The Providence news. (Providence [R.I.]) 1891-1906, 1892-03-03
Furnished rooms supplied with Lodgers
by IO-cent advertisement In the "News."
JOHN LEAR'S SECRET.

throwing It's pure beauty even over the
dirty, grimy streets, sooty high chimneys
and ugly square factories of the Northern
manufacturing town.
But the poor soul who came shivering
| from the hospital steps into the compare
lively quiet white street did not see this
unusual beauty. Ho was thinly clad and
the piercing north wind cut through him.
He had been discharged as cured
word which seemed ghastly moclzery if
you looked at the white, drawn face and
heard the cAing cough which shook his
enteebled frame. But what can be done
in su~, cases? Others were waiting 20
take his place, and ne was well enough
the doctor said TO leave.
He told them in the hospital that he
was going back " to tn ould place." men
tioning a village some miles distant and
which he had not seen for many years;
for when taken i'll in London he had been
drawn as by magnet northward, and
with sick mans longing thought he
would get well il only he could breathe
again his fresh air and see the home un-
visited so long.
No one knew his story, saving that he
had been brought in by friendly police
man, who found him when on his beat
| lying desperately III in the shelter OF
doorway. He had no friends that he
could find, he said, so they admitted him.
1t was the oft-told tale. John Lear was
a country lad who left home to find work
and had left, too, behind him a girl to
whom he was to return when he had made
| home Tor her. That home had never
been made, nor had he had any fate but
hard times.
Gradually he drifted lower and lower,
still, however, honestly struggling for
work. He had said, when leaving Mary
Romer, that he would not come back till
he had home for her, and she had
waited, wearying through long years for
news, while she, too worked for her
bread and kept her fathers house till the
report came that John Lear was dead
Dead, indeed, he was too her, for no
word came from him-to him, too, ii had
ended-in illness from want, and then
the hospital. Now he was discharged,
with the longing for home strong in him.
He would make his way home; perhaps
the squire or some farmer would give
him work; he would not trouble Mary
Romer, but he must see the old place.
This last desire oyerpowered all others.
1t was weary tramp, always through
the binding snow, to his destination.
Hard enough for a whole man in such
weather, but well-nigh impossible to him
in his weakness. But he was true north
country in pluck and doggedness. HIS
poor, thin clothes clung to him, though
the heavy drops gathered often on his
forehead and his worn boots got clogged
with snow, but he trudged on patiently,
asking no help, pausing only when his
cough caught him with sharp pain and be
had to stand still TO ease his painting
breath.
He had little money which had been
given him by the kindly doctors to help
him, for his honest, simple courage had
won on them; but it was his fixed idea
that this must be kept to pay for food
and lodging when he reached the village,
so that he might not disgrace his name
by returning beggar
Resting perforcc at intervals, spending
as little as possible on food just TO help
him on, he walked through the day.
Nightfall came. Still the snow swirled
down, making drifts by the hedges and
stinging his face rs It edited round MIN
in the wind. The smoky town was far
behind; he was among his own wolds
now, and in spite OF the levelling, obliter-
.ating effects of the snow his eager eyes
traced well-known landmarks in the dim
light.
at is but sma' bit now" he muttered;
az nun see T. old place though they are
all gone most like" A cottage or two by
the road and twinkling lights further on
showed he was nearing the village. alt
is her house, but | couldna go there" ne
went on, as he passed a small cottage.
"pl knock at the farm. No one will
know me-" he added, ecornfully, ga poor
clemmed body, but tits & ould place sure"
a little further on he came to n larger,
more substantial house, which was the
farm. Entering the gate and going up
the tagging path, he Knocked al the door.
A bright, buxom- looking woman opened
il. She did not recognize him, but he
knew her at a glance as Mary Romer his
old love. A little girl clung to her skirt
and peeped around at the strange man.
lie started and stared at her. 1t ali
flashed across him. She had married
Farmer Brownie remembered now he
was an old admirer So IL was; having
heard he was dead in London, that far
bourne from which so few travellers re-
turned, she had accepted her well-to-do
and constant suitor, persuaded to this by
friends, who urged "what use 20 wait for
a man who, IL not dead, had never vouch-
safcd her one word Of news?'
lie asked hurricdly: could he have
warm by tho fire?"
g. l1h, poor soul, COON in" she said
holding the door wide open, "coom i'm
and warm; 'tis cruel, bitter night"
without a word he followed her into
the bright, warm room.
You've Travelled far and look wasty
Ike" she said.
Yes, ann from the hospital" he an
swered, and sank down YEARLY. cough
ing lie was too dazed by the light and
heat and shock of seeing her 20 speak for
some little time. She, seeing this, busted
herself in getting something for him.
Mechanically he took it from her.
As he grew better his eyes followed her
ever, movement snd he replied vaguely TO