The Somerset herald. [volume] (Somerset, Pa.) 1870-1936, 1892-03-30

and then shakes her head.
How poorly have said it :" she
thinks " Bat he is 50 kind he viii un-
derstand that 1 mean we'll"
The curate, when be receives the gen
tie, humble epistle, IS filed with dismay
He PAGES wildly up and down his small
sitting-room.
Somebody has played cruel, heart
less trick upon that poor little woman,
and have to face her and tell her so. I'd
rather be shot !"
He drinks his scalding tea in great
gulps, and is glad Of the pain It causes
him.
But what am l to do Go and tell
woman. kind, gentle little lady-eoarse-
ly and brutally to her face, that she has
been played with and insulted that l
never dreamed Of loving her that il IS
impossible for me to do so ? Oh, cruel
and eovardly How cat strike gentle
woman, or indeed any woman, such a
blow as that?'
He rests his head upon his hands and
groans.
After awhile he reads the letter over
again, slowly. he reads between the
lines, and seems 10 see 2 soul laid bare
before him. She loves him, and he real
izes how much that means 10 her. What
a new food of light has been poured
out suddenly upon that sad, unselfsh
life?
And there is no help for either of
them. Hemust do it Well, then. let it
be done at once.
Mechanically he takes his hat down
from its peg and goes out into the street,
walking with his head Bowed down, see
ing nothing, hearing nothing, until he is
close to the little green gate and then
childs clear, high voice reaches his
ear.
Ny g'annie made it, she says; @ain't
it pitty?~
"Its beautiful doll" a gentle voice
answers. Is it good baby ?"
"Welly dood," the child says, tueking
the rag doll under one chubby arm
Dive me a wose, please"
Miss Ruth plucks one Of the few re-
manning June roses, one of the pretti-
est, and puts II into the little, outstreteh-
ed hand.
As she turns to look after the child
Miss Ruth sees him. and pauses shyly.
Something has to Be said, 50 he comes
forward.
"Whats lovely evening" he exclaims,
though be scarcely knows whether il
rains, or whether the sun shines.
YES" she answers. Won't you
were you-won't you come in?'
He follows her into the house, with an
intense longing for something, however
dreadful, to happen TO him, and save
him from what is to follow,
Ruth takes him into the dining room
He feels vaguely that his task is becom-
ing more difficult. In the bare, chill lit
tie drawing room he could have said his
say better But she brought him straight
into the sanctuary of her home, and
again he feels oddly that her life lies
open before him.
There is her werk lying folded togeth-
er. What a tiny thimble He glarces
down at her small, bare hands She has
taken off her ugly gloves What bit Of
a woman for strong man to ightl
What gentle life to be marred and shat
tered by bitter shame
Still Mr. Stanford does not speak, but
stands there before he-, looking very
pale. His back is to the window, and
she cannot see his face well, bat thelight
shines full upon hers.
- did not show ny sister your letter,
she begins, hesitatingly. l thought l
had better wait-that perhaps you would
change your mind, think differently
about it all, and then it would be best
that only We two should know"
She does not say a word about chang
ing her own mind. She stands there be-
fore him, sweet, fai- woman, in spite Of
her old-fashioned gown and her oddly
arranged hair.
She locks at him with smiling, stead
fast eyes, and bids him take or leave her
as pleases him best. And his courage tc
hurt, wound, perhaps kill her, fails him
In moment his resolution is taken. He
strides hastily forward.
Ruth, do you love me? ?" he asks
holding out his hands. And the calm o.
her face breaks up as she sinks into hi:
arms.
oh, so mucb-so much :" she almost
sobs. But I am not worthy of you
You should marry some one ever, eyel
so much better and younger and prettier
than l. Do you know, hiding her asham-
ed face and oonfessing it as she would
have confessed = sin, 4" l arr SS?'
And l am 3, be answers. Dread
ful, isn't it ?"
When Miss Jocelyn hears the news
she goes away suddenly on a visit Il
some friends.
Three years have passed, and Laurs
Jocelyn Is older, sadder, wiser. She hai
loved and suffered, and learned to sym
pathize with others Bat she has nevel
seen Mr.. Stanford or his old maid VIII,
again.
When she returned home the marriags
was over, and they were gone to his new
living.
This Was the worst thing ever cid,
she says, sadly, to herself q viii g
and confess, and tell him how sorry
am What horrible thing to have n
ined Two lives"
J SO she goes on her penitent errand L
the small town forty miles away. On
! getting ont ofthe train she asks the vay
to the vicarage, and walks there slowly
! child's laugh sssEtles Der from be