Weekly expositor. (Brockway Centre, Mich.) 1882-1894, 1893-12-01

16, whom nobody could look at with
out thinking of a rosebud almost
blossoming. The only other person at
the fireside was Robert Moore, formerly
an apprentice Of the blacksmith, but
now his 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 Inglefield's right
hand was in memory OF his wife,
whom death had snatched from him
since the previous Thanksgiving.
With feeling that few would h We
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 thi herward
as if he deemed it 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. B t
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
the past year another member OF his
househo had gone from him, but not
to the grave. Yet they kept no vacant
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 IF he inner do +
I,fta1 H., 60 4
a young girl came in, wearing a cloak
and hood, VIII CHI she took off and laid
on the table beneath the looking
glass. Then after gazing a moment
at the fireside circle, she approached
and too the seat at John Inglefields
right hand, as f it had been reserved
on purpose for her.
Here l am at last, father" said
she. "You ate your Thanksgiving
dinner without me, but / have come
back TO spend the evening with you. :"
es, it was Prudence lnglefield. She
wore the same neat and maidenly at
tire which SIZE 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. If her cheek might other
wise have been pale, yet the glow of
the fire sutfused it with a 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 looh ed less altered had
she merely stepped away from her
father fireside for half an hour and
returned While the bl re was quiver-
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 remem bered 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 10 his bosom.
You are welcome home, Prudence"
said he, glanciBg sideways at her, and
his voice faltered. "Your mother
would have reioiced 20 see you, but
she has been gone from us these four
months
"l know it. father, know it," re-
piled Prudence, quickly. 'And yet,
when | FIRST came in, my eyes were so
dazed 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 aud became sensible
that 1t was no ghost from the grave
nor vision OF their vivid recollections,
but Prudence her own self. Her
brother was ihe next that greeted