Walker Lake bulletin. (Hawthorne, Nev.) 1883-1926, 1893-12-27


.uow noorly have said itv' she THINKS.
en- no ;s co kind: he will understand that
mean well" ,ho .ra,t,e
The curate. when he receives the gentle
bnn,hle enistle. is filled with dismay. he
PAGES wildly up and down his small S''''ns
room. ,,,..lasa
somebody has played cruel hear.ies9
trick upon that poor little "oihah' anu
have to face her and tell her so. l "ouiu
rather be shot! ,,,s
He drinks his scalding tea in great guips'
and is glad of the pain it causes MIN.
"But what am | to dog 10 ana Tell
roman-a kind, gentle, little lady coarse
" and brutally to her face that she mas
been played with and insulted; that l never
dreamed of loving her; that it Is Impossible
for me to do so? Oh, cruel and cowardly!
How can | strike a gentlewoman, or, IN
deed. any woman, such blow as tnabf
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 a soul laid bare before
him. She loves him, and he realizes how
mucb that means to her. What new
food of light has been poured suddenly
upon that sad, unselfish life?
And there is no help for either of them.
He must do its Well, then, let it be done
at once.
Mechanically he takes his hat down
from it's 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?"
ats beautiful doll" gentle voice an
swers. SIS it good babys"
"Welly dood," the child says, tucking
the rag doll under one chubby arm. olive
me wose, peasep
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,
though he scarcely knows whether it rains
or whether the sun shines.
YES" she answers. Wont you-were
you-will you come imp"
intense longing for something, however
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 before
him.
There is her work lying folded together.
What tiny thimble! He glances down
at her small bare hands; she has taken off
her ugly gloves. What bit of woman
for strong man to fightl What 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.
II did not show sister your letter." she
begins hesitatingly. II thought 1 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 a
moment his resolution is taken. He strides
hastily forward.
Ruth, do you love me2" he asks, hold
ing out his hands, And the calm of her
face breaks as she sinks into his arms.
"Oh, so much-so muchl" she almost
sobs But am not worthy of you. You
should marry some one ever, ever SO much
better and younger and prettier than l.
Do you know" hiding her shamed face
and confessing it as she would have con.
fessed sin, 81 am thirty-three?"
"And l am thirty four" he answers
Dreadful, isn't it9"
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. 81 will go and
confess, and tell him how sorry l am.
What horrible thing to have ruined two
livesr'
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
vicarage and walks there slowly.
A child's laugh startles her from her hit
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, 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.
wavy hair knotted close to her head and
her eyes shining with happinesss
With gasp Miss Jocelyn recognizes
her. That is-no!-that was Ruth BIake
"Now let him come to me-" the little