Freeland tribune. (Freeland, Pa.) 1888-1921, 1895-01-24
to remember.

w remenDer. once upon ulne-
oh but before the flood-he had been
young and strong and hopeful, and
had loved a woman passionately; 30
passionately that honor and his plight
ed word had become as nothing to
him, and he had broken faith with
gentle girl he was engaged to marry.
And then he had found out that his
passions queen had not the least in
tention of marrying him. AS he
looked in the fire this October evening
he remembered SO we'll how she had
told him that on which he had staked
his whole life's treasure could never
be.
81 must marry a rich man, she had
said, "for my poor father sake, with
tears and many kisses she had said it,
and he, with kisses and the tears, the
heart bleeds in solitude, had believed
her.
1t was many years now since he had
left behind him the world that held
her, and had accepted the rectory of
Orlestone, with its miserable ESQ a
year. And still O. nights, when the
curtains were drawn and the wind
outside was wild in the laurels and
Expresses, when the bare, thorny rose
sprays tapped at the window like bony
fingers, he sat by his fire and thought
of the woman he had loved, and loved
still. He had her portrait in the
secret drawer of his shabby old writ
ing desk--the one that had been his
fathers. And sometimes he would
take out the portrait-the bright
girlish face-and look at it, sigh, and
yet with a half gladness that the knife
was still sharp IN the old wound.
Celia Ringwood, the woman who
loved him, the woman he should have
married, had told him that time would
dull the pain. But time had not
dulled it, and he was glad. He had
given up ambition and friends and
dreams, the old life and the old life's
hopes to shut himself up alone with
the daily plain duty-and his love
memory. And if the memory had
failed him, had grown dim, what
would have been left of him? Celia
Ringwood in her little lonely house in
the market town, thought there might
be much.
He came to see her once q week and
talked about the parish. Once he had
been used to talk of the other woman !;
he did not mean to be cruel; she had
taken his confession of unfaithfulness
SO calmly, and SO gently begged to be
his friend, that he at once believed
she had never cared for him. But
such talk was over now. He had not
spoken of her now for years. Celia
began to think, almost to hope. Then
she looked in the glass at her faded
face, her pale hair, from which all
youths colors had gone; and she
sighed sigh that was half shudder,
put on her demure bonnet and cloak
and went out through the rain to see
child who was i'll, because that was
her only ease for her heartache.
Miss Celia Ringwood was washing
up the breakfast things-not, as all
genteel people in stories seem to do,
in the parlor, but in a workmanlike
manner in the back kitchen. She had
just hung up the tea cloth to dry,
when her heart stood still, and then
began to beat violently. At thirty.
eight ones heart can beat Just as
quickly as it can at eighteen, ant
much more plainly, if one hears {
certain footstep on the threshold or
certain hand on the r-knocker.
Good morning, James," she sale
sedately. "'This is an unusual anC
pleasant surprise" Some of the ligh
still fingered on her face, but the rec
tor did not observe it; his own thil
face was slightly flushed, and his gra,
eyes were shining.
"May l come in?" he said. 81 wan
to talk to you"
She led him into the little parlor-
spotlessly neat. Miss Celia instinc
lively turned the blind SO that tn
sunshine should not fade the carpet
and said
"Well?"
you've always been such q tru