Freeland tribune. (Freeland, Pa.) 1888-1921, 1890-08-28

| man of over thirty, appearing still older
from habitual stoop and quiet reserve
of manner. It had not been a pleasant
task to him to obey Miss Anstruther' S
request; but, meeting Matte in an after
noon stroll, he had conscientiously done
his duty.
''But," she answered him, 81 can't. ]
can't stay in the house day after day,
stitching and cooking. Aunt Lefty has
a servant, and works harder than Jane
does. But it kills me; it suffocates me.
She can't talk of anything but scrap
bags and tides. Oh, you do not under
standm
Understand what, my childr
"The difference between this life and
my real life. We were alone, papa and ],
though there were servants indoors and
out, but no other house for fourteen
miles. Sometimes Mr.. Parker, my
guardian. came over from Brownsville,
but not often. Only papa and l, year in,
year out. In the morning we rode over
the country to see about the stock, visit
ed the cabins where the graziers lived,
| and were out till it grew hot and then
we went home to rest till it grew cool
And We read and studied and talked, or
we played upon the organ papa had built
| in the house. We wanted no one else.
| Sometimes we read Greek or Latin !;
sometimes we recited whole plays. We
| did not care what we ate or what we
wore, so we were fed and comfortable.
Oh, papal papa!" and sobs shook the
slender frame as Matte rocked to and fro,
convulsed with grief
'But now, Matte! I" said Mr.. Mayhem,
very gently, "you are a woman with a
woman's duties before you! Can you
not try to understand that the wild, free
life is unsuited to your present positionG"
She listened, that was one gain, while
he talked gravely but tenderly, pointing
out to her the pain it would have caused
her father to know her discontented,
rebellious and wayward. Something in
the quiet voice seemed to soothe the
girls heart, and after the sunset clouds
were tinged with the last rays of the dy-
ing day, she rose up, saying very slowly:
81 will try to be more womanly, l will
tryw
Miss Letitia was grimly astonished,
but not very hopeful, when Matte ap-
peared at breakfast with her hair shining
iike satin in glossy braids, her collar
pinned evenly, her feet neatly dressed in
kid slippers, and sat erect but silent, act
ually eating like lady, not dashing
through her breakfast as a necessary evil
Her wonder increased when after the
meal was over, Matte demurcly followed
her from room to room, awkwardly, but
willingly assisting in the dusting and
cooking, with nervous little apology
for faults, to the effect that she would
try and improve if her aunt would in
struct her.
1t was like claiming a chamois goat to
a plow, and Mattie's cheeks grew thin,
her eyes dull, as she plodded on, day
after day, conscientiously doing her duty
as directed.
Only one pleasure remained. Every
afternoon she went across the rye fields
| to the little country church, and spent
two or three hours at the organ, reveline
in music, working off some of the crushed
| vitality of heart and brain in the finger
work that carried out her improvisation.
1t became the substitute for home, IA
ther, friends and-no, not for love; for
often into the church would steal the fig
ure of Albert Mayhew, and Matte woul6
hear the few words of commentator
that were her rewards for this suppressed
cramped life that was killing her
She loved him after blind, unreason
ing fashion she comprehended as little as
he did. He talked of her books as heI
father had often talked; he loved music
and would praise her wondrous genius
understandingly.
Summer sped away, and in the early
fall friend with great news came to Sc,
Miss Anstruther.
Have you heard of Mr. Mayhew'
fortune1" she asked, and Mattie's tan
gled woods dropped in her lap as she lis
tened.
"No; what is it?" Miss Anstruthe
asked.
"He's come into money--a lot, the,
say-and he's going to be married
There's men to the parsonage nov
measuring for carpets and new furni
| ture."
You don't say so2"
And they talked and talked, while
Matte stole away, unheeding the destruc
tion of an elaborate piece of canvas worl
she dragged after her over the grass ant
gravel. Mechanically she went to tn,
church, but not into the organ loft, fo
in the cemetery she met Albert Mayhew
His head was more erect, his eye
brighter than she had ever seen them
but he came to meet her swiftly.
is it true1" she asked, piteously
knowing no maidenly vile to hide hei
stricken heart.
"That l am richer to-day than was
yesterday" he asked. "That is true. y
"Yes, | heard that-and-you are hay
ing the house." but her lips were
parched and she stopped.
~ am making the house more comfort
abe, or rather Margaret, my house
keeper, is. She has been so long lament
ing over faded curtains and ragged car
pets, that could not resist giving her
the intense happiness of renewing them"
"You look happy, tool" Matte said.
"Shall 1 tell you why9" he asked,
drawing her hand upon his arm, and so,
leading her out of the city of the dead,
down the path to the willow and brook,
her favorite resting place.
81 have tried to hide my secret from
you," he said, "but now am free to
speak. love, and was bound in honor
to be silent, because the woman I love
will be rich, and l was very, very poor"
Poor Matte bent her head away from
the tender eyes seeking to scan her face.
She pictured stately, beautiful woman,
accomplished and graceful, some queen
,f ,oo;otv A lhart had and lpyad hn