The Bennington banner. [volume] (Bennington, Vt.) 1858-1894, 1890-09-11
mot anticipate how her falth was to b.

was announced by Aunt Margaret to b,
over. Eleanor's foot was declared wei
enough to venture, with care, ON thu
short journey, and all preparations wer,
made.
''It is so good to have been able to rem
the house while we are gone," said moth
er on the evening before they were Il
leave. at will be real help on sucl
small expense as we shall have to meet ,
"And we should not have had that op
portunity il we had not been delayed
Everything fits in just right"
Mother went to the back of the house
to attend to some small matter, leaving
Eleanor, who had wearied, her ailine
foot resting ON lounge by the open dool
of the sitting-room.
''Who can that beT' she said to her.
self, as through the deepening twilight
she saw the one old omnibus belonging
to the small village drawing up at the
gate. Somebody's getting out. There's
some mistake. They ought to be told.
Mother!n
Mother did not hear her call, and with.
in the next minute two children had fol-
lowed the woman who alighted from the
omnibus.
"And two old trunks" exclaimed
Eleanor, rising, in little excitement,
and hobbling to the door. SIT won't do
to let them make such mistake. And
there's the omnibus driving away"
AS well as she could she hurried out
on the walk, to be met by q thin-faced
unattractive woman, and the two child
rem.
81 think you have made some mis-
take" said Eleanor hastily. Hadn't
i hattar coll tho rnoY, hooIy Ofi
II don't believe it's mistake" said
the woman. isn't this Mrs. Gray's
hOuse?"
"Yes," said Eleanor, with sinking at
her heart as the woman followed her into
the house. Mrs. Gray met them in the
sitting room.
Mrs. Gray?" asked the newcomer.
yes" was the answer.
"I am the widow of Harvey Gray;
your half-brother, wasn't hep"
Yes" repeated Mrs. Gray, avoiding
the look of dismayed inquiry with which
Eleanor sought to meet her eye.
II suppose you know something of
what his life was | married him, sup
posing him to be good man. He
spoiled my life; did me all the harm a
man can do a woman. He used up my
property and his own, and then died. l
have these children to support, and can
do it, but | want little help first, not
much. have secured situation in the
orphan asylum in the city, where l can
earn enough to keep them and myself.
But | can not 90 there until September" {"
''Sit down." said Mrs. Gray, who in
her surprise had forgotten that all were
standing.
II don't know where we are to stay till
then," went on the woman in the same
dull, hard voice, without noticing Mrs.
Gray's invitation. 81 have borne all
there was to be borne from your brother.
1t wasn't my fault that he was what he
was, it was the fault of some one else.
But it has all been visited on me, and
now | am come to see if some of his kim
dred will take me and my children in un-
til my place is open for me. 1t isn't
much to ask, considering ALL"
She had never varied from the hard
tone which showed that she in part, at
least, held these, her husband relatives,
responsible for the trials she had en-
dured. Having finished speaking, she
sat down and waited.
A host of sad and bitter memories
crowded upon Mrs. Gray of the willful,
wayward, younger brother who, having
given his parents trouble and anxiety
without limit, ran away from hOme-a
good radiance, SO all the neighbors said.
His family had heard of his death year
or two before, and that was all, until
this.
"Of course you can stay" said Mrs.
Gray, quietly. "Come into this room
and take off your things.'
She led them to her own room. quickly
deciding to share Eleanor much smaller
one; then hurried to the kitchen, where
Eleanor met her with despairing face.
'MOther, is it so? Must it be sop
what can we do, my daughter?"
"Give up all our plans for the summer?
Stay at home when we were all ready
to go, and wanted to go so much?"
1--WE couldn't say no, Eleanor"
"And for that dreadful woman, who
looks as if she thought we were all her
worst enemies. o mother, how can we
bear it?''
at must be for the best, dear"
"Best-best. Yes, yes, but how can it
be? Was this the best for which we have
been kept waiting all this time?'
How hard to trample down the rebel
lious feelings which would arise in her
heart! How intOlerable to think of ex-
changing the sight of the blue sea for the
continual sight of that strangers bold,
accusing eyes, the sound of the murmur
of the waves for that harsh voice! To
accept her companionship and that of
those sharp-looking children for that of
| whom she had hoped to win good, and to
whom she had hoped to do good
She reached her room before mother S
naulv iunnncaI 1ufiaa allnxuaI har ~, o,,1
throwing herself upon the bed, sobbed
out her sorrow and disappointment. 1t
was the first chance of a real outing
which had ever come into her life, cast
into such quiet ways. She gave full vent
to her grief. Then, after lying still for
awhile, rose and looked into the mirror.
Some of the old determination had como
back to her eyes.
| 'Well, Eleanor Gray" she said look.
ing sharply into the intelligent face
which answered her gaze, $50 you are
ready to lay down your arms and desert
your cOlOrs, are you? You are ready to
give up the fight, for what? Just because
your captain hasn't consulted you as to
what line you prefer to fight on. Oh,
yesl You're brave girl, Eleanor, you
are worthy follower of the Master, a
worthy daughter of the King. You seem
to have forgotten that daughter ac.
cepts in meekness and love the com
mands of her Father"
Another burst of tears, this time flow.
ing with mingling Of repentance with
the bitter struggle to give up her own
will; and when mother at length Joined
her, with burden Of dread at her heart
in the fear of Eleanor's taking it hard
added to her own disappointment fol
herself and her children, she was mos
gratefully cheered by finding that the
lyoung girl had quietly accepted the bur
den she could not shake off,
perhaps we can do her some good
said mother, after sitting in thought fol
awhile.
'She doesn't look as if she wanted
good of u.s." sighed Eleanor. "She looki
as If all she asked was room and some
thing to eat. But the children surely
can take in some good"
Mrs. Gray met her in the morning will
a half defiant expression, which, how
ever, partly wore away as she perceived
that those upon whom she had cast her
self for help over a hard place regarded
her with a kindly spirit
"But she never lets up at ALL" sale
Eleanor, dolefully, q few weeks later
"If could only feel that she realized
that we are friends, and desire only to b,
kind to her, it would be 50 much easier
But-he does not see fit to make it easiel
for me-"
''Now, tell us about your summer
Eleanor" said Alice, as at the opening
of school in autumn the three friendi
again met for another year of industri
GUS, enjoyable study,
"what about yoursp' asked Eleanor
"Oh, very much about what ! thought,
said Alice. "Only my aunt was not SC
cross as feared she would be, and the
crossness did not seem so hard TO bear
because of the strength you spoke Of