The Indianapolis journal. [volume] (Indianapolis [Ind.]) 1867-1904, 1896-05-08

another event befeli of which she had had
no premonition-
She had been, in spite of her protesta-
tions. very ailing for some days. The un-
usual excitement and emotion under which
she labored were beginning to tell upon ner,
and the maintenance of her little nome nad
become almost frksome.
Coming downstairs after somewhat
restless night, she was Fastening TO kndie
her fire, when knock at her door startled
her. She was greatly surprised at receiv-
ing a letter, an event which rarely occurred
to her. and the sight of the one the post
man put into her hand caused her an un-
accountable uneasineSs. She opened IL
hastily, standing beside the newly lit fire.
and then she stood with her gaze fixed on
the paper, and terrible sense or chill
creeping over her.
There had come TO her the worst news
perhaps that can come to friendless,
helpless woman. The bank from which her
little income came each quarter as inter-
est on invested capital had broken, and
she was left pennileSs.
The silence of the little house was bro
ken by a long. wailing cry, as Jane Herring
sank down upon her hearth, and hid her
face in her trembling hands.
Penniless! Left suddenly without that
which she had come to look upon as I'M
failing and unalterable.
No ole saw her that day; no one knew or
the terror with which the lonely woman mad
come face to face. Kneeling there on the
hearth where the blow had first fallen upon
her, she remained for hours. combating with
this unexpected foe. MISREPRESENTATION?
~ o.. 10.
was strong yet, capable OF work If she could
find It to do. She fought 1t out bravely
enough, that battle against inexorsble cir
cumstances, crushing down. after the hrst
shock of horror every temptation to despair:
There was a meaning in ii all, she told
herself-a meaning even In the terrible lone
illness which doubled all her sorrow. 1t was
her fault and she was justly punished: but
she would bear her punishment as bravery
as possible.
She rose at last and, having made up the
ink fire began 10 look uDOn the more
practical side of the matter. Having but a
few shillings in hand. 1t was essential that
she should raise some money on which 10
live while she sought for work. 1t was not
without much thought and many bitter
sigh that she decided in what way this
might be done. She must sell the piano
1t was very grievous, very hard 10 do. but
in the end that would have to go from her
possession-with the rest.
She was too tired, altogether too confused
and overcome to set about the business that
day. She could not face the inevitable curl
osity of her neighbors: she could not. indeed,
have dragged her aching limbs as FAR as
the auctioneer's to whom she meant to go.
In spite of her care, however, the village
regarded her with curiosity as she set out
passed, looking neither to the right nor to
the left. The pride of which her neighbors
had accused her certainly forbade her TO
ask their pity, sorely though she needed 1t
Mr. Meade. the auctioneer. who had known
Jane Herring many years, was most kindly
get her good price for the piano. even ad-
ding that he would buy 1t himself rather
than let her lose by the sale.
strange pang to enter this little house in
which so many of her years had been spent;
but there had been some. comfort in the
kindness and sympathy of Mr.. Meade, and
Jane did her best TO be quiet and brave.
All through the bright day she bore up,
doing the little duties which were s wont to
make herself Ill with weeping. All her
strength would be needed soon
1t was when the twilight began to fall. and
she fell to thinking how soon she must part
with the first of her household goods, that
her courage gave way She sat herself down
before the old piano and bowed her head
Illness would be put away no longer: the Bit
ter grief of parting would find relief in tears.
1t was quite dark in the little kitchen. save
for a few glowing embers on the hearth,
when she rose at last, stiff and cramped,
wearied out with grief. She lit the lamp and
had just drawn the curtains. when she was
They've come-they've come-for the
piano" she gasped aloud. "Ah, no. no. no.
cannot let you 60"
She spread her hands upon the top of the
old instrument. staring wildly at the door.
In her nervous state, the sudden sound had
startled her out OF her usual quiet OF man
ner and her knees were trembling violently.
For a moment she stood thus, unable to
move. Then, when the knock was repeated,
she turned slowly to the door Ora and opened it.
Jane did not answer. She stood quite still
and her swollen, tear-stained face grew
could not. and then, in her confusion and
amazement, she covered her face with her
hands and sobbed aloud.
Phineas Balm-it was he who had
knocked-came into the kitchen, and shut
the door after him.
lin afraid 1 startled you" he said.
do. in the midst of your grief; but want
ed to be the first to Did, if you don't OBJ
ject.'
Jane Herring struggled afresh to find
wrods.
''I-I-I-oh, dear-I-''
There. there-youre upset. and no Won
der. Sit you down, Miss Herring"
Phineas laid his rough hand gently upon
her arm, and led her to chair. Then he
stood beside her In silence
You must forgive me-" she said at last,
when her sobbing had grown quieter; II
am in terrible trouble.
81 know il. Mr.. Meade has just told me
about-about the pianer. I'd like TO give
you a good price for il, If may"
Jane Herring looked at him for the first
time.
"You?" she cried.
There was a look of tenderest compassion
and tremble.
''You-you are very good" she said, ris-
strument stood Its but poor old thing
after ALL Look at it,
Tie came ana StOOu DeSlCe ner as she
displayed the keyboard, but he was not
looking at it. He was looking at the wom-
an of his early choice: he was noting how
time had altered her, how sorrow had
marked the face he had loved so we'll.
AS he did not answer she looked up.
1T has grown sfa bber since you saw !,
last" she said. 1T is not worth much,
fear"
''It is worth great deal to me-
He spoke very quietly, and his grave eyes
met hers with a look which recalled the
ne 9 rp,nr xrixr IL Tova
feel young again, and she smiled.
Thank you, Phineas," she said
He started as she spoke his name.
You call me that?'' he cried eagerly
bending toward her and putting his hand
over hers as it lay on the piano. You call
me by my name, Jane?"
He felt her hand tremble beneath his, he
saw her eyes fill with tears.
"Jane, Jane, I. wish / knew how to tell
have loved you all these years. Forgive me
girl, forgive me, but must tell you il once
more Jane Herring, shall never love but
you in this word.'
He paused.
''You are not angry. are you? I know
you were too good for me-you are too good
now-far, far away above me. But love
you still. long for you. Jane"
She looked up then at him, and in hel
| eyes he read the love of twenty years.
Household Words.
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