The Irish standard. [volume] (Minneapolis, Minn. ;) 1886-1920, 1892-09-24

6HeCG Oh u6TaLIldt LOT uOuIS hlbGIWdIA
she shook like ore with a Chill. Hers
was a sad death, her life going out in
darkness and deep regrets, with no fond
memories to cheer her.
It was several days before could APP
proach my sister, she was SO cold and
reticent. | learned from my father
that her married life had not been hap
py, and that after ten years Of strife
she and Hanley had separated, he going
west to the mountains and she coming
back to her parents. The separation
was not final, my father hoped, but
there was no telling how long it might
last, since Hanley had become extreme
ly uncertain in his habits and it was
evident that he had no love for his
wife
learned that Mary was cross and ez.
acting with her husband. and that after
five or six years Of married life he had
taken to drinking steadily, running
through with all his property, and
at last leaving her in ct Of disgust.
So long as my father had money Mary
had called on him for help, and he had
given 50 freely that in time he seriously
embarrassed himself, and was, as a last
resort, forced to place his home under
mortgage.
yearned to comfort my sister, but, re-
Numbering what she had said about
never wanting my love or sympathy,
was chary of approaching her. But at
last had an opportunity to speak. and
disregarding what the result might be,
! awaited myself Of it, and opened my
heart to her as a, sister should, speaking
to her tenderly, soothingly and sy1npa.
thetically, but not as one havinga right
to advise. I avoided all semblance o1
condescension or superior virtue, and
talked as one enring creature might talk
to another.
After awhile my words had effect
with her, and the flush Of resentment
that first marked her face faded out,
and tears followed. At last she became
so far reconciled that she leaned her
head on my shoulder and allowed me TO
place my arm about her.
Agnes she said, when we had
talked long time, II don't deserve
SECA hlllSlIESS llCi1 yoli. oehA~I oAANS3
you remember, that never would
want your love on sympathy l was
wicked and silly then, and little knew
what was before us.
<@We all do and say things replied,
stthat we are sorry for afterwards; out
we should learn to forget them"
ssYou can afford to be generous and
forgiving, Agnes she answered, 'be-
cause you are good. It is not so with
me. j have been selfish and mean,
and when WIS prosperous I disdained
you. You ought to despise me and re-
ioice to- see me brought down to what
ann
81 world do myself no credit and add
nothing to my OWL happiness, Mary, II
exulted over you now. I was poor
once and friendless, and know what it
is to be so; snd for that reason can
synapa thize. Let the past be buried,
Mary, and let us begin q new life as far
as our relations are concerned. II eth
er of us has done or said aught THAT was
wrong and injured the other, let it be
forgiven and forgotten.
IT would to Heaven, Agnes, that 1t
could be SO, but fear it cannot You
do not recall all have said to you, how
nisjudged you and i1npeached your
virtue. That, Agnes, was the cruelest
thing of all, because knew it was not
true"
had not till that moment recalled
what she had said Of my virtue, and the
remembrance of her words. for an in
slant checked my love and sent a pang
of resentment to nay breast. But let
it pass directly, aud looking down into
her eyes said:
: '"That WAS the cruelest wrong you
ever did me, Mary, but forgive it.
Let it go with the rest Of the past and
be forgotten. You regret it now,
know
81 do, do. regret it sincerely, and
would give half my life to be able to
recall it,
Mary felt better after our conference,
and appeared much happier: She need
ed sympathy and love, for she had long
been denied them. I promised that
Charles and 7 would do everything we
could to reclaim Hanley and bring him
back to her, a promise we kept with
such good result that i'll time he returned.
He and Mary settled down in a
small town where Charles secured a po-
sition for Will, and, though cannot say
they are happy, they are better con-
tented and more prosperous than they
had been before.
Soon after my step1aother's death
ray father was compeSled TO give
ND his home, the last of all his poses
sions. He was adrift in the world, just
as had been years before when was
driven from the same sheltering roof,
but there was difference, for while no
heart beat in sympathy for me, one
heart beat in sympathy for him. l
opened my door and took him in; Civ
ing him daughters love, and making
the few years remaining to him as
pleasant and comforting as l could.
Charles seconded my efforts, exerting
himself to his utmost to cheer my aged
father and bring to him what he could
of the feeling Of rest and welcome.
And now there is one more whom !
must not forget-one who loved me IN
~ o%h