The daily morning journal and courier., 1896-10-12

S
 firmity came instead, and at last Joyce suggested that her mother should not
 get up in bad weather, They both knew what this meant but the episode
 passed as others do, and Mrs. Leach
 was bedridden. Still she said.
 He will come, Joyce! He will sure
 ly come!"
 And the girl would so to the window
 and draw aside the curtains, looking
 down the quiet country road toward
 the village.
 "Yes, mother, he will come," was her
 usual answer; and one day she gave a
 little exclamation of surprise and al
 most of fear.
 Mother" she exclaimed, "there is
 some one coming along the road"
 The old lady was already sitting up
 in bed, staring with her sightless orbs
 toward the window.
 Thus they waited, The man stopped
 opposite the cottage, and the two wo-
 men heard the latch of the gate. Then
 Joyce, turning, saw that her mother
 had tainted. But it was only momen-
 tary. By the time she reached the bed
 her mother had recovered conscious
 ness.
 "Go," said the old lady breathlessly;
 Ego and let him in yourself"
 Down stairs, on the doorstep, the girl found a tall man of thirty or there- abouts with browner face than Eng fish suns could account for. He looked down into her eager eyes with a strange questioning wonder n, I too Ia ta hn clyaI in yoiaa
 which almost seemed to indicate hope
 that it miught be so.
 No Stephen,'' she answered. But
 mother cannot live much longer You are just in time"
 The young man made hesitating lit tie movement with his right hand and shuffled uneasily on the clean stone step. He was like an actor called sud- denly upon the stage having no
 knowledge of his part. The return of this prodigal was not dramatic suc- cess. No one seemed desirous of learn ing whether he had lived upon musks or otherwise, and with whom he had eaten. The quiet dignity of the girl, who had remained behind to do all the work and bear all the burden, seemed in some subtle manner to deprive him of any romance that might have at tached itself to him. She ignored his half f-proffered hand, and, turning into the little passage, led the way up stairs.
 | Stephen Leach followed silently. He was rather large for the house, and es- pecially for the stairs; moreover, he had a certain burliness of walk, such
 as is acquired by men living constantly 1 in the open. There was a vaguely pained look in his blue eyes, as they l had suddenly been opened to his own | shortcomings. His attitude toward Joyce was distinctly apologetic. l When he followed the girl across the 1 threshold of their mothers bedroom the old lady was sitting up in bed, holding out trembling arms toward the door,
 Here Stephen Leach seemed to know better what to do. He held his mother | in his arms while she sobbed and mur-
 mured out her joy. He had no words, but his arms meant more than his lips could ever have told.
 | It would seem that the best part of happiness is the sharing of it with some one else.
 Joyce" was the first distinct word the old lady spoke, "Joyce, he has come at last. He has come! Come here, dear. Kiss your prother This is my | first born--rny little Steve.''$ The young man had sunk upon his knees at the bedside, probably because | it was the most convenient position. He did not second his mothers's propo- | sal with much enthusiasm. Although 1 he did not seem to have discovered l much sympathy with his sister whom he had left in her cradle. Joyce came forward and leaned oyer | the bed to kiss her brother while the | old ladys hands joined theirs Just as | her fresh young lips came within reach he turned his face aside, so that the
 kiss fell on barren ground on his l tanned cheek.
 | Joyce" continued the old lady fe- ! verishly, ''I am not afraid to die now 1 for Stephen is here. Your brother will | take care of you, dear, when I am gone''
 It was strange that Stephen had not | spoken yet; and it was perhaps just as 1 well because there are occasions in life
 when men do wisely to keep silent. "He is strong" the proud mother | went on. "I can feel it. His hands are
 large and steady and quiet, and his | arms are big and very hard" The young man knelt upright and
 submitted gravely to this maternal in-
 ventory.
 "Yes," she said, q knew he would grow to be big man. His little fin
 gers were so strong-he hurt me some l times. What great mustache!
 knew you had been soldier. And the
 side of your face is brown and little
 rough. What is this? what is this i Stephen dear? Is this a wound?' | Yes" answered the Prodigal, speak | ing for the first time. That is a sword 1 cut. I got that in the last war. I am a | colonel in the Chilian army, or was | before resigned"
 | The old lady's sightless eyes were | fixed on his face as if listening for the | echo of another voice in his deep, quiet 1 tones.
 l Your voice is deeper than your fatn- 1 CTS ever was" she said, and all the
 while her trembling fingers moved low | ingly over his face, touching the deer
 cut from cheek bone to jaw with oft in- quiry. This must have been very
 near your eye, Stephen. Promise me | dear, no more soldering" q promise that" he replied, without | raising his eyes.
 l Such was the homecoming of the