Bennington semi-weekly banner. (Bennington, Vt.) 1894-1902, 1895-02-08

taught school in the winter and was
busy ON his widowed mothers small
farm in the summer, and try how you
would you could not fancy him in the
aspect of conquering hero. So she had
kept Tom from speaking, and finally his
mother had died, and he had sold the
little farm, had gone away to that
vague part of the world known in those
days as 'out west " What he had done
there or what had become Of him who
knew? Not Eleanor, at any rate.
She wondered if it We're such keen
torture to other women to feel that they
had grown old. 1t seemed to her, Just
then, that youth was all-all. She had
quatfed its wine, and now in the cup
were dregs only. And then she sadly
smiled What wine had she ever quaff-
ed, after all? People used to call her
beautiful-and surely she must have
been at least pretty-but what good had
it done her? The right sutton had never
come. Of the few who seemed to care
for her she thought in this hour only of
Tom. She remembered tones and looks
Shy flowers, shyly given; tender little
cares for her comfort in small things
But in those old days her ambition soar
ed far beyond Tom. Would 1T have
been better had she cared for him?
! Would he have understood her? Would
love have made that possible? For she
felt now that her deepest longing had
always been to be understood. Love that
was given to the external Eleanor would
never have been enough She must meet
some one who had the key to her deep
est soul, else must she live and die more
solitary than any monk of old in his
hidden hermitage.
Could it be that she had thrown away
what might have been life's fullness Of
joy? All, well, it was of no use to won
der now Tom was far away, and she
was 80 years old. Just then she saw
the old village postman coming slowly
down the street. She threw up the win
dow and reached out an impatient hand
for the letters he brought. They were
all from schoolgirl friends, she saw, as
she glanced at the handwriting on the
envelopes. She was not in the mood to
care much for them. 'Drearily uninter-
esting," she said to herself as she open
ed one. A slip Of paper dropped from it
unheeded. Eleanor read on listlessly.
Suddenly her eyes kindled. She had
come to this sentence: II used to hear
you speak of Tom Rhodes-an aspirant
of yours, was he not? Can this marriage
notice | inclose be his?"
Eleanor picked up the bit of paper
from the floor and studied it. 1t was
cut from the Denver Times, and it read:
Thomas ]. Rhodes of Connecticut to Mar
garet Eliza daughter of John Riding, Esq,
president Of the Wheel of Fire Mining com
pany.
So that was what had become of Tom.
She had not remembered the j. in his
name, but of course it must be Tom.
There could hardly be another Tom
Rhodes of Connecticut. 1t sounded pros
perOus-this marriage to the daughter
of the president Of mining company.
So this was the end of her one true low
er. She had never said before, even to
herself, that she knew Tom loved her.
heart now. 1t was as if window had
been opened into the past and great
flood Of light poured from day whose
sun had long since set.
Yes Tom had loved her, and Tom
would have understood. He and she
might have been one if only she had
known, if only that weak ambition she
used to think so strong and fine had not
held her heart in its thrall She had the
New England conscience, and it was
borne III upon her mind that she ought
to wish Tom to be happy in this new
love, this new life. Did she? She tried
to cheat herself into thinking so, but
her soul defod her. "You know well, "
cried the voice of conscience within her,
that you don't want him to be quite
happy. You wouldn't like him to be alb
solutcly miserable, but you want him
to be something short of satisfied, to
say to himself every day and every day:
'Ah, Eleanor would not have done this
or said that! Eleanor would have TN
derstoOd better. "
And then conscience cried aloud,
"Oh, you poor, small soul! Is that the
best of which you are capable? You
would not care for him when he might
have been yours He was not grand
enough for you then, and now you would
wish him something short of life's best
good" And she listened to the voice,
and, afraid Of herself, she cried out for
strength, and it was as if her guardian
angel leaned from the heights of heaven
and drew her quivering soul upward to
a purer air. Then the impulse came to
her to write letter which should con-
vey to Tom her wishes for his happiness
wishes wholly honest now.
She fingered over it for some time
She began it Dear Tom" Then she
bethought herself of propriety and be-
gan over again and wrote:
DEAR MIR. RHoDEs-I have just CHANGED to
see in n Denver paper the announcement of
your marriage. Oddly enough just before it
came to me, had been especially thinking
about you. arr - years old this day, and it
seems natural that my thoughts should be busy
with my youth, which somehow feel ends
with today, and of which, until you went
away, you were part For you n new life is
just beginning. Mine is but the same old story,
only it seems as if the rest of it would be what
thpv call in hooks nm GEonnpndiy ~ write this