The L'Anse sentinel. (L'Anse, L.S., Mich.) 18??-current, 1893-12-02

! lG, whom nobody could look at with
out thinking of rosebud almost
blossoming. The only other person t
! the treside was Robert Moore, formerly
an apprentice of the blacksmith. but
now mis- iourneymen, and who seemed
more like an own son of John lngle-
field than did the pale and slender
student.
| Only these four had kept New Eng
lands festival beneath that roof The
vacant chair at John Ingletield's right
hand was in memory of his wife,
! whom death had snatched from him
since the previous Thanksgiving.
/ With a feeling that few would have
! looked for in his rough nature the be-
reaved husband had himself set the
chair in its place next his own. and
! often did his eve glance thitherward
as if he deemed il possible that the
cold grave might send back its tenant
to the cheerful freside, at least for
that one evening. Thus did he cherish
the grief that was dear to him But
there was another grief which he
would fain have torn from his heart;
or, since that could never be, have
buried it too deep for others to behold
or for his own remembrance. Within
y
household had gone from him. but not
to the grave. Yet they kept no va ant
chair for her.
While John Inglefield and his family
were sitting around the hearth, with
the shadows dancing behind them on
the wall, the outer door was opened
and light footstep came along the
passage. The latch of The inner door
was lifted by some familiar hand, and
a young girl came in, wearing cloak
and hood, which she took off and laid
on the table beneath the looking
glass. Then after gazing a moment
at the tireside circle, she approached
aud took the seat at John Ingletield's
right hand, as fit had been reserved
on purpose Tor her.
Here | am at last, father" said
she. You ate your Thanksgiving
dinner without me, but i have come
back to spend the evening with YOU"
Yes, it was Prudence lnglefeld. She
wore the same neat aud maidenly at
tire which she had been accustomed to
put on when the household work was
over for the day. and her hair was
parted from her brow in the simple
and modest fashion that became her
best of all. II her cheek might other
the fire sutfused it with healthful
bloom. If she had spent the many
months of her absence In guilt and
infamy, yet they seemed to have left
no traces on her gentle aspect. she
could not have looked less altered had
she merely stepped away from her
fathers tireside for half an hour and
returned while the blaze was culver
ing upward from the same brands
that were burning at her departure
And to John Inglefeld she was the
very image of his buried wife, such as
he remembered her on the first
Thanksgiving which they had passed
under their own roof. Therefore.
though naturally a stern and rugged
man, he could not speak unkindly TO
his sinful child, nor yet could he take
her TO his bosom.
You are welcome home Prudence"
said he, glancing sideways at her, and
his voice faltered. Your mother
would have reioiccd 20 see you, but
she has been gone from us these four
months
III know IL, father, know it." re-
piled Prudence, quickly. And yet,
when l first came in, my eyes were so
daaed by the freight that she seemed
TO be sitting in this very chair"
By this time the other members of
the family had begun to recover from
their surprise and became sensible
that il was no ghost from the grave
nor vision os their vivid recollections,
hut Prudence her own self Her
brother was the next that greeted