The Portland daily press., 1891-08-03


near the prison the coffin of the man who
was hung; and how dared /, a baby al.
most at the time, to judge for myself.
knew they were right enough. but l
never faltered. was as sure as Madpe
was that her father never killed Uncle
| Mathew.
They would not come to nv home.
Indeed, grandfather would have had the
door closed in their faces, but nothing
could keep me from them. And it was
dangerous work for me, too, as l began
20 know before long, to sit so much by
Gldeon Lees side, to hear his dear voice
so often, to feel my heart thrilling with
a loving pity for him for which had no
words. He was my wounded and des-
pissed knight, this dear Gideon Lee, be-
fore had known him three months, and
I would have given my life for him.
Rut he said no words of love to me nor
70 him. inst friends we were, and moth
ing more, outwardly. That was enough
for the town-enough for grandfather
I was called unnatural found my
dearest friends grown cold. Even the
| clergyman asked me If sit would not
harm me to hold companionship with
| such people"
And / said: "They are the best people
have ever known. And even had their
father done the deed for which he died,
| they would be no worse for it. AS it is
he was murdered, and you are all cruel
to these poor children of his-cruel and
unchristian."
So he left me angrily, and so many a
friend left me, and all my comfort was
to sit between Madge and Gideon in the
quiet evenings and talk to them.
In the summer time we used to light
no candles, and the moonlight fell
through the ivy leaves upon us, and the
old dog lay at our feet and put his curly
head upon Madge's lap. We would tell
stories of fairies and COLLINS or sing ro-
mantle songs written before any of us
were born Now and then Gideon
would steal his arm about my waist or
hold my hand awhile, and wrong though
any one might have thought there was
no more harm in it than though we had
been children.
just so we were sitting one evening,
when grandfather walked into our midst
and clutched me fiercely by the arm.
No need to repeat the words he uttered.
The insults stung me as sharply as they
could Gideon Lees children. But he
forbade me ever to speak to them again
and took me home with him.
The last glimpse caught of the broth
er and sister showed them to be stand
ing hand in hand, their fingers clutched
tight, their teeth set, their faces white
with wrath under the moonlight. It
was my last glimpse for many years,
for the day after this we sailed for Can
ada. Grandfather was Canadian, and
it was partly to revisit his native land
and partly to put the ocean between the
Lees and me that he took the voyage.
But he could not tear my heart from
them. | loved them better than any
people ever met; most of all loved
Gideon.
But never heard of him or from him,
nor could guess whether he lived or
died, remembered or forgot me, for three
long years
At the end of that time rny grand
father died, and /, his heiress, returned
to my native land rich woman and my
own mistress, though this was the codi-
Gil to the will that left me all;
81, Henry Grey, having cause to fear
that my beloved grandchild is easily
misled by artful persons, and is not
guileful enough to understand their
guile, do, for her own welfare, add this
proviso. That, should she ever give her
hand in marriage to the son of the muir
derer of my son, Matthew Grey, all
claim upon the moneys and estates above
bequeathed her shall be forfeited, and
said property 60, without reserve, to the
Hospital of st. Martha, to be used by the
trustees of said institution as they see
fit"
But, despite this codicil, went down
into the valley in which Gideon Lees
homestead stood before 1 had been at
home a day. 1t was sunset when
reached it, but the light did not as of
yore gid the panes of the upper win
dows to sheets of FURNISHED gold Every
shutter was closed and the house seemed
to frown upon me- The garden had run
wild; the helds lay desolate; the broken
branches of the orchard trees told
of boyish depreciation. Strange cattle
grazed in the meadow and Rovers ken
mel was empty. The sight brought tears
to my eyes. l went up the old porch
and found there, wet with rain and
tangled in the relics of last years vine,
scarlet ribbon, one Madge must have
worn. Iput it in my bosom and came
away. No one could tell me anything
of Gideon Lees children, except what
fha %xyh I, n 411l -
were gone.
had lost them; and what did / care
that all the country place besides well
coined me home? Gideon's smile would
have been more to me than all their
greetings, and Madge would have given
me kiss that had true love in it.
was not happy; could not be gay.
could not care for anything very much.
lived quiet life for two long years,
and, let those call me cold and proud who
would, was not cold, but those who
courted me were Gideon Lees enemies,
and had prosecuted pretty Madge since
her very birth, and had done their inno-
cent father to death, and hated them
for it, though said nothing.
But at last, one bright morning, walk
ing up the road to look at the desolate
dwelling where ] had learned to love
Gideon Lees children, saw change
in 1t. The windows were open; a man
was at work in the garden. Three fig
ures in travelling costume had just en-
tered the porch and a carriage stood at
the gate.
knew Gideon's tall figure at glance,
butwho was this-superb, glowing, beau
tiful, with look of triumph on her
face-who came toward me? And who
was that old man with the strange, sar-
castle smile, that fancied had seen
before?
AS l advanced l knew that it was
Madge who ran to meet me-Madge,
grown to be a magnificent waman-
Madge, who kissed me as of yore, but
more gladly, and who left me in mo-
ment alone with Gideon and drew the
stranger away with her.
And Gideon held my hand, and could
only say, sit has been very long, Gideon"
and try and hide my tears.
at has been long for me, Agnes!" he
said And then there was a pause He
broke it by kneeling down beside me,
with my hands in his as l set on the low
step of the porch.
0You ara Miss onaa Graxy - he Sa;d