Shenandoah herald. [volume] (Woodstock, Va.) 1865-1974, 1892-03-25

DEAR Mr.. STANFoRD-Your letter ha
surprised me very much. | scarcely know
what to say, except that am most gratetu
TO you. II is so good of you t. love me a
YOU say YOU do. and love has always seemet
such beautiful thing to me, though ! neve
thought that it was likely to come to eithel
my sister or me. But l am very, very glat
TO have had your letter, and shall always b.
so, even if you change your mind, for, IN
deed. / am not worthy of all the good thing
You say of me. Still, whatever happens,
Shall always feel happy to know that yol
once thought as you have written. And
beg you will think the matter over well
Though it seems impertinent Of me to advis'
you, yet think only of your good. And
am always your faithful friend.
RUTH BLAKE.
She reads the letter over several times
and then shakes her head.
"How poorly l have said It'll" she
thinks. "But he is 50 kind; he will un-
derstand that mean well. -
The curate, when he receives the gen
tie, humble epistle, is filled with dismay
He PAGES wildly up and down his small
sitting room.
"Somebody has played a cruel, heart
less trick upon that poor little woman,
and have to face her and tel! her 50.
would rather he shot"
He drinks his sealding tea in great
gulps, and is glad of the pain it causes
him.
"But what am to do? Go and tell a
woman-a kind, gentle, little lady
coarsely 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 s)i
Oh, cruel aud cowardly! How can
strike gentlewoman, or indeed any
woman, such a blow as thatl'
He rests his head upon his hands and
groans.
After a while he reads the letter over
again slowly. He reaGs between the
lines and seems to see soul laid bare
before him, and he realizes how much
that means to her. What new food ot
light has been poured suddenly upon
that sad, unseltish litel
Aud there is no help for either of
them. lie must do itl 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 bent down, see
ing nothing, hearing nothing until he is
close to the little green gate; then a
child's clear, high voice reaches his ear
"My gannie made it," she says.
"Ain't it pittyl'
"Its beautiful doll" a gentle voice
answers. 'Is it good babyl'
"Welly dood," the child says, tucking
the rag doll under one chubby arm,
"Dive me wose, please"
Miss Ruth plucks one of the few re-
naming June roses, one of the prettiest,
and puts it into the little outstretche1
hand.
As she turns to look after the child
Miss Ruth sees him and pauses shyly.
Something has to be said, so he come;
forward.
"What lovely eveningI" he exclaims,
though he scarcely knows whether il
rains or whether the sun shines.
eyes" she answers. "Won't you
were you-will you come in2'
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
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 before him.
There is her work lying folded togeth-
er. What tiny thimble He glauces
down at her small bare hands. She has
taken of her ugly gloves. What blt
of woman for a strong man to fight
What a gentle life to be marred and
shattered by bitter shamel
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 th'
light shines full upon hers.
81 did not show NY sister your letter, "
she begins hesitatingly. IL thought
had better wait-that perhaps yor
would change your mind, think differ
emily about it all, and then it would bc
best that only we two should know"
She does not say a word abou
changing her own mind. She stand;
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, stead
fast eyes, and bids him take or leave heT
as pleases him best. Aud his courage
to hurt, wound, perhaps kill her, fails
him. In moment his resolution il
taken. He strides hastily forward.
Ruth, do you love mel" he asks
holding out his hands. And the calu
of her face breaks up as she sinks into
his arms.
"Ob, so much-so muchW she almost
sobs. "But / am not worthy Of you
You should marry some ono ever, eve
so much better aud younger and prettieT
than I. Do you know" hiding he
ashamed face and confessing it as sh'
would have confessed sin, 81 an
thirty-three."
"And am thirty-four," he answers
"Dreadfrl isn't iti'
When Miss Jocelyn hears the news ,sh'
goes away suddenly on wilt to som
friends.
Three years have passed. ind Laur'
Jocelyn is older, sadder, wiaAr. Sh'
has loved and suffered, and learned t.
sympath;ze with others. Bet she ha
never seen Mr.. Stanford or his old mait
wife again.
When she returned home the marriage