The Neihart herald. [volume] (Neihart, Mont.) 1890-1901, 1893-01-21
BY THE FIRELIGHT.

the shifting heaps of fallen leaves shone
CLEANS of color, but the moss had turned
to brown, and in the cold, windy even
ing the lately denuded trees seemed to
shiver.
A woman came out of a pasture with
a pail of milk in her hand. A slight
wisp of a creature, her cotton gown
hung Imply about her thin form. She
covered as the wind struck her and
coughed painfully, yet she fingered. She
was too much a child of nature to ex-
plain how the autumn days made her
feel both forlorn and expectant, and yet
was perhaps the more affected by the
moods of the great mother not attempt
ing to translate them into human needs.
The clatter of hoofs made her turn
slowly. One glance and her heart gave
a leap, sending the warm color to her
cheek. By the time the horseman had
reached her the color was gone.
"Good evening. Does Uncle Billy
Grimes live here?"
"Yes, sir"
"Do you suppose he would be willing
to put me up tonight"
81 reckon. Light an I'll take your
nag"
The gentleman hesitated as if his gal
lantry would not permit him to allow a
woman to put up his horse, but, seeming
to think better of it, thanked her, and
taking his saddlebags, turned toward
the house.
At the door he was met by an old
woman, who, learning his wish, cordi l.
ly made him welcome, Offering him a
seat by the side of the hearth, ON which
a great fire was burning. He tilted back
on the short legged chair with the feel
ing of warmth and well being which
follow a long, cold ride, and Don found
himself gently slipping into the mood
he had been trying all day to cultivate,
This had been his home, and after hall
a lifetime spent away he had returned tc
the land of his childhood only to FIND
the Carolina mountains less grand thar
others he had seen, and the simple life
of the people, which in moments of sen,
timent he had remembered as idyllic
rough, uncouth and cheerless. He was
too far removed from their life for sym
pathy, too close to feel the picturesque
interest and pleasure of a real stranger
These people were more or less nearly
related to him, yet they seemed another
race of beings.
He had left his mountain home a mer,
boy and had gone west, where a new
life opened for him. Something in hi
nature always made him reject wha
was coarse and vulgar, and when he be
came suddenly rich his native gentlenes
and simplicity of manner stood him in
stead of breeding and education, dis
arming criticism, till, with the quicl
perception and initiative faculty whicl
were his birthright, he had largely re
paired the deficiencies of his early train
ing, acquiring much of the manner AM
tone of people of culture. Now he ha'
come back and was Il stranger in hi
own land.
But the bright freight dancing on tn
wall illumined the rough interior of tn
farmhouse kitchen, and he began to fee
less remote, less offended by the mear
ness of his surroundings. Memories c
his childhood rose before him as h
watched the young woman in her PREF
arations for supper. She had mixed II
the corn bread, and now knelt on tn
floor beside the hearth molding it int
loaves and putting them into a large iro
skillet. The freight flashed on the ii
pan. gave a ruddy glow to her thin face
and turned her dull, yellowish hair (
red gold. AS the stranger watched he
something rose in his throat.
Nancy
She turned suddenly.
"Chris!'
II did not know you at first"
Il reckon I've changed she sal
sadly.
mot SO much. 1t was rather darl
1t takes the freight to make you loo
natural. But how came you here"
Uncle Billy married my aunt, a
she wanted somebody ter help her, an
hadn't no home"
Not married."
"No." She picked up her pan and lei
the room.
at cannot be she has waited all thes
years for me-" he thought. ''Of cours
not; such consistency is not to be foun
among women of her sort. How fade,
she is! These mountain folks, particu
larly the women, grow old early. Poe
thing! l suppose she has had to wor
hard, and she never was very strong
Why, she can't be much older than Lo.
Ellison" He shuddered at the COZ
trast. Miss Ellison was his partner
sister. They were the best of Friends
He had proposed to her annually for tn
last five years, and yet they still II
manned friends. She treated him kind
and without coquetry and pleaded
prior attachment. AS the other ma
was dead Chris waited and hoped.
Sometimes he had been tempted I
doubt her reason for refusing him, br
it only gave him pain, and he had a
ways made it a rule never to doubt
lady's word. Circumstances had no
and then obliged him to be false in tn
principle, but he had lived up to it whe
he could. His romantic fancy W.
touched by the constancy of the fai,
cultivated woman Of the world, but
this mountain girl such a sentime1
seemed painfully incongruous. He kne'
too well that the position of an old mai
here was II neither of honor nor prof
Uncle Billy came in and greeted Chr
with warmth, and they sat down to SUI
per.
SGo --o,,,xa ,,,oo bool- tar "a ri