New-York tribune. [volume] (New York [N.Y.]) 1866-1924, 1891-11-15

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away again.
The face Of his mistress suddenly settled down
INTO Its eager seriousness. and she went on faster
than ever. She was afraid she would meet some
one who would recognize her. She told her
sell that she could not bear to speak to q
ncighbor until she had seen her mother
No one was expecting her. She had written
that, In the sprng. she should come home. All
at once she had felt it TO be impossible TO wait
till spring How had she ever thought she could
wait? The longing to which one must yield
came upon her, anG here she was.
She would not see her father. She would
never see him again. this side of heaven He had
died SIX months before. She had received a letter
fortnight later from her mother. She had
carried the letter with her ever since
MI. futile had come in from planting some late
turnips The exact words of the epistle came 70
the daughter now, as she walked.
your father had been real we'll all the
spring. and you know he usually has turn with
his humOr before Aprils out At breakfast he'd
been talking about YOU, Roweny. | guess yon
don't know how much we talk about you and
how we read over the notices in the papers about
your pictures He come in and he set down in
his chair. You know where his chair stands He
said while he rested. he guessed he'd look over
your last letter again. / got it out of the ittle
bureau drawer in the bedroom where we keep
all your letters. lie unfolded it. All to once he
gave Kind of groan. and he said. L feel faint ,
His head fell back. That was all. Dear Roweny,
don't grieve more than you can't hep. I'm doing
s wells L can. want you to be happy. I feel
more'n ever / did that I'd ought to fight against
thinkin' too much of you The other children are
real comfort. Don't alter no plans on account
Your fo{ Insx
Now. as Rowena drew near that hill up which
she had gone in the boat-cart with Mr. Reuben
Little, on her way to Boston, she was repeating
these words in her mind.
AT the bottom of the hill was the house where
the Warmers lived. She could not see them now
They would he sure to see her. for no person
ever passed along the highway unnoticed by Mrs.
Warner. More than that. she usually managed.
before many hours. TO find out where that person
came from and where he going
On the top of the hill Rowena paused. What
with her rapid climb and the memories that came
upon her she could hardly breathe. She looked
down upon the roof Of her old home. She saw
some one go to the wood pile.
She turned and climbed fence and skirtcd
hurriedly through field thickly grown with
huckleberry and sweet fern.
There was no at the wood-pile when she
reached the yard The children would be at
school.
She went up to the back door. She choaked
Historically when she saw that worn, familiar
doorstep. But she quite calm when she
entered the kitchen.
No was there
She went to the bedroom door Standing by
the bureau where a drawer was pulled out WAS
spare, 2ray-haired woman in a calico gown.
had 1ntfa in hon hand
saw her own handwriting on the pages
For an instant the daughter dared not move
or speak. But the terrier, who had delayed out
side on account of cat, had no such feeling.
sIe walked into the bedroom to the woman
whose back was toward them.
He snuffed at her skirts. She turned suddenly.
How old, how worn she looked to the younger
woman in the doorway But what an ineffabe
light all at once came to the thin face.
Mrs. futile clasped the letter she held close
to her bosom. What can a reticent, self-con-
trolled New-England woman do with a quick
coming overwhelming emotion? She must not
yield to it and she cannot conquer it.
Mrs. Tutte's eyes grew wild. For the first
instant she believed she gazing at her
daughters wrath.
Then she put out her hands with a piteous
gesture. The letter dropped to the floor
Rowena took her mother in her arms. She
put her on the bed. for the elder woman seemed
to have strength. She lay down beside her.
She held her tight, weeping silently the while.
But the mother did not weep. She lay looking
steadfastly in her daughters face. She put ont
her hand and stroked that face. Finally she
said softly, Don't cry. Don't cry" When
all at once, with terrible ferceness, she cried
out in the old Scripture way
"Oh, l have hungered for thee! l have
thirsted for thee"
She fell to weeping violently She had not
wept so since her husbands death. 1t had been
thought by some of the neighbors that Mis-
futile took her loss real easy" 1t had even
been limited that she took it disgracefully easy.
widow ought to take on in some degree, and
Mrs. Tuttle had not taken at all. She had
been too calm in the general estimation.
Rowena's tears ceased completely. She could
think of nothing but trying to comfort her mother.
Still she could do nothing.
1t was long time before Mrs. futile was
quiet. When she could speak steadily she said
she was ashamed TO give way So" She sup
posed it was the suddenncss of Roweny's coming.
Il was tryin' to wait till spring for you," she
said.
She got UP from the bed. She afraid the
fire was out, and Roweny must have some tea
How did she come from Middle Village?
Il walked
Rowena sat down in her fathers chair Tears
ran now unheeded down her face. Through them
she saw her mother at work again in the old
kitchen.
Mercy sake. Why didn't you git the dcepo
man to bring you?"
Mrs futile was glad to talk of anything ex-
cept Of what she felt deeply. She took up
Marmaduke and Rugged him. She said " he hadn't
changed a grain She let him give one of his
swift caresses. She kept putting kindngs in the
stove. The fire roarcd up through the funnel
into the chimney
As soon as she could command her voice. Rowcny