The Dickinson press., 1890-05-24

so1tly Degan singing some quaint, old
fashioned and plaintive hymns. Between
each one paused awhile, fully expecting
a peremptory message from Miss Ives
for me to stop. None came, and after q
while fancied that heard O light foot
step overheard.
Evidently Miss Ives had risen from the
sofa upon which she lay constantly. Was
she coming in person to rebuke me for
my temerity? My heart beat high with
fear-and hope.
With my whole soul in my task rap
idly glided into the old, old hymn Of
"Jordan."
AS the last words, "There is rest for
me-" died away, the door slowly opened
and there advanced towards me being
who seemed to me an angel, so fair was
she. l had never seen her face until
now, but that figure could never mis-
take.
1t was Emily Ives who stood before
me, with eyes upturned as if entranced.
"Sing, sing those words again." she
murmured.
Low almost as her own voice sang:
have builded me mansion
That eternally shall stand
And my stay will not be transient
In that fair and happy land;
On the other side Of Jordan,
In the fair fields Of Eden,
There is rest for the weary.
There is rest for me.
'In the grave only there is rest," she
sighed, sinking YEARLY into a chair;
speaking to herself she seemed, and un.
observant of my presence.
Ispoke no word, but followed up the
advantage had gained by softly striking
into Herrick's prayer for Comfort"
When the hoard of many years,
Like fleet cloud disappears,
And the futures full Of fears,
Saviour, Saviour, comfort me!
When the secret idols gone
That my poor heart yearned upon,
Desolate, bereft, alone
Saviour, Saviour, comfort me!
The effect was most unexpected. At
the conclusion of the hymn she sprang
to her feet with a look of amazement,
almost of indignation.
GLOW came you, stranger" she de-
manded, imperiously. "to know my sto-
ry?"
Twas astonished in my turn, but replied
calmly:
II know nothing Of your story, Miss
Ives"
"Then, how came you to choose a
hymn to fit it SO exactly? All! seel My
aunt has told you"
"Your aunt has told me nothing, as
sure you, Miss Ives; but it is easy to see
that you are unhappy, and l selected a
hymn that hoped might comfort you. /"
II understand" she replied, sitting at
the side of the piano. 81 thank you for
your sympathy; and since l have be-
trayed that have a story-will YOU
hear itl'
"Gladly-most gladly" l answered,
inwardly rejoicing that, by an accident
in the choice of hymn, I had induced
her to bestow upon me her confidence,
believing that one should
Give sorrow words;
The grief that does not speak
weispers the o'erfraught heart
And bids 1t break.
II am desolate, bereft, alone" she be-
gan. "My desolation was wrought by a
man who carle into my life only to
wreck it. Twas an orphan, with norela-
tives but my aunt, who has not strength
enough Of character to control or guide
so obstinate and headstrong a girl as I
am. The-the-man"-she paused, grew
white, shuddered at the recollection;
then by an effort mastered her emotion
and went on-"was cashier in a bank
where had on deposit a considerable
sum of money. We met frequently, and
Twas fascinated by him. He professed
to love me, and we became engaged. My
aunt did what she could to prevent my
marrying him; but as she could urge
nothing against his character she was
forced to fall back upon the time hon
ored and to me contemplate platitudes
that he was my social inferior-'only a
bank clerk and poor paid no heed