The Emmett index. [volume] (Emmett, Idaho) 1893-1925, 1894-01-20

and then shakes her head.
"IIow poorly have said iti' she thinks
But he is so kind he will understand that
l mean we'll
The curatc when he receives the gentle,
humble epistle Is filed with dismay. He
PAGES wildly up and down his small sitting
room.
Somebody has played cruel. beartless
trick upon that poor little woman, and
have to face her and tell her so. would
rather be shotr'
lie drinks bis scalding tea in great gulps,
md is glad Of the pain IL causes him.
But what am l to dor Go and tell a
woman-a kind. gentle, little lady--coarse-
" and brutally to her face that she has
been played with and insulted; that never
dreamed OF loving her; that il Is impossible
for me TO do soi Oh, cruel and cowardly
How can | strike gentiewoman, or in
deed, any woman, such a blow rs thatf'
lie 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 soul laid bare before
him. She loves him, and he realizes how
much that means TO her What new
food OF light has been poured suddenly
upon that sad unsehsh lifef
And there is no help for either Of them.
lie must do iti Well, then, let It be done
at once
Mechanically he takes his hat down
from its 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 thena child's clear.
high voice reaches his ear.
MY grlnnie made IT," she says. Amt
IL pittyi'
"lt's beautiful doll" gentle voice an
swers. SIS II good baby2"
"Welly dood, ~ the child says, tucl<ing
the rag doll under one chubby arm. olive
me n wose, pleaser
Miss Ruth plucks one OF the few remain
ing June roses, one Of the prettiest, and
puts IL 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. won't you-were
you-will you come inf"
lie follows her into the house with an
intense longing for something, however
dreadful, to happen to him and save him
from Wnht Is 70 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 a tiny thimblel He glances down
at her small bare hands; she has taken Off
her ugly gloves. What bit of woman
for strong man o'fighti What a 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.
Il did not show sister your letter." she
begins hesitatingly II thought | had
better wait-that perhaps you would
change your mind, think differently about
1t 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
moment his resolution is taken. lie strides
hastily forward.
Ruth, do you love me?n 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 |.
Do you know" hiding her shamed face
and confessng it as she would have con
fcssed a sin, II am thirty-threeyn
And l am thirty-four," he answers
Dreadful, isn't itf"
When Miss Jocelyn hears the news she
goes away suddenly on n 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
MS WAS lht Wofot tnlnB l ever d1u,
she says sadly TO herself. Il will 20 and
confess, and tell him how sorry | am.
What horrible thing to have ruined two
livcsn
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 clild's laugh startles her from her bit
ter musings, and she looks up and across
the sweetbriar hedge that is in bloom at
her side. for il * 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,
wayy hair knotted close TO her head and
her eyes shining with happiness,
With gasp, Miss Joeclyn recognizes
her. That is-nol-that was Ruth Blake.
Now let him come TO me, the little
woman cries gayly. Harry, you are spoil
ing the child. Let him come to his moth
err
/ Ruth stoops down and holds out her
arms, and tiny figure IN white rushes
wildly a little distance toward her and
then totters unsteadily and finally sits