Phillipsburg herald. [volume] (Phillipsburg, Kan.) 1882-1905, 1895-06-20
CHAPTER XIV-Continued,

choly. 1t Is n remarkable fact, which
people who desire to punish other people,
deservedly or undeservedly, would 10
well to remember, that the sharpest pain
cannot last forever, and that young
couple, thoroughly happy in each other,
will remain happy in spite of all their at
fectionate relatives, who think they ought
to be miserable. Ay, and in spite Of
many outside things that might hayo
been hard in later years; but youth is the
time to fight with fate-youth with its in
finite courage, its eternal hope.
Working at the mill all day, writing his
book at night, with little society, for the
Symingtons had gone intoEdinburgh, with
no relaxation except the daily walk be
tween the lights" which his wife in.
sisted upon, Roderick had yet, he de-
clared, never spent happier three
months. And he looked so WELL too, for
II is not work that kills, but "worry;"
foolish ambitions, unsNtisiied cravings
Jared tempers, singing remorse or unrc-
pented sin. Not mere sorrow; that can
be borne. Both of these had known
sorrow-she especially but there was
holy serenity now, even when one day
she spoke of that grave at Neuchotel.
Sophie Reynier sent me these violets
from it. She says they are having such
lovely spring, And so are we. Just look,
in bud already. And only listen, Roder-
lex, how that mavs is singing"
They were walking up and down the
sheltered kitchen garden-lovely, though
it was n kitchen garden, with its walks
bordercd by flowers, sweet-fashioned
perennials, which sprung up year by year,
not disdaining the ncighborhood of the
vegetables, but growing together, each
after its kind, in happy union. Like you
and your poor folk" Roderick once said,
noticing how everybody loved her and did
her ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS, milll-girls, all
the people about the place. "They are so
kind. have such happy life" was all
the young mistress answered, And her
fair, pale face bent down over her flow
ers, and up again to her budding apple
blossoms and her tall forest trees, now
growing full Of nest-building birds.
"That mavis, l have watched him this
week past | am sure he has Il young
family somewhere near And he sings
how he does sing!-in the top of that
sycamore. He began the very day they
planted out the hyacinths in my garden
under my window"
This, too. was q labor of love, ar
ranged surreptitiously between Mr.. Black
and his old gardener-a little mathematica
diagram of beds, with grass lawn be.
tween, in which had sprung up, as if by
magic, SUGGESTIONS of spring flowers,
snowdrops, crocuses, hepaticas. Now,
April being come, even in the dear Scotch
climate, the sunshine was strengthening
and the garden frightening every week.
81 shall have a beautiful nosegay pres
emily" she said; lust in time for my
wedding-day,"
He had almost forgotten 1.-THE villain.
He could hardly believe he had been mar
ried year. And yet it felt sometimes rs
if they had been married all their lives,
so completely had they grown into one
another. 1t was only by an effort that
either could recall their old selves, in the
days when they were apart.
That sunset" they were watching it
from favorite seat she had--a summer
house, warm and dry, facing the south
west and looking down the winding glen
toward the mill. which, hidden by trees
only presented few chimney tops, and
that fairy-like column of white smoke,
unobjectionable to even the most aesthetic
eyes)-"that sunset" she said, ut makes
the whole sky 'colorise,' as we used to say
in Switzerland. Do you remember the
Jungfrau and the Wetterhorn that day
at Berne? and the Alpes Bernoises from
Lausanne? Oh, my land! it is heaven
ly land! l can never forget it. But this
Is my home"
She had been speaking French for
wonder; they had dropped almost entirely
into English now, even when together,
but she said "home"-that one dear word
which we Britons specially have-with an
information inexpressible but unmistakable
All her heart had settled into her hus-
bands country. "Thy people shall be my
people, and thy God my God"
Never, though Roderick Jardine may
live to see thousands of sunsets, will he
forget this one, nor his wife's face as she
looked at 1t, watching it till the last glow
had died away. Then she rose.
"Now let us go in, dear"
care you tired?"
II think So" Leaning heavily on his
arm she went indoors; but she sat up sew
ing till her usual time, and rose as usual
when, at a specially early hour-for he
happened to have long and busy day be-
fore him--he went off to the mill.
He was sitting in his little dingy office
there, quite late in the afternoon, for he
had some difficult accounts to make up,
which he hated, poor fellow! not having
been blessed by nature with talent for
arithmetic; but it was Rodericks pecu-
liarity that what he did worst he always
worked hardest at, and what he particu-
larly hated he always forced himself to
do at once. His head swan, and his eyes
were dazed, yet he still stuck bravely to
those mountains Of figures, alp after alp
arising before his troubled brains, when
he was startled by little knock, and old
Black, who he thought had gone home
two hours ago, presented himself with a
beaming countenance.
"Busy? Ye're always busy. And so I
thought, sir, I'd just come myself and be
the first to give ye the good news. Laddie,
laddie," with slap on the back which
contrasted oddly with the respectful
"Sir," "go your ways, man, and thank the
Lord for all His mercies. Your wife's do
ing well; and we've got BARN"
my wife~ Roderick sprung up like
shot.
lou, ay, she's fine; and it's lad-bairn,
She babe Janet come and tell We. She
wadna haze We flashed about it till all was