The Wichita daily eagle. [volume] (Wichita, Kan.) 1890-1906, 1892-04-19

gOludA- ID h1Llt1, eScIAtic, 1iblle TAU
| ly and brutally to her face that she has
been played with and insulted; that never
dreamed of loving her, that it is impossible
for me to do so? Oh, cruel and cowardlyi
How can | strike gentlewoman, or, in
deed, 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 TO see soul laid bare before
him. She loves him, and he realizes how
much that means to her What new
flood of light has been poured suddenly
upon that sad, unselfish life?
And there is no help for either of them.
| He must do it? Well, then, let it be done
! at once
| Mechanically ne takes his hat down
| from its peg and goes out into the street,
walking with his head bent down, seeing
| nothing, hearing nothing until he is close
! to the little green gate; then child's clear,
high voice reaches his ear.
MY grannie made it" she says. "Ain't
it pitty"
Its beautiful doll" a gentle voice an
swers. rs it good baby."
"Welly dood, the child says, tucking
the rag doll under one chubby arm. olive
me wose, pleased"
Miss Ruth plucks one of the few remain
ing June roses, one Of the prettiest, and
puts it into the little outstretched hand.
As she turns to look after the child Miss
Ruth sees Mr. Stanford and pauses shyly.
Something has to be said, so he comes for
ward
What lovely EVENING" he exclaims,
orb he bntb ms
or whether the sun shines.
yes" she answers. Won't you-were
you-will you come ins"
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 becoming
more difficult. In the bare, chill little
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 befors
him.
There is her work lying folded together
What a tiny thimble! He glahces down
at her small bare hands; she has taken of
her ugly gloves. What bit of woman
for strong man to fighti What a gentle
life to be marred and shattered by bitter
shame!
Still Mr.. Stanford does not speak, but
stands there before her, looking very pale
His back is to the window, and she cannot
see his face well, but the light shines full
upon hers.
Il did not show sister your letter." she
begins hesitatingly. II thought I 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 word about changing
her own mind. She stands there before
him, a sweet, fair woman in spite of her
old fashioned gown and her oddly arranged
hair
She looks at him with smiling steadfaSt
eyes, and bids him take or leave her as
pleases him best. And his courage to hurt,
wound, perhaps kill her, fails him. In
moment his resolution is taken He strides
hastily forward.
Ruth, do you love me?'' he asks. hold
ing out his hands. And the calm of her
face breaks as she sinks into his arms
''Oh, so much-so muchP' she almost
sobs. But | am not worthy of you. You
should marry some one ever, ever so much
better and younger and prettier than /.
Do you know" hiding her shamed face
and cOnfesSing it as she would have con-
fessed a SIN, Il am thirty-three?"
And l am thirty-four," he answers.
Dreadful, isn't it,"
When Miss Jocelyn hears the news she
goes away suddenly on visit to some
friends.
Three years have passed and Laura Joce- |
Ign is older, sadder, wiser. She has loved
and suffered and learned to sympathize
with others. But she has never seen Mr.. |
Stanford or his old maid wife again.
When she returned home the marriage |
was over and they were gone to his new
living.
This was the worst thing ever did,"
she says sadly to herself II will go and |
confess, and tell him how sorry am.
What horrible thing to have ruined two |
hvesl'
So she goes on her penitent errand to the |
small town forty miles away. On getting !
out of the train she asks the way to the |
yicarage and walks there slowly.
A cLild's laugh startles her from her Bit !
ter musings, and she looks up and across
the sweetbriar hedge that is in bloom at
her side, for it is July again.
She sees but dimly an old fashioned gar
den, a quaint rambling house, for that is
Mr.. Stanford himself standing so close to /
her that she could almost touch him.
And who is that lady, that pretty little |
woman in the dainty gray gown, her fair, I
wavy hair knotted close to her head and |
her eyes shining with happiness'
With a gasp, Miss Jocelyn recognizes |
her. That is-no-that was Ruth Blake.
Now let him come to me" the little /
woman cries gayly. Harry, you are spoil /
ing the child. Let him come to his moth
err"
Ruth stoops down and holds out her
arms, and tiny figure in white rushes /
wildly a little distance toward her, and .
then totters unsteadily and finally sits /
down plump upon the grass, the perform
ance being hailed with shout of laughter
from the father, echoed more softly by
Ruth
Under cover of their mirth, Miss Jocelyn.
steals away. She has received forgiveness
unasked, and she has the sense to see that
to apologize to either of these two happy,
blessed people would be an impertinence.-
Boston Globe
Scientific and Classical Education.
II H. H. II /