, 1891-07-30

~ was party u lEhAHlA Aln AAAh0 Adli
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 han 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 my grand
father died, and l, his h%eiress, returned
TO my native lane a rich woman and my
mistress, though this was the codi-
Gil to the will that left me all:
81, Henry Grey. having cause to fear
that my beloved g~randchild is easily
misled by artful persons, and is not
g~uileful 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 moneysan INT estates above
bequeathed her shall be forfeited, and
said property go, 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 | had been at
home a day. IT 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 fields lay desolate; the broken
branches of the orchard trees told
of boyish depreciation. Strange cattle
grazed in the meadow and Rover's 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, a
scarlet ribbon, one Madge must have
worn. | put it-in my bosom and came
away, No one could tell me anything
of Gideon Lees children, except what
the empty house had told me-that they
were gone.
l had lost them; and what did | care
that all the country place besides wei
coined me home? Gideon's smile would
have been more to me than all their
greetings, and Madge would have given
me a kiss that had true love in it.
was not happy; ] could not be gay,
l could not care for anything very much
| lived n 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 limo
cent father to death, and I hated them
for it, though | said nothing.
But at last, one bright morning, walk
ing up the road to look at the desolafe
dwelling where | had learned to love
Gideon Lees children, | saw a change
in it. The windows were open; u 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.
l knew Gideon's tall figure at a glance.
but who was t~his-superb, glowing, beau.
tiful, with Il look of triumph on her
face-who came toward me? And whn
was that old man with the strange. sar
castle smile, that | fancied ] had seen
before2
AS | advanced | knew that it was
Madge who ran to meet me-Madge.
grown to be a magnificent
Madge, who kissed me as of yore, but
more gladly, and who left me in n mo
ment alone with Gideon and drew the
stranger away with her.
And Gideon held my hand, and | could
only say, at 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 | set on the low
step of the porch.
you are Miss Agnes Grey" he said,
land the world honors you. am the
son of the man who was hanged. Even
now loving you as | do-as l have all
this weary while-that stands between
us, a barrier you could not cross. Is it
not so? Were | all else, and SO worthy
of you, / should still be Gideon Lee, and
an o~utcast, branded with Gains brand
upon the forehead, and you could neither
love nor wed me!'
Could l say 81 love your 1t was not
in maidenhood to do that. 1t was i'm.
possible. | trembled; | faltered; l only
said these words: at is an unjust brand
unjust and cruel. My eyes never see
it, Gideon LeeI'
He showered fond kisses on my hands.
but ne spoke again.
"Do you dare to do it, Agnes-to love
an outcast man; to bring upon yourscn
contempt and hate; to ~relinquish wealth
for the humble life of a simple farmer:
Is your love strong enough for this
Will You never repenty'
Never" l said.
when YOU gold is gone, your land
another's, your friends turned to enc
mics and your name, your very name.
Agnes-that of the man who was hang
edy' he asked slowly. Think! can You
bear that ignominy? | know how ter
rible it is"
And | o my hands from his and
laid them on his broad shoulders and
said-but nc matter what l said. |
have forgotten the words that told him
that l loved him too well to doubt my
courage to bear anything for his dear
sake.
But suddenly, as he knelt there look
ing up into my eyes, l saw a look in his
face that | could not understands look
that made me cry out and begin to
tremble; and | saw others draw near:
and | saw Nudge clasp her brothers
hand, and the old man held out both OF
his to Inc.
I'VE have been parted five years. I" said
Gideon. I'm that time l nave beer
searching for something that / believes
must be hidden in the wide world |
have found it,"
Gideon, tell me" | cried.
Gould any earthly thing but one EN-
holden me to speak as ! have spoken tc