreath of white flowers on the
poor heart which had fought and
struggled, and found peace at last
something very touching, too,
in the robins requiem. Was
this the girl whom his
sister had called vain and frivolous
who cared for nothing but dress and
amusements-who thought of nothing
beyond the pleasure of the passing
moment? She might be all these, and
yet she had seen what he had failed to
see-understood what he had failed to
understand. He had lived with his
mother all his life, and day by day
during the last seven years he had
seen that look deepen on her face; but
he had never understood till now what
it meant. And he knew that Tessa
was right-that his mothers heart
was breaking for her youngest. best
loved son, who had gone from her in
to outer darkness-gone with his
fathers curse upon his head.
His face grew hard and cold as he
thought OF it. Tessa looked at him in
surprise.
al suppose auntie must have had
some great trouble too?" she said
gently. what was it? Her hus-
bands death?"
s'No"-Austen shook his head and
his brows contracted-'it was worse
trouble by far than that. Shame for
the living is ten times worse to bear
than any sorrow for the dead can be!
See, dear, and he took Tessa's little
fingers gently in his own will tell
you now, so that you may understand,
and then we will not speak of it
again.
II have a brother, much--indeed
ten years-younger than myself. He
was very handsome clever lad, and,
being SO much younger than either
Prudence or /, was much petted and
INDUCED by our mother. Even as a
boy he was always in scrapes and
trouble; and it required all my moth
er's ingenuity to screen him and pre-
vent the stories of his escapades from
reaching my fathers ears.
when he was eighteen he was
placed in the bank-in the same posi-
ton that 1 had occupied when his age.
Eventually he would have been part
ner equally with myself, and it was of
course necessary that he should under
stand the routine Of the work. Then
the troubles at home began. My
mother had contrived to screen his
faults when boy; but that was i'm
possible when he became a man.
don't much care TO recall those days,
Tessa; they were very miserable for us