Audubon Republican. [volume] (Audubon, Iowa) 1894-1925, 1894-05-17
MISS ENJD'S PRESENT.

as if she saw there some very lovely
picture of the past.
Pretty Miss Enid" they sometimes
called her in the parish and the adj
jective wao well applied, so sweet was
her smile and so tender and gentle
were the soft tones of her voice. And
she vss not really old, nothing like
the co. territorial old maid IF story
book fame.
She was simply "Miss Enid'-no
lorger very young. but with past that
had brought to her gladness and then
sorrow, and had taught her lifelong
lesson of the tendereSt pureSt Sympa-
thy in and with the smiles and tears
of others.
No one came to Miss enid for help
and went away comfortlcss; no one
ever told her some heartfelt story of
grief and WEAKNESS, and did not receive
sweet consolation in return. Miss
Ends great heart was ever open,
ever ready to condole with the be-
rcaved, to smile hopefully upon the
young and the ardent toiler, to bring
message of patience to the sick and
the Borrowing fact, to finish to each
and every one as they needed her sweet
helpfulGess. And yet-AIisS Enid had
known sorrow, the greatest and the
deepest sorrow that can come into a
woman's heart and blot out for ever
more the sunshine from the pathway,
And she was thinking of the past to-
night, this Christmas time, when every
one was happy in the society of their
dear Ones and when love and joy were
the theme of every hymn and anthem
that was sung in the great church
yCpder, the church she had so recently
left. She had been twining beautiful
wreaths for pillar and pulpit-wreaths
of holly and ivy and box, and the
vicarage children had helped her. prick
ing their small fingers with the sharp
holly leaves, and tying her string into
innumerable tangled knots. Yet she
loved them so much, the darlingS, that
she was only too happy to have them
near her, to hear their little bright
voices, to see their rosy faces. and to
feel the soft touch of their soft hands
as they hung about her trying so hard
to help dear Miss Enid"
1--WE love you so much, you know"
grey-eyed Angela had said" that we
want to do all we can, and it isn't very
much. but we does our best"
And Bobby had broken in with an
account of the Christmas card that he
meant to send Miss Enid-a very gor-
EeCus production from the villa 90 shop,
in the purchase of which and similar
treasures the children's morning had
been happily spent. And Miss Enid
thanked him before and. stopping down
TO kiss the bonny little face. and assr-
ing him that she would like it vcty
much and would keep it always in
memory of him.
That's right" the little boy said,
heartily. Ills quite the proper thing
to say, isn't it, Marjoric!'
And Marjorie and Angela nodded IS
sent as the nurse came to cary them
off hCme to the vicarlge tea.
Miss Enid had declined their enthu-
siastic invitation to accompany them
some thing had sent hec thoughts back
to the past with sudden rush # mem
DRY, and the scene around seemed
strangely dreamlike and unreal. She
fastened up the long ends Of her
wreath and put on her cloak. and then,
before her fight was noticed, she Slip
ped away out into the darkness and
the Stiffness of the winters evening.
She wanted to be alone, to think-she
had not had much time to think lately,
there was always so much to do; and
then, she had been glad of it before,
for the memories of Christmas time
were generally sad ones. But now she
longed for quietude, for the sympathy
of her own thoughts and of the dreams
of that bittersweet past, the past that
had so strangely affected all her life.
And once in her cosy oak Darlor, in
her own chair by the bright tiraside,
che In .plnSn1
and gave herself up, for Il brief time
at any rate. to the memory of the
past.
1t was not very eventful past, after
all, that the children's talk of Christ
mas had brought back 10 her
She was young then, that was ALL
and life was rose tinted with health
and happiness and-shOuld she confess
it, even to herself ?-lOve. Yes, she be-
heyed that love had come to her. as
it comes once, and only once il life
time, to every one. And yet no voice
mad ever whispered to her that true
heart was hers for always-nO lips had
ever pressed her own in the glad
rapture of Il lovers kiss-no sweet,
strong arms had embodied her and held
her captive-ah, me, no. And yet, and
yet! There were half-spOllen words inn
printed in her memory; there were ten
der glances and wonderfully bright
smiles, such as love, and love only,
could awaken; there was Il face--a
beautiful. brave face that dwelt safely
shrined forever in the depths of Miss
Enids heart-the face of one who had
surely, surely loved her once, i'll the
long ago!
And she fancied sometimes that he
meant TO tell her so, that the words
had trembled on his lips, the words
that would have changed her life and
his so greatly! She had read part OF
his story in his eyes, clear grave eyes
that were truth and honesty itself, and
yet he had never uttered what his
heart surely knew WELL and she had
never listened to the sweetest words
that the human ear can hear.
For the old, old reason. He was poor
and proud, and he wanted, oh, so much,
to win honor and fame for his love;
and he had gone on, meaning to tell
her, perhaps if opportunity offered be-
fore the end. And suddenly their part
ing had come. and she had known that
ave must 60 away from her. He had
told her SO himself, walking home from