The Bessemer indicator., 1894-05-26

read 1t myselfr' "a
It's from Or. Huntr' gasped poor
Adeline. written twenty odd years
ago, and asking me TO BE- his wife.
And Grandaunt Miriam had hidden II
away, and 1 never knew anything Of
It Oh. Aurorai oh. Aurora, what
must he have thought?" .-1e : -
burst into tenrs-the tears which N
middle age are so fearfully unbecon
ing!
Aurora. ="
"what would you do. Auronr fall
tered Adellne. Would you 90 to him
would you"
II don't know what I would DO"
years ago IL twenty year, agoW
But he wrote this letter to me,
and never got IT! And he has rsat
to an answer!' ,-A
Eyes, I s'pose he has"
tAdeline thought 1t over all day. yhsrs
was no more work for her. She sat At
tho window, with the timeyellowed
letter in her lap, staring out at the
nutumn leaves as they hoated down
through the misty air outside, thinking
thinking! Aurora glanced at her
sometimes. but she did not speak She
herself, hard fnvored masculine
woman. had never had lover; she
could not help feeling seortt revor-
ence for the sister who had attained
this crown of womanhood.
At sunset Adellne rear1anged her
hair, bathed her face and tied on her
little Grape bonnet, with the stn, white
fr1ll in front.
What are you going to dot" Aurora
asloed.
"Im going to him." said Adeline.
I'm going to show him this letter and
tell him all-how 1t happened"
But MS she t1udged along the leav-
carpeted autumn lanes DR.. Hunts car
riage wtirled by. He was sitting In 1t.
and he was not alone. Al Adelins
stopped and looked after It, the dootoy
CHECKED his horse. A pretty, red
red-cheeked girl got out And then the
doctor drove on. Stl Adcline stood
there, looking at the dust that followed
the wheels
'"Oh. Adeline," said Eustacla Bent,
i've were Just going to your housel
wanted to sec II could get you and
Aurora to do some sewing for me. DIR.
Hunt was taking me there when met
you. He has asked me TO be his wife.
am to be married to him In January"
Eustacla Bent's fair, dimpled face
was all aglow; her blue, long- -lashed
eyes shone like stars; the roses of last
Juno wero not pinker than her cheeks.
She was two-and.twenty. Adeline Field
was forty. The elder woman, with q
pang. recognized tho contrast, md in
that moment all tho newly revived hope
died out of her heart forever
"No," said she, 1--WE can't take In any
sewing. We're getting ready for board
crs. We are busy. guess you'll have
to get some one else, EuStncia- But
but I wish you joy oil the same. I
hope yon'll be very bappy-you and
DR.. Hunt"
She turned and crept home again.
The sun had dipped below the horizon
now; the nir was ohill and grey and
frosty-ft omen of her coming years Of
solitude. AS she walked spiriuessly
along, she felt us II her heart were q
lump of lead within her.
"Well?" Aurora breathleesly asked,
rs she re entered the dismal old house,
where the neglected fire was dying out
on the iron dogs, and melancholy
cricket chirped on the hearth. what
did he say?"
Nothing. haven't spoken to him."
said Adellne, mournfully. II met
Eustacia Bent. She's going 10 BE- mar.
ried to him in January, and that ends
the whole thing"
She took the letter from her pocket
and threw 1t on the embers. II blaxcd
htfuliy up, and then went out in .
little drift Of grey ashes, and with It
died out oil the light and life Of Adelins
Fields heart
Yes" said Aurora, that euds tho
whole thing"
Grandaunt Miriam, sleeping under
the churchyard wall, might have been
content She had had her own way.